Volume 4, Chapter 1 – Operation “Not a Word of French”
05.05. 06:00:01
Operations initiated:
"Oh God, Villain?" — on Rugun Island, 300 km from the nearest mainland.
Composition:
Officers: Pex (starts personally, then via Bravo Group), Paladin.
Archmage in a soldier's body.
100 Yellows in soldiers' bodies.
Pex with Bravo Group (150 soldiers) and 2 HMEEs.
2 CH-47 Chinooks, filled with a mixture of Argo-2 and cement.
1 E-4B.
"Land? No, Sir, Mine" — on Kukah Island, 3,000 km from the nearest mainland, near the polar ice.
Composition:
Officers: Pex (via Charlie Group), ARV.
Pex with Charlie Group (150 soldiers).
2 M88A2 recovery vehicles.
2 M1132 Stryker-based vehicles.
1 M977A4 HEMTT.
1 HMMWV.
"Not a Word of French" — Kingdom of Ruma. Capital.
Composition:
Seraphim.
"Packages Are Good" — First trade exchange with Rekhilon.
Composition:
Officers: Pex (personally).
5 FMTVs.
1 CH-47 Chinook.
——
——
08:15
I was dropped off in a small forest planting, 10 km from the borders of the Kingdom of Ruma.
With me: comfortable wide cotton pants, a linen shirt, a fabric-wrapped rapier, and a pistol with 15 MOU rounds (just in case). Fake documents from the city of Rekhilon and 100 gold Euro coins in a pouch on my belt.
The forest, with its pine-scented warm air wrapped in morning dampness and chill, penetrated my unfamiliar attire, touching my scarred body — giving me a dose of energy, pushing me forward on my journey.
I walked through cross-country terrain, with wheat and other crops on both sides, recently planted and barely visible. The pleasant smell of the village hit my face. I felt like I was in a fantasy world — though I'd been living in one for a month, maybe more — but every time I left the Democracy of Silence, everything felt so unfamiliar. Walking along these roads, marked only by cart ruts and horse tracks — both hoofprints and droppings — was all so strange to me.
My journey to the capital was 80 km from the border. Presumably on foot — but maybe I'd get lucky and catch a ride. But I actually enjoyed it.
Looking at these low village houses, where the main gathering place was the well, where people carried handcarts and roosters crowed. It was such a pleasant and unusual feeling, making me constantly stare at this retro style of carts and village life with chickens and gardens.
I walked along these worn roads — carts loaded with various resources in bags and boxes passed by me. Locals walked toward me, smiling.
"Where are you headed?" an old man asked, walking toward me.
"[M] To the tournament, in the capital!" I answered with a smile.
"Oho! That's our way! In Ruman! Judging by the wrappings on your belt, you're going to fight?! And judging by your accent, you're not a local," the Old Man sang, glancing at my wrapped rapier.
"[M] Yeah. To compete."
"Want some water? The road's not short," he offered a bottle shaped like some pale snowman.
"[M] No. Thanks! Have a good day."
We parted ways, and a wave of confidence washed over me after successfully speaking with a native speaker. (I didn't study for nothing! I didn't try for nothing! It was all worth it!)
Farmers with oxen worked in the fields, turning over the soil for new crops. Children ran past as I walked through villages. People carried water on poles. Life was bustling, and I kept walking. Along winding roads, up hills — I gazed at the endless fields, plowed in different directions — then continued on, descending from hills, avoiding pits and ditches.
I loved this journey. Simply because everything here was so simple, without excess, without technology. Even Rekhilon didn't appeal to me as much as the provinces of the Kingdom of Ruma. I hadn't even reached the capital yet, but I already loved this entire path — step by step on the ground, which echoed dully underfoot, and the breeze that smelled of... nature. All these landscapes I passed: hills and plains, fields with sprouts and villages. It all made me thrill, making me shudder with joy every time I saw a new village on the horizon — and I felt compelled to set myself challenges like: if I don't make it in two hours, I'll die, or if there are less than a hundred inhabitants, I'm a loser. I eagerly pushed forward to test my guesses and see something new of this kingdom.
