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"Now, Ambassador, do ye fancy a drink? I've many queries on your..."

The echo of the baron's conversation with Ambassador Perry faded behind Henry as he stepped out of the great hall with Sera at his side and Renart leading the way.

The knight slowed, turning toward Henry as they walked. "Your companions have stirred no small commotion about the fortress, I assure you. Rumor has spread swiftly of wheeled fortresses and mechanical might – enough that some of the dwarves vow they could replicate such marvels, were they but to glimpse the inner workings of one."

Henry held back a snort. Fantasy dwarves and their magical forges were one thing, but an MRAP? The engineering alone required generations of scientific progress – metallurgy, internal combustion, electronics. Even if they did somehow reverse-engineer the mechanics, they'd still need precision manufacturing, quality control, proper materials...

He shrugged. "They're welcome to dream. Can't say I blame 'em for being curious, but there's quite a lot that goes into it."

Sera laughed. "Oh, dream they shall. They'll not rest easy – any dwarf worth his forge would set upon you like a hound on a roast, prying till dawn."

Renart glanced at her. "I beg your pardon, Lady Seraphine, yet I recall rumor once held you to solitude – that you would take no Party after some... misfortune. And yet now, you stand among these Americans. Might this be some jest?"

"Oh, no jest at all. Rumor scarcely troubles itself with the present," Sera said, shrugging. "The Americans are different, Sir Renart. No bickering over coin, no fools dueling over who struck the first blow, or whose fault some mishap was – just purpose. Loyalty. Proper order. I find it... a welcome change."

Renart raised an eyebrow, swallowing the news before bursting out with a laugh. "Hah! Why, I'd not have credited it, were it not spoken by the baron himself – nor now by you."

Sera only smiled, eyes flicking to Henry. "Of course, their wonders do keep me entertained."

Henry suppressed a smirk. She was getting bolder and bolder. Not that he minded.

A blast of cold air hit him. He slapped on his helmet and checked his suit seals as they approached the exit. The temperature readout on his HUD dropped immediately as they stepped out into the courtyard – just barely over one Fahrenheit.

Isaac's voice echoed inside his helmet. "Cap, we've got fresh contacts – hobs and fenwyrms emerging from the forest, coming back for another round."

"Copy." He turned to Sera and Renart. "Wall's under attack again. Let's get moving."

Renart's armor clinked as he shifted his weight. "If half the tales are true, your forces shall scatter them in short order."

"You risk inflating their sense of might, Sir Renart," Sera cautioned. "Though I suppose they've earned some measure of boasting rights."

Henry grinned. Renart and the local defenders had no idea what they were about to see. Between the missiles and gunfire, it wasn't gonna be a fight so much as a technical demonstration.

The convoy idled ahead. A few castle staff had gathered at a distance, staring at the vehicles like they were some kind of mythical beasts. Renart let out a low whistle.

"Hah. It seems the rumors spoke rather lightly," he said. But he spared the vehicles no more than a glance before turning toward the stables and getting straight to work. "Give me a moment – I'll see to my mount."

Henry climbed into his MRAP while Renart headed off. A couple minutes later, the knight returned on his dradak, approaching the outer gate guards to exchange a few words. As they opened the gate, Renart turned back and gave them a brief wave forward.

Henry glanced at the drone's feed as they rolled through the town. The unfolding setup couldn't have been more reminiscent of the Hardale situation, except of course for the hobgoblins riding the fenwyrms.

Most of them – three dozen, give or take – clustered along a makeshift trench, concealed by windblown snow whipping around the field. Two fenwyrm lords sat farther back, tucked just out of sight, probably thinking they were hidden. Maybe they even were, from the defenders' perspective. But that didn't change the fact that they were the only real problem here. Not the optimal choice for a siege, but a problem nonetheless.

The rest? Quite frankly, they barely scraped past armed rabble. The Tier 5s and Tier 6s holding the wall could handle them just fine – at least until the fenwyrms got involved. Wouldn't be a problem for the MRAPs though.

Whatever they were waiting for, it sure as hell wouldn't be worth it. They'd already arrived at the northern wall.

