Summoning America

Chapter 154: The Battle of Cartalpas (3)

Author's Note (Story and Patreon Updates):

155 is now out for all Tier 2 Patrons and higher! Tier 2 Patrons and higher will be able to read one chapter ahead!

Manifest Fantasy (Rewritten) Chapter 1 has a tentative debut on October 3, 2023. Expect a fully developed and reworked plot, fleshed out characters, a carefully crafted setting, and otherwise more professional writing than is present here in Summoning America. Manifest Fantasy chapters will be uploaded concurrently alongside Summoning America chapters (I will be working on both at the same time). As such, I will hereby be canceling the $150 donation milestone, replacing it with free Manifest Fantasy chapters.

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/drdoritosmd

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December 24, 1640
Skeen's Bar, Cartalpas

The afternoon sun cast a waning glow over Skeen's Bar, an establishment tucked in the high streets of Cartalpas, not far from the shore. Renowned for its distinguished clientele and exotic magical amenities, the bar bustled with conversation. Wealthy merchants, politicians, and corporate representatives from various nations mingled, their voices a blend of haughty elven tones, rugged dwarven laughter, and a variety of accents from around the world.

At a polished wooden table, a trio of Mirishial elves – resplendent in tailored robes adorned with intricate designs – engaged in a lively debate. Their speech was elegant and precise, reflecting a confidence only centuries of dominance could breed.

"I assure you, my dear Tharald, the Gra Valkans shall never lay a single boot on our shores. Our defenses are impregnable," the first, a tall elven CEO with silver hair, declared with a dismissive wave of his hand, a ring glittering with embedded enchantments.

A nearby Parpaldian diplomat, wearing a distinguished coat with an elaborately knotted cravat and a hint of modern design, chimed in, "Pardon my intrusion, but you'd do well to heed the lessons we learned from the Americans. Underestimation is a costly mistake."

His words were met with a contemptuous scoff from a younger Mirishial, his voice dripping with disdain. "The lessons of Parpaldia hold no bearing on Mirishial might. We are above such folly."

A disagreement began to brew, catching the attention of other patrons.

At the bar counter, an American consulate staff member watched in fascination as the dwarven bartender seamlessly blended his drink using water magic before chilling it with a flourish of his thick fingers. He turned to his Muan colleague, dressed in a vintage outfit complete with a well-tailored waistcoat, pocket watch, and a flat cap. "I heard there's some sort of magical elixir in this Mirishial Moonbeam. Will I really be alright drinking this?"

The Muan glanced at the American's drink, a clear and sparkling beverage created from lunar-imbued water and magical gin, garnished with a glowing silver leaf. He sipped on his gin and tonic, chuckling, "Ah, the famed Mirishial Moonbeam. An exquisite choice, my friend. I assure you, the effects are quite mild to non-magical beings like ourselves. It's more of an aesthetic charm, really. Though I must say, I've seen some locals here grow quite... animated after a few too many."

The American laughed, taking a tentative sip before letting out a satisfied sigh, the alcohol flowing down his throat with a cool, refreshing feeling – the complete opposite of taking a raw shot of Kirkland vodka. "Now that's something else. It's nothing like back home."

The Muan's face fell at the mention of home, and he set his glass down with a gentle clink. "It's been a while since I've been back home. The Gra Valkans' control over the Artticus Ocean has made it impossible for me to return. It's an uneasy feeling, being so far from my family and unable to reach them."