A Shadowy Bargain – A King Strikes a Deal to Defeat the Outlanders
A Fictional Story Inspired by the anime GATE
GATE was a unique anime that answers the question: what happens when you introduce a fantasy world, one full of wizards and dragons, to the awesome might of our modern military? Though it’s been one of my favorites, I felt there have been some elements that could have been explored a lot more.
In episode 14, the JDF (Japanese Defense Force) rescues a bunch of hostages that were taken when the portal first appeared. Prince Zorzal was humiliated as his guards were gunned down in the throne room, cursing him with great ire and PTSD. What I felt could’ve added a spicy, ominous flare would be the introduction of a sort of thieves guild that strikes a harsh bargain, in order to capture some of Japan’s weaponry.
Today that’s what I’m going to share with you all in this fiction inspired by GATE. Since the announcement of a new season, I felt it was appropriate to celebrate with this short story, deviating from the Mage Hunter content. Hope you enjoy!
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A Shadowy Bargain – A King Strikes a Deal to Defeat the Outlanders
The throne was a symbol of power and reverence. Now, it has become humbled, and soiled by the bodies of soldiers who paint the ceramic floor with their blood, their plates and chains riddled with searing holes. The kings guard made a valiant attempt, yet not even their blades could reach the outlanders thanks to their rods of fire. Even their shields were torn apart like Swiss cheese. Their army was been a mystery since they effortlessly reclaimed the gate – demolishing the king’s greedy attempt at conquest in their alien world. Was this a new and innovative use of magic, or were there some laws of nature that this world failed to understand?
The elusive knowledge frustrated King Liam even more as he sits on this tainted throne before his fallen men, feeling powerless before their military might, and eternally feeling regret over taking hostages from that land beyond the portal. The faction of stars and stripes could easily have won this war, crushed his kingdom, and taken his head. However, their method of war was alien to him. They instead seemed to have opt for a humiliating lesson. It took no more than six of their soldiers to breach the walls of his castle, defile his throne room, and steal his quarry of outland civilians.
King Liam was hot in the head, and his stubbornness and pride was the bane of all attempted negotiations by their leader. Deals that could have led to peace and prosperity were shot down all because of his boiling blood – a deep-rooted yearning to show his enemies his might. All were meant to bend to him in this land and even in land beyond.
To his surprise, the king was not alone in his skulking. “My lord,” an invisible voice mocked from the shadows, “I am incredibly insulted. You neglected your most powerful asset that would have saved you this trouble.”
The king winced, immediately recognizing the voice. “Zaelfein… you’re the last of the ilk I wish to see right now! How dare you taint this castle with your presence!” Zaelfein and his Shadow Clan was a notorious guild that plagued the Valheim Kingdom. From trafficking illicit goods to assassinations, it was neigh impossible for any guard or adventurer to apprehend a single one of their members.
Dozens of robed figures faded in from nowhere, surrounding the king like a pack of hyenas foaming at their mouths, sporting black leathers and purple cloaks obscuring their features. “Now now,” the leader orchestrated, as his figure emerged from the air before the king, exposing his deep purple face before him, eyeing him with devious red eyes. “Our relationship is quite dubious, certainly. But through your ire even you must admit there’s a great opportunity here, Liam! He waltzed around with his arms locked behind his back, strutting as if he owned the throne room – and today he will. “These… outlanders clearly have you outclassed with their iron candlesticks. But. What if we even the playing field?”
“What are you getting at?” the king sat up straight, fists clenched, resisting the urge to call for more guards to lop their heads here and now. It would be easy to publicly blame the Shadow Clan for the tragedy before him.
The dark elf curled his venomous lips. “Your army would fare much better off if we procure you some of their own tools of war. Sure, the sword and shield are mighty, but against them?” he turned to one of the unfortunate bodies riddled with holes and shook his head. “We can get you these weapons with relative ease. You arm your troops, chase out the invaders, and you’d be seen as a hero among your citizenry.”
“And what of you? What do you get out of this?” He asked the devil.
And the devil showed his fangs, “you just let us handle the dirty work. And agree to how we manage your kingdom. A simple bargain.”
King Liam slammed his fists on the arm rest of his throne, “I will not hand off my kingdom to you scoundrels!”
Zaelfein turned his back, walking towards the large double doors, “then you shall hand them
The leader of the Shadow Clan made his way for the door, only to paus the moment the king shouted “Wait! Grr… you’re lucky you’re now my 2nd most reviled faction. Fine!”
One of the hyenas pounced – a robed figure holding an elegant ceremonial dagger with his gloved hand. Without prompting, he grabbed the king by the wrist, and pointed the tip right above his palm. The king instinctively shook his hand, but the grip was too tight. He stopped when his eyes returned to the dark elf, who suddenly stood right before him – as if he teleported a vast distance from the other side of the chamber. “So, we have an accord?” The dagger glowed in a crimson, magical aura.
***
The night echoed with the noise of gunshots and blood curling screams. The American forces recently captured this village, which was a perfect opportunity for the bold, yet foolish army of Valheim to attempt a recapture of their lost outpost. Their numbers were cut down swiftly by the small squad of infantrymen, and their only feat was able to make it inside.
Several pops of their rifles go off, and an armored priestess falls as her plates exploded wide open, with a bullet dug into her stomach and with one in the leg. Her war maul slid out of her hand. It was as if she was struck by flaming arrows with the piercing and burning agony she suffered.
The soldier walked towards the pain-paralyzed woman. He released the magazine, and loaded another, speaking with mockery in a language utterly foreign to her, “my grimoire was written by Lockheed Martin. My staff,” he cocked the charging handle, “forged by ArmaLite. My orb, enchanted by Raytheon.” He pointed the rifle straight for her head, “My patron saint is the Department of Defense!”
Suddenly there was a pop.
The soldier’s head suddenly ruptured like a grenade with a cacophony of vibrant blue light, spewing chunks of flesh with bits of his skull every which way. The priestess’s eyes gazed in a mix of awe and horror as the blood splattered her armors. Another infantryman turned his rifle around, but his head ruptured the same way. She looked around, and there was another who’s throat split open by an invisible force, only to have the cloaked figure emerge out of thin air from behind him. The tide abruptly shifted as these unexpected reinforcements made quick work of the outlanders. “Curious,” a voice was heard as the chaos of war subsided. “These outlanders have zero magical resistance. Yet they’ve nearly conquered this entire kingdom.” She turned up to see a wizard robed in purple and black robes, depositing his bladed wand into his sleeve. “Patch yourself up lass,” he turned to her, “your patron has not forsaken you this day.”