Thousands of years ago, there was a young princess named Elise with her three younger sisters and her parents, Salem and Ozma. They seemed like a happy family one day, but then everything changed the next.
When her father Ozma tried to escape with E...
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Two Mantlean soldiers wearing white and blue uniforms run down a street in a wartorn city. Gunfire can be heard in the distance as they take cover by a damaged building's wall before peaking out to the street around the corner. They see dozens of Valean, Mistralian, and Mantlean soldiers dead and scattered across the street with debris around them. Bullet wounds seem to have been the cause of death for the lot of them.
Mantlean Private: Damn, we didn't stand a chance, Sergeant.
Sergeant: And I thought our forces and the Grimm would be the worst thing on this damned continent.
??: Ugh...h-help...
The two hear a woman's voice under one of the pieces of debris with a hand sticking out.
??: Help!
Private: Sergeant, there's a survivor!
Sergeant: Come on!
The two run out towards the debris while aiming their rifles down the street before the Private slings his rifle over his shoulder and starts pulling debris while the Sergeant keeps watch.
Private: Hold on, pal! We'll get you out!
As he pulls off more debris, he sees a woman with brown hair wearing a Valean uniform starting to try and pull herself out. The Private and Sergeant grab her hands and help her out. Her leg was broken, resulting in the Private propping her up.
Sergeant: Oh, of course a Valean survives this.
Valean: What's that supposed to mean, Mantlean?
Private: Err, don't mind him, ma'am. Are you alright? Uh, besides the obvious broken leg.
Valean: Oh yeah, just DANDY. Did we win yet?
Sergeant: No, there seems to still be fighting going on in the city.
Private: But we saw the Mistral colonial troops surrender to our attackers on the way over here.
Valean: What about your forces, or mine?
Sergeant: We don't know, though given the gunfire, I bet that at least our troops are still fighting.
Valean: Or mine.
Sergeant: No, I doubt you Valeans could outlast us.
Private: Uh, Sarge. You might want to reevaluate that opinion.
The three look down the street and see dozens of Mantle troops walking through an intersection up ahead with their hands over their heads being escorted by grey coat soldiers wearing gas masks and steel helmets.
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