——
——
Operation "Oh God, Villain!" 11:12:23
Composition:
Officers: Pex (starts personally, then via Bravo Group), Paladin.
Archmage in a soldier's body.
100 Yellows in soldiers' bodies.
Pex with Bravo Group (150 soldiers) and 2 HMEEs.
2 CH-47 Chinooks, filled with a mixture of Argo-2 and cement.
1 E-4B.
Pex and Paladin sat in a Chinook, approaching a small village on an island the size of New Zealand.
The entire space was packed with A-3 (a mixture of Argo-2 and cement). Paladin and Pex had to squeeze and press themselves in. Below, people pointed at the noisy monsters flying overhead, cutting through the air.
Whoosh.
Beep-beep-beep.
[Pex]: Base. Contact. Ground-to-air.
[CUB]: Pex. Copy. Status "hostile"?
[Pex]: Base. Standing by.
Fiery projectiles flew from catapults toward the two helicopters.
Pex quickly grabbed a cable and dropped down with a clatter, taking cover behind a house wall, pressing his XM-7 to his chest.
The moment Pex thought it, Bravo Group appeared nearby and quickly took cover behind obstacles, shielding their heads.
All the residents quickly ran into their low, sagging houses and slammed the shutters, pressing themselves to the floors.
The helicopters maneuvered away, leaving the strike zone. Pex peered out from around the corner to analyze the devices the attacks came from. There were two catapults in the village, with six people around them — loaders and aimers, constantly moving the catapults with donkeys to keep up with the helicopters' maneuverability.
Pex mentally ordered Bravo Group — fire at the legs, no kills — and Bravo Group, keeping close to the house walls, opened fire, suppressing the catapults.
The bullets didn't penetrate them, so Pex mentally ordered MOU rounds loaded — and street battles broke out.
The entire Bravo Group loaded MOU rounds, taking cover behind the gray clay walls of the houses — while arrows and fire magic rained back at them, burning through walls and igniting rooftops, creating zero visibility and constant shots of arrows and flames.
Bravo loaded MOU, put on thermal goggles, and could clearly see the enemies, firing at their legs — and as soon as they fell, they quickly ran up and knocked them out with rifle butts.
Pex ran quickly to the catapults through the thick smoke and mentally ordered — evacuate the residents and put out the fire.
Bravo quickly spread out among the twenty-seven houses, kicking down doors and quickly leading residents out into the street, closer to the water — while the Chinooks, having unloaded everything on the outskirts, quickly headed to the water, deftly scooping water into their cargo compartments. Paladin closed the door and blocked water from entering the cabin with his massive body, literally squeezing himself in pain and with heavy wounds into the narrow passage.
Massive water drop — the Chinooks dumped water over the houses, and everything went quiet.
Pex quickly zip-tied two mages and put a bracelet with a drop of depleted uranium on their hands — any of their attacks would be absorbed.
Pex ordered photos taken, and Bravo Group started taking pictures of them saving residents and the smoking houses.
[Pex]: Base. Requesting constant hover over the village by two Chinooks.
[CUB]: Copy. Report operation status and phase.
Two Chinooks hovered over the houses, dispersing the smoke and putting out the remaining fires.
Pex looked around and quickly summoned two HMEEs — they drove behind the village to build a runway for the E-4B.
[Pex]: Base. Target neutralized. Damage — eight houses. Moving to phase "Where's My Red Carpet?!"
[CUB]: Pex. Copy. Time?
Pex jumped into a house, pulling out an unconscious old woman, and through the thick smoke, dragged her to the others on the beach.
[Pex] (pressing his headset): Two hours. Six residents, status "hostile."
[CUB]: Pex. Copy. Complete extinguishing and photos. Plan changed. Malevych opened fire on the city's residents — we were passing by and noticed, saving the residents. The rest goes according to plan. Create cages, make up the Yellows, and photoshoot. How copy?
Pex quickly led all the residents out with Bravo Group, and the soldiers began giving first aid and clearing their lungs — while the residents panicked and shouted "Murderers! Demons! Monsters!"
