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The Lost Bureau (and other stories)-original fiction

TLB-ch25 (end)

Mark Poe

The majestic cock
Chapter 25: The many goodbyes and hellos (end)​

“You sure you don’t want to take that job?” retired-General Mung asked retired-Major Ekim as the two strolled on one of the numerous streets of Ekabery.

The end of the war had the put the civilian government of the Union in a rather awkward position. On the one hand, the military had literally waged an unauthorized offensive war of conquest and saddled them with not one but two protectorates (the Principality of Carpor and the reorganized rump Republic of Setwood, formally known as the Kingdom of the Lion). On the other hand they were absolutely heroes who finally slayed the beast in its layer, especially as tabloids such as the Luna Times lionized their exploits and downplayed, if not ignored, their atrocities.

In the end, it was decided that many of the higher ranking officers would ‘volunteer’ to retire from the force, with no charges to be filed against anyone as far as conspiracy against the state was concerned (atrocities on the other hand was another matter entirely, though most of those charges were also quietly dropped due to lack of existing laws of war and more importantly lack of popular support). It’s not too bad for most of them, especially since military job opportunities were a plenty, especially in the protectorates.

“No, I had quite enough of soldiering for a lifetime.” Ekim replied, “Besides, I don’t think my wife would approve of moving to a less developed and more dangerous place.”

“Shame, you’re a rather dependable officer.”

“Can’t be having all the fun building up a military can’t I now?” He joked. Mung quickly managed to land a job as a consultant to the yet to be formed Setwood militia, as did many of the staff officers. Other jumped at the chance to build up the elven military. A few even went and formed their own mercenary bands, in anticipation of the colonization and development of the new vassal states.

This war might be over, but that does not mean the world is safe enough that people with lots of firearms aren’t needed anymore.


“Not that I doubt your economic prowess, but why go to the wood hippy land?” Charlie asked. “They don’t even have a rudimentary infrastructure unlike the protectorates.”

“They’re also on the cusp on an era of massive growth, the lands are fertile, the climate tropical but without all the pesky diseases, and the elves themselves are long lived so there’s got to be a few who still have some institutional knowledge of the ancient days.” Kay smiled. The two of them were relaxing at the layer of the lich, otherwise known as Charlie’s house. It was a joyous occasion for the too to have found each other in one piece, despite all their adventures in the recent past. A rather large number of packed bags surrounds the two of them. “There is going to be such a boon in cash crops like sugarcane, coffee, tropical fruits, and all sorts of goodies as now there’s actually great lands to grow them in without greenhouses. This is literally the next big thing!”

The story of the liberation of the city of Carpor was certainly an utter mess, the gist of which was that the merchant class, long suffering from the aristocracy, decided it was the time to revolt, and like many revolutions started by those with means and some help from outside sources in the form of rather well armed soldiers, they succeed, and left Kay and the Revanchist regiment holding the bag.

Needless to say, the news was not taken well by the Union civilian government, which through their pressure had her throw out of the military and the entire regiment dissolved, the latter of which merely led the men and women of the regiment to simply reform as the 1st regiment of the Carpor militia. The entirety of their weapons being missing from Union armories was simply an unfortunate coincidence.

As for Kay herself, her firing was very much a blessing in disguise as for the first time since ending up in this world, she was freed from any obligations to fight, whether for the humans or the orcs. She could now devote herself to the other thing she knows and loves: economic development and making money, this time in real life instead some 4X game.

“Are you sure you’re not going there because of all the beautiful and scantily clad females who also happened to have centuries of experience and maturity to match. In other words, the perfect waifu material?” Charlie teased. As one of the few Lost humans who supported the invasion, the success of which puts her at a rather interesting position vis a vis both the Lost human community and the general population, neither of which she sees often. Despite, or even because of those thing, she felt it was a good time as any to begin to hang around somewhere else. Setwood certainly need more beucracts, and investment, and basically everything else, and the potentials are there…

“Out of all people, I would expect you to use less offensive language!” Kay said, half mock-horror. She had a point though, the full extent of the horrors of the recently ceased waifu trade had only just filtered into the public conscious, but even the tibits previously revealed were disturbing to the extreme.

“I’m not exactly getting any younger these days am I?” She retorted, and both of them fell silent for a moment, reminiscing over all the events that transpired since that fateful night when they drunkenly decided to open a gateway to another world… the joys, the sufferings, the horrors and the triumphs.

“How ironic,” Charlie resumed the conversation, “that once again we’ll end up apart. This time by free will rather than accidents of fate.”

“Oh cheer up. We’re gonna be rich and then…”

“Then what?”

“Then we build a dynasty!” The passion was back in her eyes, or at least in the one eye that wasn’t covered by her hair.

Neither of them knew it, but it was the seeds from which a massive multi-industry conglomerate would sprung from, but that was still decades down the line…

“Make sure to write letters frequently!” Charlie reminded her.

“You better do the same, not that it’s hard for you given the amount of trashy novels you seem to write these days!”


“I’m surprised, out of all people, why me?” Fenrir asked Denhardt.

“After all we been through together? You seems to be very a dependable person.” Denhardt said, as smooth as always.

“But as a merchant?” Fenrir wondered what the heck was Denhardt smoking.

“That makes for two of us.” Despite the lack of knowledge for both of them, he seems rather unconcerned. “All the more reasons to get into it right now, because all the experts aren’t around yet. Think about all the happiness and wonderment when we bring the wonders of luxuries to even the most remote of lands!”

“Okay, I’m certain of it now. You’re not actually fired from the service are you?”

“How perceptive of you. You certainly have the skills to become a successful traveling merchant.”

“And I guess that I actually do not really have a choice in the matter?”

“There’s always a choice, some just involve more suffering and pain.”

Screw it, I’m in.”

“That is wonderful to hear.”

“Keep your buttering up to yourself, you snake tongue spook.”

“I see that we are going to have a wonderful working relationship together.”


“Well, I guess this is the end of the road here.” Klunk quipped,

“Think of it more as a fork in the path, and each of us has decided to go separate ways.” Archon said.

With the end of the war and the expansion of the Union’s sphere of influence, including areas which might contain more Lost humans. Meanwhile the Bureau of Exoitc Affairs itself did not escape the wrath of the civilian government, and that meant official budget cuts.

The two seemly unrelated events meant that there were a lot of career opportunities to be had, many of them with perks far better than what the Bureau could have possibly compete with. It was not a surprise then that Klunk would jump at the chance for self betterment.

“I promise I’ll keep in touch.”

“Of course, same here. It’s gonna be lonely being the only one still around.”

“There’s still Francis Kevin.” Klunk gently reminded him, the once little piglet has long since grown into a massive hog, who now dominates the backyard of the Bureau building.

“Oh crap,” Archon just realized the sheer amount of work of all kinds waiting for him. “The bureaucracy waits for no one.” he muttered as he shuffles to his work desk.


In a deep, but surprisingly well lit room, a mass of tentacles and eyeballs was reading through numerous tomes, making complex calculations, and juggling way too many mugs full of alcohol into his maw. Suddenly he stopped all of it, as if finding a disturbance in the natural order of the universe.

“By the gods,” Sage Polypo said to himself, “The cords between the universe doesn’t run on standard time.”
In between side story 1

Mark Poe

The majestic cock
Side stories between the first main story and the next one planned.
(350s S.E. , late 50s)
We Wuz Kings… sort of​

“Greetings, honored members of the Archaeological Society and patrons.” An ancient looking orc announced, it really wasn’t a large room, not that it mattered much since the crowd, if it could even be dignified with such a term, wasn’t all that much to write about either.

It was hard to drum up much support or even interest in areas outside of practical use, which for the most part was popularly defined as either meant making money or making weapons. Fields outside of this “butter and guns” mantra tend to be neglected at best and actively mocked at worst. The young field of archaeology was among the latter, additionally was burdened by the common popular perception, both among the general population and the Lost human communities, of being little more than glorified grave robbing akin to what adventuring gangs (of all races) tend to do.

“I am happy to announce that our latest expedition across the frontier has returned safely.” He continued through clenched teeth. The small audience sat politely, but it was obvious that most were only here due to a sense of obligation, and not really expecting much in the way of anything exciting or interesting. He couldn’t blame them. There really weren’t that many successful archaeological digs, or even grave robbing. Anything more sophisticated than a shallow grave in the ground was usually booby trapped to the point where it was profitable to loot the dead adventurers than the actual tombs. But outside of careless looting there wasn’t much interest into finding out more about the past, fear of the ancient ones and general disinterest alike keep people from asking question that perhaps they should.

“... and I now present to you, Novice Bemner, who has headed the expedition.” The sage finally got to the point, while still managed to leave out certain details, such as Bemner being the only permanent staff in the expedition. Again, it was not a large operation.

As he stepped away a rather smallish orc stepped up. It wasn’t that he was physically small, orcs generally seems to be incapable of being that way. Rather, it was his posture, his shyness and a hint of fear making his figure much smaller than in actuality.

“Thank you honored members,” he begin, not exactly liking the sudden attention, however little, that he has gotten. “I would like to remind everyone first that everything you are about to hear are only preliminary findings.”

“In our expedition,” he continued, “We have conducted a number of digs at various locations in the Republic of Setwood and the frontier territories of the Mundock Republic. When possible we followed standard procedure concerning preservation of artifacts and sites, although there were times when that wasn’t possible.”

That brought up some rather painful memories, including the entire caravan that he was traveling with massacred by a party of looters. Pushing those memories back, he pushed forward.

“What we found were evidences that there were an orc civilization as far as 1000 B.S.E.”

The audience for the most part did not react much, as if rather bored by grandiose proclamations that usually end up failing to deliver. He didn’t blame them, it was a rather cliched thing these days, especially with the tabloids as they tend to be.

“Overall the evidence points to a stone age civilization, with limited agriculture. Most of these habitation groups tend to be around less than a hundred in total including youngling and elders. These habitation groups tend to be semi-nomadic, as the diet of the orc was, and still is, more heavily leaning towards meat than humans or elves, therefore at their development level it would have been impossible to have a purely sedentary lifestyle.”

A few in the audience started to show the mildest of interest, that’s somewhat encouraging. “The constant need to move was most likely the main reason that human civilization were able to outstripe orc civilization, as the former had more time to develop and the reasons to drive out what they perceive as dangerous roving bands of savages. Without the ability to settle or compromise, it was all but inevitable that the our species was driven to savagery.

There were also a number of what appeared to be grave sites, but due to the lack of security we have decided not to dig into any of them. We hope that our finding today will further interest, and perhaps in the future we might be able to uncover all of our ancestors’ secrets.”

There were a couple of claps, but overall the reception was rather subdued. Not that it was unexpected of course, but disappointing all the same. As the audience filled out to the room to gawk at the various artifacts in the display room an elderly lady walked up to him. Despite the walking stick and the conservative and overly ornate dress, she gave off an air of knowledge tempered by experience, a rather rare combination. Probably one of the lost humans, Bemner guessed.

“Very interesting discoveries.” She began, “Though I suspect not even you will realize the potentials of what the implications of these will have.”

“Thank you madam, and who might you be…”

“Oh, forgive me, I’m Charlie Tomson.”

“The lich. Oh I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. The intentions behind your words carried no ill will.” She leaned forward a bit, “Though you might want to brush up on etiquette, you’re gonna need a lot of that soon enough.”

“Um, what do you mean?” Bemner asked, more than a tad confused.

“Your discovery here, that your race was actually civilized before being driven into savagery by humans will fan the flames of racial hatred between the humans and your race.”

“Oh gosh, I… I haven’t thought about that.”

“Nor should you, the pursuit of knowledge should not be held back by fear of misuse by narrow minded people. But you should prepare a long fight in the coming months and years.”

“What?” For a brief moment he felt a slight chill.

“Because people will twist your discovery for all kinds of vile purposes.” She replied, almost casually. “The racists, the supremacist, those who wishes to bury what you found, or failing that, you. You know, all kinds of fun people.”

“Um…” Bemner wondered if his chosen field was as safe as he had first thought. “Do you have any advice?”

“For your safety? Not really. But do not despair, for as long as you seek the truth, history will vindicate you.” She paused, as if to catch her breath. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a train to catch this afternoon. Despite all these technologies to save time, it seems that we have less time to use than ever before.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I look forward to your future discoveries and the products of what hopefully will be a long and fruitful career.”

And with that she turned and left, slowly walking out of sight.
In between side story 2

Mark Poe

The majestic cock
(340s S.E.)
When the train arrived​

It was the day, Minteo thought to himself, the big day when the first train will arrives at the just finished and aptly named Grand Nexus Station.

Okay, so it wasn’t precisely the first train into the city. Heck, railroads have been around for the better part of a decade by now. What’s different this time around was that this will be the first train to arrive from outside the country, specifically from the Republic.

He joined the throngs of people, both orcs and humans as they all shuffled towards the massive complex that even in the rapidly expanding capital city stood out. It seemed that half of the city was trying to get a view of what will certainly go down as a historical moment.

Even from afar, it was not an elegant building, despite the architects’ best efforts in decorating every visible surface. What is undeniable was the mass and power that seems to ooze out of it… or perhaps that’s just the steam and the occasional smoke coming out of the chimminies.

As he made his way inside and out of the blazing heat and into the vast maw of the building he couldn’t help but wonder if the expense of it was really necessary. Not the actual building itself, of course that’s a good investment, all the Lost humans said so. No, the question is whether all the paintings and murals covering almost every meter of every wall is strictly necessary.

The centerpiece of the station, of course, were the numerous tracks. Most of them seems to end a bit outside the covered platforms. Not surprising, there weren’t enough rail lines built yet, but obviously everyone (at least in the government and business) has big hopes and dreams hedged on future expansions of the rail network.

The platforms were packed with people, from farmers who obviously came from the surrounding villages to factory workers and clerks to even quite a few government officials, far more than the official welcome party. A military band, probably from a local regiment, was doing their final tune ups. The air of anticipation was so thick one could probably cut it with a butterknife.

After what seemed like an eternity of waiting, but was probably less than half an hour. The heat of the crowds was almost unbearable despite the best efforts of the ventilation system, which the fans could be dimly heard if one knows what to hear. Then an unmistakable whistle was heard far off, and a great shout arose from the crowds.

Soon a speck was seen in the distance, becoming larger as the minutes went by, and soon the train arrived. It was a curiously small thing, Oh for those who never saw a train before it certain was impressive, this mighty smoke billowing steed of metal, but for those who who knows better, especially the Lost humans, it was rather underwhelming. Then again, the whole train thing was still kinda new in this world. Gotta learn how to crawl before walk. Size aside, the engine and the cars were heavily decorated with all sort of doodads, the whole thing painted in a bewildering array of colors, as if trying to hide the black metal that lies underneath.

The band struck up an energetic and cheerful tune, of which some of the Lost humans would recognize as an rendition of ‘Crazy Train’. As the train neared the platform, it gradually slowed down, sliding almost gracefully to a stop, the first passenger car right at which the welcome party of overdressed government flunkies were standing. Whoever’s driving that thing certainly had a lot of training, or luck, or both.

As the various passengers of the car disembark the usual scenes regarding ceremonies played out, the politicians giving long winded speeches on the march (or in this case, rolling) of progress, of the strength of friendship between the two nations, and the coming era of prosperity to be brought on the backs of technology and discovery. Stirring stuff, though quite a few have left by the time the speeches had ended.

Afterwards various dignitaries left for the Magi Hotel and the still large throngs crowded around the train itself, hoping to get a touch or even just a close look at it. Minteo decided that he wasn’t going to make the effort and made his way out of the station.

Once out in the streets again, he finally had some time and peace of mind to think to himself. In hindsight, it felt rather underwhelming, the arrival while certainly impressive but not to the same effect as travel by magic. On the other hand if what they’re saying are correct this type of travel will soon be affordable to just about everyone.

‘What a heady thought.’ he thought to himself, but regardless it’s undeniable that he’s living in an era of great changes, for better or worse.
In between side story 3

Mark Poe

The majestic cock
(330s S.E.)

It’s another beautiful day out in the ocean, Novice Cator thought to himself, although after a few months such sights has gotten old real quick. Also not helping matters were the constant rolling of the ship, sometimes, especially in storms, the rolling was bad enough that he wondered why did he signed up for this foolhardy voyage. Then he remembered that for all intents and purposes, he didn’t. Social pressures often were just as constraining as actual rules and laws.

In hindsight, the whole venture was such an insane idea that only Lost humans could have thought of. Unfortunately, they also happened to be the ones with the resources, drive, and ambition to fund and push through these insanity. Sure, just because the elves accidently bumped into a new continent a while back (said continent being mostly desert covered being beside the point, didn’t seem to stop large numbers off fools from heading off to what most likely will be their doom) doesn’t necessarily mean that there’s more land waiting to be found.

But the Lost humans were insistent, and since they’re mainly pouring their own funds into the new fad of exploration no one else really cared. Thus it came to being that the ship he’s currently on, a clipper, the first of such type ever constructed in this world. Inside the ship was piled with all kinds of expensive goods and equipment, including a little mountain of the new canned foods (rumor has it that it was more canned foods than what even the army has stockpiled, and in fact that batch was originally meant for the military). The crew, however, were mainly orcs and native humans, the Lost humans, despite making sure the trip would be as safe as it could be given the limits of technology, for some reason weren’t too keen on going on it themselves.

Then again, as usual the Lost humans themselves didn’t have much of a plan besides the whole ‘find strange new worlds and plant flags on them’, which was one thing they do share with their counterparts in the human kingdoms. Thus it was up to the various institutions who had sent representatives to figure out for themselves what the heck they’re suppose to do on the odd chance they actually find any new lands of note.

Thus it came to be that a couple dozen sailors and a gaggle of landlubbers set off to the unknown in an expensive ship and without much of a clue.

Novice Cator himself was on board as the chronicler for the entire voyage, and for the most part was either seasick (as with most of the other passengers of the ship) or extremely bored. In the past two months they have passed a few islands, of which the ship’s crew insisted that they stopped at every one of them, if for no other reason than replenish stores of water and whatever else that appears to be remotely edible, much to the distress of some of the sages present. Alas none of the islands appeared to be of of much use, although the last one they passed seemed to be pleasant enough.

“Land ahoy!” One of the sailor shouted from the mast. Nobody really paid much attention. Probably yet another boring island waiting to be desecrated or something. It wasn’t until someone screamed and the ship noticeably slowed down that he turned around.

It was pretty obvious that they have left the mortal regime a while ago, for the land in front of them appears to be the lands of the demons itself.

A perverse mishmash of browns, and sickly greens and yellows dominates the land in front of their eyes as far well into the horizon on both sides. Even the skies above were of a forbidding grey, with hints of something worse. As the ship turns away to a more parallel course with the coming landmass everyone who didn’t have something to be doing was crowding the side of the ship facing the horror unfolding, unable to turn away from what mortals should not be looking, but yet want to anyways because self preservation are for non-sapient creature.

