The air at the Aurion frontier outpost was tense. The knights and priests stopped a short distance from the gate, their horses restless, sensing their riders' unease.
Aurion soldiers stood behind the metal barricade, weapons at the ready but not aimed, fingers resting just off their triggers. The knights, equally wary, had their hands near their sword hilts.
Sergeant Ramirez raised a hand, calling out in Aurion's language. "Stop right there! Identify yourselves!"
The knights heard only strange, harsh sounds.
Sir Edric looked to Father Alric, who shook his head slowly. "I do not know these words. It is not any tongue I have heard."
The soldiers exchanged quick, hushed words.
"They're not moving closer."
"They're armed, but… they're just staring at us."
"Orders?"
"Hold position," Ramirez said quietly. "Don't point weapons unless they draw first."
Edric turned in his saddle to address his men. "Stay calm. Do not unsheathe your swords unless I order it. These… people… are no ordinary barbarians."
Caldus Merrow scoffed, his voice low but contemptuous. "They're cowards, holding sticks instead of steel. They fear us."
Alric glared at him. "Do not mistake what you do not understand for weakness."
Edric raised a hand slowly, palm outward, trying to show he meant no harm. The soldiers exchanged glances. One of them cautiously mirrored the gesture.
The knights murmured to one another. "Is that a challenge?" one whispered.
"No," Edric said quietly. "I think… it is a greeting."
Ramirez turned to his men. "Get the interpreter team. We need linguists here now."
Inside the outpost, radio chatter erupted as intelligence officers began pulling up tablets, trying to use translation algorithms to pick up any recognizable words.
At the same time, Edric turned to Alric. "Try speaking in the high tongue. Perhaps they will understand a word or two."
Alric dismounted and stepped forward slowly, holding his staff in one hand. He spoke clearly, using Drakensport's formal dialect. "We come as envoys of King Aldred, sovereign of these lands. Who are you?"
The soldiers listened, hearing only unfamiliar syllables.
"Record that," one analyst said through the comms. "Every sound. We'll run it through the system."
The two groups stared at each other in silence, neither side daring to make a sudden move.
Hands hovered over triggers. Fingers brushed against sword hilts.
Both sides knew that one wrong move could turn this first meeting into a bloodbath.
---
Inside the Aurion frontier outpost, radio chatter filled the command center. Several cameras on the perimeter streamed the standoff live to the large monitors mounted on the wall. The knights and priests stood at the gate, tense but unmoving, their armor glinting faintly in the sun.
Sergeant Ramirez's voice came through the comms. "Command, this is Outpost Sierra‑17. We have contact with unknown armed personnel. No hostile action yet. We need an interpreter—now."
In Solaira City, inside the Presidential Emergency Operations Center, President Velez and key senators sat around a table, watching the same feed.
Elena Choi leaned forward, eyes fixed on the knights. "Look at their armor. Swords, shields, banners… they're straight out of the Middle Ages."
General Delos exhaled slowly. "This isn't just primitive. This is centuries behind us."
An officer in the room spoke quickly. "Sir, our auto‑translator is useless for now. We've only collected a few dozen words from intercepted conversations. We can't form coherent phrases yet."
President Velez tapped the table lightly, eyes still on the screen. "Then get linguists working on it. Every word, every sound they make—I want it analyzed. Use every tool we have."
Back at the outpost, Ramirez gave hand signals to his men: hold fire, keep weapons low. The soldiers obeyed, but their eyes never left the knights.
Inside the outpost barracks, other soldiers gathered around the CCTV screens.
"Jesus," one whispered. "They look like cosplayers at a Ren Faire. Except they're real."
Another soldier shook his head. "They're not just some random dudes with swords. Look at how they stand. They're trained. Disciplined."
At the gate, Edric was watching the soldiers just as closely. He murmured to Aldwin, "Their eyes… they don't look afraid. They're studying us like hunters watching prey."
Alric stepped closer to Edric. "Do you feel it too? These men… they are not what they seem. This outpost, this black road… They are not of our world."
Edric gave a small nod, his hand still resting on his sword hilt.
Inside Solaira City, Elena Choi broke the silence. "This is history. Whatever happens here, it decides everything."
