《Summoning Our Country - NHS Kai》 Credits As you may know, this fanfiction/fan rewrite is written by a team of people with a shared goal of making ¤ß¤Î¤í¤¦¡¯s Summoning Japan much more believable. This list isn¡¯t final and will continue to be changed as more people get directly involved with the creation of this fanwork. Summoning Our Country - Nihonkoku Shoukan KAI would not have been possible without the support, love, and attention from the people listed below: Lastly, we would also like to thank ¤ß¤Î¤í¤¦ for creating Summoning Japan, which is the base for our fanfiction. All rights to Summoning Japan belong to him and Summoning Our Country - Nihonkoku Shoukan KAI is simply a fan work based on his work and is in no way claiming ownership over Summoning Japan. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. Chapter 1: May Our Country Know True Peace As of April 22, 2022, this chapter has been rewritten Gregorian Calendar XX/09/2021 (DD/MM/YYYY), Yasukuni Shrine, Tokyo, Japan, 19:00 Clap The weak, dry sound of two hands coming together in a praying position echoes in the crisp, cold air of early autumn. The ripples of the clap mildly disturb the sheets of orange and brown falling from the trees. Before long, they land on the coarse stones of the pathway that trace a wide line of white through the earth, leading to the grand temple of natural brown and gleaming green¨Cthe haiden of Yasukuni. Standing underneath its imposing, wooden columns and white banners fluttering in the auspicious wind was a single man clad in formal black, his modest stature alone in the presence of the kami, Japan¡¯s divine spirits. Despite the knitted red scarf neatly wrapped around his neck, the man shivered from the September chill, his every breath condensing midair and his hands raised up in prayer, quivering. It may have been due to the cold, but it may have also been testimony to his rickety relationship with the shrine, for his father, a soldier under the former Imperial banner and one whom he never met, was listed among the dead that Yasukuni honors. Whether the man¡¯s current visit was due to this loose sentiment or the fact that he lived close to the shrine, only he knew, but the unyielding glare of outside attention could have never assumed either. ¡°ÎÒ¤¬¹ú¤ÏÕæ¤ÎƽºÍ¤Ë¤¢¤é¤ó¤³¤È¤ò¡£¡± (May our country know true peace) The man, Takamori Hideaki, whispered underneath his scarf. To his friends and family, he was a man who believed in breaking the trend to become a trendsetter. His late aunt remembers him for his kind demeanor. His childhood friends remember him for ousting the incumbent student council president in an attempt to get the teachers to cease summer and winter homework. He was known for being frank to his colleagues at work, a no-nonsense man who detested being roundabout. However, to the rest of the world, he was a man who was recently elected to the office of the Prime Minister of Japan. Having climbed up the political ladder that had eventually landed him in the National Diet and then later the president of the Liberal Democratic Party, he was only revered for his mostly acceptable stance on socio-political matters. Regarded as a man with thorns, he dived right into the crux of problems, which made him look rash and bold, but it landed him in hot water with countless people, even those whom he considered allies. Despite his frustrating lack of inability to read the atmosphere, everyone respected the man¡¯s lack of regard for social norms¨Ca departure from the typical politician that dared not upset the status quo. Still, his election to the office, while surprising, kept many on the edge of their seats. This hopelessly ballsy man was about to go toe-to-toe with the monolith that was the Japanese people, a monotonous population colorfully brimming with endless desires and hopes but held down by social expectations, dated beliefs, and values that border on self-destruction. An unstoppable force meets an immovable object: an imaginative scenario with answers bound to surprise and disappointment. Nevertheless, the man was unmoved in his destiny. ¡°Well then...¡± Finished in his prayer, he dropped his shivering hands down to his hips and looked up at the already pitch-black sky unfolding endlessly above his head. Tracing across the hopeless expanse of darkness were fireflies of red and green, the many airliners that populate the skies above the Tokyo metropolitan area, carrying in their tens or hundreds of people to lands far and wide, near and dear. Closing off the march of black, enclosing it in an eternal semi-sphere was the artificial skyline of Japan¡¯s capital, the bright colors of the city¡¯s famous skyscrapers towering above the trees that surround Yasukuni, their number and constant flickering denoting that the city was yet to sleep. Savoring in his last view of the Tokyo early evening before his ascension to the office, a screenshot of the present to be saved in the recesses of his mind, Takamori sighed. His brown, anxious eyes, anticipating the responsibilities he would have to carry, turned to those of a man lost in forlorn sentiment. As if witnessing a dream that will inevitably fade from memory, he had a hunch deep in his heart that this may be the last time he¡¯ll see such a sight. It was peaceful. But not because it was quiet; the incessant whirring of car engines and clanking of steely train wheels setting off according to schedule assumed their place in the background noise as the rustling of trees complemented the whistling of air in the foreground. It was peaceful because Takamori stood there, spending the time loitering in the shrine grounds refusing to move forward with the flow of Chronos. To get it all done with, and move forward, he had to break the status quo¨Cthe peace. Hesitance and fear held him back, the spell of reluctance hung over him, but his spirit doggedly egged him on. If he were to take his place at the helm of a country that continues to advance, he himself must move too. Time gave him the last, decisive push, reminding him of the futility to resist¨Cto remain unchanging. Takamori finally submitted. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± He muttered in a volume that only he himself and the gods could hear. Imperial Residence, 19:45 ¡°Here.¡± ¡°My sincerest thanks.¡± Takamori flatly replied as he kneeled down on the soft yet thin cushion that separated his folded legs from the clean tatami mats that comprised the surface of the room¡¯s floor. Groaning softly as he settled into his position which despite the innumerable times he had done it, his increasing age has constantly made the movement ever so difficult for his body. The old man who was now newly appointed Prime Minister turned his face upwards and looked straight towards the man that had appointed him to the position: Emperor Reiwa. The two men sat opposite one another at just a bit more than an arm¡¯s length, with a brown, polished table separating them. While he had already been appointed by His Majesty to the office, Takamori had little clues in hand as to why the Emperor would summon him alone after the fact. Looking at His Majesty¡¯s face, that of a man more than a decade younger than his person, he could not take any more clues from the poker face that stared back at him. Even if he was the only one summoned, it might not be for something important. However, the lack of any teapot or teacups on top of the table for him to serve the Emperor must have meant that they were going to do more talking than drinking. After almost a minute of staggeringly vexing silence, Takamori faked a cough to break the ice. ¡°What have you summoned me for, Your Majesty?¡± Delving straight to the point, Takamori looked at the Emperor and turned his head downwards, a measly response to his strong opening. His face reflected the worries of a man in a position central to Japanese society, but the anxieties that lay deep in his heart concerned something far more than the people of the island nation. Finally responding to the Prime Minister¡¯s question, he asked another question, throwing the ball back to Takamori¡¯s court. ¡°Have you met your father?¡± The question, an unusual topic coming from the person he least expected, initially failed to register in Takamori¡¯s head. Why was His Majesty, the Emperor, asking him a question that could not be anymore detached from context? His father was, but an ordinary man called to serve Emperor Showa in the war in China and the Pacific and was unceremoniously killed in some far-flung battlefield. He neither got recognition nor did he strive for it, both from his family back home and from the Army itself. As Takamori was born when his father was overseas, he had never met him, nor was his existence even acknowledged, as his father never wrote to him nor his mother. He was a man that was instrumental to Takamori¡¯s existence, but when it comes to how his life played out, he was no different from a stranger. Reeling from his surprise, a natural reaction, Takamori¡¯s tongue began to move to produce a blank reply. ¡°Never.¡± Equally, blank in his response, the Emperor¡¯s expression neither brightened nor darkened. He only swiveled his left arm to reach in for something in his pocket. ¡°I see. Then it¡¯s best that I start this conversation with...¡± The Emperor took his hand, now clasped as it now contained something, out of his pocket. He purposefully finished his sentence incompletely, relying on what he was going to produce from his hand to deliver the message he wanted to convey. Hovering it over the empty table, he opened his hand, dropping something onto the hard, wooden surface. As the shadow of His Majesty¡¯s hand retreated from the object, it was now in plain view for Takamori¡¯s perplexed eyes to scrutinize. It was an elliptical, flat, metallic object. Its gray color gave way to the oranges and yellows of rust that had started to colonize its surfaces, but it wasn¡¯t too far done to become impossible to recognize. On one side was a cylindrical shape that ran along the length of the ellipse, appearing to be a hinge that made Takamori assume that it was a¨C ¡°A locket?¡± ¡°You may open it.¡± With the Emperor¡¯s explicit permission, Takamori felt free in being able to use his hands to more liberally examine it. Taking into his hands the aged steel locket, still warm from the short time it spent being in the Emperor¡¯s grasp, Takamori¡¯s fingers naturally fiddled their way to where the locket could be opened. With nonexistent difficulty, his fingers pried the two halves of the locket apart, increasing the gap between them as he unfolded it. Finally, after an untold amount of time spent folded, the innards of the locket have been revealed for human eyes to once again peer at what it has to offer. Takamori¡¯s aged, brown eyes, still retaining their clarity and sharpness, widened in surprise at what was inside the locket. On the left side was a still pristine, upper body photo of a woman in common Japanese dress, the brown filter-like color of the photo reflecting the era it was taken in. Takamori¡¯s eyes traced the contour of the woman¡¯s face to her facial features¨Cher jaws, nose, lips, and eyebrows¨Cjust as memories, long-buried underneath years¡¯ worth of experiences, instantly resurfaced to him. Yes!, he thought as he recognized the woman. ¡°M-Mother...¡± Despite their short time together, Takamori had fond memories of her, particularly in their time of struggle during and after the war. His familiarity of his mother, even if it were faint and on the cusp of being forgotten, paled in comparison with the man depicted in the picture on the locket¡¯s right side. In spite of his mind¡¯s efforts to dig up memories, both clear and obscure, to figure out whoever this man was, he was at a loss. However, clues laid out by the Emperor and the presence of his mother¡¯s photo in the locket gave him enough information to at least come up with a guess. ¡°Could this perhaps be my father?¡± Takamori asked. A question directed to no one in particular, delivered with a tone that had hints of uncertainty and mild sureness. The Emperor knew that he need not answer it, but he nevertheless did. ¡°It is as you say.¡± In his almost eight decades on this earth, this was the first time Takamori had ever seen his father. From what he could see, he felt he resembled his old man in ways he couldn¡¯t understand, but other than this unexplainable physical likeness, he did not feel drawn to his own father. When his mother passed away, he was taken in by his uncle, his mother¡¯s brother-in-law. Whatever his uncle and his mother¡¯s family knew about his father, even if it were insignificant, they never imparted to him, nor did he bother asking. While the question of his father¡¯s identity lingered in his mind, there were more pressing questions that warranted answers. ¡°How did you get this? And why did you bring this up?¡± From its appearance, Takamori surmised that the locket was a personal item from either his mother or father. The chance that it would end up in His Majesty¡¯s possession was exceedingly low. His father was a lowly soldier of the former army who had died somewhere else, and his mother was not of any note either. If it had come from his mother, it would have more than likely ended up in his or his uncle¡¯s possession, rather than being surrendered to an entity that would have given up to the Emperor. Either way, it was of little use to His Majesty, even now. Seemingly satisfied with Takamori¡¯s direct questions, His Majesty leaned in. ¡°I had hoped to bring your attention and curiosity with the mention of your father, for what I¡¯m about to say may sound... far-fetched.¡± The conversation had taken an unexpected turn. Takamori¡¯s curiosity was piqued, but so was his cautionary skepticism. Still, as a show of respect to His Majesty, he lent his ears to what the Emperor had to say. ¡°I had a dream. There, I saw an aged man, his face unfamiliar, but he was without a doubt Japanese. He spoke to me in our language and gave me a warning.¡± The Emperor took out an expensive-looking pen from his breast pocket and produced a piece of paper he had prepared from underneath the table. Putting the empty, white sheet on top of the table, he held it down with his left hand as he used his right hand to write. After he was finished, he put away his pen and left Takamori to read the four kanji written in bright red on the background of white. ¡°°Ë¼‡Ò»ÞD¡± Takamori tried to wrap his head around the four kanji, which were familiar and common, yet they were grouped together to produce an unsettling meaning: ¡°The world in reversal.¡± As he tried to trace together the seemingly apocalyptic underlying message inscribed in the text, the Emperor continued his story about his dream. ¡°Without saying anything further, the man grasped my right hand with both of his before disappearing altogether. When I woke up, I felt like I was gripping on something with my right hand. When I looked at what it was...¡± The Emperor then pointed to the locket to fill in the blank at the end of his statement. Takamori, still confused by what the message meant, felt a surge of cold air run down his perspiring back. Nevertheless, Takamori¡¯s face produced an expression that reflected his difficulty accepting the Emperor¡¯s statements. While there was little to back up the Emperor¡¯s story, he couldn¡¯t afford to disrespect His Majesty by saying that it was a fairytale. Still, it appears that the Emperor had caught on to his skepticism, and now he was on his way to crush it. ¡°I understand your doubt. However, I cannot help but tell you this.¡± The Emperor then produced a set of papers from underneath the table, bringing them up on top and laying them out for Takamori to scrutinize individually. Scribbled in deep black ink on all of the white, empty papers were four distinct characters, °Ë¼‡Ò»ÞD, accompanied by smaller characters off to the side¨Cthe names of those that had written them. While Takamori failed to recognize the names of these people, the Emperor pointed out who they were. ¡°These were written by the head priests of shrines all over the country, including the grand shrine at Ise. They had all sent these to me on the same day I had the dream, and all of them came with the message: ¡°I was told in a dream to send this to His Majesty, Emperor Reiwa.¡±¡± The mystery of the message and the dream deepened. While he still struggled to believe and accept this story, a byproduct of his reluctance to buy into the superstition, he pushed himself to give His Majesty the benefit of the doubt. Why else would the Emperor tell him something this outlandish with a straight face? He understood that since it had the undertones of a prophecy telling of an apocalyptic event to come, the Emperor would impart the information to him, the Prime Minister of Japan. However, why him and only him? Why not include the other ministers? This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°Why tell just me, Your Majesty?¡± ¡°I think that this is being addressed directly to you.¡± ¡°How so?¡± The Emperor chuckled and scratched his head as he hesitated to answer. ¡°I myself don¡¯t understand why, but the man was more direct in telling me, ¡°Tomorrow, impart this to Hideaki after you give him your blessing.¡± Remembering with vivid clarity how the man in his dream turned from being cryptic and indirect to explicitly telling him who to tell this message to, the Emperor smiled in comical amusement. Meanwhile, Takamori could not contain his confusion and surprise. The man in the dream referred to him by his given name, Hideaki. Even though it was a commonly given name, the other parts of the man¡¯s message pointed to him since today that the Emperor will appoint him as a Prime Minister in a personal, eye-to-eye meeting. Then, there was the locket containing the pictures of his mother and father that were seemingly ¡®given¡¯ to the Emperor by the man in the dream. It was definitely a concerning flag that got his full attention. If it was indeed addressed to him, what was the message trying to say? What exactly was going to happen? Why is a message that seems to tell that the world will end addressed to him? His confused gaze was picked up by the Emperor, who unfortunately could only offer a face devoid of answers, having run out of clues to impart to him. With that, their anxieties deepened, and while the two men parted ways not long after to retire for the night, the mystery of the message lingered in their heads even as they dozed off. ??? Somewhere in a point in time and space devoid of neither the passage of time nor the defining attributes of space was them. There was no light nor darkness, but they were ¡®there¡¯. There was no life nor the absence of it, but they are. There was neither everything nor nothing, and yet they are ¡®there¡¯. There was no sound, no words, no language, no thoughts, and yet they ¡®spoke¡¯. ¡°Hm. What you did there was nice, but it isn''t interesting enough.