“I never actually expected the whole ‘strange new worlds’ thing to be literal.” One of the other passengers muttered out loud.

“Did some god decided to use this place to take a shit?” Another asked, to no one in particular.

“This isn’t what I signed up for.” One of the crewman said, giving words to what was probably on everyone’s minds at the time.

That night, Cator wrote only the following in the official chronicle: ‘Today we found the edge of hell, and in celebration the captain broke out cake and chocolate. I guess if we are all going to die soon we might as well enjoy all we can beforehand.’


After about a week of sailing along the coastlines it gradually dawned on almost everyone that this was no mere island. For once the opinions of the crew and passengers were switched, and the captain forbade any landings on the shores of this mysterious and quite frankly forbidding land, despite quite a few of the more inquisitive of the sages present wanting to do some exploring into a truly strange world.

Despite the lack of landings, during the time of the sailing around the coast there were a number of times when the ship was close enough to the shore for slightly more detailed observations by telescopes and binoculars, and that they saw only reinforced their initial impressions. The sheer desperacy of every plant and animal scrabbling for the barest of subsistence.

And then appeared the walking rats. Well, not exactly correct, as they mostly crawl on all fours, but they seemed to be capable of walking on their hind legs. They appeared to be tool users, if the sharpened sticks they held was any indication.

“Oh wonderful, looks like there’s some natives.” One of the sages said, “We should contact-”

Before he could finish his sentence, one of the rat beings stood up, pointed at the boat, screeched (or something to that effect, the ship was way too far for mere speech of any kind to make their way), and threw his sharpened stick. The stick fell far short of the ship, but it seems that the message was clear.

“Oh second thought, perhaps we should keep our distance.” The same sage amended. Even though the captain was at the wheel he seemed to have the same idea, and the clipper rapidly turned away from the desolate land.

And so the discovery of the continent later to be known as ‘Ironi’ ended without a single landing.


It was not a glorious return when they got back without further problems (except for a couple of persons lost after being washed away by a particularly large wave during a storm). Most people were mildly disappointed that they did not came back with vast riches or exotic goods, and the Lost humans in particular were almost livid at the description of the lands, with some denouncing Cator’s accounts as ‘racist’ and ‘Kipling like’, whatever the latter means. It was almost inevitable that some of those humans then took upon themselves to mount an expedition in order to ‘show how exploration should be conducted’. Needless to say nothing was ever heard from them again.

In the end, it seemed that both sides were correct to a certain extent. Dozens of expeditions (many of them military though a few also scientific in nature) later, it was found that the continent was rich in minerals and metals, so much so that most lifeforms there suffer from some form of mineral and metal poisoning. It was a testimony to the tenacity of life that entire ecosystems could still survive and even to a certain extent flourish in such inhospitable environments.

Of course, the same abundance of minerals and metals made the continent ripe for colonization as industrial revolution went into full swing back on the old continent, and hordes of prospectors swarmed over in search of riches. Needless to say conflict with the natives races, who were already merely living a hand to mouth existence, immediately flared up and continues with no end in sight.

When not dying at the hands of the natives, most of the first colonists were dying at the hands of the environment itself. As with every resource rush in this world and a certain other one, it wasn’t the people who was scrabbling for precious metals who got rich, but rather those who sold the much needed goods of survival to the miners. Those string of islands that almost everyone forgot from the initial expedition suddenly went through booms of their own, especially once people realize that quite a few of them were very suitable for the cultivation of tropical vegetation.

As for Cator? The Academy of Dunnenburg back his work even in the face of attacks by the Lost humans, and once he was vindicated (if only due to the disappearance of the Lost human’s expedition) he got the sagehood that he richly deserved (if only quietly, as it would be seen as bad taste to have the vindication by the blood of others, even if its in spite of his warnings). He spent much of the rest of his life traveling and studying the South Continent and the elven colonization efforts there, having no wish to ever visit that sickly continent again.
In between side story 4

Mark Poe

The majestic cock
(370s - 380s S.E.)
Descent of the elven race​

It was a day much like any other in Aquaston, an elven port city mainly noted for its burgeoning fishing industry and as one of the major links to the elven colonies of the South Continent. Despite its size and importance the city itself was a sharp contrast with non-elven cities of similar size.

There were of course plenty of tall and large buildings, and more under construction at any moment as befitting of a growing and booming city. However the streets were wide and lined with trees, public parks and gardens almost every few blocks, and a general atmosphere of airiness quite uncharacteristic of cities as understood by most. Combined with the cheerful and sedated climate, it was unsurprising that many of the inhabitants prefer the outdoors, and it was common to see joggers along on any given day.

All in all, the perfect place to hang around and observe the changes of elven society, which was why the Axeon Union’s Bureau of Exotic Affairs had a branch there. Of course it wasn’t that blatant, that would have been rather creepy (as well as technically illegal). Instead, the local branch ran a cafe called the Crossroads Cafe, which was also less of a front in that it was also instrumental in supplementing their local funding so as to not be a strain on the bureau itself. Given its employees’ nature, it was the place for various Lost human tourists and business people to hang out at, despite being overall rather mediocre compared to a lot of the other cafes in the city.

It was at that place, in an otherwise unremarkable afternoon found at almost any point of the year where Bateua was sitting around, sipping on his coffee with cream. Given his job as a junior coordinator between the elves and various other races in joint business ventures, it was the logical place to be around. The idle chatter and gossip of the serving staff about things of the other world was merely a bonus.

The cafe front opened up to one of the city’s secondary squares, which at this point was mostly free of stalls, as most people tend to take the time to rest and relax, preferably away from the heat. On that particular day though, there was a sizable crowd gathered at the square, listening to a female elf giving a political speech of some kind.

The particular elf at the center of attention was rather mundane looking, though as a race all elves tend to be beautiful by human standards, to orcs like Bateua however, they tend to look fragile and unbalanced. That’s besides the point though, as whatever her physical appearance, she obviously had extraordinary amount of charisma, the crowd all but captivated by her speech, and even from what bits he’s been able to hear it perked his interest…

“So this is how liberty dies, with thunderous applause.” A voice muttered behind him. He turned his head to face the owner of the voice. Jack Coleman, if words were needed to describe him, would have been considered to be generic to the point of cliche. Of average size and build, a mop of black hair in a slightly messy fashion, he was pretty much cast out of the mold of isekais. Beyond the generic cover though lies a somewhat different character, which was how he ended up being resident advisor to this particular branch, with the cover job of assistant chef at the cafe.

“A bit too early to break out the Star Wars quotes aren’t we?” Bateua replied. As with most natives who had plenty of contact with Lost humans he managed to acquired a decent amount of knowledge, mainly of the indirect knid, of the pop culture of the other world, also helped that there were enough people that many of those pop culture materials have ended up being released in the printed form, and a few even in made into theater plays. He sometimes wondered what kind of world those humans came from if they could devote so much of their time and efforts to memorize mere entertainment.

Jack didn’t miss a beat, as Bateua is a regular at this establishment and he got to know the orc rather well, and thus already knew of his extensive knowledge of isekai cultures, one of the things that made him so effective at his job. He merely shrugged and continued. “This is literally how fascist movements start. A popular angry figure harnessing the rage of the discontent.”

“Except there isn’t exactly much in the way of discontent though?” Bateua pointed out. On the whole, the past few decades the special relationship between the elven state and the Union has brought both nations great prosperity and growth, and neither of those showed any signs of stopping in the near future.

“The crowd there begs to differ.” Jack point a thumb at the square. Where the crowd was cheering at the speak, who seemed to have finished her little rambling.

“There’s always enough crazies in a large population.” Bateua rolled his eyes, “Hey.” He suddenly had an idea, “Want me go over and ask her about her political ambitions?”

“You’re nuts.”

“At least I don’t look like a generic isekai.” Bateua grinned as he stood up and prepare to make his way towards the crowd of elves. Knowing that little stab had hit where it hurts, who said that words could never hurt a person?


Strolling through the crowd was both easier and harder than he anticipated, for while the crowd generally let him pass through, there was an undercurrent of mild fear, perhaps even hostility. The rabble rouser however was far more calm and collected, merely greeted him normally.

The charisma was there alright, possibly even partially magic induced but it’s there. Bateua guessed there she might possess some sort of arua, not that knowledge if much of a defense against such things. Turns out that the speaker goes by the name of Amberea, a former border guard turned political rabble rouser, as far as Bateua could tell anyways.

Her positions, once stripped of their rhetoric, was almost elementary; to have the elven race take their proper place under the sun, to shake of the shackles of foreign paternalism, to make the South Continent bloom, to return elven culture to a true native culture. Just the usual pie in the sky wishlist with little bearing on reality and probably will never see the light of day, Bateua thought to himself, though of course wasn’t stupid enough to voice that old loud.

“Well, I… I would just like to wish you the best of luck on your endeavors,” Bateua said, suddenly and rather unplanned, “You have already rustled the feathers of a few people.”

“Then we must be doing something correctly.” She smiled, a hint of mischief. The smile disappeared and her eyes narrowed just so slightly, “Someone always loses when there’s change, the question has always been a matter of acceptable losses. If all goes well, history will vindicate me and my actions.”

“I don’t think that phrase worked out for anyone who said it, regardless of which world they came from.”

“Ah, I see you too is well versed in history.” The smile came back, “But have you ever thought how fatalistic that point of view is?”

“I prefer to see it as learning from the experience of others.”

“All theoretical, and if you haven’t noticed, some key features are different in this world. For one, always chaotic evil actually exists.” She said, alluding to the hundreds of Lost humans who have gotten themselves killed when attempting to tame and civilize the native ratlings and ogres of Ironi, laboring under the delusion that those races operate in the same way as the races of the old world.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Bateua asked, smelling a red herring.

“The implication that the same action doesn’t necessarily end with the same results.” Amberea answered, as she turned away. “If you’ll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to.”

As he watched her walk away with a group of flunkies he started to wonder if it was such a good idea to introduce all those political concepts to them, as the elves seemed to have taken many of them with a vengeance, or relish. It’s not as if they have any grudges against.... Wait.

Things might get more interesting in the coming years, regardless of who this particular rabble rouser ends up in. After all, she’s but an individual point that at most an indication of larger trends.


Seasons passed, time flew by, and life (and sometimes its unwelcome but inevitable companion death) continued. Yet the most things change, the more things stayed the same. Deals to be made, goods to be produced, people to be moved, places to be discovered and tamed, the usual march of civilization. And Bateua found himself once again at the Crossroads Cafe, taking a break and simply watching the passage of time.

“Read the news lately?” Jack asked nonchalantly.

“That in fact, I have. “Bateua replied, “Which is why you will probably not see me for a while, as I will be heading off to Ironi in a few weeks.”

“You think it’ll be that bad?”

“Absolutely.” Bateua seemed pretty confident about it.

“Wonder if it isn’t too late for us to get out of town…” Clouds of worry start to form around him.

“For what?” Bateua was suddenly confused, “It’s mostly investors who will feel the pain, the tourists are forecasted to still come in large numbers.”

“Wait, what?” Now it’s Jack’s turn to be confused. “I don’t think we’re talking about the same things.” He hazarded a guess.

“I was talking about the expected slowing down of colonization of the South Continent, what were you thinking of?”

“So you didn’t read the news after all! That rabble rouser Amberea’s is now the head of the Confederacy! Her damn party managed to win a majority of the seats in the grand council!”

“Oh.” Was all that came out of Bateua’s mouth.

“Yeah, I think now it’s the appropriate time for that Star Wars quote.” Jack continued while Bateua begin to reassess his choices of regular news sources.

Before either of them spoke again an elf, dressed, if it could be called such, in the uniform of the National Unity Party, intruded upon their conversation. After a curt exchange of greetings, she handed Bateua a cream colored envelope, then quickly left.

“What the heck was that about?” Jack asked as Bateua opened the envelope. He looked at it, then frowned.

“I’m really regretting that that little sudden action from that time years ago…”


If Starlack, the capital city of the elves, were to be described in one word, that word would be pretentious. Billed as the rebuilding of the first city of the ancient elven civilization, in actuality the city was an entirely fresh construct, right down to the location, which was sited for reasons of geography rather than mythology. Beneath all the shiny and glossy looking towers stood a perfectly modern and contemporary city, with all the plumbing, and roads as one sees just about everywhere on this side of the borders.

The Hall of Assembly was little different in most regards, except in that whoever designed it didn’t bother to fight for height, which will always be a losing battle in the face of progress and technological advance. Instead, it was pretty obvious said person went with the overly tacky approach, which had the overall effect of making the building appearing almost a parody of its purpose.

As he meanders through the ornate halls in searching for a specific room Bateua wondered if he made the right choice in accepting this offer. After all, he’s an outsider, and by most indication and analysis from the Lost humans this new elven regime will be rather intolerant soon enough. He finally found the room he’s looking for, and after a simple knock and hearing a confirmation, opened the door.

“Welcome to our little circle Bateua,” Amberea said smoothly, “and I’m so glad that you can make it.”

She was sitting behind a surprisingly moderate sized desk, and she was far from alone, there were a number of others gathered around the desk, mostly elves but also a human amongst the group. Bateua raised an eyebrow at the sight of a human amongst them.

“Allow me to introduce the incoming administration.” Amberea said, noticing Bateua’s expression. She waved a hand at the most normal looking of the group. “This is Naresa, the vice chairman. He was on the track to teach political science at the national academy before I convinced him to take a chance at some more hands on in politics.”

The hand moved on to an interesting looking elf, if she was actually an elf, her dark skin and bleached blond hair a sharp contrast to what elves normally looks like, and that’s before commenting on her choice of clothing, which in Bateua’s uninformed opinion seems to be consist of an unholy amount of belts and various pieces of leather, all black, all in no noticeable pattern. “She’s Oesa, and she will be head of the soon to be formed State Security Service. Oh, and if you couldn’t tell already she’s a native of the South Continent.”

After that, she pointed at a small looking elf, whose most notable feature was the pair of glasses she’s wearing. “This is Pareau, minister of Truth and Public Enlightenment. You know, what you would call the propaganda bureau. She’s one of the daughter of the owner of the largest newspaper in the country, not an heir though, so here she is.”

The hand next moved towards the human, and if Jack was an example of a generic isekai, this man would be the example of a sketchy isekai, with his jet black hair, narrow and hard eyes, and wearing an uniform so customized that it might as well be a unique. “And him, he is Erwin Manstein von Guderian… general adviser to the National Unity Party, and now by extension, the government. One of our own isekais, so to speak.”

She droned on about the various others in the group, but Bateua paid little attention, as even at first impression he was already getting bad vibes from that human, the weird ass name certainly didn’t help, as most Lost humans’ names tend to be on the curt and short side. Thus the opposite would indicate something along the line of arrogance, or whatever, he really had no clue come to think of it. He wished Jack was around to analyze this, but he wasn’t invited to this.

“... and since you have a good knowledge base of what the rich and powerful of the countries on this side of the borders like, will you accept a position in our government’s foreign relations?”

Bateua blinked, for while he for the most part expected to be dragged into the orbit of this mad elf he wasn’t exactly expecting a position, not this quickly at any rate.

“I… I’d be honored.” He replied, while wondering what could have possibly motivated him to say that. He immediately concluded that it was mainly because he doesn’t want to head off to that death continent Ironi, regardless of the supposed business opportunities there.

“Good, good.” She said. “Now let’s get business started…”


“Well, that explains a lot.” Jack said. “And by a lot I mean not much at all.”

The two of them, Jack and Bateua, were walking on one of the streets of Nob Cove, one of the numerous planned towns on the South Continent. Besides the use of local materials the unmistakable feature of elven towns, namely the abundance of trees and fountains, were evident, despite what must be insane, if not wasteful, amount of water usage.

Such appearance of wastefulness seems to be the norm all across the South Continent, especially since the new chairman Amberea declared “war” of “reclamation” against the deserts of the continent.

Despite the melodramatic and ridiculous nature of the proclamation, the reclamation war was nothing more than massive infrastructure development and geo-engineering projects with a heavy dose of rhetoric, and military involvement. The purpose of all that was of course to make the desert bloom and productive, a goal that many of the Lost humans in various countries had derided as insane and delusional.

The whole plan would have been unthinkable by Lost human standards, however the elves weren’t playing by the normal rule book as written by isekais. The almost ubiquitous usage of golems, an innovation almost wholly developed by the elves, and the prodigious amount of mana produced and gathered by the elves themselves to fuel those and countless other magic based constructs allowed mega projects to use far less sapient labor and material resources than it would otherwise have.

“Well, I’m glad for your insights regardless.” Bateua said. It had been a long time since either of them contacting the other, mostly because of the situation Bateua has gotten himself into. It didn’t long to figure out that the whole State Security isn’t something to be taken lightly, and thus correspondence between the two discussing anything more important than the weather dropped to next to nothing.

Thus it was an golden opportunity when Bateua made a trip to the South Continent to assess the progress of the reclamation and to dressed it up appropriately to foreign investor, in other words his usual clients from back in the day. Jack, of course was merely a simply traveler who wishes to see the sights of a new world being transformed.

“If nothing else, that wehraboo douchebag is bad news all around.” Jack continued. “I’ll see what I can dig up about him, but from what little you told me he seems to be someone who should be on the other side of the borders.”

“That bad?” Bateua was more than a bit skeptic, as Lost humans tend to overblow threats, especially concerning their fellow types across the border.

“Yes, it is that bad. We’re talking about people who salivating over killing large numbers of near defenseless people level of crazy here, and they deny about it if called out on their bullshit.” He continued in a quieter voice. “You gotta stop him somehow, or else this world will burn.”

“Oh come on, give me a break.” Bateua rolled his eyes. “He’s just one man for crying out loud.”

“Who just happens to have the ears of the most powerful person in this country at the moment.”

“Yeah well, there’s a bunch of them who has her ears. He’s hardly the only one.”

“He’s an isekai.”

“Which meant shit when the Union and the Republic tore one out of the human empire back in the day.”

Jack simply shook his head as his attention once again drifted away from the conversation. The entire trip was full of sights, mostly of the sapient made variety, which doesn’t detract much from their impressive size regardless. From the massive desalination plants to the web of canals crisscrossing the land to the ever advancing sets of walls and barriers pushing back the seemingly endless deserts. This time however, he was eyeing the elves walking about, specifically the those that were born on the continent.

“I know, I know, they looks just gives everyone the creeps.” Bateua said quietly, “but really once you get to know them they are really nice and laid back. The hard part of course will be to get that knowledge past all the baked in prejudices, but then again that’s where the challenge lies.”

“Oh no, I don’t think they look creepy at all.” Jack replied, “In fact I think they’re very beautiful.” He adjusted his shorts, probably because some bug got in, Bateua thought. The damn buzzards and gadflies seems to follow the infrastructure and the vegetation, sometime he wondered if bring civilization was a good idea given how much baggage seems to come along for the ride, for better or worse.