The wall defenders didn't disappoint when it came to reactions; Henry counted several playing out. Most obvious were the dwarven ballista operators erupting into pointed fingers and gossip – as much as they could without diverting too much attention from their jobs, anyway. Some of the others kept their guard, but they'd all received the memo on 'metal carriages' coming to support them.

"Hail!" Renart called up. "The baron sends aid!"

Henry stepped out of the MRAP, glancing up top as the garrison commander poked his head over the parapet.

"Sir Renart?" The dwarf upon the wall asked. "An' who are these folk ye've brought along?"

"Americans, Var."

Var cast a glance at the vehicles. "Aye, that much is plain. Hold fast – I'll be right there!"

The dwarf vanished into the stair tower, reappearing at its base within seconds. He approached them, thumping his chest with a gauntleted fist. "Commander Var Staggom, at yer service."

Henry saluted. "Captain Henry Donnager."

Var studied Henry's armor, a comment no doubt on the tip of his tongue. But instead of mentioning his armor, he got straight to the point. "I must confess to bewilderment. Word reached us that ye'd be bringing supplies for the folk in need. Not that we'd turn away aid with our present troubles, but..."

"Yeah, wasn't originally the plan, but then again, we weren't just gonna sit around and do nothing while those monsters fuck up the people our supplies are meant for. We've got the Baron's approval to help out. Why, you refusing?"

"By my beard, no!" Staggorn's laugh echoed. "Been hearin' tales o' these iron beasts o' yers for weeks now. Wouldn't mind seein' what they can do meself. What manner of support did ye have in mind?"

"Simple enough." Henry showed him the drone feed on his tablet. "We'll set up outside – form a firing line. Your men keep watch from the walls in case anything tries to flank us." He glanced at the ramparts where the archers, mages, and ballista operators maintained their vigil. "Though between you and me, they probably won't have much to do."

"Aye, well, if naught else, they'll have a fine show of it. I'll not complain of a bit o' sport meself."

Renart turned to Henry. "I shall gather an escort to aid you."

Should he even bother? Henry considered bringing it up to him – the MRAPs could handle themselves just fine. They weren't incompetent or anything, just outclassed, and possibly a risk if they were out on the field with him. Granted, the people of this world could be formidable – Sera was prime proof of that – but none of these men were her. Not even close.

Still, having local backup wasn't the worst idea, even if just for show. Besides, giving them a role kept things smooth. No need for bruised egos or unnecessary friction from alienation or losing face. Let them hold position, cover the rear – keep them involved without putting them in over their heads. "Alright, but when we engage, keep your distance behind us. Don't wanna go deaf from all the gunfire."

Renart nodded before leaving to set up.

"Commander," Henry added, turning back to Var, "Can you get the gates open?"

"Aye, that I can." The dwarf turned and bellowed orders at his men.

The massive gates groaned open as Henry climbed back into his MRAP, settling in behind the RWS. They rolled out through the gate.

Beyond them, the field stretched wide. The enemy lingered at the edges of the snowy static, likely thinking themselves invisible. But Henry had already set his sights on their thermal signatures.

His units fell into position outside the walls, steel and sensors aligning into place in a world that had never conceived of them. And the enemy? Well, the enemy couldn't even begin to conceive of them.

Honestly, he'd have felt pity if this were any other opposing force. Even if it were the Nobians. But there was little reason to pity monsters.

"Weapons free."

The first shot split the air like a snapped wire, followed by its thunderous cascade as Henry sprayed into the makeshift trench. The first creature went down in a bright, warm spray. Then the next, and the next, and more.

One of the fenwyrms reared up – half a motion, half a thought of retreat, but it was a mistake. Its very action exposed it and its hapless rider to unforgiving lead.

Some of the hobgoblins charged. Some were smart enough to duck down, pressing their bodies into the trench.

But none faltered – yet.

They still had the fenwyrm lords at their disposal, though not for long. The UGV spat 30mm as soon as they rose from the ground.

The lead fenwyrm lord got smacked down like a fly. One moment it rose, its rider borderline cocky with what it believed to be a powerful living weapon. The next it jerked, convulsed, then folded mid-motion as its entire chest cavity punched inward. Scales and muscle vanished in a pulped spray. The massive body crumpled to the ground, wings half-spread in a spasmodic reflex.

