Turn of the Century

Chapter 2.2 - Forgo the Tempt of Fantasy

"Hark thee, for ne'er before hast mine eyes laid upon such finer practise! All might tell so, Mountain-man, so goes your temptation with tall will; a dame as I able to see no coil! Thou art no caitiff, thus I cannot forgo the tempt of fantasy!"

- Madame Briaga Ravasco, 'The Tale of Mountain Fools'  Page 26

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Royal Halpine Army Aviation Service Defence Establishment Tuepoi Cliffs, Northern Dominion of Halpinia

3–9:61 Native / 8:17 AM JST

Spanning a hundred and fifty or so merrunds, the Tuepoi Cliffs were a stretch of the most geographically ostentatious coastal architecture to have graced the world. And on them, a military outpost that stole swathes of value from the scenery with obstructively brutalist acoustic mirrors.

Though the position was advantageous, being on a cliff with a nicely unobstructed view of the ocean for merrunds beyond the sea level horizon, it watched empty ocean none would dare try cross for express invasion. What was heard most often instead were the sounds of ships, ever so faint, headed for ports in the erroneously named Cirrunde Bay, really a gulf for any matter of fact. Never did anything come for Maytown, such a sleepy town, and when it did, the glory of detection was almost always given to Defence Establishment Huxley west of the port, rather than their tired position east of it. As such, there was little real value or importance to the site. Alas, it was built anyways, and so on the Northern Merrodenian coastline it stayed.

Such was reflected by all who were rotated to the site. There was a certain laziness to the base, a base that felt little in the way of any of the local or regional geopolitics with the political brawl that was local international relations. A place recognized in the ranks of the RHAAC as the place for menial punishment duty.

The establishment too, was only nominally an establishment, more a large field atop a tourist's wonderland, with a tall radio mast between three small, white shacks that outcropped from the natural view and dozens of concrete acoustic mirrors listening out to the ocean. And of course, the flags of both Mu and her daughter Halpinia by an insignificant patch of grass that was the base's entrance, as if its entirely open nature prevented anywhere else from being considered its entrance. Still, definitely a cliffside, and naturally a great vantage point isolated from the waves with a spectacularly stellar view of the ocean at sunrise and sunset.

The quiet that was traced only by seemingly distant waves was broken by a voice, one soothing to the ear with a near-standard Muse gentleman-type pronunciation. "Beautiful weather, isn't it, Superior?" A man would ask—voice drawing from a somewhat tall man of ashen skin and hair—a near elve type of man not to the heights of a human on the hierarchy, but an almost equal.

A Second Grade Teriazo who'd asked his aide—a Superior Levy who stood faithfully to his side. The former roughly same as Lefttenant, the latter more to a Corporal.

Enter the Superior, who looked around in response. Indeed it was, the soft fabric of early-year snow having settled nicely against the grass, and the sun herself in all her glory and modesty beaming back down with a smile. "Aye, sir," spoke the enlist, voice still tainted with the naivety of youth and a still rasp in a higher pitch than expected. Compared to his elven counterpart, he was a rather stubby man of black-dashed-brown furred hide with a face not of, but like a sort of bear-wolf hybrid.

Both stood just by the mirrors, one a pair of binoculars in hand and topped with an almost felt sidecap, the other with a hat similar to a poofed-up beret atop a stiff, wide brim. Their uniforms were neat as if arrived for a picnic rather than any duties or obligations—the feathered symbols adorning their shoulders were still white and wholly shiny, and their uniforms deep gray-orange fabric not yet bleached from exposure, 'nor spotted brown from dirt.