¡± ¡°True. This project of ours needs more... spazz. Yeah?¡± ¡°It¡¯s just not as exciting. Too slow. Too predictable. What say you, Shamash?¡± ¡°Heh. Whatever. You tried. I¡¯ll show you how it¡¯s done.¡± ¡°This is almost as interesting when the outsiders came and did a hissy fit. That was silly. I mean, they wanted to become like us? Hah! Funny. Still, I don¡¯t want to skip to the point when they return. Too boring.¡± ¡°I just came back from riling them up. Annnd there! Done!¡± ¡°Whaaaat? Nothing changed! They¡¯re still in their world!¡± ¡°Look closer, dimwit. There¡¯s now another copy in this one.¡± ¡°Seriously? You just copy-pasted that shit? That was too safe and boring. The original world is still unchanged and unaffected. Boo!¡± ¡°Still more interesting than what you did with the other one. That was tasteless. Even if you brought them out from their world, nothing happened!¡± There was no intention nor feeling, yet they wanted and wished. There was no energy, but they did, do, and will do. In the realm of reality, where time passed, and space expanded, where the light shone and did not, where life thrived and shriveled, where there was everything and nothing, their actions, and desires too became real. The next day, Prime Minister¡¯s residence, Tokyo, Japan, 3:30 The telephone had been ringing for the past 20 seconds. Its annoying chime designed to catch attention has been incessantly echoing throughout the spacious, empty room of the Prime Minister¡¯s quarters. The lightless, white-walled room mirrored the darkness of the early morning world outside the glass window. Rolling underneath his white, clean blanket was Takamori, who, after hours of sleepless limbo trying to piece out the message given to him by the Emperor, had only just succumbed to the temptations of sleep some two hours earlier. Still physically tired and mentally sore, he was forced awake by the third cycle of his telephone ringing. He reached out for it with disgruntled groaning, which continued on as he answered the phone to impart his displeasure with the caller. ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°Prime Minister! We have an emergency situation! We are still piecing together what has happened, but it requires your immediate presence!¡± Still half-asleep and brimming with fury at his lack of rest, the Prime Minister lashed out and demanded an adequate reason to summon him with such haste. ¡°Cut the indirect shit and tell me what is going on, NOW!¡± Whether it was due to the urgency of the situation or the Prime Minister¡¯s intimidating howl, the man at the other end spilled the beans. ¡°I believe we are expecting an attack! All of our comm¨C¡± ¡°That¡¯s all that you had to say, damn it! I¡¯m coming!¡± Slamming the phone back on the receiver, Takamori stood up from his bed, shrugging every single hint of drowsiness from his person as he went to dress appropriately. He had a couple of ideas of what this ¡®attack¡¯ was, but his mind drifted to the message he had received via the Emperor. However, if it were just any attack, then would it seriously be enough to ¡°reverse¡± the entire world like what is said in the message? Devoid of information, Takamori could only brood as he washed his face with the frigid morning water from the sink. Central Calendar 19/04/1639, Myhark, Principality of Qua-Toyne, 6:30 ¡°Ugh...¡± The wooden planks that made up a door creak as the door swiveled outwards on its side. Accompanying the succeeding thump of the door as it comes to an abrupt stop at the stone wall to which it was affixed was the hearty yawn of a woman dressed in a linen getup of all tones of green stretching her arms out as she basked in the bright rays of the early morning sun. The dark rings under her eyes of beautiful blue shine complemented her deep yawn, along with the dried-up drool that decorated, no, desecrated her otherwise slim, peach lips. The golden tint of her chocolate brown hair shines in the sunlight as it messily runs down her head. Feeling an itch somewhere behind the ungroomed tumbleweed mess that was her hair, she reached out with her slender yet rugged hands towards the area in question, past her elongated ears¨Cthe denoting point that she was an elf. ¡°Damned city. Should have sold my body for that kind of work instead of this one.¡± Sprawling beneath her, past the stone ramparts from which her quarters were located, was a bewildering maze of pastel-colored buildings of various heights and dirt, sometimes even stone, pathways. The endless sea of colored stone and mortar was held in by the tall, mortifying embrace of a gray stone wall that encircled the maze of buildings. At the physical center of it all was a tower of yellow that stood out among the crowd of structures cowering beneath its height, and decorating all of its four sides were long banners of green and pastel yellow fluttering ever so slightly in the calm, sea breeze blowing in from the ocean nearby. This banner of the Principality of Qua-Toyne flew all across the various government buildings scattered about, draping down from even the numerous bastions that line the formidable wall that protected one of her premier cities, Myhark. The woman, taking in the breathtaking view of the bustling trade city, sighed once more. ¡°May Astarte curse this dead-end job...¡± The weight of the city¡¯s troubles bore down on her slender, feminine shoulders as she leaned forwards on the ragged, rough stone that made up the ramparts. As the commander of the city¡¯s garrison, the city¡¯s troubles were her own. Despite being a bonafide part of the principality¡¯s professional force, she was stuck with overseeing the non-professional garrison of the city and given the responsibility to maintain peace and order in the city. In practice, all she ever did was quell fights between haggling merchants, stop thieves in the market, oversee the maintenance of lookouts, and so on. This was her day-to-day reality, even in the face of a changing world. ¡°Why am I still here? The Lourians are literally at the border...¡± She cried out, lamenting her situation and that of Qua-Toyne¡¯s. For as far as she could remember, in her almost 30 years of existence, a nascent human dynasty by the name of Louria had gone on a conquest spree, subjugating the disorganized territories of western Rodenius, a continent in which Qua-Toyne dominates the northeast. Once the last independent territory had been swallowed, the human kings of Louria had turned their gazes to the east, towards the Principality and the Kingdom of Quila, an economically docile yet military capable state that dominates the badlands of southeastern Rodenius. Under the pretext of continental unification under one state and race, the human race, the Lourians have been beating the drums of war against the multi-racial states of Qua-Toyne and Quila in an effort to get both to submit without a fight. As the Lourians continue to sharpen their fangs for the inevitable, Qua-Toyne has seen a limited change to its internal status quo. From the ramparts, she witnesses life in her Qua-Toynian city continue unabated, with human and beastmen children playing in the dirt streets to the faint sound of music and cheering echoing from the city courtyard. Despite the threat of an invasion looming, everyone was eerily cheerful and happy-go-lucky, as if they were unaware of the greater scheme of things unfolding beyond the sanctuary of their robust stone walls. Rather, they may have already accepted the grim fate that awaited a successful invasion of a xenophobic army into their abode and thus was spending the remainder of their blissful days before the inevitable. Still drowsy from her two-hour sleep, the elven woman rested her head along her arms, which laid crossed on the stone ramparts. Then, the annoying sound of her subordinate¡¯s voice reached her eardrums. ¡°Commander Ine! You are needed at the station!¡± Ine groaned deeply as her conscious self refused to rouse itself to duty. ¡°Sure...¡± Her subordinate was smart, and he knew his commanding officer too well. ¡°Now, commander. You are needed now.¡± Ine turned her head towards her subordinate with the speed and promptness expected of a Qua-Toynian officer and glared at him with the fury of a person running on two hours of sleep. ¡°Keith, you son of a whore, I will roast you down to the bone with a lightning spell!¡± Despite her seemingly genuine threat, Keith chuckled with hilarity, further irking an already fuming Ine. ¡°We all know you can¡¯t cast spells, commander. Okay, but please, we really do need you now, so let¡¯s go!¡± As Keith ran off from an Ine with arms stretched outward trying to cast a lightning spell, she cursed her lack of inherent mana due to her being half-human, which prevented her from casting spells off her own person. Then again, she doesn¡¯t know the chant for the lightning spell, nor does she genuinely wish to kill off her subordinate. She then turned her focus back to the task at hand, and without even fixing her hair or wiping the dried drool from her cheeks, she ran off to the station. Myhark garrison¡¯s station was only just above her own quarters, which was also where she did her administrative work, thanks to a lack of facilities. Running up the short flight of stairs leading up to the station, she then arrived at the moderately spacious main room, which was predominantly occupied by massive clockwork instruments of wood and metal. These were the manacomms, an advanced method of communication by utilizing the workings of magic. These ones were bulky, but there are tales of more advanced and smaller manacomms elsewhere in the more developed side of this world. In any case, they still do their work, as evidenced by one of the human station personnel walking towards Ine¡¯s direction with a worried look, one that says he has something to impart to her. ¡°Commander! Northeast Command has spotted a flying object of unknown origin traveling at high speeds. According to their trajectory, they appear bound for Myhark.¡± Ine¡¯s eyes widened as the last hints of drowsiness and desire to go back to bed vanished. The first question to shoot out from her mouth was what she deemed the most important. ¡°How long till it gets here?¡± The station attendants were rife with impatience, his brow sweating with anxiety. ¡°Within five minutes, ma¡¯am!¡± Everyone was shocked. A hostile, airborne attack punching straight into their heartland in as little as five minutes was simply too fast¨Cthere was virtually no time to mount defenses, launch their own airborne units, or in Ine¡¯s case, get dressed. They were at a loss on how to proceed which froze them in their places, yet time marched forward regardless. Ine knew that she had to protect her city, even from an unexpected attack from the air. Immediately, she went for what she could achieve in that tiny window of five minutes. ¡°Raise the attack flags and sound the bells!¡± Without even waiting for a response from her subordinates, she dashed out of the station and down back into her quarters. Her armor and weaponry were at a separate station a few minutes away by running down the ramparts, so she only managed to put on leather boots and a cowl for her messy hair. Swiftly nestling her hair inside the cowl, she took off down the lengthy stone wall dividing two of Myhark¡¯s districts and led directly to the other station. With careful, delicate footing on the uneven stone pathway, she closed the distance to the other station with modest speed. Already, she noticed her orders taking effect: Bells all over the Qua-Toynian city started ringing. The messy orchestra of off-tune notes gradually filled the air, invoking a feeling of tension, which then permeated throughout the entire city as if riding on the soundwaves of ringing bells. Then, a buzz. At first, it sounded like it was coming from an annoying fly harassing her, but unlike an insect¡¯s buzz, it was loud. Even more still, it was getting louder. Despite her speed, Ine was still a hundred paces from the other station. Initially, the buzzing wasn¡¯t enough to bother her, but now its volume could no longer be ignored. Using her long, elven ears, she approximated the direction from where the sound was coming. They need not be exact, for her eyes would do the rest. At this point, the buzzing was loud enough to challenge the unabating symphony of bronze and iron bells dominating the city. Ceasing her run, she turned her head to the southeast. Then, it appeared. It came flying out from behind the treetops of the hills overshadowing Myhark to the east, and like an eagle that had taken off from the pinnacle of branches to strike its unsuspecting prey, it flew straight for the city¨Cstraight for her. it was unlike any bird nor wyvern, a rigid body of shining gray, its wings forever locked into position, and yet it flew with grace and speed. Underneath its eternally suspended wings were four windmills spinning at dizzying speeds. The buzzing got louder as it flew closer. It was probably its cry. At its head was a single, long black line, perhaps its eyes. Ine stared right at it, like a feeble girl staring down the death-ridden eyes of the lion that was poised to pounce on her. In the face of such a terrifying, unprecedented predator, Ine, a proud officer of the Qua-Toynian military, was buckling from fear¨Cfear of being taken away, of being killed. Tears formed in her eyes as the massive, gray predator swooped down towards her. This was it. She will no longer be Ine, the proud officer of the Qua-Toynian military. She was ultimately to become the feed for this predator, an unsightly end to such an unsightly life. Her legs froze in place, the first to accept her fate of being taken away. Then, the rest of her body, before finally, her heart. I¡¯m sorry mother... She closed her eyes. Before long, she was to be nothing more than the predator¡¯s breakfast. Maybe at least her life will have served some purpose if the predator were to like her flesh. Whatever, she thought. She waited as the incessant buzzing of the predator got ever louder. However, in just a single second, the buzz peaked, then, as fast as the sound came, the volume suddenly reversed, and it got softer and softer. Huh? Feeling her limbs and body still intact, her feet still firmly on the uneven stone of the walls, Ine was at first dubious that she was spared, but the relief of being alive was greater than her suspicions. Opening her eyes, she was treated to an empty, blue southeastern sky, devoid of the shining gray predator. Even though she wanted to believe that it had been nothing but a mirage, the sound of its buzzing assured her that it existed and that it was still there. Turning around towards the direction where the sound was coming from, she spots its shining silhouette contrasting against the azure expanse of the sky. As it got smaller, Ine saw its shape change and, with it, its direction. It was now heading northeast, towards the empty ocean. As the gray flying object maneuvered with frightening speed, Ine¡¯s eyes, which were just moments ago tearing up from fear of death, had returned to that of a Qua-Toynian officer. Scanning the very contour of the object, its peculiarities, its attributes for any clues as to what it is or where it came from, Ine was at a loss. ¡°Commander!¡± Running up to her was Keith, who had now donned his armor, expecting a fight. Due to the weight of the primitive steel and constriction of leather wrappings, he was tired from the sprint, reflected in him trying to catch his breath. ¡°I... have never seen such an object before.¡± Ine commented as she continued to stare at the gray object that was rapidly disappearing from their sight, out towards the open sky to the northeast. Its shape was unlike any wyvern nor bird she had ever witnessed in her entire lifetime. She did hear of flying objects being used by the bigger nations to the west, where the great powers of the world resided, but she has never seen what they looked like. To her, Keith, and the rest of Myhark looking up at the thing, it was nothing short of alien. As quickly and as unwelcome as the alien object¡¯s arrival, it flew off into the clear morning skies to the north, back towards the ocean. Its eerie, almost mechanical-like buzzing had long faded away, but it remained to linger in their heads, forever imprinted by its horrifying appearance over the city. Its mysterious, gray body made of shining silver and rustless iron was striking, but it had already disappeared into the great blue. A chill ran down Ine¡¯s spine as she pondered on what were the ramifications of this unexpected, mortifying event. ¡°Dear Astarte...¡± As the sun continued to rise on the 19th Day of the fourth divine month of Apfrolde of the year 1639 on the Central Calendar, a new era was set to begin in this world, brought about by divine intervention that had shifted one of the most powerful nations of another world to this one. Chapter 1.5: Hakk艒itten As of April 22, 2022, this chapter has been rewritten Somewhere in Tokyo, Japan, 3:30 ¡°Ngh...¡± Five more minutes, he thought as he rolled around in his cool, comfortable bed while subconsciously motioning his hands to start groping around for the blanket that had evaded him while his body lay bare to the elements. Finally, his hands felt the soft fabric of the blanket and reflexively pulled it up for it to extend its warm embrace over his body. All of this while the annoying chime of the telephone had been ringing for the past few minutes, disturbing the somber atmosphere of the dark, cold bedroom. It wasn¡¯t unusual, but then five more minutes spent in rest wouldn¡¯t hurt, he tried to convince himself. However, the unending ting-a-ling of the telephone had already pulled him beyond his state of slumber and at this point, he was only trying to go back. Feeling the futility and at long last resigning to his fate, the man shed off his blanket and motioned his body to get up. ¡°Goddammit, what time is it?!