Velez's voice was steady. "Then we do not let it go wrong. We will not fire the first shot."
But everyone watching the footage understood—the standoff could not last forever.
Soon, someone would make the first move.
---
Sergeant Ramirez stepped closer to the barricade, lowering his weapon slightly to appear less threatening. He raised one hand slowly, palm outward, and pointed at the ground, then at the sun sinking behind the trees.
He spoke slowly, trying to use gestures to convey meaning. "We… stay. Here. One night."
Father Alric tilted his head, trying to follow the motions. He glanced back at Edric. "He points to the ground and the sun… I think he means to remain here."
Edric narrowed his eyes. "Why? To ambush us?"
Before Alric could reply, Ramirez pointed at himself, then mimicked sleeping with his hands under his head. "Sleep. Here. Night."
Alric's eyes widened in realization. "They mean no harm. They wish to stay—"
But Caldus Merrow's hand shot to his sword. "Enough of this!" he barked. "These barbarians mock us with their gestures. They think us fools!"
Before Edric could stop him, Caldus unsheathed his blade halfway, steel glinting in the dying light.
Instantly, Ramirez's soldiers snapped their rifles up, aiming at the knights. The air was electric—one wrong twitch and bullets would fly.
"STAND DOWN!" Ramirez shouted, voice cutting through the chaos.
Inside the outpost, the watch officer's voice erupted over the loudspeakers: "ALL UNITS HOLD YOUR FIRE! HOLD FIRE!"
Edric barked at his men, "SHEATHE YOUR BLADES! NOW!"
But Caldus hesitated, glaring at the soldiers beyond the gate.
Ramirez's finger hovered near the trigger, his heart pounding. Every soldier behind him stood rigid, rifles steady.
From the command center in Solaira City, President Velez and the Senate watched in horror as the feed showed both sides seconds away from killing each other.
Elena Choi slammed her hand on the table. "If someone fires, that's it—war."
"Caldus, sheathe it!" Edric roared, spurring his horse closer.
Finally, with a curse, Caldus shoved the blade back into its scabbard.
The Aurion soldiers slowly lowered their rifles, though their fingers remained on the triggers.
Ramirez exhaled sharply, lowering his own weapon. "Good… good. Nobody dies today."
Inside the outpost, the tension was suffocating.
But everyone knew—this peace was hanging by a thread.
---
In Solaira City, the atmosphere in the Presidential Emergency Operations Center was intense. The live feed from the frontier outpost remained on the main screen, showing both sides standing still, weapons now lowered but hands still dangerously close to triggers and sword hilts.
General Delos turned to one of the aides. "How soon can we get a linguistics team there?"
"Sir, we have two trained historical linguists and an AI‑assisted translation team prepping now. They'll depart on the next military transport. ETA to the frontier outpost… at least twelve hours, assuming no delays."
Elena Choi shook her head. "Twelve hours is an eternity in a standoff like this."
President Velez leaned forward. "Get them moving now. I don't care if we have to divert an entire squadron to escort that transport—they get there safely."
"Yes, sir."
A young intelligence officer pointed to another screen. "Sir, we're feeding every recorded word from the knights to our AI systems. We've already matched a handful of repeated terms—titles, religious words—but forming sentences will take days, not hours."
Velez's expression hardened. "Then we stall. Keep both sides calm until the linguists arrive. Ramirez is in charge until then—tell him no aggression, no advances, no shots fired."
Elena rubbed her temples, watching the knights shift uneasily in the live feed. "What happens if one of them panics? What if they see a radio or a vehicle as some kind of magic and think it's an attack?"
General Delos exhaled. "Then we make sure they don't have a reason to panic."
Back at the outpost, Sergeant Ramirez's voice came over the comms again. "Command, situation stable for now. But this is a powder keg. If either side twitches, this goes bad fast."
"Understood, Sierra‑17," a voice from command replied. "Hold your position. Reinforcements and linguists inbound. Twelve hours. Just keep everyone alive until then."
Everyone in Solaira City kept their eyes on the screen.
Twelve hours had never felt so long.
The tension slowly eased as Sergeant Ramirez raised both hands, palms outward, signaling peace. He gestured toward the gate, pointing at the ground and then at the knights, speaking calmly even though they couldn't understand his words.