“Though moving on from that.” Bateua continued, “It seems that those elves born and raised on this continent seems to have greater reserves of mana, which probably explains the amount of golems and other magic based tools and the rapidness of their development of the continent.”

“The government back on the old world pouring in what amounts to war time levels of spending also doesn’t hurt.” Jack pointed out. “In your best guess, how long do you think they could keep this up?”

“You know that I’m not exactly privy to minutes of their budget.”

“But you have your hunches.”

“You probably won’t believe this then, but I think the venture will soon begin to pay for itself.”

“That’s crazy talk.”

“Look around you, the place is ripe for industries and commerce. The infrastructure is in place, the population and markets also.”

“Well, if you’re correct, then that may be good news.”

“What do you mean?”

“That their appetite for conquest are being sated here and now.”

“And I probably shouldn’t ask this, but if not?”

“Then we might see a war within the decade.” He shrugged.


More time passed, seasons (where they existed as such) marched by, the machinery of life and civilizations continues their grind. The deserts of South Continent blossomed into gardens while millions hacked through the metal rich lands of Ironi and extract its boundless wealth, paying their price in blood and sweat.


It was the first of such games and athletic events anywhere in this world, although it certainly wasn’t the first time such an idea has been floated in known worlds of the multiverse. The influences from a certain other infamous game from a certain other world was clearly shown in the first ever Elven Games. The massive stadiums, built over the past decade ever since the new regime took power, the militarized uniforms of the participating athletes (even though by human standards they were on the skimpy side of things, the orcs and dragons thought those little pieces of cloth were just there for painted numbers), the torch relay supposedly derived from some ancient elven rites, the massive banners in vivid colors draped across just about every surface in the capital city, the bombastic speeches by Amberea and other bigwigs of the government about the new age of the elven race and the great awakening of elven culture.

It was all very spectacular to most of the spectators present, and only the Lost humans noticing the rather obvious references.

“Oh god, it’s like I’m in an weeaboo version of the 1936 Berlin Olympics.” Jack muttered. He and Bateua were sitting among a number of other humans, orcs, and elves in a section of the newly completed Spiral Stadium watching the opening ceremonies. While officially there was no segregation of the races, people’s tendencies to congregate to those similar to them as well as the lack of assigned seating meant that the end results were pretty self segregated. “I bet that wehraboo Erwin is behind all of this.”

“Another pop culture reference from your world?” Bateua asked. It’s always rather annoying when the Lost human speak of things in his world with the expectation that everyone in this one would immediately understand.

“More of a history reference, of a time when it appeared that evil was at the apex of its power.”

“Or maybe you’re reading into this too much again, let’s just enjoy the games and the natural appeal of bodies in motion.”

Once past the opening ceremonies, the actual athletics events themselves, which took place over a period of a few weeks, were rather oddly mundane. There was the usual track and field events, the equine events, and certain sports such as tennis (which ironically the participants in that had the most conservative dress, though quite a few of the Lost humans would instantly recognize where those took their inspiration from). Interestingly enough, there weren’t any contact sports present.

Overall, it was a rather enjoyable experience, as long as one was ignorant of the outworldly roots of the games. That was why Jack didn’t really bother to attend most of the events, his excuse being that he simply wasn’t interested in sports, and Bateua wasn’t motivated enough to ask deeper.


‘Here we go.’ Bateua thought to himself. It was the closing ceremonies of the Elven games, and for once he had to be present along with the rest of Amberea’s posse at the grandstand, a far cry from that soap box all those years ago. Something about big changes to the elven nation state or something along those lines. To get through what he figured would be a long and rather boring speech he was nursing a shot of whisky, held in a heavy lowball glass.

“... and in light of the needs of the elven people in this modern age of great opportunities but also of great dangers, a strong and decisive hand is necessary to navigate the ship of state.” Amberea droned on. “I hereby announce the reformation of the Lasce Confederacy into the Lasce Imperial State!”

There was a massive applause across the entire stadium, and it was that moment Bateua realized that quote from jack, all those years ago.

“Damn it, this is the time to make that reference.” He muttered to himself as he downs the rest of his drink. “Well, too late to worry about that now.”

The applause was still ongoing when the unmistakable bark of a pistol rang out. Everyone in the room immediately turned their heads, to see Erwin dropping to the ground, leaking quite a bit of blood.

“Sic semper tyrannis!” Jack shouted, holding a revolver in his hand.

Even till the end of his life, Bateua could never explain why he did what he did at that point. Possibly instinct, or plot induced movement as the Lost humans called it. Whatever the reasoning it was quite irrelevant. Before anyone else could react he threw the heavy glass in his hand at Jack.

The glass hit him in the chest, then fell to the floor where it shattered into hundreds of pieces. It wasn’t enough to even hurt him, but it was enough to make him drop his gun momentarily. That fleeting moment was enough as two guards were upon him within a moment, and slammed him to the ground.


“While I’m certainly thankful for your great generosity and mercy, but I’m at a loss of understanding as to why you would do this.” Bateua asked. It was a week later, and he was in Amberea’s office.

It was too late for Erwin, who by the time medics showed up has already left the mortal coil of this world, a process probably all too familiar to him. Meanwhile Jack was held in detention until Amberea decided to pardon him, though only on the condition that he leaves the country immediately and never come back. As for Bateua, the impromptu hero of the night? He was now closer to the inner circle than ever before.

“It’s simple, a little thing called cruel mercy.” She replied coyly. “By letting him go I have just destroyed his entire narrative, and no one will believe a word he says about me for the foreseeable future. The Lost Bureau itself has also lost quite a bit of face in this.” Seeing Bateua’s shocked expression, she smiled. “Do you guys really think you could hide that kind of stuff for any length of time? Oesa’s quite competent you know.”

“I… um.” He begin, trying to choose his next words carefully.

“Relax, you’re fully vetted.” She smiled, though it was more of a predatory smile than usual. “Moving on, the death of Erwin was rather regrettable but also rather convenient. I was planning on exiling him at some point in a non-violent version of the Night of the Long Knives, but his death now will allow me to shift a lot of the blame on him, and it’s not like there’s going to be anyone defending him.”

“But, why are you telling me all of this?” Bateua asked, “Isn’t it generally a really bad idea to reveal all your plans before their completion?”

“Because things are too far in motion for anyone to stop them.” The smile widened. “In many cases the so called great people were merely embodiments of the will of the peoples, and I don’t think I’m that different.”

With a chill Bateua realized that she’s quite correct. Killing her now will not bring back the sedentary elves that he knew.
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You really should have just teased the first 5 to 10 chapters and published/advertised the rest on Lulu or something instead...

Mark Poe

The majestic cock
(S.E. 390s)
F**k you senpai! The Elven Human War​

Part 1: anticipating violence​

The first thing that Jefferson Poeman noticed when he stepped onto the train car in Ekabery central station was the dragon sitting in one of the couches, sipping tea from a dainty little cup. It was a jarrying sight, mostly because dragons, especially pure dragons, are usually way too rich and upper class to travel in merchant class cars.

“Good morning, fellow traveler.” The dragon said cheerfully. “Come and have a seat here.”

“What, what is someone like you doing here?” Jeff asked, still haven’t shaken out of his surprise even as he sat across from the dragon.

“My my, how impolite, we must exchange introductions first.” The dragon was obviously having a bit of fun at the human’s expense. “I am Dag’Ensond, heir to the Qoma aluminum works, and who might you be?”

“I, I am Jefferson Poeman, military attaché, on my way to the Lasce Imperial State on behalf of the Axeon Union.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful. For I am in a similar position, though rather lacking the official-ness of your position as my government haven’t seen to care enough about this little war that is coming about.”

It was something that while everyone barring some of the more naive pacifists that the newly reorganized Elven state and its immediate human neighbor the Kingdom of the Wolf were on a collision course to war. However, to most it was still almost unbelievable that the actual spark was from a group of rogue human adventurers allegedly unaffiliated with neither countries who crossed the border illegally and attempted to kidnap the elven capital tennis team at the third Elven games. More observing persons would realize that given the… particular personality of the current tyrant in charge of the Imperial State attacking what being one of her key social political pet projects would not end well for all participants.

Regardless of the alleged spark, war was promptly declared, even though no one was actually prepared for such a thing. Despite the bombastic militarization of the new regime, the Elven military was far from ready, with mobilization orders not even sent out until the declaration of war was sent over the border (as there were no embassy between the two countries). Meanwhile over the border, the situation was worse, while the Kingdom of the Wolf had made great strides towards modernization of its industries much of that was extremely selective, mostly in the ‘spear’ part of the military.

Such was the case that despite the supposed suddenness of the war and the media fueled fear mongering surrounding it, there was preciously little activities in the opening days. Just enough time for everyone else to ship out gaggles of attachés and associated hangerons to gawk on what was shaping up to be the first ‘modern’ war. Thus it came to be that a human and a dragon were sharing the same table on a train car on its way to the Elven imperial capital.


“So you were saying you’re here to research on your newest book, may I enquire on the nature of the contents?” It was after dinner, a simple affair of instant noodles of which Dag was oddly enthusiastically about, and night has fallen, making sightseeing (not that anyone on the car was into that much, given the nature of their trip and destination), all but impossible.

“Ah, yes. It will be about the history of warfare, specifically of this century, which by the scale of time was remarkable in how much advancements there were. It was a century started with the last hurrah of the noble arms and it appears to be that it’ll end with the herald of the exit of sapient creatures from the combat lines. All the more remarkable was that all this was within the span of a single lifetime.” He looked at Jeff, who seemed to be confused for a moment. “Oh my, I’m sorry, sometimes I do forget that not everyone lives as long as us or the elves. Another perk of travelling more normal surroundings.”

“If that why you are traveling in merchant class instead of aristocratic class?”

“Yes, a flaw among my race for so long, that we styled ourselves as above the rest. Unfortunately many of us still do, it makes us lose certain perceptions at times.”

“Well, that’s very humble of you.”

“It was also much more relaxing, no need to be stick up the arse about high culture and etiquette.” He chuckled, and Jeff followed suit, though with somewhat more cautiously.

“By the way,” Dag asked, “I been meaning to ask, but are you one of the isekais?”

“Oh no,” Jeff replied, “first generation native, or one and a half depends on how you look at it. Mother is isekai while father is native, given how few male isekais live on this side of the borders.”

“Have they ever figured out why almost all the males summoned or sent here tend to be… well, scum?”

“Sort of. They just chalk it up as the local deity or deities in charge of this mess are scumbags also.” Jeff shrugged. No one really dwell up on that, and even the most inquisitive theologians have long since stopped actively looking into the matter.

“Well given how much we have all advanced during this past short century, perhaps it will be simply a matter of time before we take our rightful vengeance on those deities.”

“Quite a lofty dream don’t you think?” Jeff was more than a little skeptic on mere mortals’ chances against deities, especially ones that doesn’t even seem to inhabit the same plane of existence.

“The past century has already seen more changes than the previous millennium. Who knows what the future will bring?”

“You, off all people, should know better than making forecast on mere trends.”

Dag lightly flapped his wings, his race version of a shrug, “It’s hard not to be optimistic about such things though, especially after living through those times before the flowering of progress.”


At the Elven capital of Starlark, the two newly and unlikely acquaintances bid their goodbyes, as Dag heads off to observe the Elven army while Jeff stayed on the train, as his stop was to be the port of Aquaston.

For a city of a country at war, Starlark was oddly tranquile. The streets were filled with the usual throngs of civilians going on their merry ways, and few soldiers or sailors in sight. The shops and cafes were open, for all intents and purposes business as usual. However there was a different feeling in the air, a sense of purpose mixed in with perhaps mild anticipation.

He didn’t have much time to dwell on that as the train soon left Starlark proper, and once again seemly endless fields of grain or groves of fruit trees only occasionally broken by the odd village and town greets him as the train chugs along, oblivious to the war at large.

Mark Poe

The majestic cock
Part 2: nice boats​

The port of Aquaston was a frenzy of activity when Jeff arrived, a forest of masts and funnels all but obscuring the warehouses and other buildings from afar. Ships of all kinds, from humble fishing boats with only sails to the vast cargo ships and passenger liners whose funnels bellows the vast machinery deep in their hulls.

He was however, looking for the naval base, and after a half an hour in what passed for hectic traffic by elvish standards (The wide streets really helped a lot in dealing with traffic, even as the city expanded along with the population) he arrived at the naval base section of the port.

For a supposed militarized power with imperial ambitions and colonial obligations, the naval base was oddly non-militaristic looking. All of the building were of a handsome brick construction, none were taller than four stories, making it little surprise that the whole complex of buildings sprawled what must have been many acres of prime land. The spaces between those buildings were filled with gardens and tree lined path, with the odd large grass fields dotted occasionally. The docks on the other hand, did give off a more workmanlike atmosphere, and a number of warships and boats were docked there.

Compared to the civilian cargo ships, much less the passenger liners, even the largest warships present there were rather on the smaller side of things. Most of the warships present were even smaller. Size aside, a few do appear reasonably modern, even though some of the smaller ones still appears to have some sailing masts in addition to steam power as indicated by their funnels.

He then made his way to the shiniest ship at the docks.


“Welcome aboard to the LINS Scorpion.” A female officer announced to Jeff as he walked up the gangplank. “I’m captain Renuema.”

There was a small group of sailors waiting for him on the Scorpion, although they didn’t exactly made themselves obvious enough, as they watched in amusement as Jeff was trying to find the correct ship. It turns out that all four ships of the class were at the docks, making identification a bit harder than usual.

“I thank you for the navy’s generosity for allowing observers onboard.” Jeff replied. It’s the standard greetings for attachés when boarding the vessels or others or following their land military units, a measure of acknowledgement of the existence that the eyes of the world are watching.

Speaking of the sailors themselves, Jeff wondered what the heck were they thinking when they adapted a variation of the Sailor Fuku style uniform. While it was certainly a delicious irony for a military style uniform to be used in an actual military setting for once it doesn’t doesn’t necessarily meant it was practical, but then again given the tropical nature of the usual places where the imperial naval usually trawls around there was a certain bit of logic. He figured though it was probably adapted on the suggestion of some isekai, either a full or half weeaboonese one. Only those bastards would have the influence and the motivation to combine out of place sexuality and naked imperialism.

But it is bad habit to pass judgement on a military only by their appearances, and Jeff had to remind himself that he is about to witness the first time any modern navy on this world go into combat. In hindsight, it was weird that there weren’t more naval combat in the past century, but then again when all the relevant nations were all located in a single continent and all the colonial adversaries tend to be either nature or the natives there weren’t many opportunities for navies to shine… or humiliate themselves.

After a few exchanges of additional greetings and other small patitudies of little consequence it was time for the tour of the ship, although Jeff didn’t to tell them that he’s already well acquainted with the capabilities of the ship. After all, the ship they’re on now was designed and constructed by Tomson-Palmer Industrial Conglomerate, as well as one of the remaining three of the class. Many of the larger vessels of the imperial navy were still designed and constructed in foreign yards, which was a good way to acquire modern units quickly without the prerequisites of infrastructure investments but also leaves quite a few outsiders knowing what their capabilities are.

Regardless, it doesn’t hurt to refresh on the knowledge, and more importantly, to see what they left out for the audience. So as the ship’s tour begin some rather familiar information begin to flow again: The ship bring the lead ship of her class, laid down at Tomson-Palmer Industrial Conglomerate’s Iron Sand shipyard. main armament consists of three 200mm guns, mounted in a single turret, interestingly at the back. The design choice was to have a higher freeboard in the forecastle while keeping displacement at a reasonable level.

“... and total crew is at 118.” First officer Fimensia rambled on.

“Wait, what?” Jeff interrupted, something’s off. “A ship this size should have more than double that.” He didn’t mention the paper full wartime complement, which they now should be at, was supposed to be 374, more than three times the crew currently quoted.

Fimensia smiled, “Very perceptive. Yes normally the crew requirements of a vessel of this size would require a much larger crew, however we are able to replace most of the stokers and gun crew with golems. An unusual form of automation perhaps, but it works. This way also allows us to push the boilers and guns much closer to their potential, as golems tend to have a higher consistent rate of work as compared to mortals.”

Jeff whistled at hearing that. The amount of mana required to power that number of constructs, especially if this was repeated across the rest of the fleet, would be unthinkable to any other country. Yet it appears that the elves think nothing of such expenditure of such valuable resources. Then he realized, that’s probably the impression they want to give to him; that of a modern and powerful military well funded with resources.

Well, that remains to be seen. Then he noticed something else seemly unexplained.

“What’s with the painted lines in the front?” He pointed at the forecastle of the ship, which saved for the usual anchor chains and two 50mm guns on the side, was mostly cleared up with quite a bit of line in some sort of pattern.

“Oh those?” She shrugged, “Landing markers for the onboard aviation complement.”

“What aviation complement?” He asked, looking around for anything that would suggest the storage of heavier or lighter than air flying machines. Not that he expected any, since from all accounts the former are still a ways off while the latter still being mere curiosities. “Witches with broomsticks?”

“They traded in the broomsticks for boomsticks a time ago, much more useful if they come into contact.” She replied nonchalantly. Jeff simply stared at her. “What? Everyone knows how important aviation is for scouting.” She continued, as if it’s the most mundane thing in the world.

For the second time that day Jeff found out just how unorthodox the elves were in their application of existing technology and magic, and the blind spots the isekais have in their usual assumptions.

This war might have more implications than mere change of borders and bodies hitting the floor...


“Enemy fleet sighted. Bearing Southwest. Distance of 20 kilometers and closing” One of the officers of the bridge reported calmly and clearly. A communications officer, in charge of filtering information from the witch scouts, of which the last of them had returned around half an hour ago.

It was a few weeks out in the South Ocean, most of which the fleet, which was really just a dozen cruisers (there were a few more, but they had to turn back due to engine troubles.So much for the vaulted golems) cheerfully chugging along. Thankfully the seas were mostly calm, although Jeff quickly found out that for all the supposed romanticism of sea travel did little to prepare him for the reality, like minor things such as sea sickness and lack of vegetables outside of cans.

“Acknowledged.” The captain replied. “All personnel prepare for combat.”

As everyone else scurry off to their positions to wait in anticipation of the coming battle Jeff was still standing in a corner of the bridge, though the bridge of the Scorpion, as well as most larger vessels tend to be closer to that of a combant center.

The idea was simple, the imperial fleet was to bait the fleet of the human kingdom out of their ports and into a wild goose chase, thus allowing the shipment of resources, supplies, and most importantly golems and their accompanying mages from the South Continent to the old world.