¡± Despite his sleepy, flakey eyes, he got a good look at the red digits reflecting menacingly off the clock next to his bedpost. ¡°Fuck! It¡¯s half-past three! What the hell do they need?!¡± Entertaining his sleepy thoughts as he reached for the phone next to the clock, the man tried to wipe off the drowsiness from his eyes. Bringing the phone to his ear, he fixed his tone to its usual formality. ¡°This is Ambassador Woods speaking.¡± A familiar, feminine voice greeted him from beyond the unnatural replication synthesized through the receiver. ¡°Ambassador! I¡¯ve been trying to reach you!¡± ¡°Colette? Why did you call this early? Is it an emergency?¡± His formality loosened as soon as he recognized his secretary¡¯s voice. ¡°My apologies, Ambassador, but I¡¯m still at the embassy tidying things up...¡± Woods pinched the bridge of his nose as he recalled how industrious his secretary was and how much he felt she was being inconvenienced. ¡°Yes, and?¡± ¡°The embassy staff burning the midnight oil reported to me that they couldn¡¯t contact Washington, Hawaii, Guam, nor any of the other embassies in other countries like South Korea or the Philippines!¡± Woods¡¯s narrow, sleepy eyes widened in confusion, his first thoughts immediately going to how this might have happened. ¡°Did you try checking the lines? Maybe they¡¯re down?¡± ¡°We¡¯ve checked, Ambassador. Moreover, none of us could reach our friends and relatives overseas, not even those back home. We¡¯ve already received a call from the USFJ checking if we could contact CONUS since they too couldn¡¯t!¡± Hearing the last line, Woods finally snapped from his drowsiness. He couldn¡¯t recall an announcement for communications downtime this widespread. Either way, parts of their communication apparatus were beyond the Japanese¡¯s control, so they likely had little part in what had happened. He didn¡¯t want to jump to conclusions, so he decided to gather more information on the matter. ¡°Alright. I¡¯ll be down there in several minutes.¡± Lacking sleep due to a sudden call, the day had already begun in a disagreeable fashion. Putting the phone back, he spent a full minute in place, massaging his face in preparation for the possibly work-filled day that was to come. Then, he felt a light tugging force pulling his pajamas backward before a soft voice came from behind. ¡°Work?¡± Turning around, his wife Lou still lay half-asleep on her bed pillow, her closed eyes pointing directly towards his own. ¡°Yeah. Something¡¯s up. By the way, can you check if you can reach mother back in Portland?¡± ¡°Why? Aren¡¯t you not on speaking terms with her?¡± Woods scratched his head as he remembered how his mother-in-law screamed at him during a disagreement the last time they saw each other. ¡°...She¡¯s the first person that came to mind. Anyway, just go check, please?¡± Lou turned around and reached for her phone. Unlocking it, the bright white light of the phone¡¯s screen lit up her half-asleep face, forcing her already opening eyes to close once more at the sudden brightness shining down on her. When she tried reaching for her mother on her social media... ¡°Hm? I can¡¯t access it?... There¡¯s no internet?¡± Woods exhaled deeply, in relief for not having to talk to his mother-in-law and in exasperation for having one more problem to deal with. He got up from the bed, releasing himself from where he hoped to spend the next several hours. Navigating through the dark bedroom from memory, he found himself standing next to the tall, black wardrobe. As he opened its creaking, wooden panels, he spoke out to Lou. ¡°Thanks for that. Something¡¯s wrong with communications back at the embassy, although now it¡¯s starting to look a lot like the problem¡¯s widespread. I¡¯ll tell you more about it later, ¡®kay?¡± Having already put her phone back in place, Lou was on her way back to sleep. ¡°¡®Kaaay...¡± Woods silently left her wife to fulfill her own needs (and wants) for shuteye as he struggled through his coat. Buttoning the last button and fixing his blue tie on, he made one last pat-down throughout his entire person in a psychological bid to make sure he was ready. Grabbing his smartphone from the work desk next to the door, he then made his way out towards the garage. Embassy of the United States of America to Japan, 3:45 Ambassador Woods walked through the bright spaces of the embassy, which despite the early hours of 3:45 AM, was already starting to become lively with activity. While there was still not much staff present, they were already coming in as the situation around them continued to unravel. Still, it was only 15 minutes to 4 AM. The luminescent white lights emanating from the innumerable LED lights all across the embassy took their toll on Woods¡¯s aged, sleepy eyes. ¡°I wonder what in God¡¯s name happened...¡± Sifting through hurriedly uniformed men and women, perhaps only having reported in after being called back to work, Woods made his way towards his office. Just before he entered through the doors of his office, he was stopped by the petite figure of a woman coming to his side. Her droopy, bagged eyes and messily kept hair last fixed yesterday made it clear that she still hasn¡¯t gone home herself. ¡°Ambassador!¡± ¡°Colette! Go take some time off, will you? You look horrible...¡± Colette subconsciously fumbled through her hair in embarrassment as she took the position to take a jab at Woods herself. ¡°You too, Ambassador! Lieutenant General Strucker is on the phone!¡± After hearing that he was about to speak to the commander for US Forces Japan, Woods cleared his throat of any obstructions as he thanked his thoughtful secretary. Making his way through the familiar office room, he took a seat at his usual, comfortable chair before picking up the phone on his elegant office table. ¡°This is Ambassador Woods speaking.¡± Greeting him on the other end of the receiver was the stern voice of a woman that gave off an aura of authority. ¡°Good morning, Mr. Ambassador. Forgive me for calling you this early. I was hoping you¡¯d shed more light on this predicament we¡¯ve stumbled onto.¡± Leaning back on his office chair to entertain the remnants of drowsiness in his mind, Woods replied to the commander. ¡°I don¡¯t mind, Commander. However, I¡¯d like to point out that we too in the embassy are in the dark on this. We haven¡¯t received any prior notification from the Japanese nor Washington on a communications downtime.¡± Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. ¡°I see. How strange.¡± ¡°Do you have any more details regarding this anomalous communications blackout? We too are continuing to verify on our end what is going on, and I¡¯d rather not jump to conclusions before we have more to go around.¡± ¡°Rest assured, Mr. Ambassador, we have no indications of an imminent enemy attack from certain nations.¡± Woods chuckled as he sighed in relief at the prospect of not having to be in the frontlines of an emerging conflict in the Indo-Pacific. ¡°That¡¯s good to hear.¡± ¡°Still, we¡¯ve come upon even stranger facts in order to rule out the prospect of an attack.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± ¡°Aside from communications, our detection apparatuses have simultaneously stopped showing the radar profiles of the Asian continent to the east, the formations around the Sea of Okhotsk to the north, and so on. Only the main islands of Japan, the Ryukyu archipelago, the southern islands, and the Kurils have remained.¡± ¡°What?¡± Woods¡¯s eyes opened in surprise and confusion. What Commander Strucker had described was awfully specific for a scenario. He could not come up with an explanation as to why the rest of the land masses had disappeared save for the ones closest to Japan¡¯s home islands. It was so unbelievably eerie that he hoped he was still back home in his bed, dreaming away. ¡°Did you check for¨C¡± ¡°Yes, Mr. Ambassador. We have troubleshooted our equipment, and even when we did fix the few flaws we found, the situation has remained the same, unfortunately.¡± Woods could only think that they had been isolated, with the rest of the world had disappeared. Drops of sweat steadily began to trickle from his forehead as he began to imagine the repercussions of being cut off from the rest of the world. ¡°Surely we could try to contact them physically, right?¡± ¡°Regarding that, Mr. Ambassador. We¡¯ve already advised all elements we could contact that are on deployment to return to base immediately. We¡¯re currently trying to get them all back, as they report that their navigation systems were experiencing difficulties or were outright failing. What¡¯s more, however...¡± Woods could hear the hmm of the commander through the phone as if she was hesitating. After a few seconds, Strucker¡¯s voice once more permeated through the receiver. ¡°They have all reported that the ¡°skies were different¡± and that the ¡°horizon was further out.¡± This is corroborated by base personnel and other contacts we¡¯ve asked.¡± ¡°Wait, are you serious?¡± Woods swiveled on his office chair to look out the glass windows of his office. He turned his eyes upwards towards the night sky but found only empty, starless skies, owing to the immense light pollution emanating from one of the world¡¯s biggest metropolises. ¡°Yes, Mr. Ambassador. We¡¯re assuming the worst-case scenario wherein we¡¯ve been completely cut off from CONUS and our other assets in Guam, Hawaii, Korea, and so on. I¡¯m about to phone my counterparts in the SDF leadership regarding this matter to confirm what they know.¡± ¡°Alright, Commander. I¡¯ll call you back once we¡¯ve also checked in with the Japanese ministry on this.¡± Putting the phone back, Woods took a deep breath before exhaling a hearty amount of air. It probably won¡¯t be the last time he¡¯d sigh so deeply today, he thought. The information given to him by Commander Strucker was almost conclusive that they¡¯ve been cut off from the rest of the United States and the world¨Ca harrowingly frightening narrative. An attack from certain aggressor nations had been ruled out as well, but he still considered contacting the respective embassies of these nations to get confirmation whether or not they were behind this. Above all, however, he deemed it necessary to contact his Japanese contemporaries. Reaching back for his phone, he pressed the appropriate numbers on the dial to phone the Japanese ministry for foreign affairs. Yokosuka Naval Base, that same time ¡°Good Lord, where could the Commodore be?¡± Running through the dimly lit halls of one of the facilities in Yokosuka Naval Base, a naval officer was thoroughly checking through every nook and cranny for the Commodore. His exasperated grumbling and hurried actions mirrored the worried expression plastered all over his face. One of the commanders of the US Navy¡¯s Seventh Fleet based in Yokosuka was asking for the presence of their commodore, but so far, he was nowhere to be found in the facility. He scratched his head in frustration at his search¡¯s inability to produce the whereabouts of their commodore. Just as he was about to walk back in dejection to report an unsavory result, he caught a glance of a figure in the darkness off in the corner of his eye. Turning towards it, he saw the silhouette of a dark figure standing outside the building, and their back turned towards them. Looking closely, he made out the comparatively bright upper apparel of the figure, which corresponded with the white uniform that their commodore wore. Running out of the building towards the silhouette, the naval officer finally recognized the stature of the figure. ¡°Commodore Griffiths!¡± The commodore turned his head over to look at him, at long last exposing his recognizable ginger facial hair, visible even in the low light conditions that only the commodore would have. Finally, he thought, for he had found their commander. ¡°The Yanks are looking for you, sir!¡± Griffiths turned his head away from him. After a few seconds of silence, with only the sound of the gentle sloshing of harbor waves and the blowing in of the incoming sea breeze playing in the background, the commodore broke the silence with his coarse, Irish accent. ¡°So I¡¯ve heard. Worry not, I¡¯ve already talked to them. I actually told them I¡¯ll be out here.¡± He and the commodore looked out towards the harbor of Yokosuka. Populating the crowded docks of the naval base were the steel hulks of several US Navy warships alongside the Japanese Maritime Self Defense Force ships, the luminous lights of white, blue, and red peppered all across their hulls shining bright all throughout the otherwise dark, sleepy harbor. However, one of the ships closest to them dominated the display of military might in the harbor with its sheer girth, second only to the US Navy¡¯s gigantic floating minicities that were their supercarriers. Bright lights of blue and white shine from the two structures jutting out from the starboard side of its huge, wide, flat deck. Painted on one of them were the characters ¡°R08¡±, indicating that she was the HMS Queen Elizabeth, one of the Royal Navy¡¯s aircraft carriers. As part of her globe-trotting deployment, dubbed Operation Fortis, together with other international elements under the United Kingdom-led Carrier Strike Group 21, she was currently in Yokosuka in preparations for exercises around Japan with the JMSDF and the US Navy. However, fortune was not on their side when fate intervened in their plans. Griffiths looked on, the anxiety written all over his face was hidden from his subordinate as he felt the winds blowing in from the harbor. ¡°I¡¯ve come here to feel this for myself.¡± ¡°The... wind?¡± ¡°Yes. It¡¯s September, and in the Orient, autumn is already well underway. However...¡± Griffiths paused for a moment, taking in the feeling of the cold wind that was blowing against his person. However, the wind betrayed his expectations, carrying in its seemingly innocent gales a more sinister, graver truth. ¡°I¡¯ve been out here for a few minutes, and the wind... It¡¯s different from the dry air one would expect to come as the cold season looms over. No, this... This is far too humid for autumn. It¡¯s as if spring had come again...¡± Having spent a considerable amount of time outside during their stay in Yokosuka and in the many port calls he had had in Japan before, Griffiths knew what the cold, September wind that blew through the mouth of Tokyo Bay felt like. However, the wind that was blowing in today wasn¡¯t one he would recognize in this place and time. He then looked up towards the sky to the south, where there was less light pollution in comparison to the north, where the excessively bright lights of the bustling capital Tokyo lay. At this time and place, he expected to see a winter constellation such as Orion high up in the sky. However, instead of the easily recognizable pattern of stars that made up Orion, all he saw in that patch of the night sky was an unfamiliar jumble of stars of different colors and brightness in places they were not supposed to be. ¡°Do you recognise any of them?¡± ¡°I¡¯m afraid not, sir...¡± ¡°Then we have our answers.¡± The commodore instantly turned about-face and walked back towards the facility. The officer, too, turned and followed him. Griffiths continued to talk as they headed for the American commander that had called him. ¡°While man has the ability to cut off our communications outside this land, only the Lord could change the seasons and rewrite the entire story of the skies above us.¡± Aside from the poetic delivery that echoed Griffiths¡¯s tendency for showmanship, there too were hints of worry and concern hidden in his words. Whatever it was that was causing this seems to be beyond their realm of control and definitely beyond their own understanding. In any case, its effects on them were tangible and real, and they knew that they had to do something. God has made His move, and now it was their turn to play their hand. Ministry of Foreign Affairs, that same time ¡°My apologies, Ambassador Woods, but we currently have no definitive answers as to what¡¯s causing this communications blackout. I assure you, we will get back to you once we have more information.¡± Dropping the call, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Agano Kenzo, buried his exhausted face into the palms of his hands as he let out a long sigh. He had just reported in after being summoned by the ambassadors of some nations who asked for his presence. However, all he could do was offer blank statements and turn them down, for he, too, doesn¡¯t know what was happening. Leaning back on his chair, sweat trickled down his brow as he fiddled with his fingers in an effort to cope with the situation. ¡°Damn it... I need food.¡± Specifically, his stomach craved for the tempting, sour goodness of an umeboshi plum. He had not yet eaten his breakfast after all. Just as he was about to stand up from his chair to search for food, one of his aides burst into the office. Beyond the exhaustion dotted throughout the man¡¯s face, Agano could tell that there was anxiety. ¡°I¡¯ve checked, Minister! We can¡¯t reach any of our diplomatic missions elsewhere!¡± He expected it, but the shock was more than what he could hide from his expression. ¡°What?! Are you doubly sure?!¡± ¡°Absolutely!¡± Agano was at a loss. He wanted to leave the building and dump this responsibility onto his aides, as was common for ministers, but he felt conflicted. He knew he could not return to sleep with the amount of uncertainty hounding him and his countrymen. He had already dipped his hands into the mess, and now there was little merit in turning back. Then, his secretary hurriedly rushed into his office. ¡°Minister! You¡¯re being summoned to the Prime Minister¡¯s residence! All agencies and ministries are being gathered for an emergency meeting!