Summoning America

Chapter 67: Glimmer of Hope

February 20, 1640
Bushpaka Latan

The lack of technology and people in Bushpaka Latan was a severe annoyance to many who were posted here to maintain the Annonrial facade. For a select few however, this lack of technology was a blessing; a haven of privacy, away from prying eyes. Tucked away in a corner of the Bushpaka Latan Inferior Affairs Office, two men spoke in hushed whispers. The secrecy of this meeting was so elevated that nothing escaped the room, save for particles of air flowing under the door and photons exiting through the window.

Leaning over a simple, yet elegantly furnished wooden table, they quietly shared news with each other.

One of them wore a simple buttoned shirt overplayed with turquoise robes. His black and white wings protruded from the back, resting along each side of his leather seat. "Bromson, are you certain that we'll be selected?"

The winged man in velvet robes smiled, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his seat. "Yes, Zhenmann. I've ordered it myself."

"Now, of all times? Why use your authority now?"

Bromson's gaze drifted up toward the window. He exhaled loudly before answering, "The Annonrial Empire has, since its founding, kept itself hidden from the outside world. At first, our ancestors did this to protect themselves from the vengeful oppressed. Outnumbered and cut off from supplies and industries necessary to reproduce weapons and ammo, we had no ability to fend off the angry masses."

"Yes, I know all of this. That does not answer my question, though," Zhenmann said, his wings fluttering slightly in impatience.

"I'm getting there," Bronson held out a hand. "After eons, we rediscovered what has long been lost. We regained our strength and grew it enough to be able to challenge the world and make them submit, just as our violent ancestors had. In fact, this undertaking was supposed to be carried out last year. After centuries of isolation, Emperor Zaratosthra finally wanted to unleash Annonrial might upon the masses, but this operation was pushed back after we detected inexplicable magical signatures across the world."

"The appearances of the Gra Valkas Empire and the United States of America," Zhenmann said, catching on.

"Indeed. And recently, I've heard word of a rekindling of Zaratosthra's ambitions. This time, however, he's been extraordinarily cautious. I've used my authority to take advantage of this and investigate the reason why he's playing it so safely," Bromson explained his intentions with confidence.

Zhenmann saw no worry in Bromson's face, only satisfaction and determination. Despite this, his concerns were not alleviated. "Is this not in violation of our code? Participating in such a journey may arouse suspicion from your superiors!"

Bromson shrugged, his wings moving along with his shoulders. "There is always the risk of arousing suspicion, but Messiah has ordained it. I, too, felt that such a move was risky. Messiah explained the risk-reward of our mission, however. Should we succeed, we may not need to seize the throne ourselves."

"Huh," Zhenmann's eyes sparkled with hope, but he fought against it, continuing to interrogate his colleague, "And should we fail?"

It seemed as if both of Bromson's wings turned black while he thought of a response. He exuded a devastating aura of despair, evident by the creases developing under his eyes. "Then our movement may see its bitter end. Still," he said, changing his tune to a more optimistic one, "After centuries of inability to act... we finally have our chance to achieve our goals. Making contact with these Americans, that is our one glimmer of hope. Hope for a brighter future for those of us with mixed heritage. Hope for those of us out in the world who were exiled, and their non-winged friends."