The floating citadel Aethelgard loomed like a silent giant entity above the scarred lands. Below, smoke rose from battlefields long forgotten, rivers of ash and bone carving across dead plains. Inside the citadel, the throne room buzzed faintly with runic light as Kyle leaned forward in his seat, eyes fixed on the enormous scrying projection before him.
The view showed the plains below, the ragged humans running for their lives, the armored goblin warband chasing behind them, and beyond both, the storm of dust kicked up by the citadel's descent.
Myrith knelt before him, one hand pressed against her chest in salute. Her silver armor gleamed even in the dim throne light, wings of telekinetic energy fanning out faintly from her back. Her halberd floated beside her, humming like a caged storm.
"My lord," she said with a playful smirk. "We have spotted life below, humans being chased by… what seems to be goblins. Their numbers are in the hundreds, though their strength seems laughable."
Kyle exhaled softly, rubbing his chin. "So we're in that kind of world, huh."
Myrith tilted her head. "Your orders?"
Kyle stared at the scene again. The humans were hopelessly outnumbered. He could almost hear their screams through the magical feed. Yet he didn't want to just rain fire from above, not when he didn't even understand this world yet.
"Defend them," Kyle said finally. "But don't immediately engage. Try to communicate first with both sides. Figure out what's going on before we act."
"Communicate," Myrith repeated with mild amusement. "With goblins."
"Yeah," Kyle said, giving her a flat look. "We don't know what the situation is. For all we know, they might have a reason, however unlikely."
Myrith's smirk widened, her crimson eyes glinting like molten metal. "And if they're simply hunting the humans, my lord?"
Kyle frowned, hesitated for a long moment, then sighed. "…Then do whatever way you want."
The grin that spread across Myrith's face was like a blade unsheathed. She bowed deeply, laughter bubbling under her breath. "Yes, my lord. I shall deliver judgment in your name."
Before Kyle could say another word, she rose in a single fluid motion and shot out of the throne room like a silver comet.
"Wait—Myrith!" Kyle called, half-standing from his throne. But she was already gone, her laughter echoing faintly through the marble halls.
He groaned and sat back down. "Oh great, I fucking realized late on what kind of person Myrith is."
From the side of the chamber, Seris coughed politely. "Would you like me to send a moderation squad, my lord?"
"Yes," Kyle said immediately. "Send… I don't know, two dozen. Preferably the calm ones. Just in case she starts a war hours after arrival or harms the humans with her bloodthirst."
Seris bowed and vanished through a teleportation sigil, leaving Kyle alone in the vast, echoing room. He slumped into the throne, muttering, "First day as a ruler..."
---
Below, on the ash plains of Veltra.
The humans' caravan bounced and jolted over cracked stone and dead roots. Horses screamed, pulling with every ounce of strength they had left. Dust stung the eyes of the survivors as they fled for their lives.
Ethan gripped the reins of the lead wagon, his hands slick with sweat and blood. The faint metallic taste of panic filled his mouth as he shouted, "Keep moving! Don't stop, damn it!"
Ria, a short-haired woman clutching a staff, ran alongside one of the wagons. Her clothes were torn, her face streaked with soot. "Ethan! What do we do?!" she screamed. "Should we head toward that thing in the sky?!"
Ethan risked a glance upward. The enormous citadel was descending slowly from the heavens, its underside glowing with lines of golden light. It looked like a moving mountain, impossibly large, impossibly distant and yet it was growing closer every second.
"If we turn now," Ethan shouted back, "the goblins will catch us! Keep going straight!"
"Straight into that thing?!" Ria yelled.
Ethan's jaw tightened. "It's either that, or die here!"
The ground ahead erupted. A massive wall of jagged spikes shot out of the soil, blocking their path completely. Horses reared, screaming, and the wagons crashed into one another. Panic rippled through the group.
"Defensive formation!" Ethan roared. He drew his blade, though the weapon trembled in his exhausted hands. "Shields up! Mages, cover the flanks!"
But there were barely a dozen fighters among them, most are armed with pitchforks, hunters with dull axes, a handful of terrified apprentices clutching weak spellbooks.
Ria stood beside him, her chest heaving. "We're not going to make it."
Ethan's voice was rough. "Then we die standing."
A shadow fell across them.
The goblin army halted as their leader, Mudhand, rode to the front. He was twice the size of a normal goblin, muscles bulging beneath black armor scavenged from countless corpses. His yellow eyes glared up at the descending citadel.
"Second captain," he growled, spittle flying. "I didn't hear of any new fortress in this region."
The second captain, a lean goblin with scars across his snout shook his head. "No reports, Chief Mudhand. Whatever that is, it's not from the northern tribes or the dark elves. No one has such a thing."
Mudhand's expression twisted into irritation. "Damn it. We capture the humans now, before that thing arrives. Don't kill the women. We'll retreat as soon as we have them."
He raised his blade high, its jagged edge glinting under the blood-red sun.
"MOVE!" he roared.
The goblin horde howled and surged forward.
But they never reached their prey.