Indeed the plan was simple, therefore there was no possibility that it would have worked. Which was why they took a slight detour and shelled the port of Coburn. The resulting shelling was far from impressive, more of a live fire exercise than a terror attack, in which a not insignificant number of shells somehow missing the city entirely although the distances was a bit on the longer end of suggested range.

And now the entirety of the Kingdom’s navy was steaming to meet them.

Well, not all of it, just all the major units.

“Latest report enemy fleet strength at four battleships and seven armored cruisers.” The officer continued. What was not mentioned, and Jeff wasn’t sure if the elves knew about it, but the kingdom’s ironclads were about a decade older than the elven ships. Such knowledge being one of the more dubious perks of belong to a country that sold ships and designs to anybody and everybody. That being said the rest of them on the bridge doesn’t need to know that.

However, just because the enemy's ships were a bit out of date doesn’t mean the the end has already been written. Older or not battleships still carry more armor than cruisers, not to mentioned the bigger guns. It’s going to be a rather interesting fight all things considered.

“Smoke spotted. Due southwest” One of the other officers announced. Presumably relayed the information from some observer on the crow’s nest on the single mast.

“Set course for intercept.” The admiral called out.

The next couple of minutes as the two fleets prepared to meet their destiny seemed to be an eternity, and for Jeff it was rather nerve wracking. However it would not do for him to find a corner to hide in, as his job is to observe, and hiding somewhere won’t achieve that. Also the half exposed bridge would be easier to escape in the event of the need to abandon ship, should the worst comes into being.

When the enemy ships were still barely dots on the horizon the captain calmed ordered “Have main batteries fire when ready, and change course to parallel the enemy force.”

‘Well, that’s rather interesting.’ Jeff thought to himself just before the cannons fired.

Despite being on the opposite side to where the turret was mounted, everyone on the bridge felt the shock of the guns firing. For a ship displacing a little over 5,000 tonnes three 8in guns do place quite a bit of strain on the hull.

The first salvo, and the few after, had no noticeable effect as far as anyone could tell. The shells made many great splashes but no hits. The enemy fleet has not been idle however, and soon the sea around the elven ships were also chunned with numerous splashes. Jeff almost couldn’t help but to facepalm. You can equip them up with modern weapons, but don’t actually expect them to use them like they’re supposed to. So far the battle feels more akin to a bunch of feral children fling rocks at each other.

“Enemy ships have broken formation.” an officer called out. “It appears to be that they have been given the order to charge at our line.”

“Good.” The admiral responded. “Give the fleet the order to turn for a semi parallel course. Make sure to not open the distance though.”

And then Jeff understood. The idea was to force the enemy ships to waste as much of their ammunition as possible while also exhausting their strokers and gunners. He hoped that the elves do remember that many of the human ships were equipped with rams though, and if they weren’t careful things might get a bit dicey.

The next few hours fell into a pattern in which the human fleet desperately attempted to close the distance while the elven fleet played the fine line between giving them the faintest of hope while keeping the distances enough to prevent accurate shooting. The rear mounted turret of the Scorpion class cruiser really came in handy as it allowed the elven ships to utilize the bulk of their firepower in a non-battleline situation. Even the shell splashes became rather boring, especially once most ships stopped firing as fast as possible in order to conserve ammunition or letting their gun crews some rest.

Yet it felt all too soon when the smoke from the human ships begin to sputter, an indication of them either running out of coal or far more likely their strokers becoming exhausted.

“Signal the fleet to come about face.” The admiral ordered calmly. “Make sure all ships to keep a distance of at least 10 kilometers until further orders are given.”

The slaughter was about to begin.

However, because no one has actually had any experience in such a thing the process ended up being rather drawn out and botched all things considered.

Credit to where it’s due, the human admiral quickly realized the trap he ran into, and the human ships quickly attempted to disperse, with the cruisers fleeing as fast as they were able while the battleships maneuvered themselves between their fleeing comrades and the elven fleet going in for the kill.

For the most part the elven ships were taking their time, first moving into medium range to unload the remaining 8in shells, and once the upperworks of the enemy ships were deemed to be sufficiently neutralized they began moving closer to bring the 6in and smaller guns to bear. Plunging fire was the order of the day.

Soon the remaining human battleships, despite their inability to fight back effectively by now, simply took on the hailstorm of rounds. Even as their upper works were reduced to flaming wrecks their hulls stood defiantly, as if taunting the elves of their underhanded ways of combat. The human cruisers were less lucky, the few who haven’t escaped were quickly sent to the bottom, as they had not the armor unlike the battleships.

It doesn’t matter, the modern battlefield has no place for honor, only victory and defeat.

“Hardly sporting.” Jeff said, mainly to himself. He has long left the bridge itself, and now standing on the bridge wing looking over the scenes of hulks burning and men drowning, along with a few boats here and there trying to fish out some of the survivors.

“Well, it’s not as if they’re gonna be any more merciful if the positions were reversed.” The captain shrugged, who in the meantime, as the battle was all but over, came out to the bridge wing.

The two were still looking when suddenly a huge plume of fire shot up from one of the elven cruisers.

“What the hell just happened?!?” The captain shouted as she rushed into the bridge. Jeff quickly followed her.

“It’s one of the scorpions, the Vladek.” One of the officers replied, “a stray shot form one of the enemy ships still resisting, penetrated the turret and probably cooked off the ready ammunition, looks like.”

“Well, silence them then.” The captain said, “No point in letting them getting lucky a second time.”

The pitiful resistance was quickly silenced with a hail of fire, and soon all that’s left was to collect the wounded, bury the dead, towed the captured ships, and moving on to the next objective.

The battle might have been won, but the war was far from over.
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Mark Poe

The majestic cock
Part 3: motivations​

“Well that was quick.” Dag said as he saw Jeff walking towards him. “I didn’t expect to see you again until after the war to be honest.”

“You stick yourself in a tin can for three months and let’s see how you’ll perceive them after that.” Jeff answered. “And I got lucky, actually you could say the entire imperial navy got lucky, which is why I’m here instead of getting seasick on a boat.”

The two of them were at an unnamed encampment on the frontiers, where in the same period of time that Jeff was out on the sea went from some patches of grasses to a massive series of compounds, housing tens of thousands of troops, their weapons, machinery, and all the logistics and supplies that was needed to support a modern army. For all intents and purposes it might as well be a town, it even has its own rail line and station, such was the appetite for supplies.

It was far from the own such encampment, for similar ones sprung up all over the frontier like weeds since the war begin. The imperial state was not taking any chances.

“So what happened?” Dag asked.

“Well, there wasn’t much of a fleet left on the side of the Kingdom,” Jeff answered, “and the elves got themselves a couple of obsolete hulks. Which is why I’m here now, nothing much else to see at this point out in the sea except for the fish and the odd sea monster.”

“Well, it’s good to see you still possessing all your body and wits.”

“Speaking of which, what happened back on here solid ground?” Now it was Jeff’s turn to ask questions.

“Besides the odd patrols taking potshots at each other, nothing.” Dag answered, “The Kingdom are already looking for a way out while the elves here are preparing for to strike when they massed sufficient force.”

“And what, exactly, is sufficient force in their minds?”

“More golems than you can shake a stick at. These guys are not taking any chances.”

“Chances of what?”

“Unlike your little jaunt on the nice boats, prevailing theory on land combat is that things still might get close enough for mind control magic to come into play, and most of the elven high command had read enough erotic literature to know better than to take any chances on that.”

“Aren’t most of the helmets tin plated these days?” Jeff pointed out, not unreasonably.

“Actually they’re moving on to aluminium plating these days. Much better mind control resistant properties.” dag said, a hand pointing at the silver metal headband he’s wearing. “Doesn’t mean you’re home free though, close enough and with sufficient power can overcome any passive defenses.”

“Hey guys, what’s up.” Another human voice intruded on the two. Jeff turned around, seeing a middle aged female in a uniform of the Republic of Mundock, though of a type that haven’t been in use for decades. However, the thing that caught his attention was not the uniform, but rather the scars on her face.

“Hello Nora.” Dag waved at her, confirming Jeff’s suspicious. He then turned toward Jeff. “She really helped when she vouched for me to get in here, being that I didn’t really have any official papers.”

“Wait, did you seriously just expect to just waltz into an armed camp without proper documentation?” Jeff was aghast at the sheer… bimboness of the dragon.

Nora chuckled. “It’s quite normal for the aristocracy regardless of race to not really get the more mundane parts of the bureaucracy and how the rest of us rabble work.” She turned towards Jeff. “And nice to meet you, I guess you’re one of the attachés from the Union?”

“Um, yes. Yes I am.” Jeff stuttered. “It’s an honor being in the presence of a legend.”

“Oh, that’s basically ancient history.” She shrugged it off, as if almost embarrassed. “Remember we’re here to watch a new generation of soldiers coming into age.”

“Oh of course, it would be unkind to steal their moment of glory.” Dag agreed rather quickly. “If it comes that is, they seems awfully timid all things considered.” He flicked a finger at the fields of golems, standing in wait on the fields, waiting with all the patience in the world for the mana crystals that will bring life and purpose to them.

“But why?” Jeff asked. “From all indications, at least all the ones I could see, they have an utterly crushing advantage over the kingdom’s military.”

“That’s because you haven’t lived through the old days.” Nora said, almost a whisper. “That being said neither have I.” She immediately said that in a much more normal volume. “Which is why I’ll defer to Dag here.”

Dag suddenly looked up. “Whoa whoa whoa, I’m not exactly an historian.”

“You’re even better, as you’re technically a primary source.” Nora smiled.

“Unfortunately, I’m more of a secondary source at best.” Dag said sheepishly.

The three of them had relocated themselves to one of the officers’ mess hall, where it was currently serving afternoon tea. While they were the only ones at their particular table, there were a number of elven officers sitting at nearby tables, all pretending to not totally eavesdropping on them.

Well, they’re gonna be disappointed as always. No one’s ever stupid enough to discuss actual militarily important matters in public like that. Or even social gossip, as the damage from that could potentially be even more severe.

“Again, close enough as you’re the only one among us who actually lived through that period of time.” Nora assured him, not all that successfully judging by the scowl, but Dag relented quickly anyway.

“Ah shucks, come along children, and gather around for storytime.” Dag said, with a voice to match for the first time. Jeff simply stared at him. “I always wanted to say that.” Dag grinned.

“Back in the olden days, when I was merely still a mere young one in the hatchery.” Dag begin, “It was a simpler time, when the scourge that became known as the isekais first pollute this fair world of ours.” He looked at Nora, who had this dangerous grin on her face. “No offense intended” He quickly added, “and please don’t kill me and my soul.” He said in a much quieter voice.

“No offense taken.” Nora replied coyly, which did little to reassure the dragon. But the story must go on.

He gulped and continued. “At that time, the elves did have their native culture, contrary to what later historians would claim. They had agriculture, animal husbandry, pottery, religions, the usual delights of civilization. Then the isekai destroyed all that. No, not the usual raping, pillaging and burning, though there were some of that too. No, what they did was more insidious. It was with the persuasive word that they had the elves to turn back on their civilization, to be remodeled into a hunter-gatherer existence, supposedly illdelic and in harmony with nature. Never mind that nature unaltered is often brutal and nasty.”

“You know you could just say ‘and they used their mind control powers and their all conquering dicks’.” Nora interjected during the lull in Dag’s tale. Dag shrugged.

“That doesn’t sound appropriate thematically though, and I can’t have that in my storytelling.” He shot back.

“Fair enough.” Nora relented.

“Yet even as they twisted the elven people, they made them love them for it. Much like an abused spouse, the elven people could not even see the reality. It was heartbreaking to see them hurting themselves for their oppressors, all with glazed smile on their faces.” He paused, almost certainly for dramatic effect. “And this is why they are on the warpath now.”

A silence descended on the mess hall, as even the eavesdroppers were quiet. It just felt befitting the situation. Jeff was the first to break the silence.

“Um, okay…” He begin, “that’s quite a bit to take in.” A different train of though suddenly occurred to him. “So does that mean that minster Oesa’s archaeological expeditions have some merit to them?” He asked.

“Yeah, I guess.” Dag shrugged. “Though I seriously doubt they’re gonna find an actual water goddess.”

“I’m not so sure.” Nora said, in a much quieter voice. “Those expeditions had always sounded like a discount Ahnenerbe to be honest.” She glanced at the other elven officers in the room. “I’d say this conversation is over.”

“Well, it’s nice to hear that story from Dag and conversing with you wonderful persons.” Jeff said as he stood up. “I do look forward to see the elven imperial army win glorious victories on the battlefield much like their navy has done so far.” The last bit was more for everyone else at the mess hall.

Mark Poe

The majestic cock
Part 4: On the field of battle​

“Well, this is a bit earlier than I expected.” Nora remarked. Watching the battle unfold along with the rest of the attachés and a number of elven military officials in a hill that’s located just a bit too far to be convenient, but at least there’s plenty of telescopes to go around courtesy of the elven general staff.

Despite the advances during the century, warfare wasn’t all that faster as far as strategic mobility was concerned. Once out of the range of the railroads, the armies still mainly relied on foot and hoof, as even the elves cart around their golems in wagons, their mana reserves weren’t that limitless.

Such it was the ponderousness of these armies that it wasn’t difficult for both sides to figure out where the others were, and when both sides actually met each other it was at a place where neither really wanted to fight.

“What do you mean by earlier?” Dag asked. Due to the shape of his head he was the only one present who couldn’t use the field telescopes being provided. “It’s only mid morning, the perfect time to start a battle from what I been told.”

“Not the time of the day, the tech and doctrine level.” Nora said, more to herself than replying to Dag. “Post cavalry armored thrusts for breakthrough purpose shouldn’t really occur for another decade at least, not until the internal combustion engine becomes more mature.”

And yet it was happening right before their eyes as the formations of three meter high golems, armed with machine guns and light cannons, lumbered forward, meeting the volleys of bullets as if walking through light summer rain. Where they point their guns hundreds were cut down, much akin to syncthing through ripe grain.

Suddenly one of the golem blew up, literally. Unfortunately they’re not immune against the king of the battlefield.

“Damn it, they’re getting too far to see anything useful.” Jeff muttered.

“I got an idea. We can take to the skies.” Dag suggested.

“Um… As far as I know, neither Jeff nor I have enough mana or magical skills to fly.” Nora said.

“I, carrying both of you, of course.” Dag said, almost proud of himself.

“Questions of etiquette aside, and there are many.” Jeff begin, having stopped looking into his telescope. “Could you even lift an additional one hundred fifty some kilos?”

“Worry not, I have taken plenty of wing enhancement pills and exercises.” Dag seems to be rather smug, while Nora, who by this time has also stopped looking into her telescope, simply facepalmed.

“Okay, so even assuming that you can. Wasn’t carrying lesser creatures like us something beneath the dignity of your kind?” Jeff asked the obvious question.

“Well, dragon slayer lady gets a pass for her combat prowess, and you’re her flunky for the purpose of this, unless you wish to pass on this opportunity.” Dag was already stretching his wings, and fully extended they do look impressive, and Jeff swore that he even saw a faint glow on them.

“Okay, I’m in.” Nora said, without a further thought of doubt, though a slightly annoyed look remained on her face at his mentioning of her underserved nickname.

“Guess I’m also in then.” Jeff said, with a slight more reluctance.


Even though heavier than air machines were still barely concepts and lighter than air machines something to be kept far away from the frontlines, the skies above the battlefield were far from empty, as the elven army also had their share of witch scouts. For the most part they left the dragon and two humans, a female on his back and a male in his arms, alone. Although a few were tailing them for whatever reason.

The carnage continues unabated below them as tens of thousands of soldiers on both sides maneuver and fire at each other while cannons pounded anything that vaguely resembled a threat.

More specifically, it appeared that the golem assault had been stalled by some rather accurate fire from the human artillery. A number of small groups of elven soldiers, carrying mortars and their support equipment, were scurrying forward.

“Looks like their colonial mentality is biting them in the arse hard.” Nora casually remarked while looking at the developing battlefield through a pair of binoculars.

“Explain please.” Dag said, while keeping his eyes and focus towards not crashing into one of the witches and avoid the occasional stray shot.

“The Confederation, and later the Imperial State, never had to fight a peer power or really anybody of note before.” Nora begin to explain, “and quite frankly much of what you see down there is basically a large number of LARPers facing reality for the first time, lead by bookworms and armchair generals with only theories as guides. The South Continent never really need much in the way of defense given the lack of natives there, and a couple of golems plus a gaggles of cosplayers is enough to hold a county.”

“So things are not going well for them then?” Jeff asked.

“Well, it’s not as if the opposition appears to be any better.” Nora remarked. “Which is almost sad considering this new modern army of theirs is supposed to have been the result of taking lessons from their previous defeats, such as the Mountain Wars.” Alluding to the series of conflicts that netted a number of dragon principalities the great Northern Mountains.

“The terrain’s hardly the same though.” Dag commented. “Mountains were a great place to negate firepower and mobility.” Talking about it brought up memories of the Third Mountain War, even though he was never near the frontlines. It was the last war in which direct non-combat magic made a major difference, and although few dragons were hit with the humanization beam, the effects were still shocking to the core. He suppressed a shutter.

“They still are.” Nora said, already moving her attention back to the battle at hand.

The elven mortar teams had closed in the distances, and were now lobbing rounds at the general direction of the human artillery positions. They didn’t cause much in the way of damage even though the artillery positions were mostly exposed, being that no one had any time to dig in fortifications, but they were effective in suppressing them and preventing them from continuing their bombardment.

That was enough of an opening, and the golems resumed their advance. More infantry poured in behind them, including a large number of troops who only appeared to carry ammunition and mana crystals to resupply the golems.

It was the breaking point, and soon the human army was in full rout, only saved from total annihilation by the inability of the elven army to give chase.

By the time the attachés landed the field was already filled with spontaneous celebrations, a mistake that would have been otherwise rather costly if it weren’t for the fact that the opposition was too busy running away from there.

For a baptism of fire, the imperial army performed well enough, but all of the führer Amberea’s boasting they still have a long ways to go…

Mark Poe

The majestic cock
Part 5: Siege and the legend from history (discount version)​

The city was in flames, and about time too. The siege of Ironten, capital of the Kingdom of the Wolf, was well on its way into its fourth month. It shouldn’t have to be like this, for the imperial army expects the city (and the rest of the kingdom for that matter) to simply capitulate in the face of the hopelessness of their situation. However, there was still a remnant of an army, and the war continued.

Of course, it wouldn’t have been a siege in the first place if it weren’t for the small oversight in the imperial army in their lack of heavy field artillery. In the beginning they were able to use the captured pieces from the previous battles, but the stocks of ammunitions soon ran out and much of the inner walls of the city still stood. Thus the camping out and wait for the city to surrender, or the heavy artillery to arrive by rail (which now someone finally built it far enough to support the advancing army), whichever one happens first. Occussionaly the scout witches made flights over the besieged city, at first to drop lelfets urging the inhabitants to surrender, but soon give up on that and switched to dropping grenades in a rather primitive form of terror bombing.

