In the year 1521, the Garlean Empire rises to power, and thus begins their conquest....

Rushing in with panic clear across his face, a tall, Garlean soldier all but fumbled in the presence of his Emperor. "It was... h-horrible... it... the fiend! It.. it came out of nowhere!"

Upon the throne sat the Emperor of this imperial-inclined nation. His golden eyes leering over the stuttering whelp of a military officer. After a moment of silent frustration, he spat, "You need to calm down. Now, start over from the beginning. I won't tolerate this half-complete nonsense."

Heart still racing, the man breathed in, panting before retaining some semblance of composure. "Y-Yes, right... well... We were... Forgive me, your Imperial Majesty... the IIIrd Imperial Legion was tasked to scout Othard in preparation for our eventual invasion, but... w-we, we were attacked by something horrible! I-It's something.... w-we've never seen anything like it...!"

Waving his hand dismissively, the man rolled his eyes, "Yes, something horrible attacked you. I get it. Now, would you be a bit more descriptive? What did it look like, what exactly did it do to your Legion? We cannot form a strategy without more precise information."

The young Centurio was still clearly terrified, both from the traumatic experience, and because the presence of the Emperor. Though charismatic, he had a terrifying streak. Swallowing hard, he spoke up, "...My apologies, your Majesty... I-It was some manner of magical beast, according to our telemetry. It had... armor. A-And a huge sword... it was massive, larger than one of our ships, sir... it grabbed it from the air, and... and..."

Letting out an aggravated sigh, the Emperor waved a hand, "I've heard enough. You are dismissed. I expect a full report from those who survived the attack. I want to know every last detail of your encounter."

Bowing before the Emperor, the man gave him an imperial salute before high-tailing it out of the throne room.