¡± A sliver of light shone in Agano¡¯s eyes. Finally, he thought, as he could now move on to another responsibility. Although if the situation is serious enough to warrant an emergency meeting with all ministers and agency heads, then this was definitely more than what he could handle alone. Even though he wasn¡¯t fully absolved of his obligation, he found solace in the fact that he didn¡¯t have to face this predicament alone. With a heavy heart and little hope for the upcoming day, Agano made preparations to depart for the Prime Minister¡¯s residence. Chapter 2: A Case of Isekai As of April 22, 2022, this chapter has been rewritten Prime Minister¡¯s residence, 3:50 ¡°T-That can¡¯t be...¡± Panicked hushes and murmurs with a dash of tears and groans perpetuated among the hastily worn suits and public clothing of the Japanese government heads gathered together for an emergency meeting that was supposed to discuss a response to a perceived attack. However, the picture shown on the big, flat-screen mounted onto the wall at the other end of the long room tells a different story. Surrounding the familiar silhouette of the Japanese archipelago were unfamiliar contours of never-before-seen landscapes. Less than an hour ago, the lines that draw out the Korean Peninsula, Sakhalin, Taiwan, and the features of the Asian mainland to the east were suddenly replaced by these alien geographical locations, as if the radars themselves had malfunctioned. However, this story was not an isolated incident; all capable radars across the archipelago tell of the same event. One of the suited men seated amongst the row of Japanese gentlemen continued talking. ¡°Moving forward, multiple and independent on-the-ground observations compiled by the JMA (Japan Meteorological Agency) have confirmed the impossible: the horizon is 5.54km out and the stars in the sky are completely different from those found in our star charts.¡± The display on the screen then changed to two pictures of a starry night meant to be compared with one another. The left picture had a subtitle that said ¡°Supposed Sky as of 3:28,¡± while the one on the right had ¡°Actual Sky as of 3:28¡±. The reception was more or less the same, with hushes, whispers, and exasperated expressions with undeniable hints of anxiety and worry. None of the people present, not even those that were well-informed in the realm of astronomy, recognize the alien positions and characteristics of the stars seemingly jumbled together in random placements. As far as they were concerned, this was not their night sky. The suited man that was talking, the head of the JMA, turned to his fellow officials. ¡°I think these are definitive proof that we are not under attack and that the hiccups in communications and early detection apparatuses were brought about by something else.¡± The officials all turned their gazes to the joint chief of staff, expecting a reply from the man which would either put them on the warpath or doom them to an uncertain fate. The joint chief of staff slowly turned his gaze away from the screen with a worried expression, one that was more disturbed than when he initially surmised that it was an attack. ¡°...I can say with confidence that none of these things are possible with any sort of weapon, current or imaginable.¡± The officials erupted into a flurry, debating amongst themselves in a panic as their understanding struggled to explain what was happening. The room was once more filled with upstart noise and hot air. ¡°Perhaps a coordinated cyberattack on all fronts by someone? A terrorist cell or North Korea, maybe?¡± ¡°That¡¯s already ruled out, though! The JMA has already confirmed that the sky above us itself has changed! We can go outside and check for ourselves if you want!¡± ¡°Do you understand what that could possibly mean? Especially with the other nations practically unreachable... meaning they¡¯re gone?!¡± ¡°I-I don¡¯t want to imagine that if anything...¡± Everyone started reaching an unsavory, unpalatable consensus: they were now isolated at some point in space, their allies nowhere to be found, and a globalization-dependent economy entirely cut off from its innumerable lifelines. It was a chill-inducing, horrifying prospect¨Cone that was getting more real and undeniable by the millisecond. The Japanese officials were paralyzed in a never-ending cycle of throwing ideas back and forth, inwardly denying the reality they did not want to face. For them, this reality meant a slow, painful death for a proud nation with a colorful people and history, a fate that, despite their power as elected government officials of a powerful state, they are completely powerless to steer away from. As the big wigs of Japan continued to hurl what-ifs at one another, the 78-year-old man sitting at the other end of the table raised his voice in a manner that betrayed his supposed frailty. ¡°That is enough!¡± The resounding masculine voice of the man, Prime Minister Hideaki Takamori, elected head of government of the state of Japan, resounded across the long room, effectively silencing the substanceless exchange of the government officials. He then promptly curled his right hand into a fist to try and hold back his frustration, a worrying emotion to have for someone his age. ¡°I have decided not to listen to useless talks, and as the head of this government, I bid you heed my words.¡± The officials swallowed in shame as their heads hung low in dejection. Perhaps it wasn¡¯t fruitful to beat around the bush after all. ¡°Now, ruling out an external attack, this seems more like a typical case of... isekai.¡± A peculiar, unexpected word came out of Takamori¡¯s mouth, which earned the attention and subsequent cringe of the officials. A term that they¡¯ve only ever associated with otaku culture and fantasy works of all kinds¨Cisekai. In English, it means ¡°another world¡±, and what Takamori suggests to have happened is in line with what they were observing, although it still meant that a horrible fate awaits Japan. ¡°Can we have the display for the radars again, please?¡± At Takamori¡¯s request, the display on the screen was returned to that of the radar contours earlier. ¡°There we go. Alright, so with the normal, breathable atmospheric conditions we have, as made obvious by us still breathing, and with the seas remaining largely unchanged at a glance, it would seem that this new world we found ourselves in is similar to Earth.¡± The officials scratched their heads in doubt, still struggling to accept Takamori¡¯s suggestion that they were in a new world. The JMA head poked his head out of the row of suits to look at the prime minister directly. ¡°Yes, that appears to be the case, although we will continue gathering more data along with our sister organizations to clear this matter.¡± Takamori nodded in agreement. He then raised his left hand to point towards the screen. ¡°Those landmasses close to our western periphery... We need to scout them out immediately, if not for resource gathering expeditions, then maybe civilization.¡± The room once again erupted into a heated discussion regarding Takamori¡¯s remarks. If there were to be civilizations in this different world, they would basically be aliens to them and were likely to be hostile. As such, there was some opposition to the idea. ¡°Prime minister, you do understand what consequences contacting alien civilizations would entail, right?¡± Takamori shook his head. ¡°I know, but our goal is to identify potential resource hotspots that will help keep our nation afloat. To do that, we must survey these locations.¡± The officials started sweating at Takamori¡¯s insistence, their fears valid and grounded in understandable conjecture. ¡°And if we find civilization and they¡¯re hostile?¡± Cornered and out of answers, Takamori scratched his head as he slowly opened his mouth to talk. ¡°We won¡¯t know till we check, but as it stands, we won¡¯t last a week under our current circumstances.¡± A collective sigh floated all across the room. While Takamori¡¯s statement wasn¡¯t necessarily accurate, it was very close to the truth: Japan isn¡¯t going to last. As the officials each held both of their hands together in prayer, hoping that the situation would reverse itself, some of them began accepting their ugly reality. ¡°Well then, I think a nationwide state of emergency is warranted, yes?¡± Takamori said out loud flatly. The row of heads on both of his flanks all simultaneously turned to look at him with puzzled, stressed, and aggravated faces. The last thing they needed was a population in complete panic. Some of the officials began speaking up, their hands quivering as they imagined Tokyo being besieged by the relentless clamoring of scared and angry citizens. ¡°Prime minister... I don¡¯t think that¡¯s a good idea.¡± ¡°With all due respect, I believe we should be avoiding a general panic.¡± Takamori leaned forward, his visibly tired eyes seemingly burning with impatience. ¡°With a situation on this unprecedented scale, it is a herculean, perhaps even impossible, task to try and prevent general panic from breaking out. There is no hope in covering up the new horizon nor the new sky, for we are not gods. The people have to know that we are taking this seriously!¡± While they agreed with the prime minister¡¯s points, the officials leaned on caution, disagreeing with Takamori¡¯s hastiness. What if the situation were to reverse and everything goes back to normal? ¡°I agree, but prime minister, we currently don¡¯t have much to go around regarding what has happened. We need more information before doing something so drastic.¡± Takamori looked down as he digested the official¡¯s statement. For a few seconds, he caressed the aged wrinkles along his jawline, groaning for every moment he spent begrudgingly accepting the cards they''d been dealt. ¡°Fine. But then that goes with the survey of our nearby surroundings. We must find definitive proof to confirm what we¡¯ve been fearing.¡± He then turned his steely gaze towards the head of the JMA, who subconsciously twitched when their eyes met. ¡°Continue with your data gathering. We must know by 9 AM!¡± Yes, he replied in a speedy reply, followed by a deep bow that almost saw his forehead colliding with the white, hard surface of the table. Takamori then turned his gaze to the faces on his left, his eyes singling out the contour of a woman among the row of men. ¡°Minister Okada!¡± The black-haired, mid-40s woman straightened her back at the prime minister¡¯s barking of her name. As the Minister of Defense, she needed to present a stern personality that reflects the nature of her work. ¡°Yes, prime minister?¡± ¡°Are our patrol assets ready for departure?¡± Maintaining the same poker face in front of the intimidating tone of Takamori, she responded with equal flatness. ¡°As always, prime minister.¡± ¡°Good, they will need to be dispatched for reconnaissance. We can discuss the particulars later.¡± The meeting continued as the ministers and agency heads began pitching action plans on what they will do next regarding their unexpected circumstances. Ministry of Foreign Affairs, 8:15 To their surprise, slivers of light began leaking out of the much farther horizon to the east, as a familiar, comfortable warmth radiated from the bright luminescent mass that slowly rose above the oceans. Wherever they now were in the universe, a similar star to their sun also rose from the east, a comforting fact of life to the people of the land of the rising sun. As a new day dawned on their pressing predicament, a white man, a foreigner to the Japanese, bided his time waiting in one of the conference rooms in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. His Caucasian skin complemented his natural light gray irises and striking blonde hair, the stereotypical Westerner. However, just like his Japanese counterparts, his face was riddled with anxiety and unease, and the ceaseless tapping of his fingers on the wooden table reflected not only his impatience but also his mild temper. The horizontal tricolor flag of white, azure, and scarlet pinned on his lapel highlighted the nation he represented. At long last, the monochromatic door to the conference room opened, and in came two Japanese Foreign Affairs representatives in suits as sharp as his. Standing up from his seat to welcome them, his tall stature towering over his Asian counterparts allowed him to look down on them as they shook hands physically. However, if reality is indeed how it currently is, the only position from which he could look down on his Japanese counterparts was his height, for the Russian position was anything but strong. Sitting down opposite him, one of the Japanese men opened the conversation in English. ¡°First of all, on behalf of the government of Japan, I would like to apologize for our aircraft¡¯s accidental intrusion into your airspace.¡± He, along with his companion, lowered their heads in apology. ¡°I will acknowledge, but in turn, allow me to offer an apology on behalf of the Russian government for the incident in Iturup. It was a regrettable mistake on our part.¡± The Russian man, too, lowered his head in a show of remorse. Knowing that their position was that of a precarious one, incidents that have a possibility of escalating diplomatic tensions were an unwelcome and frustrating prospect. He also knew that he had to assume that his Japanese counterparts knew this. After the Russian man apologized, the Japanese then raised their heads, their facial expressions showing diplomatic warmth and hospitality. ¡°We will accept your apology. Now, may we inquire regarding your concern, Ambassador Voronin?¡± Vyacheslav Voronin, Ambassador of Russia to Japan, decided on being straightforward with his concerns. ¡°As you may know by now, my embassy could no longer contact any of our diplomatic missions abroad, including the government in Moscow. We¡¯ve also received complaints from some Russian citizens that they could no longer contact their families back home. Only those in Itur¨²p and Kunash¨ªr remain, who then have told us that they¡¯ve only been able to confirm that Khabomai and Shikotan are still accounted for. May I inquire as to what the Japanese government knows regarding these anomalous circumstances?¡± As the other Japanese man finished writing down what Voronin said, the other looked at him with a now neutral expression before replying. ¡°Unfortunately, the Japanese government is yet to issue any official statements regarding this pressing predicament, but what we are permitted to share with our foreign counterparts is that we too could not contact any of our diplomatic missions abroad. Rest assured, we are currently working on shedding light on the mysteries surrounding this anomaly.¡± A slight pout surfaced on Voronin¡¯s face as his eyes darted towards the table, having expected nothing less from what he got. ¡°Alright. I really hope this situation ends.¡± He then slowly swiveled the chair to the left, turning his face and eyes directly to the receiving end of the sunlight emerging from beyond the blinders. Even from the narrow slits, he could notice that the horizon was much farther away than he was used to. ¡°If God is indeed merciful...¡± Voronin said, still staring at the horizon. The Japanese Foreign Affairs representative shook off his own diplomatic facade, revealing stressed wrinkles all over his face as he sighed. ¡°We will need all the divine help we can get...¡± In a different room, that same time ¡°We are telling you that we are hiding nothing. We are still trying to find out on our end what¡¯s going on.¡± In another meeting room elsewhere, a less diplomatic exchange was taking place. Two Japanese Foreign Affairs representatives were in hot seats as the other side stood tall with their remarks. Their words were backed by firepower that more than equals Japan¡¯s own arsenal. One of the men on the other side, wearing a sharp military uniform with an intimidating show of three shining stars on his collar, continued pressing for answers from the Japanese representatives. ¡°This is an emergency that facilitates a necessity for cooperation between our nations. I believe that¨C¡± Cutting his remarks off was the sound of the door opening and swinging. The people present in the room turned their attention to the door, where an Asian man in a suit stood. Seeing who it was, the Japanese representatives immediately rose from their chairs and bowed to the man. ¡°Minister Agano!¡± The Caucasian row of faces on the other side of the table followed, standing up as they maintained their attention on Agano Kenzo, the Minister of Foreign Affairs. Agano briefly turned to his subordinates before facing the other party. ¡°I¡¯ll handle this.¡± Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. Bowing for a second time, the two Japanese representatives then proceeded to quickly make themselves scarce. Minister Agano then walked up to the table, extending his right hand in greeting to the man in the center, the only one that was not in a military uniform. ¡°Ambassador Woods.¡± Ambassador Francis Woods, the highest diplomatic representative of the United States to Japan, returned the gesture by extending his own right hand and shaking Agano¡¯s. ¡°Minister.¡± Agano then shook the hands of the military men flanking Ambassador Woods before all of them took their seats on opposite sides of the table. The brown-haired man with the sharpest look, Lt. General Kenneth Houston, continued from where he left off. ¡°As I was saying, I believe that there should be greater cooperation between our nations in this time of... ridiculous uncertainty.¡± Despite his calm look, Agano could feel the distrust and pressure emanating from the Lt. General¡¯s demeanor. What was supposed to be a respectable suggestion for mutual, beneficial teamwork sounded more like a demand for more information, pressed out of a man who¡¯s aware that they were currently not in their best position. Agano subtly darted his eyes, scanning the faces of his American counterparts for the same message. As it stands, if Prime Minister Takamori were to be correct in his supposition that Japan had indeed found itself at the other end of the isekai stick, then the United States Armed Forces assets and personnel on their soil would be a massive problem for both sides. Seeing the faces of Woods and the other military officers, their serious glares signaled to Agano that they knew this fact. ¡°I believe we are currently doing that, Lt. General. Japan is currently sharing what it knows with the United States, and as disappointing as it may be, what we gave you is all we know.