In in the grand traditions of besieging armies the imperial army does what was expected it to do: namly sit on its arse and twiddle their thumbs. However unlike many of the past wars this time around the besiegers have the luxury of steady supply lines, as the engineers had been working nonstop to repairing and extending existing rail networks, of which both sides had immediately destroyed sections of during the opening weeks of the war.

But while the age old horrors of diseases and privations of the a besieging army camp was mostly banished, the other problem of borderom was still alive and well.

“What, exactly, am I looking at?” Dag asked, to no one in particular.

The three of them attachés were a little aways from the camp, still far outside the effective range of the walls of the besieged city itself. A fair distance away was a number of elven engineers and mages, presumably from a division of the South Continent judging their physical appearances and uniforms. They appeared to be working on a massive contraption of some sort, far larger than an golem or land vehicle.

“Beats me, it’ll give a spectacular showing, at least that’s what they claimed.” Jeff shrugged.

“Well, this is probably the last period in the tech timeline where field modifications were competitive vis a vis lab innovations.” Nora remarked. “But regardless I have my doubts on the variability of that… contraption.”

And there were a lot of things to be worried about the construct taking place, which appears to look like a cross between a torture device and a piloted golem if it was made by a five year old. Mana crystals shackled in chains were strewn around without a care in aesthetics or common sense.

“Well, whatever the heck it is it look like it’s ready.” Dag said.

As an engineer among them give the thing a last whack with his wrench for good luck, the work crew retreated a good distance away from their work and a witch of the south continent, clad in very little even by the standards of the elves, climbed onto the thing. At least she was wearing an aluminium headband, would not be good if the enemy pulled a mind control hijack on that thing.

As the newly minted ‘piloted’ strapped into the thing it started to levitate, first the crystals starting to glow as mana was drawn from them, then the protrusions, made of steel and plated in tin, possibly with a hint of silver (though how did a bunch of engineers and mages have gotten their hands on that much precious metals was something no one wanted to ask) begin to glow as well.

Sudden, beams of what appeared to be pure light shot out of those protrusions, crossing the distances and crashing into the city walls in the blink of an eye. Simultaneously, the contraption lost its own glow and crashed into the ground in a suitable loud cloud of dust.

While the ground crew rushed to dig out the pilot the three attachés simply stared between the ruin of the experiment and the walls, which seems not much worse for wear barring some chipped paint. Nora was the first to recover her voice.

“Well, at least it was a fabulous display.” She remarked as the crew managed to pull out the hapless witch, who besides being covered in dust and grim seems little worse for wear.

“Looks like they’re gonna have to find another way to breach the walls.” Jeff pointed out the obvious.


In the end, the walls were breached with a rather mundane method with little fanfare: sappers lashing and detonating a bunch of unused (and given the nature of the conflict by that point, seemly useless) mines directly underneath a section of the wall. It was an ancient trick with a rather modern twist, but it worked all the same.

With a gaping hole thus opened, the assault begins. Or it was supposed to have been, when the impossible happened. The much vaulted elven imperial army, forged from a people whipped into a frenzy from over a decade of propaganda and revanchism, balked.

Ironically, it wasn’t the natives of the Old Continent, who made up of bulk of the professional troops. They simply obeyed their order with the professionalism expected of them. It was the native militia units of the South Continent who staunchly refused to go charging into the city. Such was the fear of the isekai and the horror stories of their powers and atrocities once the range closed that the mere chance of coming into contact with any of them, aluminium plated helmets or not, was simply too much of a risk to even be considered. In a sense they too were the victims of their government’s propaganda, who had long since painted the human isekais from the other side as more akin to demons from the stuff of nightmares.

So it came to be that it was the tip of the spear that went in, generously supported by golems along with questionable air support from the witches (who haven’t gotten any more accurate despite having what amounts to months of live training). Meanwhile the rest of the army was sitting outside, twiddling their thumbs and trying to cover up their cowardence with the thin pretense of watching the flanks while the real army was in the thick of fighting.

It was just so convenient that around the same time the rest of the human empire’s military arrived.

Of course, much like a certain war from almost a century ago, when the Lasce Imperial state declared war against the Kingdom of the Wolf it immediately drew in the rest of the Empire of all Mankind. Also similar to that other the larger size problem was ignored in favored of dealing with the more relevant matter at hand. The major difference was that this time around, the dismissal of the threat was based on contempt rather than on ignorance.

It wasn’t as if the elves were that wrong though.

“Whoa, looks like something straight out of the history books.” Jeff remarked at the sight of the human empire’s army, of the knights in their finery, the adventurers in their expensive and game breaking gear, the mages in their mysterious robes.

Once again, the three non-elf persons were sited a bit behind the elven field, watching the coming battle from a safe but still useful distance away.

“More like second rate cosplay if you ask me.” Nora muttered, and the other two had to remind themselves that she had actually seen those types of armies in the flesh before.

“In what sense exactly?” Dag risked a potentially obvious question.

“Look at their gear, especially the adventurers.” Nora answered. “They’re not rare epic gear, or even alleged ones. Those are most likely mass produced generic weapons where appearance is by far more important than substance.

Both Dag and Jeff were about to ask additional questions when they were interrupted by the explosions of the mortars, which during their conversation they managed to miss the firing of those weapons. The rounds exploded with reasonably loud explosions, but it might as well being akin to throwing rocks into a river for all the damage it cause. As if on cue the human army charged.

Then the machine guns fired.

The result was sheer butchery. Horses, men, other miscellaneous beasts of war, it matters not as the hailstorms of lead cut them down. Then abruptly, it stopped, as suddenly as it had begun those short moments prior.

Then the elves infantry, their bayonets already, raised a great shout and charged forward.

Such insanity would have never worked against a contemporary army, but the opposing army was contemporary in any sense except perhaps in the temporal sense. It was quickly over and what few humans left fled in all directions as quickly as they could.

Then the looting begin.


‘They’re only a generation removed from pre-agricultural existence.’ Jeff kept reminding himself as he walked through the orgy of looting and killing of wounded, the latter mostly dispatched without mercy or pity as the elves were in the mood for either.

For the most part, discipline and cohesion had broken down as the elven militias took out the time to pick up some souvenirs. Leaving the pitiful remnants of the empire forces to scatter into the winds.

A nearby elven rifleman, who mistaken the attaché’s facial expressions for that of regret, handed him one of the daggers she picked up. “There might be rule against you taking part in our war,” She said, “but surely there’s no rule against accepting a gift.”

Before he could reply the soldier already left, looking for the next hapless target to strip it of anything valuable.

He looked at the dagger. Nora was correct, it was a cheap, mass produced dreck. He then noticed some small engraved letters.

‘Genuine orc slayer dagger, perfect for every noble adventurer. Made in Axeon’ It read.

Oh, how far has the noble have fallen, to be forced to equip themselves with cheap trinkets and scams by their very enemies.

He sighed, and turned back towards the elven camp.

Mark Poe

The majestic cock
Part 6: a Ruin called peace​

As far as peace treaties and annexations go, it was rather subdued and low key all things considered. Especially given how much the elves loved to insert pomp into everything, even in situations that were not wholly appropriate.

Instead, the final signing of the annexation, taking place at the burned out husk of the palace formerly known as the Wolf’s Den, had the atmosphere of the morning after an out of control party: the sullen lifeless husks of people, the general feeling of awkwardness among those present, and the general washed-out-ness of everything from people to the scenery (that haven’t been blow up or burned).

Then again, it's good to remind those who lead their country’s youth to die a measure of pain and suffering that those went through, especially of all the voiceless ones who were now nourishing the worms and the grass.

“Well, looks like that’s the end of that.” Jeff remarked at the proceedings, which was at the stage where the diplomats and other relevant persons sign a book’s worth of documents, formalizing the official annexation of the Kingdom of the Wolf into the Lasce Imperial State, which effectively had double the latter’s core territories almost overnight, the amount of industrial assets within the new conquest also didn’t hurt.

What does hurt was the amount of people who were less than happy at the change ownership in the real estate, and they happened to do something about it.

Another explosion rumbled in the distance. No one at the ceremony even looked up.

“Welp, looks like them freedom fighters are already getting into the rhyme of things.” Nora muttered sarcastically. One of the elves present shot her an ugly look. She merely shrugged, her being at the age where she couldn’t care less about the opinion of others, whether it’s from persons, deities, or even countries.

To make things worse, there wasn’t enough troops for a decent occupation. With the declaration of the ceasefire some months back the South Continent militias took it as their cue to demobilize and getting the hell out of there (but not before looting everything that wasn’t nailed down, and even some things that were, such was their quest to grab some soveriner to show for their efforts to their folks back home. The adventurer mentality lives on even in the age of industrial warfare). It was telling that the military attachés present (off in a corner) were allowed to carry their sidearms at the signing, less due to trust and more due to the inability for the elves or the humans to provide even a token protection.

So much for finishing what they started, but then, even in another world many still believed that the mission is accomplished when the ink dried on the paper.

“Well, on the plus side, if it could really be called as such, this is gonna keep them busy for a while.” Jeff remarked. “Especially if the earlier wars were any indication.“

“Which sadly it appears that the imperial state has learned none of it.” Dag said, shaking his head.

“No surprise, counterinsurgency tend to be rather unsexy and ugly. No surprise that no one in the multiverse really like studying it for too long.” Nora answered.

“Same problem in your original world too?” Jeff asked.

“Pretty much, unless one of them are actually fighting one they tend to pretend it doesn’t exist.” Nora sighed. The invisible and insidious enemy is the hardest of them all to comprehend, which is why no one really wants to think about them unless forced to, for better or worse.

“An unrelated thought perhaps, but this is going to retard development in the human empire for decades, if not more.” Dag suddenly said.

“Well, losing the bulk of their industries is a big hit, though it’s not an insurmountable problem.” Nora pointed out, “Also unlike a certain war that this one seems to be a parallel to, the Imperial State didn’t ask for indemnities.” Not that they’re in a position to, she thought to herself, they simply do not have the strength left to force the issue.

“No no, it’s not the material stuff that really matters.” Dag shook his head. “For decades all of us at the other side of the borders have harped on them to change their ways and join us as a modern, civilized country, and they tried their damndest to reform. Now with this little war the elves have just threw all that into the trash bin, in effect telling them that no matter what they do, they’ll never been taken as part of the wider community. Don’t be surprised if there’s a massive backlash against reform and progress in the rest of the human empire in the aftermath of this.”

The two humans were stunned, it never occurred to them the long term impact from a cultural point of view.

“Well, shit.” Was all Jeff could say, which rather sums up the situation well enough.
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In between side story 5

Mark Poe

The majestic cock
(370s S.E.)
The face of actual chaotic evil​

“I have to protest, it is not necessary for you good people to be here.” Assistant manager Raken protested, to little avail, as the troops disembark from their train cars. “We are following all regulations from the colonial office.” At least all the actually useful ones, he thought to himself. Sometimes he felt that the peoples back home trust them less than the damn ratlings and the ogres. Especially the damn isekais communities, that lot of hypocrites them all.

“That’s not the problem here, madam.” Lieutenant Asckot assured him, to similarly little avail. He understood the concerns of the inhabitants of the booming mining town of Dummington. Things were already on the edge without a sudden influx of a few hundred soldiers. Then again, things were always on the edge in these frontier towns on the harsh and unforgiving continent of Ironi. Everything, from heavy equipment to every last drop of water and grain of food had to be shipped in from the coast, to be paid in the sweat, blood, and toil of the miners scrabbling in the rich veins of ore and minerals. All this, once past the coast, was done almost solely by the railroads, which by their sheer importance quickly gain a semi-legendary status. Perhaps it was the miners being overly melodramatic, but then again living on a continent that hostile tend to make people go cray cray after a while…

But regardless, it’s generally not a good sign when a bunch of soldiers suddenly made an unscheduled stopover, especially given that the timestable in which almost all goods and services adhere to is everything, including matters of life and death.

However, they’re here and now, and after some more fruitless arguing Raken accept the inevitable and let the soldiers to continue their disembarking and setting up of their camp. That brought upon another series of problems as open spaces within the walled town was scarce to say the least. At least she managed to found out the reason for the soldiers’ appearance at this otherwise unremarkable town. It merely confirmed the worst fears.

The rumors of neighboring towns suddenly losing all contact, as if suddenly disappearing off the face of the world, was in fact them being completely destroyed. The soldiers for the most part seemed to be always one step behind the trail of destruction… until here and now.

Well, the next few days will be certainly interesting, whatever happens, and something will certainly happen, that was certain on the continent of Ironi.


“Well, well, well. Looks like some good business is coming our way.” Gak’Numen, the owner of one of the few stores in town, remarked at the sight of all the soldiers setting up their tents wherever there’s open space and in general milling around with seemly no particular direction in mind. Then again, there’s isn’t much to see or do inside the walls and nothing at all, except for suffering and death, outside of it.

“While soldiers and alcohol does compliment each other like fish and water, we don’t actually sell any of those, given he have no licence and all. Not to mention we’ll never compete against all the saloons even if we do have a licence.” Kile Bomen, the one assistant in the store, pointed out the obvious.

They were an interesting pair, a dragon and a human running a general store in a mining town composed almost entirely of orcs, heck, a dragon running something as small and mundane as a general store was already crazy enough. Then there’s the human bard, or rather a failure of one, as it turns out that tastes in music tend to be a fickle thing, and not learning the current fad means the need to find other types of employment in the meantime.

“They’re gonna stay for more than a couple of days, and that means they’ll need some cure for hangovers when their officers crack the whip.” Gak said slyly. “That’s how we’re gonna profit off of them.”

“True.” Kile nodded, seeing the logic in Gak’s reasoning.


Night soon fell upon the continent, and the all encroaching darkness wrapped itself around all, making the already forbidding lands even more unwelcome. The town of Dummington stood alone, as if a tiny speck of light in a dark continent.

However, just because it was dark does not mean it was quiet. The coming of the night brings out all the nightlife that nature has to offer, in all of its savagery and splendor. Cloaked in the natural darkness the full cruelty of nature on the Ironi continent does it’s expected, of death, suffering, nourishment, and life.

For the soldiers manning the other barricades, it was an unnerving but not unexpected experience, for waiting was the main part of every soldier’s life.

At around midnight, the noise started to die off, little by little, an unnatural silence descend upon the surroundings of the town. The soldiers tightened their grips on their weapons, and pointed them at the darkness.

The enemy has arrived.

Contrary to what many future historial works claimed, the ratling attacks were not merely one of onrushing mobs, literal waves of bodies outnumbering the bullets fired against them. Oh there were plenty of them rushing forward, carrying no weapons barring their sharp claws and teeth, as if offering themselves up to quick and pointless deaths in the face of breech loading rifles. However, there is a purpose, for every one of them that grabbed the attention of the defenders meant another three follow a distances behind carrying bows and slings, cloaked in the all prevailing darkness.

Soon the defenders were forced to seek cover as a shower of arrows and stones descend on the barricades, there was simply too many, and too fast, for the defenders to kill enough before their range units closed the distance. With the defenders’ firepower advantage somewhat suppressed (though still extracting a horrifying harvest of ratlings), the next stage of their assault began.

Then the ogres arrived. Eight of them carrying a log whose size even dwarf them. They barreled straight towards the front gate, and there seemed to be nothing between them and their singular goal of seeking the death and destruction of everything else within the town.

Before they could crash the gate though, it opened up from the inside. For a brief moment another silence descend on the town and its surroundings, as both sides take stock of the situation.

Out from the opened gates walked out a dragon, carrying an interesting metal contraption, and a human, carrying a guitar. A distant sound of a palm hitting a face could be heard from the barricades, the commanding officer presumbing that the two had lost their minds.

Then the flames spew forth from the dragon, not from his mouth, but from the contraption. Gak somehow had a flamethrower. At the same time Kile drove straight into an powerful and energetic song (which any isekai would have recognize as ‘Through the Fire and Flames’, if there were any at Dummington).

The two of them quickly carved out a path through the ravaging hordes of ratlings, and even the ogres flinched away from the fire of the flamethrower. The returning arrows and rocks bounced off Gak like a summer rain, it was as if nothing could stop them.

Then the flamethrower sputtered and died. It was hardly a couple of minutes in passing. Another moment of silence descends upon the battlefield, but this much much shorter as the horde almost immediately jumped forth. Soon the two appeared to have been buried in a mountain of bodies. As the defending orcs finally got around to close the gates a massive explosion rocked in the midst of the horde. Seems that Gak had one last surprise in store.

The opening was all that the defenders needed, and by the time ratling horde returned their attention back they were met with a wall of rifle fire. This time the defenders, now joined by the townspeople with whatever arms they had, were far more selective in their fire, targeting the bowmen and slingers first. Now it was the time for the ratlings to be suppressed, if they were capable of caring about getting hit by fire.

Soon, almost unexpectedly, the horde broke and ran, retreating back to the endless darkness in which they had spew forth so little while ago. For all the rhetoric and appearance about them, they weren’t actually mindless, and the intelligence governing them knows when to the prize was not worth the cost anymore.

Thus the battle was over, and Dummington lived to see another day. The same could not have been said to the dozens of orc soldiers, handful of townsfolks, and hundreds of ratlings that littered the land surrounding the town.


“Seems a bit wrong to defile his place so soon after his heroic sacrifice.” Lieutenant Asckot remarked as he stepped into the general store along with Raken. It was the morning after and life goes on, with a few extra bits of work such as tending to the wounded, burying the bodies, and repairing damages to the barricades and buildings. No one in the town was under any delusions that the previous night was the end of their worries, the hordes always come back, so long as there’s prizes worth to be taken.

“Save that thinking for the living, the dead can make do without their possessions.” Raken shot back wearily. “Life out here is too harsh for such niceties of civilization.”

“Agreed, now will you please get the hell out of my store unless you’re willing to pay for the merchandise?” A deep voiced growled. They two orcs turned, and there was Gak, covered in soot and somewhat worse for wear, and Kile, whose guitar was nowhere in sight, and also quite a bit worse for wear. Asckot was the first to recover his voice.

“I… we, thought, you were dead!” He stammered. “When you blew yourself up.”

“I can fly you know?” Gak rolled his eyes. “Dying in glorious battle sounds great and all, but I rather prefer to be the ones writing about that happening to other rather than experiencing it myself.”

Then again, it’s not as if a flying dragon would be all that noticeable in the aftermath of the explosion, given that said explosion had probably also destroyed everyone’s night vision. Asckot remembered now. Seems reasonable enough…

“With all that being said,” Gak continued, “I’m perfectly willing to sell my store for a reasonable price, with an additional condition.”

“Oh really?” Raken was more than a bit skeptical. “And that is?”

