Damian took a long look at all the British men. They didn't even introduce themselves.. And one of them even wanted Dreamlight for his navy. The Highswords beside Damian were already raising their eyebrows.
"Shouldn't you introduce yourself first before demanding our things?" Damian said, glaring at them but still keeping his voice neutral. "Or have I stumbled into a settlement of cavemen?"
Hearing him speak clear English and not even reacting slightly under the aim of over a hundred muskets, their eyes widened.
The guy in the navy uniform reacted first, flaring his mustache, a rush of blood reaching his face. "'Ow dare—"
However, a hand on the guy's chest stopped him mid-sentence. It was one of the civilian men. "No, Lord Anson. We are in the wrong 'ere. It is customary to introduce ourselves to our guests."
Lord Anson just gritted his teeth and stopped himself from speaking any further. Instead, the civilian man stretched his hand forward toward Damian. "Welcome to England, me stranger friend. My name is John Pringle, Royal Physician, President of the Royal Society."
Damian's brow raised upon hearing the name of the Royal Society. He didn't know enough history to recognize the man, but the name sounded somewhat familiar. Then his hand was grabbed by another figure beside him—the one who had asked him what Dreamlight relied on to fly.
"Benjamin Franklin—Scientist, Diplomat from America," the man said, his voice carrying a smooth, measured tone, laced with the slight colonial twang of his homeland.
Damian's eyes widened, but he quickly controlled his expression. He was meeting Benjamin fucking Franklin? What were the chances? And why were the British letting an American meet strangers who had a flying ship? He was also a member of that Royal Society thing he had read somewhere—guess he had schemed his way into this meeting, probably to see Dreamlight.
Then, one by one, the others introduced themselves. Most were British army engineers. The first guy who had spoken up was General Ligonier. The navy officer was an admiral, and then there were some aristocrats Damian had never heard of. Frankly, he didn't know any of them except Benjamin Franklin.
Damian and his companions introduced themselves as well, though they only gave their names without titles. He could see visible confusion on everyone's faces when they heard names like Runefather, Lifewarden, and Worldscribe. His and his friends' names sounded somewhat normal to them. Still, when he introduced himself as Damian Sunblade, the British men eyed him along with some of the Highswords beside him.
"What part of the world 'ave you come from?" General Ligonier asked, his tone carrying the crisp, clipped pronunciation of an officer used to command. The man was adamant about them being French spies.
"We are not from your world," Damian replied simply and saw them exchange glances, as if he was scamming them. Without another word, Damian stretched one arm up and, one by one, produced fire, water, solid dirt, an orb of light, and black fire—letting them all circle above his hand for all to see.
Needless to say, the display drew the most active reaction out of all of them. Some reached for their guns, others cursed out loud, while most simply stared at the elements as if they were witnessing a living ghost. The engineers and scientists, however, were the most shocked by his little demonstration. To keep the conversation going, Damian canceled all the runes and continued speaking as if he had not just shattered their core beliefs in a second.
"So, what year is this? I once knew people from this world, but I think that was a whole other time period."
"A.." John Pringle muttered with wide eyes. "Aliens..?"
Damian shook his head. "No, we are humans, just not from this world. We have come to visit, bearing gifts of magic. Can we enter your city, or should we try another kingdom?" He got straight to the point. But by now, the revelations he had bombarded them with were way above their pay grade. Immediately, General Ligonier spoke up, raising his hands.
"Travelers.. Apologies. Pardon our rudeness, It's 1758 but can you wait for a while? We 'ave to send word forward."
Damian just nodded. "Sure. You have an hour or two to decide. Take this with you, though—it will give a much better introduction than any of you can."
He took out a few runic tools he had made before coming here and gave them to the group, along with a letter of introduction and instructions on how to use the items. The tools included a simple steel plate with blue and green mana stones in two corners. Damian had designed a mana node array circuit system with mechanical internal parts. When a switch was pushed, the array completed, and an ice-conjuring spell would activate, slowly covering the room it was placed in with ice using the mana stone. It should last for at least a month before running out of power and the steel deteriorating.
Then there was the same setup for fire, but that one was fist-sized and only produced a small amount of flame—it was a runic lighter with a red mana stone and a switch. There was also a wind plate that generated cool air and could be used for a couple of months to cool a room.
Additionally, Damian provided a simple drawing of a fire rune and a very small vial containing the mana ink he had stored. This was for them to experiment with drawing the fire rune themselves.
Damian had worded it in grand terms, emphasizing that only a select few could understand and use it, that magic was a rare gift requiring great lineage, and other nonsense designed to make whoever succeeded in activating it feel like they were some grand figure. He had also given them only a small vial so they could only attempt it a few times on simple paper or parchment.
They had no knowledge of runes so technically it should work, he was also curious to see.
He could have easily displayed his overwhelming power and scared them shitless, but that would have made achieving his goals that much harder. It was an option, though. He didn't have enough manpower to terrorize entire countries—he needed free workers who would willingly labor for him.
Whatever the situation regarding returning to his world would come to, Damian was not going back without finishing what he had started.
Even if the waygate to Vidalia opened, he would just send others back. He had a Demon-fucking-Lord to take care of in pigmen's world. And for that, he needed steel. Lots and lots of steel—to make something capable of facing that dark bastard. Approximately 800 million tons of steel, according to his calculations.