¡± The American side let out a collective sigh in dismay, burdened by the possibility that this was the reality that they were going to face. Ambassador Woods recovered first, reclining slightly backward as he slowly started to accept their unsavory fate. ¡°If that¡¯s that, then I guess we¡¯ll have to keep our channels open for developments. If the situation does not improve, then we¡¯ll have to discuss the major serious issues, preferably within the day.¡± Woods looked down as he scratched the back of his head, mirroring the downward glances of the senior military officials next to him. Just before they could disperse, the door to the room once again opened, and in came a Japanese woman in office dress. ¡°Minister Agano, the mission we sent northeast is about to make contact with one of the suspected civilizations.¡± Somewhere northwest of Tsushima, 8:25 It was already well into the day, and the alien sun had already risen far above the longer horizon. A blue sky spanned the entirety of half of the visual hemisphere, with a vast ocean of deep azure occupying the latter half, its white, billowing waves rolled as it submitted to the weak disturbances in the wind. The alien world that Japan had found itself was not so alien from Earth. However, the strikingly white, metallic vessel plowing through the serene waters of the unknown ocean was by contrast exotic to this world. On either side of the sailless vessel was an inscription written in the unfamiliar script of the Latin alphabet: ¡°Japan Coast Guard.¡± ¡°Dammit... We¡¯re still not back.¡± Standing on the deck next to the railings of the patrol vessel Yashima, diplomat Tanaka Noboru exhaled a hearty sigh. Despite it being an alien world, he could still breathe fine, and preliminary tests from laboratories even tell them that there was nothing harmful in the air. He wondered if this was really just an unrealistic copy of their Earth, rather than a unique world that was different from their expectations. To Tanaka, one fact supported this assumption. ¡°An Edo Japan look-alike... What in the goddamn hell is this world even?¡± He looked off far to the northwest where their ship was headed, squinting his eyes as the blue light from the sky overwhelmed his pupils. His thoughts returned to a few hours ago when he and some Foreign Affairs lackeys were hastily chosen to represent Japan on a diplomatic mission to make first contact with a civilization inhabiting a landmass several hundred kilometers northwest of the island of Tsushima. According to photographs taken by the Maritime Self Defense Force¡¯s patrol planes, there were towns and cities on the landmass, but they were all surprised when the pictures depicted a mishmash of architecture reminiscent of the late Edo to the early Meiji. After the crew had reported that what populated these settlements were humans, or at least very close to what homo sapiens individuals look like, the government had decided to make contact with them. With them betting on the hope that the coincidence of their Japan-like appearance also applies to the spoken language, Tanaka felt that this was a hopeless shot in the dark. ¡°This better fucking work...¡± ¡°Swearing is not diplomatic, Tanaka-san.¡± His aide approached him, chiding him for his foul mouth. Then, he revealed to him why he had approached him. ¡°The Coast Guard personnel told us that we should be seeing them soon.¡± Hearing this, Tanaka turned his attention back to the northwestern horizon, scanning for abnormalities standing out from the blurry outline of the point where the sea meets the sky. Scrutinizing every point his eyes could make out, Tanaka eventually caught sight of an emerging difference. Not long after, the simple silhouette turned into one with color and shape, that of half-furled sails flying on the masts of a wooden ship. As soon as the figure of its bow could be discerned, he saw that it was facing away from them. At this point, the people on board the sailship could also see them. With the prospect of contact with an unknown, alien civilization close at hand, Tanaka¡¯s hands started to quiver. ¡°Let¡¯s get their attention, just in case they haven¡¯t noticed us yet.¡± Tanaka then turned towards the bridge, where he met the gaze of the ship¡¯s captain. After giving him a simple nod and his resolute stare, the ship¡¯s captain returned the nod before turning to one of his crew. ¡°Get on the blinker!¡± One of the Coast Guard personnel ran up to the Yashima¡¯s blinker, turning its powerful light on before pointing its flashing end towards the direction of the sailship. The personnel then began flashing a series of long and short blinks, repeatedly transmitting a message in Morse code to an alien sailship whose sailors probably won¡¯t understand it. In any case, the flashing of lights wasn¡¯t meant to send a message, but rather to try and get their attention with it. The Yashima patrol vessel continued to advance in speed as its crew continued to send gibberish signals through its blinker. Tanaka, his aide, and the other personnel on the bridge continued to monitor the sailship¡¯s reactions through their own binoculars. Trying his best to maintain his stable posture to keep the binoculars thoroughly pointed towards the sailship, Tanaka was about to give in from the strain when he noticed the ant-like silhouettes of the ship¡¯s crew moving about as the ship¡¯s sails unfurled even more. Before long, the ship¡¯s hull begins to swivel, its illustrious, painted bow slowly turning to face their direction. ¡°Looks like they¡¯ve noticed us.¡± Tanaka remarked as he lowered the binoculars to look at the now smaller sailship off in the distance. He examined the approaching antiquated vessel; the rapidity of its growth likely owes more to the speed of their ship than that of the sailship. He and many of his fellow Earthlings were not expecting a relic from the late age of sail to be their first contact with an alien civilization, which from years of media exposure molded their expectations to that of shiny, bewildering, flying saucers baffling their sense of how things work. In a lame, unfunny, yet unique twist found only in writing and such, it¡¯s likely that these alien people will be the ones gawking at their shiny, bewildering, Coast Guard vessel that baffles their sense of how things work. It does make sense, for in their eyes, they were the aliens. The Yashima slowed down to a crawl as the distance between the two vessels crept within single-digit kilometers of each other. From where Tanaka stood, he could already make out the figures of the alien people with his own, naked eyes¨Cand they could not be any less otherworldly. They had fairly sunkissed skin underneath their various ragged covering and clothing, and they didn¡¯t seem to possess any features they would not expect from a human. As the two vessels inched closer to each other, he could now make out their faces: shocked, confused, gawking, and above all, suspicious. Many of those on the sail ship''s deck rushed to the bow section, crowding at the edge to get a closer look at their beautiful, white ship angelically standing out from the eternal blue. He found comfort that even if they were from different worlds, their facial expressions and mannerisms were still intelligible. If only their spoken tongue were the same. At around a kilometer from each other, the sailing ship began to turn, swinging its bow slightly to starboard. Mirroring the gesture, the Yashima¡¯s crew had its pivot to the starboard. Many more sailors lumped onto the port side of the bow, pointing their fingers and squinting their now visible eyes at the Japanese vessel. Tanaka knew that he needed to make contact but was wary of the possible hostile intentions of the alien people. With what little information and time they had, it was basically a gamble, and at stake was the entire nation of Japan. Cursing his luck that he had to be the one to cast their lot, Tanaka then proceeded to get their attention. Standing at the edge of the railings on the port side of the bow section, he waved his arms as high and as obvious as he could, trying to make himself be noticed. ¡°Oi!!!¡± Tanaka shouted. His gamble showed results almost immediately. Those on the sailing ship reacted to his gesture, and after some moments of confusion looking at each other, they started waving back to Tanaka. ¡°Holy shit. Can¡¯t believe we¡¯re waving hellos to literal aliens.¡± His aide snickered from behind him. Tanaka then changed his gestures, shifting his arms forward to repeatedly curl them backward, signaling to beckon the sailing ship to come closer. The sailors responded by copying his gesture while some ran to the ship¡¯s rigging to unfurl back the sails. Satisfied with this response, he turned back to the bridge and shouted to the captain. ¡°Can you get us closer?¡± A response came in the sense of inertia as the ship began to accelerate. The two seagoing vessels, bringing with them representatives of beings from different worlds, crept closer and closer. After several minutes of eyeing each other from their respective ships, they were finally virtually next to each other, lined up in parallel. The people on the two ships looked at each other, eyeing the others¡¯ seemingly irreconcilable peculiarities and differences, but also noticing the strange familiarity between themselves. At long last, both of them could see each other for what they were: humans with emotions and assumptions. Despite the extreme difference in their vessels and apparel, they still saw familiar faces of anxiety, suspicion, hesitation, and curiosity in each other. Being a diplomat, it was Tanaka¡¯s duty to bridge together both of their peoples and their worlds. Their material, tangible vessels had given them the ability to get close to one another, their human curiosity fueling the drive to make it possible. Their part in this scene was over, and now the one that will permanently connect the two worlds, our main star, was about to emerge. Tanaka knew that his role had come, and his words shall be the ones to cement this moment in history. But then, the world threw him a ball he could never have caught. ¡°Vessel of unknown origin! Identify yourselves, where you come from, and your destination! This is just a routine inspection to combat illicit piratical acts!¡± A burly man standing on the deck of the sailing ship shouted in a gibberish language. Barring the yell, the man¡¯s physique, still visibly well-built underneath the dark blue, gaudy overcoat he wore, allowed him to stand out from the rest of the sailors. His unintelligible words lingered in the Japanese¡¯s minds, just as much as his intimidating, sun kissed face gave them feelings of caution. ¡°Fuck...¡± Tanaka murmured to his aide, his head lowered in shattered expectations. Alien communication, even with familiar faces, is just as difficult as they expected. Standing behind his aide were several middle-aged men in varied civilian clothing as if they¡¯ve come to enjoy the hot sunlight shining down on them. Tanaka looked up and eyed them, recognizing that they were already hard at thought processing something. ¡°Thank you for coming with us, professors. Did what they say make any sense?¡± ¡°Our pleasure to be here, but I¡¯m afraid we¡¯re all at a loss on what language they¡¯re speaking. The most we can infer is that they appear to be issuing some sort of command.¡± Tanaka scratched the back of his head before turning back to the array of now-suspicious faces looking at him from the other vessel. Now that they were this close, he was able to spot multiple black cylindrical objects arrayed around the deck. All logic pointed to the conclusion that these were cannons, the old muzzle-loading kind, their hollow bores bared directly against the belly of the Yashima. The stakes couldn¡¯t be any higher, for now, they know with a high degree of confidence that the other party was armed. Unfortunately for Tanaka and his fellows, they did not know what sort of command was issued to them, let alone whether or not they should follow it. He did not have many options, but just like his lackluster breakfast earlier this morning, none of the alternatives were easy to swallow. Seeing the impatience in full display on the sailors¡¯ faces, Tanaka swiftly settled on his native tongue to speak to them, probably as a personal gesture of honesty, which he hoped the other party might realize. ¡°Good morning, gentlemen! I¡¯m afraid we can¡¯t understand what you¡¯re saying, for we ourselves are not from these parts!¡± Tanaka yelled, primarily because of the still spacious distance in between them. His reply earned unexpected results. The sailors looked at one another, talking amongst themselves in hushed chatter soft enough to be concealed underneath the sloshing of ocean waves. Their reaction was baffling; Tanaka felt it within him that it was a different kind of confusion. Unfortunately for him and his companions, the behaviors of their counterparts yielded no more clues for what was going to happen next. Then, the burly sailor from a while ago yelled again, still wearing his intimidating disposition. ¡°How is it that you can speak the mother tongue, foreigners? Identify yourselves this instant!¡± Wait, what the fuck?! While the sailor¡¯s yell was still being processed in their heads, their reflexive eureka moment joy had the Japanese looking at one another. Tanaka¡¯s baffled yet overjoyed eyes met with those from the professors and his aides. For a good second, they stood there in silence, perfectly aware of what had happened yet finding it difficult to believe. One of the professors was the first to break the staring contest. ¡°That was without a doubt Japanese. It had imperfections, variations, and some influences from the language they used a while ago, but it was intelligibly Japanese!¡± The other professor added his own remarks. ¡°It¡¯s very old modern Japanese. I advise you to use very formal speech and minimize Western loanwords.¡± With that in mind, Tanaka turned back, facing the path ahead that now seemed clearer than ever. Accepting his role in how this story unfolds, he spoke up. ¡°Our sincerest apologies, gentlemen! We know not of the mother tongue you speak of, but allow me to say that I am speaking in my native tongue. We have come from the country of Japan. May we inquire regarding the banner under which you identify yourself with?¡± The burly sailor then cackled, his deep, hearty laugh echoing unobstructed throughout the open ocean. The Japanese were confused by this response, but before they could begin pondering on what to make of it, the sailor spoke once more. ¡°Japan¡±? I¡¯ve never heard of such a country, although if anything, it sounds an awful lot like a certain mythical place. Whatever! You men have found yourselves near the waters of the proud Kingdom of Fenn! State your business and destination so that we might send you on your way!¡± Finally, they had a name: the kingdom of Fenn. Judging from how well armed they were and how they aired their disposition, Tanaka and his aides concluded amongst themselves that they were working for the Fennese state. Additionally, they didn¡¯t seem to be tense and hostile either. After some internal deliberation on whether to maintain his honesty, Tanaka chose to be frank. ¡°Our destination is your kingdom, my good sir! I am an official diplomatic representative of my nation, and we would like to reach out, in good faith, to the kingdom of Fenn.¡± ¡°An envoy, huh? That can be arranged. We just need to confirm some things before we could allow you to enter our waters further.¡± ¡°My sincerest thanks, good sir!¡± Tanaka then turned to his aide, his facial muscles tense and its creases rife with sweat. Then, a huge puff of air exited his mouth, followed by an exasperated sigh. The others with him joined his concert as their gamble, at long last, paid off. The long road to keeping Japan afloat has only just begun. Far north of Myhark, 7:40 ¡°Keep following the trail, men!