“That Kile and I will leave with the troopers when the muster out.” Gak answered. “The romanicatism of this continent seems to be a load of hogwash and humbug.”
In between side story 6

Mark Poe

The majestic cock
(370s S.E.)

This wretched yet beautiful land​

The wagon lurched again as it hit yet another hole in the dirt road, which it being the raining season it’s closer to say that it’s closer to a stream of mud. The constant overcast, when it’s not drizzling painfully cold rain, gives the land an overall sense of sorrow, as if the weather itself could not make the effort to pick one or the other, sunny or full downpour.

Bruce Tammoth grabbed the blanket closer, huddling in the front of the wagon while trying to maintain control of the wagon, the back of which being piled high with various knick knacks. Officially, he was a simple traveling merchant from the Republic of Setwood, about the few countries that the remaining kingdoms within the Empire of All Humans were willing to deal with in any capacity, a generally desperate attempt to ignore the changing balance of power and influence on the continent. But none of that matters to Bruce, since officially or unofficially, geopolitics were none of his business.

The real reason, the supposed unofficial reason, that he was now traveling through this undeveloped and unforgiven land, was to simply observe and record. It was a rather alien concept even as late as a few decades back, to simply bear witness to the world.

But the world was changing, at a pace much faster than the centuries and millenniums past, and moreover there was an awareness of it. Thus it came to be of a scrambling to record as much of a world of the old before it disappears into the sands of time. While the orcs, or more accurately their human isekai communities, were the most interested in such studies, practical concerns mean that they were also the last people who want to step into the heart of the human kingdoms.

Thus it came to be that through a number of proxies and intermediates, a human descendant of one of the former inhabitants (and later refugees) from the Kingdom of the Ram now goes back to a land he has no attachments towards except for a name, if even that.

Finally what appears to be a stone tower came up in the distance, he hoped that the ancient map he’s holding (actually a faithful reproduction, the good orc archaeologists would never part with any originals) was good enough. It had been almost useless so far, but then again cartography was more of an art than science back then.


The village of Woolville was, in all respects, ordinary. That is, merely another example of the crushing poverty and backwardness that the majority of the humans still lived in. Besides the church, which along with the manor house were the only structures constructed of stone, the rest of the dozen or so huts were made out of wattle and daub.

While the buildings themselves were cheerless and drab, the same could not be said for the village as a whole. Despite all the visible signs of what he would consider to be soul crushing poverty, life goes on, as does the enjoyment of it. The gardens were blooming with vegetables, flowers decorated many of the dwellings. He had to keep reminding himself that he’s watching real people living out their lives, and not just a collection of prejudices cooked up by the orcs and their isekais, who obviously (if not reasonably) had their agenda coloring their perception.

The villagers greeted him with a measure of suspicion, unsurprising since for small villagers, outsiders unaffiliated with the proper higher authorities tend to be bad news in general, whether intentional or unintentional. After all, plague and gossip tend to travel along with the fastest carriers, when those carriers themselves weren’t scheming evil on their own. However, his dialect, even though it was generations removed, was enough to gain their trust, or at least their begrudging tolerance.


Business for a traveling merchant stopping at Woolville was disappointing, which probably explained why besides a fake such as Bruce there hasn't been at this village for decades. It was telling just how poverty stricken the town was such that it doesn’t even have a windmill or a waterwheel, despite the town being near a river and possessing a number of hills nearby (although the estate of the lord itself does have a small windmill, it appears that the lord does not see fit to share such a feature with the common rabble).

For the most part, the villagers has neither the coin (or even in kind) to buy anything of note, nor the time to be away from the ceaselessness of the toil in the fields. If nothing else, the only thing abundant around these parts seemed to be suffering.

… and life, ironically. There were scores of children, even before counting the teens who were toiling right alongside their adult counterparts in the fields. Many of these younglings, especially the males, were often seen in the village square, playing at being adventurers and heroes. Out here, far away from the frontiers of the human kingdoms and where the horrors and dangers of the others being merely stories told around the fire, the splendor of the hero and the adventure has not yet lost their appeal.

The poor, deluded fools.

But fools they (and the rest of the villagers too for that matter) might be, those paths are something that they take very seriously. In fact, it was one of the few things to be hopeful about in the village, that their sons might someday go forth, slay the evils, and bring back honor and glory to the rest of the village.

Regardless, what little they have they had to spare they spent it on equipping up and coming adventurers, mainly buying weapons from the Bruce. The orc slaying daggers were a popular item, though the villagers themselves wouldn’t know that those were merely being mass produced dreck of stamped iron being of little practical value if anyone would ever be stupid enough to fight against an orc in one… but they don’t need to know that.

It was almost painful for Bruce to scam these naive people out of their last coin, but he has to keep up his supposed appearance, as not doing so may cost him his very life… people don’t like being lied to, among other things, and forgiveness tend to be almost solely in the domain of the divine and immortal. Besides, what right does he have in disabusing them of the last of what little happiness they have, the final hopes and dreams? To tell them that all they’re doing is to send their sons out to die in meaningless death? That the evils they seek to destroy are impossibly powerful for them to even scratch the surface of?


During his short stay at the village Bruce managed to witness one wedding. It was one of the few times when the entire village could gather and make merry, to break from the dull and monotonous of the unceasing toil and labor. The occasion was only slightly marred by the lord asserting the ancient right of prima nocta as afforded to all nobility of all these civilized lands.

Well, it’s none of Bruce’s business to question the traditions of lands that he being then a guest at.


The weather was better as he left the village than when he entered it, being merely heavily overcast rather than actively raining. As a merchant, he about broke even in theory, given that most of his costs will be reimbursed by a certain anthropologist society. As a person bearing witness to a soon to be disappeared form of living? Well, he was glad to be out of there. The villagers might be content with their brutal and toiling existence, but that contentness being derived from a profound sense of ignorance and brokenness. In fact, Bruce couldn’t wait to see the day when the end of the old order reaches even as far as Woolville, and the villagers, or their descendants, finally being liberated from their eternal suffering.

Yet for all that, there is a sense of beauty and simplicity in their innocence, of one of the few places still untouched by a world increasingly marching towards a very different direction.

Oh well, can’t make an omelette without breaking a few eggs.
WWR-part 1

Mark Poe

The majestic cock
(Late 390s S.E.)

When the wackos are right

part 1​

The first noise that came out of officer Potams’s mouth when he found the blue haired naked elf lying in a clearing deep in the tropical forest was a barely suppressed groan. Yet another case of drunkenness or something equally stupid, among the tourists and now the Mandarin Island Police Department is now once again picking up the pieces.

Mandarin island, part of the Orange island chains, the last group of islands before bumping into the continent of Ironi. The location and climate made the chain of islands the perfect place for everything supporting the endless maws of mining needs, from growing the fruits with their much needed nutrients to being the vacation spot for all the inhabitants of that continent who wishes to escape from that living hell (if only for an all too brief while). There were even some manufacturing going on, though mostly of the military type as it being far enough aways from the old continent and all their prying eyes.

As such, all kinds of weird and disreputable stuff happens, not helped by the fact that the islands were for the most part under the ownership of the Tomson-Palmer Conglomerate, which means a lot of stuff tends to be swept under the carpet if for no other reason than it’ll reflect badly on the tourist trap image they’re trying to build. He signed. No identification in sight, which means more paperwork and bullshit while trying to figure out things such as who the hell she is and who to contact to pick her up.

The elf begin to stir, and Potam cleared his throat. “Excuse me mam, this is the MIPD…”

The elf was in visible confusion, then she noticed him, and a wave of horror slowly formed across her face.

Potam continued his seemly futile attempt to calm the elf down. “The police is here, you will be in safe hands…”

She bolted, and like most elves she was fast. He sighed, this has all the hallmarks of something really ugly.

Well, time to end this fast, and he unslung his shotgun, popped in a net round and a tranquilizer round. Sometimes one has to do unpleasant things to others for their own good…


“So you think slaver gangs are operating here?” Chief Umek asked. The two were sitting in his office, after Potam’s return with the unexpected subject, who by this point has been put in one of the rooms in the victim’s quarters.

“Given the behavior of the captured specimen here, more specifically her behavior, I have to say that appears to be the case.” Potam was insistent. “She appears to have no knowledge of our society and its workings, suggesting that she has not have any prior contact with it or being kept away from it.”

“Decent analysis… for a beginner” Umek remarked, “but you’re missing a few points. Namely that from even a cursory glance so far there are no physical signs of injury, no branding, no collars or any other attachments of those nature. The preliminary magi report also came back clean, so probably no signs of mind control or break. That doesn’t sound like any escaped slave I ever heard.”

“So what the heck is it then?” Potam asked, the wind taken out of his big idea.

“It’s a mystery, which is why we’re going to do all we can.” Umek seems a bit smug, “The port authorities have already been alerted and been advised to be on the lookout for suspicious activities, as are the corporate goons. Also I asked the local branch of the Bureau of Exotic Affairs to come and take a look.”

“What? Those loons?” Potam was visibly confused. “What do those idiots over at the Lost Bureau have anything to do with this? What we have here is obviously an issue purely of this world.”

“Well, they’re the closest group of loons on these islands, I believe the current crisis over at Ironi has been taken the majority of everyone else's attention. Rumor has it that some of those ratlings have somehow acquired their own ironclads, among other disturbing happenings.”


As Jane came out of her blackout she found herself in a clean but very spartan furnished room. She was lying on a simple cot but no blankets, there was a desk and a couples of chairs in a corner, both seems to be made of hardwood, as was the bed frame itself (the mattress on top seems to be of the standard spring kind). The room has a single highset window as well as a door. Interestingly enough there are nothing that was made of glass or could be made into a rope. Whoever designed and furnished this room has certainly thought out how to prevent someone from escaping… or committing suicide.

The signs are not exactly encouraging. One doesn’t need to read any hentai to know what some of their most popular cliches are, especially with the feedback loop it had with the rise of neo-misogyny in the early 21st century…

… but then again, she’s not on planet earth anymore isn’t she? That huge orc was probably the first indication, if that wasn’t simply the product of her imagination… was she dreaming? Is she still in this nightmare? What the heck is going on?

She looked around some more, then noticing a neatly pile of clothing near one corner of the bed, realizing her still state of undress she took the clothing. It was a simple t shirt and pair of shorts, as well as a pair of loafers. The clothing seems to be rather on the flimsy side, seems that whoever’s in charge of the place is really dead set on preventing escapes or suicides, or in all likelihood a serial rapist and sadist. Both seems equally likely at this point. But clothes are still clothing, and any covering is better than none.

As she put the clothes on she then finally noticed the difference to her body, or at least noticed it in a conscious way. After all, long silky blue hair is something hard to miss, but on the flip side it is also not very important in a life or death situation.


She was still in her thoughts when someone knocked on the door. “Mam, we got a couple of guys from the BEA here to help you.” A rather deep voice said, rather apologetically, “If you’re can allow us to come in we can sort out all this.”

“Y..yes.” Was all she could meekly blurt out. What choice does she really have?

The door slowly opened, revealing the terrifying sight of a trio of orcs, except the sight is more bizarre than anything else. There was the orc in what appears to be a military uniform of some kind, the same one who was chasing her earlier… how long ago was that? How much time has passed already? Doesn’t matter now does it? Meanwhile the other two were wearing loud and bright shirts and shorts, one of them carrying a notepad and a pen.

Well, this moved straight from hentai to the twilight zone.

One of the non-uniformed orcs begin to speak. “Allow us to introduce ourselves, I’m Dumens, head of the Orange Islands branch of the Bureau of Exoitc Affairs.” He pointed a thumb at the orc next to him, “This is Knomes, my flunky… I mean, assistant. Cop in the back is Potam, not really important.” The police officer was visibly annoyed after hearing that, but made no motion in particular. “If you feel that you are up to the task we can start the questions.”

Jane nodded, still too stunned to say anything. Dumens then begin the questioning.

“Well, since you seems to be capable of understanding us, we can assume that you speak Anglish. So moving on, what is your country of origin?”

“America.” She said, then saw that they’re expecting more. “United States of.” Dumens nodded, and Knomes jotted something on his notebook. “Can you get me back home?” She asked, daring to hope for the first time since being in this place.

“No can do.” Dumens answered, immediately dashed her hopes. “Nobody found a way yet, and people have been trying for centuries.” Seeing her crestfallen face, he tried to comfort her like he learned as part of dealing with newly sent isekais. “There are many like you in this world, and they have recreated many cherished parts of it, for better or worse.” And as usual, it didn’t seem to help all that much, well, the questions must go on. “What was the year you were in before ending up here?”

“2018, August 12th. CE” She wondered what will they do with all this pointless trivia, since it had been made obvious for a while that they’re not on planet earth.

“Hmm, seems the newest one so far.” Dumens muttered, then returning to the task at hand. “What was the president of your country in the year 1997 Common Era…”

And so the questions continued for hours, with breaks in between, including a break for tea. Interestingly enough not that there being such a thing as tea in this world, but rather the concept of iced tea and moreover various citrus flavored sweetened iced tea. Actually, barring the weird nonhumans and the lack of electronics, the world seems almostly oddly familiar in many respects. Of course it’s silly to start drawing conclusions from such scant evidence but such was human nature.

“Thank you for your cooperation.” Dumens finally said, signaling the end of the questioning. “The BEA will make further arrangements for your life in this world.” He said as he stood up to leave.

“And of course, we’ll bring you some sturdier clothes.” Potam spoke for the first time since entering the room, almost sheepishly, “You appears to be in no danger of escaping or attempting suicide. Oh, a few other things. The bathrooms and showers for non-personnel are down the hall, I’ll get you some toiletries. If you need any food just ask one of us and we’ll get some from outside. And one last thing.” He paused for a moment. “Don’t freak out at the dragon in the courtyard with his swamp cat, he’s a fellow officer and you can trust him with your life.”


“Well this is interesting.” Knomes remarked. The two BEA officers were strolling down the streets of Bluntville, the sun well on its way to set and the nightlife was already breaking out in places.

“That’s a mild way to put it.” Dumens said, “This might be the first case where an isekai jumped species while jumping worlds.”

“Wonder how the main office back home will receive this.”

“Probably sell her down the river to the scientists, those guys are spineless.”

"So you're not gonna write a report?"

"Not until it's too late, and certainly not before talking to a certain someone else first..."
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WWR-part 2

Mark Poe

The majestic cock
Part 2 facing the reality​

It wasn’t a dream, nor a nightmare. She was still in that room the next morning. That leaves only long term coma, becoming completely delusional and detached from reality, or the truth that she might be in fact, in another world. All of those possibilities effectively lead to the same conclusion though, that for all intents and purposes she’s a in a strange world and will have to live with that.

Well, for another world it doesn’t seems to be that bad, in fact it’s almost feels forgiving. It’s almost as if these people were used to randos dumped on their world, wait, they made it clear that she was far from the first one to drop in from planet earth.

That brought up more horrifying thoughts. While she has herself never personally read much works of the genre known as ‘isekai’, from what she had gathered on certain online communities, things only go well if the person being forcibly transported to is a mainly male loser with little attachment to back on earth, qualities that she doesn’t possess.

Suppressed thoughts of home once again bubbled up to the surface of her mind, and once again she pushed them away. This is not the time for mental breakdowns, while they did not explicitly state it, but the room she’s in has many of the hallmarks of being a jail cell. She doesn’t blame them for that, probably a sensible precaution too, she doesn’t want to contemplate what any of the previous people did.

Wait a minute. Civilization and technology are still around, though are those because of people like her, or despite of? So many damn questions, and no answers in sight.

She was still deep in confused thoughts when a knock intruded upon her.

“Mam? You have a visiter. Well, actually a few if you count repeats from yesterday.” A voice, probably the cop’s, said.

“Come in.” It might as be a formality, as if her saying no would make a difference. Still, any shred of delusion of being in control of something is certainly better than nothing. Right until the horrors begin of course, but that’s to worry about later, however soon that’ll be.

The door opened, revealing the three orcs from yesterday… and a human. Or what seems to be human, her appearance being a bit off, but Jane couldn’t put her finger on what. It also wasn't her clothing. The cop was in uniform, and the two orcs from the BEA were still wearing loud and bright clothing. She on the other hand was wearing a simple sundress, very understated but almost obviously expensive, as if a member of the aristocracy pretending to be a person of normal social status.

“Jane,” Knomes begin, “Processing the necessary documents for you had proceed very smoothly.” His voice suggests the exact opposite, heck, neither of the two BEA orcs looked too comfortable with the situation at hand. “So you’ll be released today.”

“Also, some extra good news.” Dumens continued picking up where his flunky left off, “Miss Helen Tomson-Palmer here has taken an interest in you, and will be handling your transition in living in this world.”

Jane narrowed her eyes. “This isn’t exactly normal conduct for you people isn’t it?

“You’re damn right it isn’t.” Potam replied quietly, “but then again the capital is far and the corporation is near.” the other orcs give him the stink eye. He ignored them.

“Don’t worry,” Helen spoke for the first time, “You are going to be okay, you are in good hands now.” She held out a hand. Jane, after a moment of hesitation, took it.

One step at a time, one step at a time. If it’s really as bad as the genre would implied her days of sanity were numbered anyways.

“Well, I don’t want to ruin this moment,” Potam coughed, “but could you all please vacate the premise?”

“Of course,” Helen agreed. “My place has a much more relaxing atmosphere.” As everyone begin to file out of the room. Jane followed the group, about to immerse herself into a whole new world, for better or worse.


As they walked out of the police station into the courtyard, The first thing noticed was the dragon in a modified version of the police uniform, lazing around along with an alligator, who’s also wearing a police hat. Potam noticed her gaze.

“That’s the dragon I mentioned yesterday.” He explained, “He’s Teg’Stomean, the assisstant chief of police, and the head of the local militia. That swamp cat is his pet, Cookies.”

The dragon opened an eye, and waved at the little group, before closing again, returning to his sunning. The group moved past on, through another gate to a parking lot.

It’s not a large parking lot, probably an indication that vehicles were still not all that common. There were a couple of cars and a truck painted in blue and the letters MIPD, they seems to be rarely used, at least compared to the rack of bicycles next to them. On the far corner near the outer gate there was parked a sedan, an elf in an almost skanky looking maid costume stood next to it, with a bored look on her face. When she noticed the group her eyes suddenly grew wide and she almost gasped. No one beside Jane noticed that, Helen being too busy talking to the orcs of the BEA.

“Well, if there’s anything else, we’re only a call away.” Dumens said to Helen.

“You guys finally got a phone line? Shocking.” Helen pretended to be surprised. She turned away from the orcs and towards Jane. “If you haven’t gathered, we’re going to my home. Just us, the BEA’s involvement ends here for now.”

She then turn towards the elf maid, “Reta, start the car, we’re going home.”