The wind howled, spiraling upward with a sound like tearing steel.
The first goblin to look up screamed.
A vast shadow fell across the battlefield. Then another. Then hundreds more.
Shapes dropped from the clouds,armored figures descending like angels of death. They hovered above the ground effortlessly, their golden cloaks rippling, their armor glowing faintly in the dim light. Their faces were hidden behind helms shaped like falcons and lions.
And at their center was one figure that stole the breath from every living being below.
Myrith, the Laughing Valkyrie.
Her long platinum hair whipped behind her as she descended, her silver armor gleaming with celestial light. The air around her shimmered with telekinetic force. Her halberd, longer than a man was tall, floated beside her shoulder, spinning lazily in place.
She stopped fifty meters above the ground, her gaze sweeping across the chaos below.
"Now this," she said, voice amplified by psychic resonance, "is quite the scene."
Her laughter was soft at first, almost musical. Then it deepened, echoing across the plain.
"Mortals and monsters locked in a pathetic dance. How nostalgic."
The goblins froze, hundreds of them staring up in terror. Some fell to their knees. Others snarled in confusion.
Mudhand's horse reared, nearly throwing him off. "What in the abyss are those things?!"
Ria clutched Ethan's arm, her voice trembling. "Ethan… what are they?"
Ethan's throat felt dry. "I don't know, I've never seen any race with those kinds of armor."
Myrith raised her hand, and the floating knights spread out in formation, creating a ring around both the humans and the goblins.
"Listen well, vermin and weaklings alike," she declared. "You stand under the watchful gaze of Lord Aethelgard, Sovereign of the Sky, Keeper of the Citadel, Master of the Aetherborne."
Her eyes gleamed like molten silver. "Lay down your arms, or you will be laid down by mine."
Her halberd floated higher, its edge glowing white-hot.
Mudhand spat to the ground, his pride battling his fear. "No one commands the Bloodfang Horde! You dare threaten—"
He never finished.
The air cracked.
A flash of light blinded everyone for a heartbeat. When sight returned, Mudhand's horse was in two pieces, and Mudhand himself was lying flat on the ground, his blade shattered, his arm twisted at an unnatural angle.
The halberd hovered a few inches from his throat.
Myrith descended slowly, her boots barely touching the ground. "That was a warning," she said, her voice dripping with amusement. "Would you like to hear what a punishment sounds like?"
Mudhand choked on his own breath, trembling violently. "W-we yield!"
The goblins dropped their weapons in a clatter of steel.
Myrith turned her gaze toward the humans. Her tone softened slightly, though her smile remained sharp. "And you… fragile things. You are unharmed?"
Ethan swallowed hard. "We—uh… we are. Thank you, whoever you are."
"Who I am," Myrith said, placing a hand over her chest, "is Myrith of the Skyward Host, first spear of Aethelgard, servant of my lord Aethelgard."
Ria blinked. "Aethelgard?"
Myrith tilted her head, amused. "You speak his name as if it's strange. Curious." She looked them over, then added, "You will come with us. His Lordship wishes to know the state of this world."
Ethan hesitated. "And if we refuse?"
Her eyes gleamed, and the halberd floated lazily behind her. "Then I will take you anyway, gently if possible, forcefully if not."
Ethan glanced at Ria, who gave a weak nod. "We'll come," he said quietly.
Myrith smiled warmly, her tone suddenly bright and cheerful again. "Excellent!"
She turned to her soldiers. "Secure the goblins. Bind them and heal those still alive, Lord Aethelgard may want to question them later."
Her tone carried the weight of absolute command, and the telekinetic knights moved instantly.
The humans and goblins alike watched in awe as the soldiers began lifting the wounded effortlessly into the air, their glowing runes sealing injuries as they went.
Myrith glanced upward, her hair glowing faintly under the sun. "My lord," she whispered, activating the psychic channel. "The vermins are pacified. The humans are safe."
In the throne room above, Kyle's voice echoed faintly in her mind. "You didn't kill them all, did you?"
"Only one tried to speak over me," Myrith replied with a chuckle. "But I stayed my hand, as you commanded."
Kyle sighed, half relieved, half exasperated. "Good work, I guess. Bring the humans aboard. And the goblins too, for interrogation. Let's… be diplomatic about this."
"As you wish, my lord."
Myrith lowered her head, smiling to herself. "The world below trembles, and yet he worries about diplomacy. Truly divine."
She raised her halberd high, and golden light engulfed the field. Humans and goblins alike felt their feet lift off the ground as they were carried gently upward toward the descending citadel.
The last thing they saw before the light consumed them was Myrith's radiant grin.
---
Far above, in the throne room, Kyle leaned back with a sigh. "So that's our first contact..."
Seris reappeared beside him, bowing. "The Laughing Valkyrie performed adequately, my lord."
"Yeah," Kyle muttered, massaging his temples. "Let's just hope the humans don't think we're a invading army."
He looked up at the projection, watching the survivors being lifted into Aethelgard's hold.
"Well," he murmured, half to himself. "Time to see what kind of world we've dropped into."