¡± Midori yelled, reiterating the command he had given them a while back. Standing on the deck of the carrack he¡¯s been given command of, he strokes his thick, blonde beard, keeping it still against the occasional breeze. Above his and his men¡¯s heads were the carrack¡¯s sails, its canvas painted a calm green with the traditional motif for the goddess Astarte imposed over it, identifying them as a naval vessel of Qua-Toyne¡¯s maritime forces. They haven¡¯t been issued any special orders, having the only ship been deployed as part of some mundane, routine patrol. However, the urgency in their actions and expressions begged to differ. Midori looked up, his line of sight veering past the rigging of his carrack and higher towards the bright, blue sky. There, in between the occasional lone puff of water vapor, were a pair of unnaturally straight, white lines drawn across the heavens. The Qua-Toynian carrack, steered by its crew, made itself parallel to the lines drawn above. As for why they were following these lines, Midori himself was conflicted. He remembers what they were doing about half an hour ago. Half an hour ago, they were on patrol some several dozen leagues north of the city of Myhark. His men were mostly lax in their duties, as there was little traffic to expect towards the far north, for most of them would be following the coastline of the Philades continent to the north to make the crossing to Rodenius near Altaras. For some time now, the Lourians have been beating the drums of war next door, but if they were to expect an attack from the sea, it would be limited to the coast. In essence, the only things they¡¯d anticipate to find in such a remote area are unruly sea creatures and the occasional brave sailors who¡¯d hunt them down for a living. Half an hour ago, he too was just lazing about, standing watch over some of his men playing a card game they had learned from the traders back in Myhark. His first mate was about to nail the game and probably win the other guy¡¯s share of rum for the week when he heard a buzzing sound. It was akin to that of an insect flying next to his ear, but it was far louder. He looked around and saw the equally perplexed faces of his men. Before long, the buzzing had gotten so loud that it sounded as if it were approaching them. He and his men subconsciously turned their heads up, and before they knew it, a strange white bird had zoomed past the towering masts of their carrack. Its appearance startled them, but it was so fast that it only revealed itself for a moment before disappearing behind the sails of their ship. Midori and his men ran through the deck towards the direction it flew, arriving at one end of their ship. There, they saw it rapidly shrinking into the sky, its unnatural, unwavering wings getting shorter by the moment. The buzzing followed suit, its volume no longer as ear-piercing as before. Besides its exotic appearance, which defied their internal images of flying objects such as wyverns and birds, it left behind two trails of white behind its wings, leaving them to linger in the sky above them. However, Midori and his crew had similar hunches. They felt that what they had just seen was no ordinary large bird. Its incessant buzzing still rang in their heads, even though it had already disappeared from view. It gave them a sense of terror and confusion, born from the difficulty of not knowing what they were dealing with. While Midori had wanted to dismiss it as some apparition, the fact that everyone else saw it gave credence to its reality. However, what really convinced him to take it seriously was the direction from where it appeared. Following the trail, their navigator had deduced that it had come from the south, with a high possibility that it had come from the vicinity of Myhark itself. He remembers the sweat pouring down his back, soaking everything, down to the top of his undergarments. If the unknown bird had come from Myhark, something dire must have happened there, probably necessitating their presence. However, with the nature of their patrols, they were the only ones in that patch of ocean, so it was likely that they were the only ones that had seen where it was going. Before anything else, he had his communications officer inquire the status of the city through the manacomms, before transmitting a report of what they had seen back to their headquarters in Myhark arsenal. Then, he was faced with a dilemma: do they return to Myhark with the assumption that they needed help, or do they follow the bird? He then opened his eyes, his choice from half an hour ago still bearing no fruit. They were following the trail left behind by the bird, but it appeared that it was slowly dissipating away. If they were to be ordered to turn back, they¡¯d probably lose track of the bird completely. Then... ¡°Captain!¡± The hoarse voice of his communications officer perturbed the soundless atmosphere. Midori turned to see him and went straight to the point. ¡°What did they say?¡± ¡°The bird did fly over the city, but it did not do anything and just left. They¡¯ve reported the incident to the capital and are following up on orders, but they¡¯ve told us that we should continue following it and ascertain its origin.¡± A grin subconsciously appeared on Midori¡¯s face as he felt relieved by his decision¡¯s outcome. The fact that nothing had happened to Myhark also took some weight off his chest, and he sighed deeply before turning to face north¨Cwhere the bird had disappeared off to. ¡°Now, what insidious tree has this bird made its nest upon?¡± Hot on the trail of the mysterious avian that grazed them and Myhark¡¯s skies, the Qua-Toynian carrack continued on its pursuit. Chapter 2.5: State of Emergency As of April 22, 2022, this chapter has been rewritten Prime Minister¡¯s residence, Tokyo, 10:30 Ah, shit. Emerging out into the bright lights of the conference room, Prime Minister Takamori Hideaki was slightly caught by surprise by the barrage of camera flashes raining down on him. Recovering from this slight quip, he promptly bent his back over to bow to the rows upon rows of news media and reporters. Still, under the carpet of constant flashes and shutter clicks, Takamori proceeded to the platform and upon reaching it, he faced the still banner of the national flag of Japan, its bright red disc in full, mighty display, and bowed before it. As he took his designated position behind the podium and the microphones, he faced the crowd of reporters with a stern face. Today was a historical day, but not one any of them hoped to ever face. To everyone, everything was still unclear, with so many questions and doubts as to what was happening. Despite his government¡¯s fears of a nationwide panic that would befall Japan, he knew that there was little use to beating around the bush. His resignation to this fact remains his most painful, for he himself does not know what to expect from it. Still, if it were anyone¡¯s responsibility to manhandle Japan and its problems, it has to be him, the prime minister. He looked across the transparent panels flanking his sides, which contained projections of his speech. Then, the speaker formally announced his presence to silence the room. ¡°From this moment forth, the Prime Minister will now be speaking.¡± As the last shutter click faded into muteness, Takamori opened his mouth. From here on out, Japan would be condemned to its unfortunate destiny. ¡°Today, all across Japan, anomalies in the form of mass communications blackout have made it impossible to establish contact with the outside world, and after a thorough initial investigation, we have come to an improbable conclusion, and yet it is exactly what we have found ourselves in.¡± Taking a short break to catch his breath, Takamori took a snap of what he was seeing. It would be the last several seconds before he has to reveal the truth, the calm before the storm. Gripping his fist from outside the view of the cameras, he steeled himself for the words that he was about to utter. ¡°Credible, independent observations from all across the country have found that the terrestrial horizon is further out and that the night skies have considerably changed, so much so that they no longer resemble any star maps in possession. We have traced these changes all the way back to around 3:28 in the morning, at which point our mass communication infrastructure with the outside world has also failed.¡± Camera shutters, and flashes restarted once more as Takamori started seeing perplexed expressions on some of the reporters. ¡°Mobilizing the Coast Guard and the Self Defense Forces, we have discovered that the Asian mainland, particularly the nearby landmasses of Taiwan, the Korean Peninsula, and Sakhalin, have all disappeared completely. Instead, we have made contact with peoples whose language we have never heard before from lands we have never ever seen.¡± The mood in the room turned horrid as reporters and government staff alike started to look panicked. ¡°This is conclusive proof that Japan has experienced a world transfer event, and thus we have found ourselves in a completely different world, yet one that is not too alien from our own.¡± Takamori swallowed in an effort to maintain his composure as the reporters started losing theirs. Flashes intensified, but he continued regardless. ¡°Setting aside the scientific impossibility of this conclusion and its ramifications in that field, this puts our nation in a severely horrible position, unprecedented in history. With mounting confidence that we are truly severed from our allies and trade partners, we are expecting veritable effects of intense magnitude on our economy and security. Thus, with the powers vested in me as prime minister, I hereby declare a state of emergency on the entire country, effective immediately.¡± Unable to keep to themselves their curiosity and agitation, the reporters promptly hounded him with questions. Embassy of the United States of America to Japan, 11:00 A good amount of men and women tuned in to the live broadcast, listening to the prime minister¡¯s conference as they had to handle an endless workload pressing down on them. They were trying to restore communications with other American stations in the periphery of the western Pacific. As soon as the prime minister dropped the uncomfortable truth, many among the embassy staff began panicking, their supposedly temporary tenure in the land of the rising sun now made depressingly permanent. Some could not hold back their sobbing, distraught at the prospect of not being able to go back home. Those that consoled them gave them hope, but deep inside, they too knew how hopeless the situation seemed for them. Ambassador Francis Woods was with his staff, watching with them the prime minister¡¯s live press conference on the flat screen. Tired from being consumed in his work, he had long made off without his formal coat, effectively dropping formalities with his staff as he shared their devastation and anxieties. Wiping the sweat that had accumulated on his wrinkled face despite the air conditioning, he listened in on the conference as a question of interest was brought up by a reporter. ¡°What of the foreign nationals currently stuck on Japanese soil? Also, if I recall correctly, the US still maintains a considerable force presence on the islands, and now there¡¯s also the United Kingdom¡¯s carrier strike group, which is also present in Yokosuka.¡± Woods watched as Takamori¡¯s line of sight lingered in the air for a good four seconds, gnashing his teeth in anticipation of his answer. ¡°We are currently drafting plans for how they will be processed and treated, with the appropriate government organs collaborating with every nations¡¯ diplomatic missions in a coordinated effort. As for the question of foreign military forces, with regards to the US, we are affirming our strong ties, bound by the terms of the security alliance, in maintaining mutual security. Now¨C¡± ¡°What the hell?¡± It was a safe answer, but it contained hints of what they hoped to expect from the American side. For them to uphold their end of the mutual defense agreement, the US would definitely have to keep its forces afloat and maintained. However, without material, financial, and manpower support from the rest of the United States, they¡¯d end up with no military. Woods assumed that the Japanese understood the USFJ¡¯s dilemma, and he knew that the prime minister would not have said that without an idea as to how to proceed. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he turned to his right, where another man stood with his back leaning on the wooden cubicle. His sharp features and blonde hair added class to his appearance as he looked down on the floor, deep in thought. The man was Daniel, a CIA intelligence officer based in the embassy, and likely a useful asset for the foggy road ahead. ¡°What do you make of that answer, Danny?¡± Calling him by his nickname did not faze the man, but the question provoked a long ¡°hmmm.¡± ¡°Honestly speaking, Mr. Ambassador, we could take it at face value. The problem lies in how we uphold the mutual defense tr¨C¡± ¡°Yes, that much is certain.¡± ¡°As of this point, every decision lies on what¡¯s left of the chain of command, which isn¡¯t much to go with, but we could remedy that. The Japanese understand the threat our forces pose this early, but our advantage wanes as time goes on. They know this, so when they come to us with a deal, it would have to be very agreeable. To be frank, Mr. Ambassador, given our circumstances, our best option lies with pushing the Japanese for the most agreeable terms while brandishing our other, more disagreeable, options.¡± Experienced in the art of getting hard-to-get information from disagreeable people, Danny offered what he thought was his best advice. While Woods was already aware of this, he found it comforting to hear someone else¡¯s advice conform with his thoughts. As Woods brooded over what a possible deal may look like, a familiar presence stepped into his field of vision. Then, the comforting sound of a friendly voice. ¡°Mr. Ambassador.¡± The woman¡¯s still unkempt hair stood at various ends, her eyes were still bagged and sleepy. It was his secretary, Colette. ¡°The Japanese Ministry of Foreign Affairs is on the phone.¡± Here we go, thought Woods, as he once more dismissed his secretary to go fix her appearance. Turning back to head for his office, he mentally shut off the sounds coming from the flat screen to steel himself for the coming talks. Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! 50km south of Tokyo Bay, that same time In this part of Japan, the scenery still contained every semblance of tranquility. The bright sun shone above in the great blue sky, overlooking the seemingly endless expanse of ocean. From time to time, the sun¡¯s luminosity would dip, owing to the occasional cloud cover that disrupted its endless barrage of sunlight. With the incessant sloshing of waves playing in the background, the constant rumbling of guzzling engines permeated in the foreground. Among the waves of vessels, big and small, that were traveling northwards into Tokyo Bay, a single white ship cut through the ocean at speed southwards, her sides emblazoned with the Latin characters ¡°Japan Coast Guard¡±, while scribbled over her bow was its name in hiragana, ¡°Akitsushima¡±. On the hunt, the Coast Guard patrol vessel had set her sights on its target: bright flare that was dropping from the sky, its mini-star-like appearance magnificently sparkling even in the brightest time of the day. Onboard the bridge, her crew kept an alert, unwavering eye on the direction from where the flare came from, already used to the new horizon that was further out. Within moments of the flare popping out, the crew had spotted its source. ¡°There! That trawler is violently rocking back and forth!¡± From among the array of cargo ships, ferries, and other civilian vessels, a single blue fishing trawler stood out, its modest-sized hull rocking violently in an unnatural fashion. Sometime earlier, the prime minister had declared a nationwide state of emergency after spilling the beans that they had been transported into a new world. Along with that declaration was the immediate implementation of a ¡°no one in, no one out¡± border enforcement policy, upon which the Coast Guard was mobilized to help facilitate. One of these patrol vessels, the Akitsushima, was assisting in the effort of getting civilian vessels to enter Tokyo Bay when they received a distress message from a ship, saying that it was ¡°under attack by something.¡± As the Akitsushima neared the trawler, the ¡°assailant¡± made itself known. ¡°What the¨C?!¡± To the left of the rocking trawler, massive, red tentacles erupted from underneath the surface of the ocean, assailing the immobilized vessel and damaging its vulnerable, superficial parts. In concert with the gigantic tentacles cementing their grip on the vessel, they contracted, forcing the heavy, several dozen-ton vessel to be displaced and collide with what looks like an enormous, red body of a cephalopod. Due to the violent rockings experienced by the trawler, the fishing nets strapped onto outriggers, brimming with fresh catch, were tossed overboard and back into the ocean. The crew of the Akitsushima was temporarily dumbfounded by what they were seeing. ¡°That was a huge giant squid!¡± ¡°It looked like it was at least 20 meters! Holy shit!¡± ¡°And it was also attacking a ship! Fuck!¡± With the fish-filled nets having fallen into the ocean, the colossal cephalopod¡¯s tentacles detached themselves from the vessel, diverting their suckers onto the mess of wire and rope that encapsulated the trawler¡¯s catch. Not long after, the tentacles disappeared back into the waves, along with much of the newly caught fish and nets. The entire event played out so fast that Akitsushima and her crew could never have reacted quickly enough to do anything meaningful. As the trawler limped motionlessly, the Akitsushima drew close, and her crew blared out a message via megaphone. ¡°Is anyone still on board?! We will be sending over personnel to ascertain your situation and provide medical attention!¡± Ascertaining that the giant cephalopod had long left the scene, the captain of the Akitsushima gave the order to proceed. On both sides of the patrol vessel, smaller boats manned by Coast Guard personnel were lowered onto the ocean surface. The crew on the bridge watched as several fishermen emerged onto the deck of the blue trawler, visibly fazed by the unprecedented attack. While their medical personnel, who had already reached the beleaguered vessel, started evacuating the fishermen, the crew continued to examine the fishing trawler, scanning the damages on its battered hull. ¡°Wow... There are a lot of dents and holes. We¡¯re probably looking at some breaches below the waterline. What the hell was that thing?¡± The motionless trawler was now listing; the damage it sustained became more apparent as more of the hull below the waterline came into view. ¡°Wildlife that can threaten and damage ships? We have to know whether or not this was unprovoked, but either way, we have to notify our superiors as soon as possible!¡± Stricken with anxious uncertainty that any of the countless ships returning to Japanese ports all across the country could be subject to similar attacks, the crew of the Akitsushima hurried to report the incident. Central Calendar 19/04/1639, The Sanctuary, Principality of Qua-Toyne, 9:00 In the heart of the territory of the principality was the capital, and at the city¡¯s heart was a thick grove of trees. Inside this dense pocket of old-growth trees dating to the age of mythology was a secluded place known as the Sanctuary, the place where countless High Councils of various members have met under the somber rays of light filtering from the heavily-leafed canopy above. At the Sanctuary¡¯s heart was an old stone table, said to be radiating with mana leaking from deep within the planet, surrounded by imposing stone seats. There was an aura of mystery and fantasy whenever one finds themself inside this ominously-named place, but on this particular day, the only thing that permeated the atmosphere other than the heat was a concern. The various elven faces of the current High Council populate the circumference of the stone table, their expressions one and the same: perplexion. Out of all the ones present, High Council Presider Kanata was the one most feeling the pressure. Scratching his well-trimmed hair with clear frustration, he wondered how to best report it to his superior, the highest authority in the land. ¡°Ugh...