“You’re rich, aren’t you?” Jane asked Helen, as they were in the car which was meandering through the narrow and winding roads. The car itself, which certainly appeared to be an ancient design lacking basic things like AC or even powered windows, was obviously a product of luxury, at least the leather seats were any indication. “Like, really rich?”

“Well, being the grandchild of isekais does help, but really it’s what one does with one's’ inheritance and a fair bit of luck that determines the most in the results.”

“Wait, you, you’re a descendent of people like me?” Jane couldn’t believe it.

“On my mother’s side anyways. Father’s side was far more normal, a mix of dragons and elves.” Helen replied.

Well, that went a long way in explaining some of her more nonhuman features.

“So, people like me have been popping into your world for that long?”

“According to historians and archaeologists, it’s been happening for the better part of four centuries. Weird thing is the time between the worlds doesn’t seem to move the same way, all of the peoples from your world seems to be plucked from the era around the beginnings of your 21st century.”

“Oh.” Jane wasn’t sure what else to say.

“Switching to another topic.” Helen said suddenly, “How did you managed to get here, if I may ask? Got hit by truck?”

“No, I’m not sure what happened. The last thing I remembered was falling asleep on a bus. It was a greyhound, that’s a long distance bus.”

“Oh, guess that bus probably fell into a river or crashed or something to that effect then.”

“And it was on my way to a model shipbuilding gathering.” Jane sighed. “Then again, not sure if they’ll accept me in real life.”

“You have an interest in ships?” Helen was suddenly a lot more interested in the conversation.

“Yea, especially warships of the early 20th century.” Jane blushed a bit, “I know, it’s weird for a girl to be interested in that stuff.”

“What is the extent of your knowledge?” Helen asked, her mind already working somewhere else...


Meanwhile somewhere on the ocean a bit outside the coastlines of Ironi, a cruiser of the Lasce Imperial State was chugging along in no hurry. A dark elf in the tropical uniform of the State Service was lounging around on the port bridge wing in a wicker lawn chair. A messenger delivered a freshly typed paper to her.

“Latest dispatch from one of our agents on the Orange Islands.”

“Thank you.” Oesa replied, taking the message and begin reading. As she read through the message she begin to smile.

“It’s so nice to be vindicated.” She said to herself. She then turned to one of the crew of the ship, of which there’s always a few scurrying to and fo.

“Inform the captain that this cruiser will be making an unscheduled stop to Port Pulp, and tell him to inform the port authorities there that our official reason was due to the recent crisis over at Ironi forcing us to truncate our resuppling there.”

“Acknowledged.” One of the crew said, she didn’t even paid attention which one. It doesn’t matter, as long as they all behave like the good soldiers and sailors that they’re supposed to be.

Soon the cruiser turned slightly but noticeably, towards the chain of islands…
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WWR-part 3

Mark Poe

The majestic cock
part 3​

“So, just how specific if your knowledge of the warships of your world?” Helen asked Jane.

The two of them were at her office in her house, though Jane privately thought it more as a mansion cosplaying as the Maginot Line, as far as the outside decor goes. She did mention something about the house also serving as the depot for the local militia, the island’s redoubt in time of war, and being the storehouse for her company’s trade secrets. She’s still not sure if this is a sign of humbleness or extreme narcissism. Regardless it certainly gives a vibe of a unhealthy lack of divide of work and life.

On the insides though, it was rather minimalistic, in the sense that the furnishing were originally meant for a house much smaller, and no one has bothered to add any additions. Soon it became all too obvious why that was the case, as it turns out that Helen and the maid, who also doubles as a secretary and general assistant, were the only two permanent residents of the house.

With a victorian era tech level, house cleaning would have been an almost insurmountable task given the personnel at hand at the best of times.

It has been a few days since she started staying at Helen’s place, and it has been… continuously surreal. There was an overall subconscious sense among the peoples of this world to recreate life back on earth, from the decor of the buildings to the mannerism of the peoples to even the pop culture references that everyone who’s well read seems to know.

She learned that there was in fact many communities of people like her scattered around, and by bullshit powers of knowledge they managed to shape the world much closer to what they’re used to, though for some reason neither Helen nor Reta wanted to talk much about the native humans of the world, or anything on “the other side”.

Of course, the exchange of information wasn’t merely one way, which bring back at the conversation at hand, as Helen seems to have taken an interest in her hobby.

“Mainly warships from the late 19th century to the mid 20th century.” Jane answered, it felt oddly calming to be discussing something so familiar after all the weirdness of the previous days.

Helen nodded, then she stood up, walked over to one of the bookshelves, and took out a rather battered looking dark blue tome. She put it gently on the table.

It was a hardcover, the original dust jacket was long since gone, and the letters on the side were somewhat worn, though it was also obvious that much effort had been expended to keep its condition from deteriorating too much. The words were something she never expected to see again:


“Where, where in the world’s did you come across this?” Jane was taken aback. It shouldn’t be possible, not with what happened to her and what she had been told.”

“I have the rest of the volumes too.” Helen was looking mighty smug for a brief moment. “The thing is, one of my grandmother’s ‘cheat’ ability, was the power to summon books she had read. Turns out she was a minor naval buff too, among other things. But enough about that”

She opened one of the drawers on the deck, took out what appeared to be a photo. Then passed it to Jane. Jane took the photo and looked at it.

In it was a battleship, a pre-dreadnought type. The ship was appeared to have been at a harbor in a tropical location. Her condition seemed to have been a bit worse for wear though, her hull covered in soot and grime, as if she was at the end of her life.

“So,” Helen begin, “What class of ship is the one in the picture?”

“Majestic Class,” Jane answered with some confidence, “the side by side funnels and the full turrets distinguished them prior and later classes, though I’m not aware of any ships of that class ever bring in that condition in that type of location.”

“That’s because the photo was taken in this world, actually on one of these islands.” Helen smiled at the wave of shock on Jane’s face. “Long story short, one of granny’s other cheat ability was to be able to summon objects from the books she summoned, though needless to say summoning large objects took much more mana and experience. That ship she summoned near the end of her life, I think it was the late 50s? Well, we never had the infrastructure or the technology to maintain her at the time, and well, there you see.”

“So… um, where’s that ship now?” She has so many more important questions, but has no idea where to begin with the rest. This seemed like a safe question.

“Scrapped about a decade ago, back in 87, when the islands finally built the proper facilities. You did well, most isekais thought it was the Mikasa for some reason.”

“I would guess because either they played too much Kantai Collection or World of Warships. Damn weeaboos.” She groaned at the thought of those types polluting even this world, but then again, given how the whole modern thrown to another world situation was literally catered towards them, she really shouldn’t be surprised at how many probably made their way here.

“That’s something we can agree on, thank goodness most of those crazies tend to gravitates towards the elves. Not sure why, probably because they been going fascist for a while now.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, this world has a minor fascist problem too, another dubious thing we learned too well from you people. That being said they are good customers, always pay up front and in hard currency.”

“Wait, you’re selling them stuff?” None of this seems to make sense, it was obvious that Helen wasn’t a big fan of fascism, yet she’s cheerfully selling them stuff all the same.

“If I don’t do it, someone else will, and all the governments are too toothless to enact embargos, not when the elves had long cornered the mana market.” She shrugged, “Mana is as important as oil in your world Actually, probably much more important, given how much our societies depend on magic and mana is used to fuel that.” She shrugged again, “If it makes you feel any better, the rest of us still have the bigger guns.”

“Didn’t prevent Hitler from overrunning Western Europe and murder 6 million Jews in World War Two.” Jane muttered, mainly to herself. To her surprise Helen nodded, as if she knew what she’s talking about.

“You have to keep in mind that none of us in this world have the collective institutional experiences of your world, and the gods keep on importing douchebags to our world. So for the most part fascism isn’t seen in the same negative light as back where you came from, not when there are bigger problems to worry about.”

“There are bigger problems?” Jane can’t really imagine things worse than nazi elves running around and militarizing with the backing of megacorps.

Helen was about to reply when a knock on the door.

“Sorry to disturb you” Reta’s voice called out, “but there is a developing problem.”

“Come in.”Helen said wearily, “This is the weekend, what could possibly go wrong?” she asked. As far as the everyone’s concerned, the weekends were always the time for the islands to transform into full tourist trap mode, which means the usual factories, offices, and shipyards tend to be all but abandoned.

“A ship of the Lasce Imperial State has just docked a few hours ago, and State Security Minister Oesa was onboard. She’s on her way here for a chat with you.”

“For what reason does she wants to chat with me for?” Helen was a bit nervous now, as far as she remembered all the weapons sold to the Imperial State was of acceptable quality.

“It’s about their archaeological and historical research, specifically the rumors that the water goddess Photinsea has been sighted on this island.”

Helen quickly turned her gaze to the blue hair elf with the soul of a human, her face suddenly clouded by worry.
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WWR-part 4

Mark Poe

The majestic cock
part 4​

“Get her safely hidden away now!” Helen immediately snapped into action. Reta simply nodded, grabbed Jane by the left hand, and almost dragged her out of the office. The last thing Jane heard Helen say was “It will all be explained later, please bear this for a bit longer.”

In the minutes that followed the two of them hurried through a maze of corridors and staircases, going steadily downward towards towards deep into the basement levels where Jane has not yet stepped into at all since she first came to this house.

It was the underbelly of the beast, in a sense. The storehouse of the island militia and if things go bad enough, where the island make their land stand. Obviously, it’s not a happy looking place, being large rooms piled high with all kinds of stuff strewn around everywhere, the thick layer of dust on them indicating that no one has actually gone there for quite some time. Reta quickly begin to pick up a number of equipment and other assortment of things from the various piles.

“What is going on? What are we doing?” Jane was still in shock at the sudden change of events and personalities.

“Just need you to be out of their sight for some time, for your safety, and if worst comes to worst, the safety of the world.”

“No way.” Jane said flatly. Sure, overpowered douchebags with overpowered cheats are a dime a dozen in isekai literature, but usually they weren’t all concentrated in a single world. If they are in this one, it would mean either the continuous collapse of civilization or they cancel out, and since she’s in a house with functional plumbing and electricity, it must be the latter.

“This time is slightly different. Come, follow me.” Reta finished packing, strapping a rather ancient looking holstered revolver to her right leg. She opened a previous hidden door and went in. Jane, not really seeing a good alternative, followed.

The air in the tunnel was dank and mushy, but at least there was electric lighting in the form of a couple of bare bulbs. Reta started rambling, answering the questions that Jane haven’t even thought of yet.

“Thing is, it’s different this time because you just happen to match the description of an ancient elven water deity that the present fascist regime is interested in. Your existence will confirm the superiority of the elven race and civilization in the moment of their greatest revanchism. Fun things all in all.”

“But, but, what? That’s madness!”

“If you haven’t noticed, this world is a bit off the hinges ever since you people have shown up.” Reta muttered, slightly bitterly.

“Hang on a minute, aren’t you an elf?” Jane suddenly realized, and then remembered that the maid was armed while she herself was not…

“I’m not a citizen of the Imperial State, for a start.” Reta said. “When then chancellor Amberea declared the formation of the Imperial state replacing the old Confederation many towns exercised the secession clause in the last moments, already seeing the writing on the wall. Luckily, I was from one of those towns.”

“Oh,” Jane was quiet for a moment. “I guess the Imperial State then conquered them?”

“Actually no, fuhrer Amberea was at first too distracted by internal problems, and by the time that was over the Union and the Republic were handing out sovereignty guarantees like penny candies.” Reta allowed herself a brief smile. “You can always trust the orcs to do the right thing, if only because they’ll get to annoy somebody else in the process.”

“So, you’re country’s still free?”


“But would they really think I’m a water deity?” Jane remembered that her original question still haven’t been really answered. “Aren’t magic users rather common in this world? She still has a hard time contemplating how she herself could be so disruptive to the world at large.

“Well, we’re not dealing with rational and reasonable people here. We’re dealing with people who are grasping any straw they see, even if it’s the product of their own delusions.” They finally reached the end of the corridor. Reta then fiddled with the doorknob and the long unused door creaked open, revealing dense tropical growth. She looked backed at Jane.

“You know how to live out in the wild?” She asked.

“My family dragged me out to camp back when I was a child.” Jane answered, with slight trepidation.

“Close enough, let’s go.”

As the two walked out into the forest, neither had noticed a few peculiarities around Jane, such as despite the crushing heat and humidity of the outside climate neither seemed to have affected her, nor the thin nimbus of water vapor surrounding her, as if a protective forcefield of sorts.


It was an almost comical sight as the group of State Security troops of the Lasce Imperial State arrived at the door steps of the Tomson-Palmer residence in an obviously rented horse wagon from the local area, the orc driver being as bored as the old horse lazily pulling the whole thing into view. Comical, that is, when one ignores who the wagon was transporting.

Helen tried her best to put up a cheerful veneer, however thin. After all, it’s just another perfectly ordinary day here at Mandarin Island. Well, if nothing else she could always just blame it on the all pervasive heat and humility.

Even before the wagon stopped, A dark elf figured jumped gracefully from the wagon. She then walked, almost a fast march, briskly up to Helen, quickly closing the distance between the two.

“It’s good to see an old friend once again.” Oesa, head of the Lasce Imperial State’s State Security Service, said, as she embraced the [mostly] human. A greeting normal for the elves of the South Continent (who always seems a bit too friendly to outsiders) but less so for a head of a powerful intelligence apparatus.That’s the thing about dark elves; they are just so friendly and cheerful in everything, even when they’re committing unspeakable horrors and meddling in things mortals were not meant to know.

Helen’s discomfort was all but showing on her face, however briefly, during the quick embrace, but luckily no one was paying much attention. After Osea stepped away, she managed to catch her breath again.

“Yes, it is good to see you here, although I’m curious as what matters of fate conspire you to be in this humble vacation spot? Do come in, let us get out of the hot sun.” She quickly attempt to get the entire group of elves into the house, before they pay too much attention to the surrounding forests. In her haste in trying to distract the elves she herself did not notice that a couple of them were carrying some rather bulky and heavy equipment...

“Oh, the usual, unexpected insanity from the forces of chaotic evil rudely truncating our archaeological expedition there to find the first colony and the resupplying of the LINS Salt, so here we are, at the next more convenient port of call, and I simply could not miss an opportunity to visit a good friend of our country.” As expected, a combination of useless information, half-truth, and worthless platitudes.

Helen sighed a little as the group files into her house, it’s gonna be a long day…


“Your maid not here?” Oesa asked. The two of were sitting in the rear patio,

“My assistant is out shopping.” Helen scowed, mildly annoyed that Oesa, and almost everyone else for that matter, seems to always assume Reta being merely her maid. Then again, such underestimation is useful at times, this being one of them.

“Oh, how unfortunate. Just as well though, I got the impression that she doesn’t like me.”

“I wonder why? Maybe it has something to do with the geopolitical situation that’s being going on for the past couple of decades.” Helen said, slightly sarcastically.

“Her devotion to her country is admirable, shame that it just happen to be to a country my country happen to have… some issues with.” She paused, “But that will change soon, when we find the ancient powers and the truth will be obvious to all.”

“Excuse me, but what the heck are you babbling about?” Helen asked, feigning ignorance. “I figured that your visit here was about something to do with some of the recent weapon purchases your country made with my company.”

“Oh, my apologies, I guess you weren’t aware of some of the latest discoveries in the field of archaeology that’s being happening.”

“To be perfectly honest, it’s more that I have been intentionally making myself ignorant of a field that’s been uncomfortably close to grave robbing and historical revisionism.” Helen had to choose her words carefully now, as too much ignorance and disbelief would be seen as an indication of hiding something as much as accidently revealing too much.

Oesa sighed, “Well, allow me to enlighten you then,” She smiled, “You’re not wrong.”

“What?” Helen was taken aback. She hasn’t expect Oesa to actually admit as much. “Is this the part where you monologue before killing me or something?” The patio suddenly felt a bit colder, despite the blistering heat of the outside.

“Of course not!” Oesa giggled, “Only morons attempt to emulate those trashy dime novels.” She became serious again, she continued in a more hushed voice, “The thing is, we did found quite a bit of evidence suggesting that grand ancient civilizations had existed before.” Helen stared at her in disbelief. “Well, obviously not on the same technological level as the present ones, it’s a really different context.”

“How… what?” Was all Helen would get out.

“Those ancient civilizations were what we have dubbed ‘keystone’ civilizations, whose prosperity, and in many cases even continued existence, were dependent upon the powers of a few individuals blessed with incredible mana and powers.”

“How much mana are we talking about?” Helen asked, who has recovered and was becoming interested in the topic, if only mildly.

“According to the experts, some of those individuals possess mana output that’s potentially greater than the National Mana Reserve of the Imperial State.” Helen whistled at that. The NMR was the Imperial State’s trump card, giving it both the flexibility for their massive industrial and infrastructural expansion as well as the threat of overwhelming military power. To imagine such powers concentrated in the hands of a single individual… or the Imperial State having, or even pretending to have, such power…

“But all that’s ancient history.” Helen respond hesitantly, “It’s not as if any of them… deities are running around today, douchebag isekais notwithstanding.”

“Oh, the isekais are nothing compared to the ancients.” Oesa shrugged them off, “But we have heard rumors of such powerful beings still existing.” Seeing the look of disbelief and mild disdain that Helen was trying, and mostly failing, to hide, she continued, “Oh come on, we’re not being that delusional are we?! Beings that powerful don’t just die off into the pages of history!”

“But you have to admit, it’s rather difficult to suddenly believing that.” Helen countered.

“True, and you may have a point. Given that all we found so far were just wisps in the wind.” She sighed.

“I hate to further ruining your day, but I seriously doubt that you’ll find what you’re looking for here.” Helen said, seeing the opportunity to disabuse her of poking around. “This island is pretty well mapped out and developed. At most you might want to go ask the MIPD about any suspicious activities.” Knowing that the police will never yield any useful information, mostly because both Umek and Teg’Stomean happened to be the most obtuse two persons on the island, also probably why they get along so well with each other.

“Regardless, we’re going to be here for a while anyway, the ship needing to resupply and the sailors in need of some well deserved shore leave.” She stood up, “So you’ll be seeing some of us around for a time yet.”

“Wonderful.” Helen was trying to keep her tiredness from seeping to her voice. Forget about a long day, it seems that it’s going to be a long month.
WWR-part 5

Mark Poe

The majestic cock
Part 5
“What the heck you lot think you’re doing here?” Potem shouted at the group of elves who were digging up a storm at the beach.

It was one of the smaller beaches of the island and not very popular since it’s almost right next to the dockyards, of which the noise and fumes tend to drive tourists away. All this made it even weirder that anyone would be doing anything here, much less a group of them.

But then, the shipyard is next door, and if they’re spies or saboteurs, he’s gonna need some backup…

“Oh sorry,” One of the elves said, presumably the leader of the bunch, “we are just doing an archaeological dig here.”