All the houses fell silent, and the helicopters landed, calming the residents with the terrible sound of their engines. The locals sat by the shore, washing the soot from their faces and coughing, shouting that their homes were destroyed.
Two hours later.
Pex personally calmed the residents the whole time — while Bravo built the runway and photographed houses, and inside, creating hellish conditions: no basic necessities, and instead cages and dog food bowls.
[Pex]: Base. Runway done.
[CUB]: Pex. Copy. Awaiting 101 Yellows.
And in the sky, contrails appeared — and a massive Boeing, having made a turn, began its approach, making all the residents freeze in terror, huddling together, pointing at the sky.
The Boeing landed smoothly, braking with five nets and parachutes (regular ones) attached near the doors, opened by Lelik.
The E-4B landed and shut down its engines — and out came surprised Yellows and Archmage Clarence (whose Archon is worshipped in the Duchy of Malevych).
Pex quickly grabbed him by the arm, while Paladin began applying makeup to the others.
Pex dragged the Archmage to the crowd — and they immediately prostrated themselves, recognizing him from books. He hadn't even said a word, and they were already bowing.
The Archmage looked around in surprise, then remembered "Wisdom."
"Residents of this island. Hear the wisdom that came to me from distant lands. I was dead. I wandered for countless years. During that time, the continents drifted apart, and I lost everything..." Clarence stroked a woman's head and lifted her chin. "We have endured all the sacrifices. But what did Archon Kuribal say?"
"Sacrifices are the burden that comes to us before dawn," all the residents said in unison.
"Yes... And we all felt it. Some died in the Silent Silence, some fought for their state, and some lived peacefully — and were betrayed by their own state... Is that right?"
"No!" a couple of people shouted, while others froze, remembering how their homes were destroyed. Everything they'd accumulated in their lives — all their memory — was destroyed in one morning.
"And who is to blame?"
"Demons!" everyone protested.
The Archmage stood by the water, gazing into the distance. The crowd watched him, glancing between him and the place he was looking at.
"Really? Did demons do this? I was told what happened here — and the people of the Duke are to blame, who opened fire on the houses to kill you. And those very demons knew they wanted to do you harm — and came to save you."
Everyone opened their mouths in shock and turned their angry gazes to the corner where the six catapult operators were tied up, separated from the others with two soldiers guarding them (with rapiers — not drawn, wrapped in cloth).
Pex walked over to him, pulling him aside while the residents glared at the "enemies" and shouted insults.
"The Boeing is ready for takeoff. Boarding by the wisdom of Archon Seraphim — now," Pex ordered, adjusting his armor plates.
The Archmage nodded and returned to the crowd.
"But. According to Kuribal, what should we do with our enemy?"
"Sever ties and live by the truth of Wisdom, and not harbor malicious intentions," the most devout old woman shouted. And everyone nodded.
"Right. They will be punished by Archon Kuribal and Archon Seraphim," the Archmage reassured them.
The entire crowd's eyes widened so much they almost popped out.
"Forgive us, dearest Archmage. But why did you mention the name of a non-existent Archon? That's Archon-blasphemy. Oh!" the boy pressed his face into the ground. "Forgive my unguarded tongue!"
Clarence walked up to the boy and knelt down.
"It's okay... You'll understand soon. I'll tell you about my meeting with the Archon and how I made mistakes and lost everything," the Archmage stood up. "Please follow me — I will show you the truth of the entire path."
And the whole crowd moved after him to the Boeing — while the six "enemies" were thrown into a Black Hawk and temporarily sent to an Arleigh Burke Flight III patrolling near the islands (completely anonymously, without contact with the residents, at a distance of thirty kilometers from any ship or city).
[Pex] (watching the E-4B take off from the runway): Base. Phase "My Little Sheep... Are They Flying?" completed.
[CUB]: Pex. Copy. Rekhilon's whalers have set out for "aid." Moving to phase "Gentlemen! Convicts Are Not Your Dogs!" and as soon as it's done, immediately move to phase "Oh! We Pulled Them Out of Hell!"
——
——
Operation "Not a Word of French." 14:15:32.