"Come inside. No harm. Stay… safe."
Father Alric tilted his head, reading Ramirez's posture rather than his words. "He invites us in," he said softly.
Sir Edric studied the soldiers. None of them made any aggressive moves. Their strange black rods remained lowered, their stances disciplined. "Very well," Edric said cautiously. "But keep your guard up. If this is a trap, we will not die easily."
The outpost gates opened with a mechanical hum that startled the knights—metal parts moving smoothly in a way they had never seen before.
Caldus Merrow whispered bitterly, "Even their gates move like sorcery… and yet this 'fortress' is nothing impressive. No towers, no walls of stone. They truly are barbarians with strange toys."
Alric frowned at him. "Look again. They have no swords, no armor… yet they stand like trained soldiers. Do not mistake simplicity for weakness."
The knights and priests entered cautiously. The outpost was small—barracks, supply crates, a few small vehicles parked under tarps. No mighty war engines, no towers bristling with weapons.
One knight muttered, "So this is their stronghold? Wooden huts, wagons without horses… and those strange rods."
Edric remained silent, his eyes scanning everything—the perfect angles of the buildings, the strange glass windows, the unnatural lights fixed to poles.
Inside, Aurion soldiers moved carefully, keeping distance but never letting their hands stray too far from their weapons.
Ramirez stepped forward, pointing at himself. "Ramirez," he said clearly, tapping his chest.
Alric caught on to the intent. He gestured to himself. "Alric."
Edric did the same. "Edric."
One by one, the knights and soldiers exchanged names they could barely pronounce.
To Caldus, the outpost looked crude, unimpressive. "They are nothing," he whispered to Roderic. "If they are a people, they are far below us. We could crush them if needed."
But Edric's thoughts were different as he observed the soldiers' posture, the strange machines, the effortless way the gates had opened.
These men are no peasants. Their power lies hidden. Whatever they are, they are not what they seem.
Alric, standing beside him, shared the same thought, though his face betrayed nothing.
This place feels simple. Yet every step I take tells me we walk among a mystery we do not understand.
---
Night settled over the outpost, and the forest beyond grew dark. But unlike the deep blackness of a medieval night, the Aurion outpost remained brightly lit.
Tall poles with glowing orbs illuminated the compound with a steady, white brilliance—no flicker, no smoke, no burning wick. The knights stared upward, eyes wide, whispering among themselves.
Caldus Merrow muttered, "What sorcery is this? Their flames burn without fire. They conjure daylight from nothing."
Father Alric stepped closer to one of the lights, shielding his eyes from its brightness. "This is no fire," he murmured. "No heat, no smoke… as if the gods themselves placed stars in their hands."
Sir Edric said nothing, his gaze fixed on the small settlement just outside the outpost's gates.
Dozens of strange houses stood in neat rows, each with glowing windows. The "village" bustled even after nightfall—people walking with small glowing objects in their hands, lights on poles lining the streets, and strange vehicles rumbling quietly down the black road.
One of the younger knights whispered in awe, "They live as if night means nothing to them. They fear no darkness."
Roderic's voice was low and uneasy. "If they can conjure light so easily… what else might they conjure?"
Inside the outpost, the soldiers moved with practiced ease, flipping switches, speaking into small devices that crackled with voices.
Caldus sneered, though his eyes betrayed doubt. "They pretend to be powerful with their toys. But where are their castles? Where are their armies?"
Alric turned to him sharply. "Look around you. Even their commoners walk with lights stronger than our brightest torches. If this is barbarism, then it is a kind our world has never seen."
Edric remained silent, his thoughts heavy. Every new sight—the glowing lamps, the strange humming boxes, the effortless comfort of these people—deepened his unease.
If this is how they live every day… then perhaps we are the true barbarians.
Above them, a drone circled in the night sky, its infrared camera capturing everything—the knights gazing upward, the priests clutching their staffs, and the look of quiet disbelief spreading across their faces.
In Solaira City, the President, Senate, and generals watched the feed with tense expressions.
General Delos finally spoke. "Now they understand."
Elena Choi leaned back, her voice quiet. "And once they realize this isn't magic, but something far greater… the real shock will begin."