Even to Potam’s untrained eyes, the scene before him sure did not look at all like a supposed archaeological dig. A bunch of elves of both genders, all clad in swimsuits, were using shovels… wait, is that a digging machine over there? There’s also a number of other equipment and objects scattered about.

Damn. He definitely should have called back up. Too late to be wallowing in regrets though, he still has a job to do.

“Do you have your papers in order?” He asked. The elf looked at him in surprise, it appears that it wasn’t the turn of event he was expecting.

“No… no, we weren’t aware of any need for such documentations.” He managed to reply.

“Well, unlike over the in the wilds of Ironi, we have laws here, and the law clearly states that all archaeological digs must first go through the office internal affairs for permission first.”

“Oh. We are so sorry then.” The elf now looked relieved. “Is it possible for us to fix the issue then?” He asked earnestly.

“Yes, that should be possible.” Potem couldn’t believe it, they might actually be exactly who they say they are, a mere archaeological dig. “Now pack up all your stuff and follow me to the city hall, with any luck they’ll process your request within the day.” He ordered.

‘Here we go, more paperwork.’ Potem thought to himself as he watched the elves packing up their equipment. Another day on the grind.


“Ugh, how the hell is there so much damn work here?” Knomes wondered out loud.

The two of them, Knomes and Dumens, were at the BEA Mandarin Branch Office. Actually, to call it an office might be overstating things, given it was literally a single small room that also had to serve as their dwelling. Land and housing prices being a premium on the islands, and the BEA’s funding as always more of a joke than an actual thing, especially for some far away tourist trap.

“We been over this before, it’s called bureaucracy,” Dumens sighed, “I don’t like it anymore than you do, but this is the price to be paid for society and government to work these days.”

“Guess you’re right. After all, the government certainly doesn’t want a repeat of parts of it wandering off and doing their own thing in the name of the whole, and so they bury us all in a mountain of paperwork and sea of red tape.”

Both sighed at the same time. In the modern world the paper and pen are the strongest chains of them all.

“Well,” Dumens finally said, “it’s time to disappear ‘that’.”

Knomes nodded, and opened one of the drawers in the filing cabinet. He then pulled out a rather thin file.

It was a cream colored folder, rather unremarkable in appearance. Important things rarely come in actual important looking packaging, contrary to popular culture would suspect. In the meantime Dumens was putting some other paper into the trash can, as well as cracking open an window.

“Well, here it goes.” Demens said, pulling a pack of matches out of his pocket as Knomes threw the file into the trash can. “After this we’ll all agree that absolutely nothing of note happened a few weeks back.”

“Yep. All is peaceful on Mandarin Island as usual.” Knomes agreed.

Before Demens could light a match however, there was a knock on the door.

“Um, who the heck is this?” Demens asked, while kicking the trash can under the work deck.

The door opened, revealing a pair of elves, wearing the tropical uniforms of the Imperial State’s State Security Service. One of them was holding a pistol in his hand.

“I’m terribly sorry for intruding you good people” The elf said, “but I believe that you have something rather important in your possession.”


“Hmm, to be honest, they’re dressed more conservatively than I expected.” Jane muttered as she aimed the telescope at the group of elves, the female amongst them clad in one piece swimsuits, busy happily digging on a patch of a beach.

It has been a few days since the fateful day when Oesa paid a visit to Helen’s house. Reta and Jane managed to make their way back after a short excursion to the forest looking no worse for wear about a day later.

It has been a few nerve biting days since then, as no one really had any idea if or when the Oesa and her posse would pay the place a visit again. After a while though, when Oesa’s cover story seems to be actually holding (and no one showed up after Reta found and destroyed a disturbing large number of bugs and other devices the elves managed to put in various places in the house in their prior visit).

For now though, it was just simply waiting and occasionally watching, as Helen and Jane were doing from the same back patio, with a couple of telescopes that in happier times would have being used for gazing at the sky instead of down at other people.

“You can thank some pedo weebs isekais for that.” Helen muttered.

“Right, never thought I would see that horrid fetish taking a foothold in this world.”

“Remind me again why are the elves so susceptible to crazies?”

“An inferiority complex and the knowledge that they need to pull some miracles to catch up. Which combined to make for some very desperate people who were willing to try anything and listen to anyone.”

Jane sighed, “I don’t even know what to say anymore except I’m really sorry for all the assholes from my world somehow ended up in this world.”

“It’s not your fault whatever deity’s running the show seems to be a petty sadist.” Helen merely shrugged. Then, seeing something in her telescope, lightly nudged Jane. “Looks like they’re gonna get in trouble with the law.” She said as they watched an orc cop walked up to the group. “Though I doubt much will come of this, governments on this island tend to be rather laid back on most matters. Not that I have any room to complain about that.” She muttered the last part, mainly to herself.

Whatever Jane was about to say after than was cut off as the door to the patio opened rather violently and unexpectedly, with Reta being pushed out to the patio.

The two immediately turned around, just in time to see Oesa leading a group of elven soldiers through the same door. While their rifles were slung their bayonets were out. The previous air of carefree cheerfulness nowhere to be found on Oesa herself.

“Well, well, well.” Oesa said, “What do we have here?”
WWR-part 6

Mark Poe

The majestic cock
Part 6
“Ah, I guess those weren’t all the bugs you planted then.” Helen said almost casually, trying to keep down the rising tide of fear she’s feeling. She had miscalculated the stakes badly and now it looks like she’s about to pay the price with her life.

“No, it would be insulting to you if they were.” Oesa said with a thin smile. “The troubles at Ironi did mean that we have a generous supply of broken gear. I have to say though, I’m rather impressed with your efforts to hide a discovery of such magnitude from us.” She then turned towards Jane, who was desperately, and utterly failing, to make herself smaller in a corner, and gasped (although far from the first elf to do so, as pretty much all the rest of the elves in the group had already reacted in various ways, usually surprised mixed with reverence).

“I… you…” For once, Oesa found herself at a loss for words. She then instead turned back to an male elf among the group, the only one who wasn’t wearing an uniform. “Is she the one?” She asked in a soft voice, much of her previous bravado leached out of her.

“I don’t know.” The civilian elf stuttered, checking the gadget he’s holding, as much to avoid making eye contact with Oesa as was to comprehend the reading from it. “The reading higher than anything we have ever seen before but nowhere near what the legends said.” He was certainly not sure of himself, if nothing else.”

Oesa breathed a sigh of relief, and returned her gaze back to Jane, who was still cowered in the corner like a deer with nowhere else to run. She cracked a smile, with far more warmth than the last one.

“Grab the subject, we found what we came for.” She said to the soldiers, who begin to move forward.

“Over my dead body!” Helen suddenly shouted, her eyes suddenly filled with defiance. Oesa merely raised an eyebrow.

“Before I make that happen, and don’t think I won’t, may I ask where did this sudden death wish come from?” She asked casually, already not going to care much regardless of what she hears.

“Simple, because there is no place for me or the corporation in the new order that you seek.” Helen said simply. “Such powers are not meant to be in the hands of the likes of you.”

“Hm. History will see about that, and we will be the ones to write it, for I intend to be a winner.”

“That’s enough!” A voice, sharp with anger, rang out. Everyone turned towards the source of the voice.


“Go ahead, if you can find it.” Demens said casually. The Elven elven soldier’s eyes narrowed.

“No, seriously. I don’t care anymore.” Demens continued as he threw up his hands, not in surrender, but in exasperation. It was true, the job doesn’t pay enough to deal with this kind of shit, and he doubt anyone would care if he defended some paper to the death. Certainly not him, he likes living too much. The elf flinched for a bit, but kept his hand steady. With his other hand he waved the other soldiers in.

The soldier continued to cover him and Knomes with his pistol as the rest of his comrades begin to ransake the room. The two orcs merely looked bored rather than concerned, which made the elves even more nervous.

They were still fruitlessly searching through the cabinets when a booming voice, amplified by a bullhorn, broke the pace.

“To all those unknown individuals who are currently in the BEA office.” It begin, sounds like Umek’s using it. “Release the hostages and surrender now or we will have to take more extreme action-”

The voice suddenly stopped, while a number of other sounds took place, as if someone was fighting over the bullhorn. When a voice returned, it was a lot deeper, as if from a dragon.

“You have five minutes before I open fire. Actually, I would prefer you guys to fight to the death as I am itching to finally use this gatling cannon here, I want to see how well this electric motor I just installed on here works.”

At this point, everyone in the room, elves and orcs alike, were looking out the window. What they saw was a crowd of people had gathered across the street around Umek, Teg’Stomean, and a gaggle of police officers and militia personnel. Teg’Stomean was wearing the cap and armband of the island militia, as were the other militia members, and they were twiddling around a gatling cannon, which looks plenty sinister.

“He’s not gonna actually use that is he?” The elf asked, to nobody in particular.

“Pretty sure he will actually.” Knomes replied grimly, “That dragon has delusions of grandeur and was always annoyed that he never has a chance to fight glorious combat.”

“Isn’t he supposed to protect you people?” Obvious question perhaps, but when reality seems to not align with common sense…

“We are talking about a dragon who’s itching to use his big gun.” Knomes pointed out, “Teg’Stomean’s operating in the authority of the militia here, and they care much less about protecting the individual as opposed to the collective, but mostly because he’s a bloodthirsty nutjob like many of his species.”

Upon hearing that, the elf turn away from the window and begin to pace around. “Damn it, we are so close.” He muttered, “Too close to give up now, just because someone is out for blood anyways.” He returned to the window.

“How do we know that our lives will be spared if we do, in fact, stand down?” He shouted to the forces arrayed against them across the street. The reply was prompt, if less than authoritative.

“You don’t-” Was all that Teg’Stomean could get out before Umek took the bullhorn out of his hand. Then the two begin a rather long argument.

“Well, at least that bought us some time…” He muttered, “Continue the search.”
WWR-part 7

Mark Poe

The majestic cock
part 7

‘Well, this is awkward.’ Potem thought to himself as he saw the commotion at a nearby street. As he walked up to it he found the reason behind it, as Umek and Teg’Stomean were arguing over killing the elves while the rest of the police and militia looked on, twiddling their fingers in the meantime.

Then he heard a number of guns cocking behind him.

“Fuck my life…” Me muttered. He didn’t even need to look back to know that he has just become a hostage to the elves behind him.


“Don’t you see, this is the time for glorious and bloody battle!” Teg shouted at Umek. “We are at the crossroads of history!”

“Snap out of your damn delusion you overgrown swamp cat! You been baking in the sun for too long and your brain has melted!” Umek knew it was a bad idea when Teg’Stomean first alerted him to suspicious elven activities on the island… while decked out in his militia uniform and dragging along that gatling cannon, his eyes filled with expectations of using that damn thing.

Whatever Teg was about to say back was abruptly truncated when they noticed that another group of elves were walking up to them… with one of the police officers as yet another hostage.

“Ah hell nah, this is bullshit.” Umek muttered as he turned around towards the new threat. The situation was getting more complicated by the hour.

As the two sides stare off at each other sudden massive plumes of water rose out of the ocean. It must have been truly massive because they were nowhere near the beaches. As all parties switched their attention to the sudden unnatural act of nature more plums of of water rose out from the sea and soon formed a massive wall of water surrounding the eternity of the island.

The police chief and the militia head looked at each other, and realized that whatever they’re dealing with up till now has just paled in comparison with what’s unfolding.

“Damn it, mobilize the rest of the militia and get the civilians to safety!” Umek snapped at Teg, knowing that only the militia has the manpower to deal with such a crisis, and also to get him and more importantly his cannon out of the way.

“On my way.” Teg answered, his voice far less confident than a minute ago.


The first indication that Oesa’s skepticism of those half made up ancient faiths might have been premature was the massive plumes of water rising out of the ocean. The next thing was far closer, as a thick nimbus of fine mist begin to swirl around the blue hair elf, who have stood up in the meantime, her face full of rage that casually threw out her previous fear. A moment later Oesa’s own suspicions were confirmed.

“Mana readings are off the scale!” The male elf said, as the device smoke and sputtered in his hand, its internals overloaded by the sheer amount of power present. “There appears to be a focus of mana being drawn into her from all over the island and beyond!”

Well, that explains that, but it doesn’t help what was quickly appearing to be a situation that’s quickly going completely out of control.

“How dare you, all of you, treat me as if I am some... object to be fought over!?!” While the voice was soft as ever, the anger and threat behind them need no higher volume to make it clear.

Now it was Oesa’s turn to be the one scared, and the chief of State Security felt a sense of fear that she hasn’t felt for decades, that of a small child who has majorly screwed up and the adults in the room were in no mood for mercy.

“And you expect us to act as if you’re not the biggest potential threat to everybody in this world?” Helen spoke up. She seems oddly calm about it, although it might have something to do with how she has already accept her imminent death.

“What?” Jane was taken aback, expecting that her little pleading for the innate nature of human empathy would sway everyone, and was genuinely shocked that it didn’t work out at all.

“Yeah, we had enough of that load of hypocrisy from the usual suspects.” Helen continued, “You think you’re the first one to be bitching about being played around for others? This world has been at the mercy of irresponsible assholes for centuries, and we say, never again.”

That took the rage out of her, and as suddenly as it appeared, the plumes of water went back almost as fast as it first shot up. Soon the oceans surrounding the island was as tranquil as always.


“Well, I’m terribly sorry for making such a horrible first impression.” Oesa said sheepishly. The elves, Jane, Helen, Umek, and Teg were at the docks, the latter two watching the elves with still suspicious eyes. “I hope this won’t poison your opinion of us forever.”

It has been a week since the oceans around the island has gone nuts, the official story being an unnatural and unidentified act of paranormal by unknown forces. After the botched confrontation Oesa did arrived in time to have the rest of her forces to stand down, and in the interest of not creating a international scene neither Teg nor Umek decided to press any charges or make much of it, not even an official report, although quite a bit of IOUs and favors changed hands.

“Well, I have been given thoughts about all of this,” Jane said, waving her hand aimlessly around, “and all this mess was because all of us have been jumping into conclusions too early.”

She paused a bit, as if thinking of her next words. Then continued, “This is why I decided to stay here and work as a ship architect for now. Some stability and normality is good for the soul.” Not to mention a safe base to digest information and news, she thought to herself.

“I promise you that we as a people will strive to be worthy to be graced with your presence someday.” Oesa stated, all seriousness in her voice. The events of the past couple of weeks has had a change, almost akin to a new age of religion. Jane sighed inwardly, it’s like that episode of Star Trek, except miracles do exist and there’s no organization to enforce a prime directive. Well, now it’s time to pick up the pieces and put them in a safe place, out of sight and hopefully out of mind.

“Hopefully we can put all of this behind us and move forward, as we naturally should be.” Helen interjected.

“Of course, but now we should be on our way. Goodbye.” Oesa agreed as she turned around to go back up the cruiser.

“You think they’re really gonna change?” Jane whispered to Helen as they watched the elves embarked onto their ship.

“Suffice to say I doubt even divine intervention is enough to get it through their skulls as far as something they made up their minds on. That being said it won’t be the first time they made hard turns to their society.” Helen muttered back.


“So, the myths and legends are true after all.” Amberea remarked.

It was a month since the unnatural and unexplained events occurred on Mandarin island, and Oesa was reporting to Amberea at her office. Oesa nodded.

“In a sense, what we have not expected was that she is in fact an isekai, at least her soul is of one. This complicate matters as she appeared to have the mentality of those associated with the Euro-Atlantic democrices back in her world...”

“... which makes her having a rather low opinion of our little operations here.” Amberea finished. She nodded, almost to herself, before continuing. “We’ll just have to change the flavor of the ice cream, or the toppings.”

“You really think that would work?” Oesa was a bit skeptic.

“Contrary to what they proclaim, most isekais are still authoritarians deep down, the only differences being which flavor they prefer, and how much the truth is hidden.”

“A rather cynical view coming from you.” Oesa pointed out, tactically agreeing to her points.

“You are far from the only person to see a lot of the uglier side of large scale management and leadership.” Amberea reminder her.

Mark Poe

The majestic cock
The Isekai/Incel Rebellion

It was the turn of the 5th century of the Standard Era, five hundred years since the first legends, or horrors, from another world first graced their presence in these lands. These beings, for calling them mere mortals would be downplaying their vast powers, shaped the lands and peoples at their will.

The world moved on, life continued, as was adaptation, and by the 4th century the age of isekai was beginning to end, ironically partially brought upon by some of their own kind. It was a age of sorrow or joy, depends on who’s asking and who’s answering.

On the turn of the 5th century, the world has changed completely once again.In the old continent, the Empire of All Mankind was in the throes of terminal decline, besieged by the orcs, betrayed by the elves, and ravaged by the dragons. Many lands and people were lost, as were the wealth of centuries. Their proud traditions and noble heroes were little match against the new gods of the world: cordite, steam power, the railroad, and centralization. Its pitiful efforts in catching up were spurred and then burned to the ground. To their East, in the mountains of the north the dragon princely kingdoms lord over the rich deposits of ore, in the mountains seemly perpetually shouded in cold and frost. To their south were the nations of the orcs, the Republic and the Union, former allies in their crusade against the humans, now awkward rivals jocking for the dominance of the entire world, or so they perceive. To their south was the rising elven imperial state, bent on bloody vengeance and naked imperialism against everything and everyone standing in their way.

Beyond the old continent, to their south lies a massive landmass known as the south continent, now greedly being gobbled up by the elves. Further east, a week’s trip by even the fastest steamship, lies the continent of Ironi, a land rich in ores and danger, mostly dangers. It was not a forgiving place, even for the orcs who seek ever more resources to fuel the maws of the endless factories and refineries back in the old continent.

Even as tens of hundreds of millions celebrated the coming of a new century, there was an air of something big on the horizon, something that would reshape the landscape. This is not the story about that, however. This is the story of the fall of an ancient and noble civilization, slew at the hands of its supposed saviors and the usual suspects.

It was a time of change, and change in this world meant violence and the other horrors that comes along with it.

Mark Poe

The majestic cock
Thanks for your support and feedback!

Good story. Doesn't really show any hate for the genre.
This part is almost certainly going to be unintentionally hilarious in hindsight, given what I have planned... XD

(then again, my lack of research and humor might displace my hateboner instead, who knows...)

I'll admit though my main motivation (originally anyway) was because I really dislike the majority of the isekai genre (which I almost always stopped reading immediately, douchebag protags being rewarded and portrayed as good & noble tend to be a big turn off for me for some reason), and realized my own toxicity of my hatred, so I channeled that into writing a world exploring a more logical progression, in the sense that the peoples of the other world being more active rather than passive.

Also, I am glad you posted the complete story here and not just advertised it to monetize it elsewhere.
I'll admit, it never occurred to me that I could even do that... that being said this setting will remain here and free. Hopefully helping Horton growing this forum.

Now potential lewd stories on the other hand... ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
(though if FiC allows lewds by then I'll probably end up writing them here too)
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