I walked on — completely exhausted, climbing up and down hills. It stopped giving me that energy, turning into a harsh routine. But I didn't give up, continuing to walk. I'd already covered 30 km out of 80, completely drained — my walking had turned into staggering and dragging my feet forward.
Another half hour of this hellish journey with no pleasure, and I collapsed by the roadside into the cold grass — the only thought in my head: why didn't I drink water when it was offered?! If they offer — you take it. But it was too late. I lay there with limp legs in the sun, which seemed to want to remind me how well it could heat things and forbid the wind from moving.
Heavy footsteps came from the forest strip, approaching quickly. I propped myself up on my elbows and turned to see where the noise was coming from.
As soon as I saw it, I almost jumped up to run. Two massive cheetahs were running at full speed, with riders bearing the coat of arms of the Kingdom of Ruma.
I quickly stood up — the cheetahs surrounded me, slowly pacing around me — while the riders examined me carefully. One dismounted, holding his cheetah by the scruff (like a kitten).
"I am Knight of the 27th Border Division of the Kingdom of Ruma. Please raise your hands and do not make any sudden movements," the Guard said coldly, gripping his sword with his other hand.
(Wow... The main thing is to be careful and not blow my cover. But this looks terrifying. Two cheetahs — a meter and a half taller than me when on their hind legs.)
I slowly raised my hands.
"Your name?" the Guard asked, still holding the sword and the cheetah — while the second Guard approached and started searching me, removing the rapier from my belt and pulling out the pistol, documents, and gold pouch from behind my back.
"[M] My name is Seraphim. I'm from the city of Rekhilon. I'm going to the tournament," I said, very nervous, my eyes darting around.
Knight 2 showed the findings to Knight 1 — he looked carefully at the pile of coins, the scroll-document, and the pistol — but the rapier was still wrapped. I was trembling with fear in front of the cheetahs — it didn't feel like meeting a fierce dog on a chain; it felt like I could lose an arm in a second, with a piece of bone sticking out, bleeding thick dark burgundy blood.
"Your accent. Where are you from? And why is such a wealthy man traveling on foot?" Knight 1 began his questioning. "Sit!" he ordered the cheetah, and it immediately sat down, locking its gaze on me — while the second cheetah's stare sent chills down my spine.
"[M] I... I... Ahem I'm from Firkun originally, but I moved to Rekhilon," I lied confidently. "The coins are pyrite — they're props for my tournament costume," I added, still holding my hands up, sweating heavily.
Knight 1 looked at me from under his brow, examining the pistol from all angles — while the second stepped aside with a stone-radio. I was exhausted from fear and this long journey.
"Pyrite... Props... This refined metal... You..." Knight 1 raised his eyes to me. "You're a battle actor?"
"[M] Yes!" the word came out like a cough.
"Oho! I love watching battles turned into shows. But I haven't heard your name. It'll be interesting to see you fight," he answered with a smile, handing the documents, pouch, and pistol to the cheetah's mouth. The cheetah obediently placed them on the ground.
And Knight 1, with curiosity, slowly began to unwrap the cloth from the rapier, loop by loop.
Silence...
Knight 2 also looked at the weapon.
And I exhaled...
Hoo-oh! (Thank God the paint that makes it look like ordinary steel didn't come off.)
"Exquisite weaponry," the Knight carefully tried to test its sharpness — and nearly lost a finger. "Ah-ah... This weapon is truly impressive," he licked his finger and pulled a bandage from his pocket.
"Gu! Movement at post 25, code 149," Knight 2 reported and quickly jumped on his cheetah.
Knight 1 nodded, mounting his own cheetah.
"Safe travels," he shook my hand.
And I was left alone with my belongings scattered on the ground, catching my breath after the whole encounter.
(It was... hard. But I did it! I lied, and I lied in their language! — these thoughts gave me strength to continue. I was happy I managed on my own, without officers, without technology, without the earpiece. All by myself.)
And, fully re-energized by my mental motivations, I continued on my way.
Operation "Not a Word of French." 16:01.
An hour later, I reached the borders of a fortified city, with knights on cheetahs everywhere.