The hobgoblin on its back fared better – it didn't even have time to understand.

The second set fared worse – the UGV caught it mid leap. It avoided an immediately fatal shot, sure, but was it really worth it? The intended rounds instead slammed into its lower torso and legs, shattering bone. It tumbled and the UGV finished the job, leaving a crimson vapor where its head and rider used to be.

It didn't take long for the various types of goblins to realize they were hopelessly outmatched, but by then it was already too late. Most of them – particularly the ones that had foolishly charged – already lay in shredded parts along the field.

The goblins still huddled in the trench made their final, predictably poor decision. Quite the optimists, really – as if running would somehow improve their odds against automatic weapons. They scattered across the snow like startled rats, abandoning their weapons as they bolted out of the trench. And then, in a complete shocker, they were gunned down by a hail of .50 cal and 30mm.

A small group made it almost twenty yards before the overlapping fire caught them. The rest barely cleared the trench. Some caught rounds in their limbs or torsos and would bleed out in the snow, while others had the fortune of instant death. A handful – three, maybe four – actually managed to escape into the treeline, but in this weather? Good luck.

Poor Sera didn't even get to do a thing; modern engagement distances had simply prevented that. But hopefully, she at least enjoyed the show.

"Cease fire! Cease fire!"

Henry scanned the field. Nothing on thermals but the blowing snow. He switched to a normal view – same thing. "No movement, all cold. Hayes, Yen, y'all see anything?"

"Thermals negative," Ryan said. "Just the damn weather."

Isaac chirped in right after. "Nothing on the drone; area's clear."

Henry relaxed slightly in his seat. "Alright; we're heading back to the gate. Stay tight."

They turned around, heading back toward the gate. Henry spotted Renart's group through the swirling snow, already moving ahead of them. Couldn't see jack shit, but he didn't need to – their reactions were undoubtedly pure shock and awe.

They pulled through the gates into the town proper, the massive doors groaning shut behind them. The gunfire had drawn attention; the sounds of lightning striking hundreds of times tended to do that. Most of the townspeople kept their distance from the vehicles but couldn't tear their eyes away from them, probably trying to make sense of the thunder they'd just heard.

Var waited for them at the base of the wall, like some dwarf who'd just witnessed machined badassery in action. Which, to be fair, he had. The defenders kept staring from the ramparts as Henry dismounted from the MRAP, not even pretending to watch for survivors anymore.

Renart, on the other hand, looked like he was trying to piece together words that didn't even exist in his vocabulary. Same went for the other onlookers, who'd now started to swarm Ryan's MRAP.

"I..." He faltered, giving Henry a sheepish smile. "So the rumors hold true."

Henry chuckled. "You enjoy the show?"

"Indeed I did." Renart glanced at Sera as she stepped outside. "Lady Seraphine. I see now why your solitude did not last."

Sera held her head high. "I told you: this was no mere jest. One does not oft find such companions; such prowess!"

Renart exhaled. "So I see. I have known masters of steel, men who could cleave an armored golem from helm to core in one stroke. I suppose then I should consider myself fortunate to bear witness to power that does not toil, nor tire, nor err – only strike, and strike true."

"Aye," Var said, stumping over. "Makes siege engines look like playthings, don't it?" He might as well have been drooling over the MRAPs and UGV. "Say, lad, ye're here on parley, aren't ye? What say ye to sharin' a bit o' that knowledge wi' us dwarves in Ovinnegard? We'd see ye well compensated."

"Well... I don't doubt that," Henry said. The dwarves might be behind in science, but they sure as hell weren't behind on local technologies. Trading away technological secrets honestly didn't seem so bad if they could get them to enchant their guns in return. But of course... "It's not up to me, though. I'd probably take that offer, but y'know how things are. Could put in a good word with the Ambassador, get the ball rolling."

"Bah! So long as it ain't a refusal. Though perhaps I might –" Var tilted his head slightly, squinting at something past Henry. "Hm. Seems the Baron's got words fer us."

A runner approached them on a horse, bowing his head quickly. "Milords! You are summoned to the castle at once. Word has come of another wave, and Lord Evant bids you to council."