Heinrich watched the high-definition feed in the command center, the holographic display rendering every detail of the village below. He noted the Great Sun insignias—stylized golden rays carved into the doorposts of the humble huts.
"Minerva, cross-reference the heraldry," Heinrich commanded.
"Processing, Doctor. The black flag with the silver lily belongs to the Kingdom of Temeria. The villagers, however, display symbols of the Nilfgaardian Empire. Current data suggests a deep-seated ethnic and political tension. The village is an enclave of 'Southerners' trapped in 'Northern' territory."
On the screen, the Temerian soldiers—battle-hardened men in padded gambesons and rusted chainmail—pushed through the village gates. Their leader, a scarred man with a sneer, spat on the ground. He began shouting at an elderly village elder, accusing them of being spies for the Emperor.
"They are neutral merchants, Minerva," Heinrich observed, his brow furrowing. "But in this world, neutrality seems to be a death sentence."
Back on the ridge, Sergeant Kael tightened his grip on his Tyrannoraptor. The thermal optics showed the Temerians drawing their steel swords. The villagers scrambled back, their cries for mercy ignored.
"Doctor," Kael's voice came through the link, tight with professional restraint. "The Temerian commander is ordering his men to seize the 'traitorous' grain and 'question' the women. Permission to engage?"
Heinrich hesitated. As a medical student, he was trained to save lives, but as the new Wagner, he had to consider the risk of exposure. However, seeing the advanced white armor of his scouts and the primitive steel of the soldiers, the outcome wasn't in doubt.
"Engage, Sergeant," Heinrich ordered, his voice cold. "Use the STIG pistols on stun or low-velocity settings if possible, but do not let those civilians be slaughtered. Let's show them the difference between superstition and science."
"Copy that. Squad, initiate Shock and Awe."
The Temerian commander had just raised his sword to strike the elder when a sound like a whip-crack echoed through the valley. A blue bolt of kinetic energy from Kael's STIG slammed into the commander's blade, shattering the steel into a thousand shards.
The Temerians froze, looking toward the ridge. Emerging from the mist like ghosts from a future age, five soldiers in gleaming, bone-white armor descended the slope. They didn't run; they moved with a synchronized, terrifying grace, their Tyrannoraptor rifles leveled at the riders' chests.
"Drop your weapons!" Kael's voice, amplified by his suit's external speakers, boomed like the voice of a god.
The Temerians, who had spent their lives fearing mages and monsters, stared in horror. These weren't men in their eyes—they were metal demons. One soldier, panicked, lunged with a spear. Kael didn't flinch. He caught the spearhead with one armored hand, snapped the wood like a twig, and delivered a non-lethal pulse from his pistol that sent the man flying ten feet backward.
The rest of the Temerians dropped to their knees, some crossing themselves, others weeping in terror. The villagers of the Great Sun stared in equal shock, wondering if the Emperor had finally sent angels to save them.
[POLITICAL INTERVENTION SUCCESSFUL: 3,000 POINTS AWARDED.]
[NEW FACTION REPUTATION: VILLAGE OF THE GREAT SUN (IDOLIZED).]
"Secure the perimeter," Kael ordered his team. He looked at the trembling elder. "We represent Dr. Wagner. We are here to bring order."
The tension in the village square remained high, but it wasn't the mindless, screaming terror of the Northern peasants. These were merchants of the Nilfgaardian Empire—men and women who lived by the golden sun, the ledger, and the cold reality of imperial law. To a Nilfgaardian, "magic" was a tool, often refined and regulated by the Imperial Academy.
When they saw the white-clad soldiers, they didn't see "metal demons." They saw an elite, disciplined force—perhaps a secret project of the Emperor or a high-ranking Duke from the heart of the South.
"Stand down," Sergeant Kael ordered his squad.
With a synchronized hiss of pressurized seals, the scouts reached up and engaged their neck locks. The bone-white helmets hissed as they were removed, revealing tired but undeniably human faces.
The village elder, a man named Pieter who had traded from Vicovaro to Novigrad, let out a long, shaky breath. He saw no glowing eyes or mutated features. He saw disciplined men with short-cropped hair and the calm demeanor of professionals.
"You are not ghosts," Pieter said, his voice regaining its mercantile strength. "And you certainly aren't Temerians. Your gear... it makes the Emperor's Black Infantry look like peasants with sticks. Who do you serve? A merchant prince from across the Great Sea?"
Kael stepped forward, his white armor reflecting the flickering village fires. "We serve Dr. Heinrich Wagner. We reside in the spire several miles to the north. We are not interested in your wars, but we are interested in your resources."
To Pieter, this sounded like the highest form of "Sorcery." The weapons that shattered steel with a crack of light, the armor that shimmered like polished porcelain—it was magic, certainly, but a disciplined magic. Unlike the chaotic, ego-driven spells of the Northern mages, this was orderly. It was "Scientific" in its precision, even if Pieter didn't have a word for it yet.
"My people are loyal to the Great Sun," Pieter said, gesturing to the sunburst on his vest. "But the North is a hungry, violent place. If your 'Doctor' can provide the security those Temerian dogs cannot, then we have much to discuss."
Kael produced a sleek, transparent tablet—a Data Pad linked to the ESS Meridian's central AI. With a few taps, he projected a holographic trade agreement. Blue light shimmered in the air, forming perfect Nilfgaardian script.
The merchants gasped, some crossing themselves in the sign of the Sun. They saw it as a "Mirage of the Mind," a sophisticated illusion. But to a merchant, a contract was sacred, no matter how it was displayed.
"This contract guarantees protection for the Village of the Great Sun," Kael explained. "In exchange, you will act as our primary trade hub. You procure the materials we list; we pay in stabilized medicine, purified water, and kinetic defense."
Pieter looked at the broken Temerian swords on the ground, then back at the Tyrannoraptor slung across Kael's chest. The deal was better than anything the Emperor or the Northern Kings had ever offered. It was a deal based on mutual benefit.
"Tell your Doctor," Pieter said, grasping Kael's armored forearm in a traditional merchant's grip, "that the Great Sun shines on those who bring order to the chaos. We have a deal."
[DIPLOMATIC MISSION SUCCESSFUL: 5,000 POINTS AWARDED.]
[NEW FEATURE UNLOCKED: MERCANTILE LOGISTICS HUB.]
Back at the Spire, Heinrich watched the handshake through the drone feed. He leaned back in his command chair, a faint smile on his lips. "Minerva, log the mission as a success. We've secured our first 'civilian' buffer zone."
"Acknowledged, Doctor," the AI replied. "The merchants have begun organizing a caravan. They are eager to trade their raw ores for what they call your 'Alchemical Elixirs'—the purified water and antibiotics."