My motivation disappeared as quickly as it had appeared — and the whole way, I crawled, leaning on my rapier, with heavy breathing and blurred vision. My legs were numb — they followed one command: walk. How to walk no longer mattered — only that I moved.
Leaning on the rapier was also a test. If you lean too hard, the blade sinks into the ground like water. I had to touch it at an angle — enough to lean on but not fall because the rapier sank too deep.
I joined the queue at the checkpoint, which had two lanes: one for people, one for transport. The guards professionally jumped onto the carts with cheetahs, and they walked around sniffing everything — while the Guard reached with his hands under cloths, into barrels, under cart wheels, into horses' mouths and hooves. Everything was carefully inspected, papers were issued, and carts were sent inside — some turned away for various reasons. The people's line moved slowly because the guards constantly called each other over to check carts and wagons — and the people had to wait. The guard would return, quickly let a few people through, and run off again to help his colleague.
Standing in line was unbearable. All the smells assaulted my nose — and if I stopped, it would take me a few minutes to muster the strength to take another step forward. People talked, laughed, and exchanged jokes and stories. Someone asked who was on duty today — someone sat down on the grass, marking their place in line, lying or sitting, waiting for the line to move enough for them to shift a little closer on the grass.
I watched it all, so tired that I felt like I'd been living here for years — this queue routine had rubbed off on me, creating the feeling of an ordinary Friday.
—
The line finally reached me.
"Name!" the Guard said sharply.
"[M] Seraphim," I exhaled tiredly.
He pulled out a list and quickly flipped through it, looking for the letter 'S'.
"Seraphim," he lifted his head, quickly scanning me with his eyes. "Wrap your weapon. Any drugs, contraband?" he asked just as sternly, examining me closely.
I started wrapping the rapier back up tiredly — then the Guard quickly put a seal around the wrapped blade.
"[M] No," I exhaled.
"Documents," he said quickly, finishing his search for the name on the list.
I handed over the documents — he unfolded them, quickly scanned the text, and looked at me.
"From Rekhilon?" (Me: Yes.) "...Welcome to the city of Hutzin," he said without enthusiasm, quickly waving me on to clear the line — and I entered the city.
It looked completely different from Rekhilon. Here, the houses were made of green brick, peeling in places, revealing the rough corners of two-story houses with red tiles. Ropes with laundry were stretched over the roads, smelling of freshness. Underfoot was stone pavement, with drainage ditches on the sides that, due to the city's convex design, drained all the water outside.
In some places, narrow alleys where you had to press against the walls to let others pass — these alleys opened into wide thoroughfares, where carts and riders on both horses and cheetahs rolled along. Magical stones were embedded in the walls of houses, passively charged by the magic of residents passing by — and at night, they glowed almost until dawn.
I wandered through these streets, leaning against walls, step by step — and I spotted a sign: "Tavern + Lodging." It was a godsend — and leaving my last strength on the street, I made a final dash to the tavern.
Inside, it was quite stylish. Mannequins of knights in armor stood in the corners, holding long swords in front of them, pressing the prop blades into the floor. Tables of light wood, and everyone was actively eating and drinking. It looked like rush hour. But I didn't care — I made it to the counter with heavy breathing, where a man came up to me.
"Good... Day?" he said uncertainly, examining my near-death appearance.
"[M] A room," I forced out, holding onto the counter. "Water."
The man poured me water, and I greedily gulped it down, glass after glass.
"Rooms from two silver Ruman to one gold Ruma," he said.
"[M] Let's go with that," I pulled out one gold Euro coin — it rolled carelessly across the counter, making a circle and falling with a clink.
The man looked at the coin in surprise and slight shock — pure metal with perfect design and edges.
"Second floor, end of the hall, door on the right," he quickly replied, wanting to be alone with the coin and find out its real value.
I stood in front of the stairs and froze. (The last step. This staircase must be conquered!)
"Your name?" the man remembered, pulling out paper and gripping the coin tightly in his hands.
"[M] Seraphim!" I shouted — and, holding onto the railing like it was my last lifeline in this world, I dragged myself upward.