¡± His groaning fell on deaf ears, the others content with keeping their concerns to themselves. Unable to contain his agitation, Kanata tried restarting the discussion to get inputs from his fellow councilmen. ¡°So let¡¯s start from the beginning. An unidentified, non-living, flying object intruded our airspace, outrunning our wyverns, and then threatened one of our major cities.¡± The other councilmen nodded in silence. ¡°Without any identifiers or warnings, besides the red circles on its body and wings... Who the hell are we dealing with here? Parpaldia? The Lourians?¡± One of the councilmen broke the silence, letting out a heavy sigh, before turning to face Kanata with a pained expression. ¡°It is indeed a perplexing incident, and neither the Parpaldians, the Lourians, the Altarans, or even the Gaharans claim responsibility. They all seem eager to blame the Muish or the Imperials, but there¡¯s no way we could ever check.¡± ¡°It is unfortunate nevertheless... I¡¯ve heard that both nations possess unnatural flying beasts, but they¡¯d have nothing to gain in a backwater country like ours.¡± The councilmen lamented the geopolitical hierarchy, a discriminatory system in which the principality finds itself to be at the bottom. Despite being the regional breadbasket, there was little they could do to move up the hierarchical ladder. With the establishment of the three regions of the civilized world, Qua-Toyne was relegated to the periphery, much like the other minor players. As such, it was odd for the two dominant powers, Mu and the Holy Mirishial Empire, the crowns of their respective civilized regions, to try and send their nonliving flying objects to a nation like theirs. Both nations have sent expeditions to them, and their southern neighbor and fellow peripheral power, the kingdom of Quila, but they were polite enough to request beforehand. ¡°Dammit, I¡¯m o¨C¡± Just as Kanata was losing his cool, the loud sounds of heavy heels on dry stone superimposed over his whimper. The imposing presence the sounds invoked were preceded by the heightened anxieties of the councilmen as their thoughts screamed, ¡°She¡¯s here!¡± Off to one direction, a modest figure clad in an angelic, white veil and dress walked towards them. Her enticing curves and provocative angles were but a mere facade to the ruthlessness that lingered behind it. She was no angel, for her elongated ears signified her mortality as a member of the elven race. She descended on the Sanctuary, yet her welcome could not be any less heavenly. ¡°Your Majesty!!!¡± The councilmen all stood up and faced the woman¡¯s direction before willingly prostrating themselves before her bewitching figure. She was Princess Llanfair Gwergin, sovereign of the principality of Qua-Toyne. Like a goddess towering over her subjects, she looked down on them with an unyielding, unimpressed look. Her eyes sparkled in emerald green as they moved towards the direction of the one the councilmen lying prostrate on the ground. Then, with a voice that sends shivers of arousal and intimidation down their spines... ¡°Kanata.¡± Hearing the three syllables that make up his name articulated clearly, Kanata promptly stood up. ¡°Yes, Your Majesty???¡± ¡°Who violated our airspace?¡± Initially fazed by this simple question, Kanata was then about to reply, but then he realized he didn¡¯t know the answer. However, he could not get the best of his honest heart, so he painfully and hesitatingly brought himself to say it straight to Llanfair¡¯s face. ¡°W-We don¡¯t know!¡± Llanfair walked towards him, her steely stares constantly keeping Kanata on edge. Standing in front of him, she maintained her imposing stature, although her tone had loosened. ¡°Hm. I was expecting a different answer.¡± Kanata closed his eyes in anticipation of punishment. Then, a clap. After feeling no painful sensation in any part of his person, he reopened his eyes. Before him, the princess was now joined by an aide who carried a shiny yet visibly aged wooden box. Llanfair undid the metallic lock and opened the lid, producing an unfamiliar banner from it. As she hung it high with her hands for all to see, the stained banner fluttered lightly in the near still air, its aged, stained parts glowing in the light. At its center was a vibrant red disc, glowing ominously bright in the sunlight that filtered from above with its seemingly ancient dyes still intact. The councilmen were mesmerized by its stunning appearance, which resembled a long-forgotten caricature of the sun that shines above. ¡°An unnatural, artificial flying object is making a buzzing noise, brandishing the ancient symbol of a blood-red disc on its body and wings. Does that not remind you of the legends?¡± The councilmen knew immediately what Llanfair was hinting at. While they struggled to make sense of such an outlandish tale of old applying to their contemporary age, it was an explanation that seemed to fit nonetheless. Whether or not the legendary emissaries have returned, they all had a gut feeling that this was the precursor to something big. Chapter 3: I Will Not Back Down As of April 22, 2022, this chapter has been rewritten Central Calendar 19/04/1639, Higashinohate Castle, Higashinohate, Kingdom of Fenn, 8:40 The chilly early morning breeze blew in from the ocean, bringing with them the gentle waves that crashed directly into the wharves of the quaint town of Higashinohate. Situated at the kingdom of Fenn¡¯s easternmost point, the town was destined to be the entrance to the rest of the kingdom to those coming from the east. That was the purpose of their sizable harbor, after all. However, in the countless centuries that Fenn had been a coherent sovereign state, the town of Higashinohate never reached the traffic it had been destined for, receiving only a handful of traders each lunar cycle, most of which were those who blew off course or were looking for safe harbor. With economic activity brimming in western ports like Nishinomiyako, the comparatively quiet eastern port was mostly desolate, being home to only a modest population of 5,000, the majority of which are fishermen and their households. Despite this lack of relevance in seemingly every single aspect, the town was home to the region¡¯s lord, and as such a majestic castle befitting an aristocrat towered above its otherwise boring skyline. Its oriental black roofing complemented its stylic, yet robust structure painted in magnificent white. It was atop the keep of this castle where the regional lord, Amaya, looked out from a window towards the port. Despite the Japanese-feel of the architecture, the Fennese did not shy from assimilating things foreign, and this was reflected in Amaya¡¯s appearance. Still keeping the traditional curved blade bestowed upon him by the Sword King in its scabbard on his hip, his loose white blouse and darkened, western-looking slacks were weird additions. He looked just like a loyal swordsman of the late shogunate at the height of the Meiji Restoration. ¡°What a morning...¡± Amaya spat from behind his heavy sigh, his eyes set on the intrusive silhouette of an overly conspicuous white ship stopped at a distance just shy of Higashinohate¡¯s harbor. ¡°What the hell... am I looking at?¡± More suspicious than perplexed, he scanned the massive vessel. While it was indeed a sailless ship, the only people he knew who operated sailless ships were the Parpaldians. However, the vessel, while alien indeed, gave him clues and an impression that they were not from the dreaded imperialists to the west. It emitted no black smoke, had no guns in its hull, and above all, it did not fly the imperial red and gold. Instead, it flew an unfamiliar banner of red and white, one which Amaya had never seen before. He hesitated. He was suspicious of the vessel¡¯s intent, but he was well aware of the consequences of what would happen on his orders. Then again, he also knew the risks that came with inaction, for in the Fennese code of conduct¨Cthe way of the warrior¨Cdid not restrain them to defensive behavior, but it does actively prohibit one from being rash. But then the vessel did not exhibit hostile behavior, although he does not know if it was simply holding back. As his thoughts continue to clash violently, the sound of the room¡¯s sliding door opening prompts him to cease his brooding. Turning to face the door, he was helped to the sight of a burly man in sailor¡¯s garb, but he was no trader, for his hip was also adorned with the elegant scabbard of a traditional Fennese sword. Even though he did not know the man, he knew that he was a fellow Fennese official. Still, the other man had stepped into his domain, so the burden of respect was not Amaya¡¯s to shoulder. ¡°Greetings, Lord Amaya.¡± The sailor bowed in deep respect to him. ¡°I am Kakeru, captain of the Kakae.¡± Ah, thought Amaya, as his stiffened face relaxed after hearing the name of Kakeru¡¯s vessel. The kingdom of Fenn is a nation of the periphery, a euphemism for the official term, ¡°outside the civilized regions.¡± As such, its national power, like the other nations of the periphery, was puny compared to the nations inside the civilized areas. This reflected in the pitiful size of their fleet, which hovered at 15 gunboats of varying sizes and armament. Since there were so few of them, one could easily memorize the names of each ship, one of which was the Kakae. Amaya remembered seeing a Fennese warship moored at the harbor, so he was able to connect the dots. ¡°What¡¯s your business here, Captain Kakeru?¡± The rugged captain returns to his upright stance, fixing his weathered cap before proceeding to answer the lord. ¡°Great lord, I have come with surprising news. People onboard a beautiful, white ship have come to us, asking to establish diplomatic relations with our kingdom. They said they have come from a nation to the east.¡± Amaya raised an eyebrow, although his suspicions were more than enough to raise a hundred more. The mysterious ship carrying envoys to meet them was questionable, but not something unexpected. What truly made him suspicious was that these people claim to have come from a nation to the east. Other than the thearchy of Gahara, a friendly culture on an island next door, there was only the expanse of endless blue to the east. There are no lands, no people, no nations to be found in that corner of the compass. Still, Amaya set aside these questions for the envoys and restrained his thoughts to the current conversation. ¡°Indeed. I have seen their... stellar ship down there. Are you certain they¡¯re not from the supernations of Mu or the Holy Mirishial Empire?¡± Kakeru looked down as he shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m afraid not, great lord. Surprisingly enough, the people of the ship did not know of either of the two. They do seem like fish out of water.¡± Hearing this, lord Amaya cannot help but chuckle, for he arrived at the only conclusion he could think of: perhaps these people were from an unexplored land from beyond the infinite ocean. If so, then it would explain how they know not the ways of the world. ¡°Fascinating. If they really are uncontacted people, how did you manage to talk to them? Could they really have known the common tongue?¡± ¡°Uh...¡± The captain scratched his head as his eyes wandered about, as if at a loss on what words to use¨Cno, rather, it appeared he lacked the will to say what he already knew. Seeing this, Amaya himself started tensing up once more, eager to hear what Kakeru had to say but at the same time hesitant to grapple with the consequences of knowing what it was. However, both men were proud Fennese, and their code of conduct dictated an ironclad willingness to carry out one¡¯s duties. As the fumbling captain found his footing, the hesitant lord steeled himself. ¡°I cannot say for certain how or why, but while they didn¡¯t know how to speak the common trade and diplomatic language, they knew the words of our ancestors. Good gods, it was as if I was speaking with my grandfather!¡± The revelation shocked Amaya as much as it intrigued him. The language of Fenn, known to its people as the ¡°words of our ancestors¡±, was an isolate in the sea of languages in either Philades or Rodenius. While they were quick to adapt to the common tongue, the proud nature of the Fennese meant that they upheld their cultural identity, including their unique language. Even as their native tongue changed in the centuries since their nation¡¯s inception, evolving from introductions coming from foreign lexicon, there still remained large vestiges of the original language. Now, their unique language isolate, a point of pride for Fenn, turns out to also be spoken by foreign people coming from yet unknown lands. This was a momentous discovery, but one which requires study to verify and understand, which unfortunately neither Amaya nor Kakeru could do. Leaving that to their scholars, both men were content in the fact that there was common ground between their two peoples. Still... ¡°That is indeed curious. I will contact the scholars in the capital to investigate this at once, but not before we welcome these people into our lands. However, like all our friends, they must first prove their mettle. What good is it that they share our language if they do not share our values?¡± The great lord was convinced in meeting these newcomers, but no matter how they may seem related, they are still beholden to standard operating procedures. In order to establish diplomatic relations, one must talk to their sovereign, the Sword King Shihan, the architect of their foreign policy and relations. Before one could talk to him, they must first prove that they are worthy of being in his presence. Amaya walked towards a well-lit corner of the room. Underneath a gracefully written calligraphy piece displayed on the wall was a pedestal, which held up a sheathed blade in an elegant, purple scabbard. Gently and respectfully lifting the sword up from the pedestal, he then turned back to Kakeru with an eager expression on his face. ¡°Now, captain. Bring me to these people.¡± - - - ¡°Achoo!¡± A sneeze rang out, its soundwaves echoing back and forth inside the wooden-walled room. Sitting in a kneeled position on a tatami-like mat was diplomat Tanaka Noboru, lousily wiping his nose with his bare hands after sneezing, a complete reversal from his otherwise sharp and formal appearance. ¡°Ngh. Someone¡¯s probably talking about me.¡± ¡°Ugh. Could you at least observe proper health procedures when you sneeze? You¡¯re going to contaminate this place!¡± His aide, sitting in a similar position to his immediate left, silently chided him. ¡°A little too late for that, though? We¡¯re already inside their castle, likely contaminated with unknown germs.¡± The diplomat unfashionably bit back at his aide, but the bickering was only beginning. ¡°And whose fault is that? The government told us to exercise health procedures, but you just agreed to their invitation without even trying to tell them about it!¡± ¡°I did fight back, though? Remember when I hesitated for ten seconds?¡± ¡°You call that fighting back?!¡± ¡°Can you grown-ass men stop fighting? With all due respect, gods...¡± Another aide to Tanaka¡¯s immediate right berated the two, but they only lowered the volume of their squabbling. ¡°It¡¯s gonna be fine! Whether we come out of this healthy or not, the doctors finally have a case upon which to judge for further expeditions.¡± ¡°So you¡¯re saying it¡¯s fine even if we die?!¡± ¡°Yeah. I¡¯m prepared to die. It¡¯s for the good of our country, after all.¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t consider our thoughts, though?!¡± ¡°Okay. Are you ready to die?¡± ¡°Fuck no!¡± ¡°Well, too bad. We¡¯re here now, and there¡¯s nothing you could do about it. Just because we¡¯re a democracy doesn¡¯t mean you get what you want.¡± The aide continued to silently spout curses at Tanaka under his breath, but the diplomat simply elected to shut them out from his hearing. He takes a look around. The architecture, craftsmanship, and overall feel of the room, from its thin bamboo walls to its paper-padded sliding doors, to the tatami mat compatible dimensions of the floor; they all screamed Japanese. It was as if they teleported back to the Edo period... or went to some rustic ryokan in the countryside. However, a number of things stuck out that reminded them they weren¡¯t in Japan: the western-looking lamps, the ornate patterns drawn in vibrant colors on the sliding door papers, and the calligraphy masterpiece displayed on the wall to their right that was written in an indecipherable script. ¡°Feels like a Disneyland imitation of Edo Japan.¡± Tanaka¡¯s inner thoughts unknowingly slipped out of his mouth. ¡°Disneyland? What¡¯s that?¡± The response came from beyond the sliding door in front of them. It definitely sounded Japanese, but the accent was something the diplomats and their fellow linguists couldn¡¯t pin down. The sliding door then suddenly shifted to the left, revealing the source of the voice to be a man with his chest puffed out, carrying with him an air of leadership and initiative. His facial features were remarkably East Asian, but aside from the two traditional-looking curved swords at his hip, his apparel echoed the appearances of people from the West back in the 19th century. Walking into the presence of the Japanese diplomats with a commanding yet respectful persona, the diplomats immediately knew that he was a high-ranking official. Tanaka, followed by the others, stood up and bowed towards the man. ¡°Greetings! Pleased to be graced by your presence, oh great lord!¡± In his best attitude and bringing with him a palatable choice of words, Tanaka verbally prostrated himself in front of the Fennese official. For some reason, the official released some of his tension with a quick sigh, which was followed by a grin. ¡°I¡¯ll be damned. You do speak the words of our ancestors. Not only are you blessed with our language, but you also know your manners.¡± The official asked Tanaka to rise from his bow before introducing himself. ¡°I am Amaya, lord of the Higashi domain of the venerable kingdom of Fenn!¡± ¡°Well met, Lord Amaya! My name is Tanaka, and I am given the pleasure and the obligation to represent the nation of Japan.¡± Amaya pondered on the name of Tanaka¡¯s country. Although the name Japan sounded extremely familiar, and he wanted to pry more into that, he kept himself from following that trail of thought. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. ¡°Japan... An intriguing name for a nation, but I¡¯m afraid I know not that place. Do you mind telling me more about where it is?¡± ¡°Of course. I am not aware of the unit of measuring distance in this world, but we have brought with us a rough-looking map of our surroundings which includes your kingdom.¡± Amaya was disturbed by Tanaka using the phrase ¡°in this world,¡± replaying the statement over and over in his mind to try and grasp if he misheard it. As he was in the midst of dismissing it as a ¡°lost in translation¡± mishap, Tanaka handed him a fine-to-the-touch piece of paper with visuals drawn on it. Laying his eyes on the paper, Amaya was taken aback by what he saw, overshadowing his impressions on the paper¡¯s quality. ¡°Your nation is this close?!¡± Drawn on the piece of paper were the familiar contours of the islands of Fenn and Gahara, with the nearer parts of the Philades continent just a mere stone¡¯s throw away to the west. To the southeast, at a distance closer than that between Fenn and Philades, was an archipelago, the outline and size of which Amaya has never before-seen on any maps. Contrary to his initial conclusion that Japan was a land from far beyond the eastern watery expanses, their islands were so much closer, close enough for Fenn and Gahara to consider them their backyard. Thoughts raced across Amaya¡¯s mind. How could this be? There never were islands in that region of the ocean before. Even if they somehow, by some outstanding impossibility, missed the islands before, they were never contacted by a civilization advanced enough to possess sail-less steel ships coming from the east. It smelled exceptionally fishy, with Amaya¡¯s perspective being riddled with one red flag after the other. Still, these dubious pieces of information were coupled with equally insane and unbelievable truths. Overwhelmed with trying to process these things all at once, Amaya elected to set aside these suspicions and doubts for the time being. Even if he doubted the authenticity of the location and origin of these people, what¡¯s true is that these people were currently standing in front of him, living and breathing and with their own emotions and virtues. Although he was already informed of their intentions, he still decided to hear it directly from them. ¡°Hm. Alright, Tanaka of Japan. As a representative of your nation, what¡¯s your business in this kingdom?¡± ¡°Our nation is in search of friends and trade partners. As one of the closest lands to our own, we want to establish relations and trade with your kingdom.¡± ¡°To do that, you¡¯d need to meet with our sovereign, His Majesty Shihan, the Sword King. He decides who the kingdom is friends with and who gets to enjoy commerce with us.¡± ¡°Ah, my deepest gratitude for that. If you¡¯d let¨C¡± Amaya raised his right palm towards Tanaka, a universal sign for refusal, but also for stopping. ¡°Before I give you the honor to be graced by His Majesty, there is a set of criteria you must fulfill.¡± ¡°What could these criteria be?¡± ¡°That¡¯s a secret, for now. But this is how you¡¯ll fulfill them.¡± The lord took the purple scabbard fixed to his left hip and presented it to the diplomat. Tanaka and the others were initially confused by this gesture, but it took little for them to come to the conclusion on what it meant. ¡°Tanaka of Japan. You will have to face me in a duel.¡± ¡°?!¡± The Japanese couldn¡¯t conceal their bewilderment at Amaya¡¯s invitation. Ignoring the obvious diplomatic ramifications from a Japanese government official duking it out with a lord from another state, the diplomats were also concerned about Tanaka¡¯s safety. Given that this state evoked the feelings of an older, more martial Japan, lord Amaya also didn¡¯t shy away from projecting the image that he was well versed in swordsmanship. Japan was in need of new friends and economic avenues now that it finds itself alone and isolated in the new world, but was it really worth getting one of their own killed? ¡°I accept.¡± More baffling and disconcerting was Tanaka¡¯s brash and resolute response. ¡°Are you mad?! Are you really going to get yourself killed over this?¡± ¡°I told you before. I¡¯m already prepared to die.¡± ¡°And?! Do you think losing in this duel will actually get us to the Sword King?¡± Tanaka stayed mum, as he too didn¡¯t know what would happen should he lose in the duel. But it was too late to reconsider, for he had already accepted the sword from Amaya. As much as the others wanted him to drop the weapon, they nevertheless gave him and the lord room for the coming fight, a show of resignation to the events that would play out. ¡°Prepared to die, huh? Perfect.¡± His face riddled with conviction, Amaya swiftly unsheathed his own sword, pulling its glistening, steel body out of the elaborately crafted wooden scabbard. Holding it high and at the ready, he looked straight into Tanaka¡¯s eyes with a stern look as he took his position. It was almost as if this was ceremonial; something that Amaya and other lords had done before to prospecting nations wanting to befriend the kingdom. To them, Tanaka and Japan were no different. Unclipping the buttons on his black coat for better movement, Tanaka then proceeded to pull the sword given to him out from its scabbard. He briefly examined it, adjusting his grip and balance to its weight, which was much heavier than the bamboo shinai he used back when he did kendo in high school. As the memories from that time started to come back to him, his muscles acted as he once did, putting his body in a position that was ready to strike at his foe. Okay. So this is how it¡¯s going to be? Very well. Even if I know I¡¯ll lose with my horrible kendo skills; I will not back down. Tanaka made up his mind. If this was the nature of the world in which Japan has found itself, then so be it. The two men continued to stare at one another with their blades held high, ready to switch to either a defensive or offensive stance. Amaya looked at him blankly, his face maintaining an unyielding seriousness, while Tanaka tried his best not to quiver in the face of the deliverer of his demise. For some time, nothing was happening, but the atmosphere was filled with signs that something will. Then, Amaya¡¯s entire body shifted. He lunged forth at a breakneck speed, the sharp edge of his sword destined for Tanaka¡¯s temple. Clumsy as he may think of himself, Tanaka¡¯s muscle memory did not disappoint, instantly shifting his stance to a defensive one by holding the sword¡¯s entire length in the path of the incoming threat. It was clear at this point that this was going to be a fight and that Tanaka would be at the mercy of the seemingly speedy offensive of the Fennese. However, the expected ¡°clink¡± from the steel of their blades clashing against one another never came. There were no sparks, no intense force bearing down along Tanaka¡¯s hands as he wrestled with coping with the force of the attack. Instead, there was only the figure of Amaya holding his sword just mere inches away from Tanaka¡¯s. In an instant, the lord¡¯s undeterred expression melted away, yielding to a wide smile that occupied much of his face. Then, a chuckle. ¡°Heh. Amazing. You didn¡¯t flinch. And that look in your eyes... You¡¯re certainly prepared to die, aren¡¯t you?¡± Amaya gave off a hearty laugh as he relaxed his stance, eventually dropping his sword arm from its combat stance before sheathing the blade back in its scabbard. Even as the Japanese remained confused, the tension in the room nonetheless evaporated, prompting them to loosen their guard subconsciously. Tanaka himself brought his sword down. ¡°I commend you for showing initiative, heart, and conviction. You know what your nation wants, and you are prepared to even lay down your life to attain it. Those are what makes you worthy of the Sword King¡¯s presence.¡± Hearing this, the Japanese were finally able to breathe, letting off the tension that built up in their lungs. With exasperated smiles on their face, they nudged on Tanaka¡¯s back as a gesture of appreciation for a job well done. Tanaka, his face relaxed like usual, as if to say that was expecting this outcome, presented the sheathed sword back to Amaya. ¡°My sincerest thanks, lord Amaya. Now, if you¡¯d be so kind as to show us the way to His Majesty...¡± ¡°You¡¯ll likely get to meet him in two days. We¡¯d have to inform him of your presence first before arranging a meeting...¡± Tanaka clapped his hands together, pondering if he could push his newfound respect to get better accommodations. ¡°Circumstances dictate that we get this done as soon as possible. Is it possible to have an audience with him within the day?¡± ¡°Heh. I like where this is going. If you have the means to travel faster than a horse or a sailship, then I could come with you to back your case when we arrive at the capital.¡± ¡°As a matter of fact, we do have such means...¡± 20km south of Iriomote and Ishigaki, 9:30 ¡°What the hell do we do...¡± Standing on the deck of his carrack looking out across the sea, Qua-Toynian captain Midori gripped the taffrails as sweat poured down his brow, neck, and back. It all started some time ago. After deciding to follow the trail left behind in the sky by the mysterious flying object that flew over Myhark, Captain Midori and his carrack traveled further north. Even as the trail eventually dissipated, the navigators had already taken note of its heading, and so the modestly sized vessel of the Qua-Toynian fleet tirelessly plowed through the waves of the open ocean. While they did intend to know where the flying object was coming to, Midori and his crew did not know what to expect to find. If they continue to sail north, they¡¯re bound to hit the southeastern coast of the Philades continent, which is dominated by the Parpaldian Empire, the Third Civilized Region¡¯s dominant power. The Qua-Toynians didn¡¯t really think that they were the culprit, but it was the best expectation they could come up with. Either way, they¡¯d eventually find out the truth. What they didn¡¯t anticipate, however, was how soon they¡¯d find out. ¡°Land, dead ahead!¡± One of the lookouts shouted. ¡°Land?! Already?!¡± Midori squawked in disbelief, his suspicions shared by his entire crew. As the curious sailors hurried towards either the shrouds or the carrack¡¯s bow, the captain took out his trusty telescope. Pointing it towards the horizon in the direction the ship was facing, he looked through its eyepiece, and lo and behold; he saw dry land. His suspicions came first, so he didn¡¯t act on his perplexed emotions. Continuing to scan the land¡¯s contour, he called out to his navigators. ¡°Can you verify where we are? Even after all that time, we still should not have reached the Philades coast.¡± ¡°Indeed, captain. I¡¯ve just updated where we were just minutes ago, and we are not even halfway to Philades.¡± ¡°Then I wonder why I¡¯m already seeing land in the middle of nowhere.¡± As the carrack continued to rock from the waves it ran into, Midori kept a steady aim at the horizon. He could make out the outlines of green foliage covering what looked like hills, and from his auditory senses, he could even hear the sound of seagull cries as they flew about. There was little doubt that land was at hand. Still, there shouldn¡¯t be any land in this part of the ocean. It wasn¡¯t long before Midori, and his crew began to connect their discovery of land to the mysterious flying object that flew above them hours ago. It was indeed odd that the timing of their discovery of land coincided with the appearance of the never-before-seen inanimate bird. If it were really mere coincidence, then it was just too improbable to be believable. They must be connected, thought Midori. ¡°Dear Astarte...¡± His curiosity had already overcome the instincts that were telling him to turn back. All that was left was for him to materialize this immense desire to find out more. ¡°Let¡¯s get closer!¡± Little did he know that there were more surprises awaiting them. As they drew closer, they managed to discern that the land they stumbled onto was actually a group of islands; noteworthy were the two massive islands that were situated some distance from one another. However, the island to the right was what drew their attention the most. Occupying the southern coastline of the island in question was a shiny, white mass. At first, Midori and the others thought that this must have been a massive cliff face that had recently eroded. Getting closer, the shiny white mass started to become more detailed, its features more discernible. ¡°What in Astarte¡¯s...?!¡± Drops of sweat started to wet the palms of Midori¡¯s hands, loosening his quivering grip on the telescope. His understanding failed to keep up in explaining what his eyes were seeing: countless towers of gilded silver extending to the skies at unimaginable heights. It soon became clear that these structures were artificial, as each tower, while similar in color palette and design, were unique in their construction. What they initially assumed to be just an island now seemed to be inhabited, but by what civilization? ¡°T-T-Those towers... They¡¯re so magnificently built and tall!¡± In spite of his complimenting words, his voice trembled in fear. ¡°Just what is it that we stumbled upon?! This is not Parpaldia at all!¡± The crew started putting forward their suspicions, ranging from sensible to outright questionable. ¡°Maybe the Muish or those Imperials have set up shop here? I heard they had flying contraptions that were not alive.¡± ¡°But that doesn¡¯t explain the fact that there were no islands here in the first place. Could they probably have risen from the sea?¡± ¡°And already have civilization on them? I don¡¯t like it, but maybe the ancient sorcerous empire... It was said that they had divine flying contraptions that rained hell on the races...¡± A terrible shiver spread through the entire crew. Remembering the dreaded ancient sorcerous empire and its exploits long ago, it definitely fits in with all the unexplainable phenomena recently. It had long been postulated that they would return, prophesied to be preceded by the sky turning black and the earth rumbling endlessly as land turned to sea and sea turned to land. Almost immediately after remembering the prophesy, the sailors were gripped with panic and terror. Running through the deck towards their captain, they then all pleaded with him to turn back. ¡°Please, captain! The devils have returned!¡± ¡°We must turn back, lest we earn their wrath!¡± Captain Midori looked up, his eyes lost in resignation to his instincts, which have now just emerged victorious over his curiosity. Turning back to his crew with a resolute expression, he gave the orders they so desperately wanted to hear. ¡°Alright! Turn around so we could go¨C¡± HONK!!!!! Before he could finish his sentence, an ear-bursting, low, loud sound harassed their eardrums. Judging the source of the disconcerting belch to be from their starboard, the Qua-Toynian crew flocked to the right. There, in the supposedly empty patch of the ocean just a few minutes ago, sailed a white ship, its bow facing the length of their starboard side. It then turned to a course parallel to theirs with a speed so frighteningly fast, it defied the expected logical outcomes the Qua-Toynians had come up with. All of this despite not having sails of its own. The majestic yet alien white ship maintained an arm¡¯s length from their carrack. Standing next to their ship¡¯s taffrails, Midori couldn¡¯t help but feel a sense of dread as he examined the strange vessel. ¡°What the hell do we do...¡± Just then, the ship let out the horrible belch again, prompting the Qua-Toynians to cover their ears at the annoying and somewhat painful sound. HONK!!!!! This time, the low belch was followed by a series of high-pitched chirping, repeating in perfect intervals of time. After five repetitions of chirping, the ship roared its low cry once more. Unsettled by the constant, irritating barrage of sounds they did not understand, the Qua-Toynians started to feel averse, afraid, and confused. Even Midori was at a loss at what to interpret from the ship¡¯s cries and how to respond. Then, the assault of sounds abruptly stopped, replaced by the unnaturally loud voice of a person. ¡°This is the Japan Coast Guard! You are entering the territorial waters of the nation of Japan! Identify yourself and your port of origin!¨C¡± However, they understood none of the person¡¯s gibberish. Midori watched the white vessel, training his eyes on features he could hardly identify. In the midst of the unfamiliar contraptions of the ship, his eyes spotted something he recognized right away: the perplexed expression of a human-looking back at him from behind the safety of what seemed to be glass windows. The man in the ship had eyes that echoed confusion, almost as if the bastard was looking at an alien ship, a feeling he himself was preoccupied with at the moment. In spite of what they initially assumed to be the spawn of the ancient sorcerous empire, the ship was also piloted by fellow humans, equally frightened of the unknown. He felt an urge in his arms, an urge to catch their attention. Given the unintelligible words the person from the white ship blurted out moments ago, it was likely that they also wouldn¡¯t understand any languages that they know. However, if they were really human, then they may be able to understand what their mannerisms meant. After all, he was able to read the expressions on the person from beyond the glass windows. Giving in to his urges, Midori flailed his arms high, trying to make himself conspicuous. ¡°Hey!!!¡± Words subconsciously slipped out of his mouth, even though he already knew that they might not understand him. It wasn¡¯t long before his actions bore fruit; they started seeing the silhouettes of people emerging out on the deck of the white ship, clad in unfamiliar blue uniforms and waving back at them. ¡°They¡¯re just humans?¡± ¡°Who are they?¡± The once stupefied Qua-Toynian sailors were now humbled by the sight of the strange ship¡¯s crew, which turned out to be something closer to what they imagined. Seeing the men of the strange ship beckoning them to come closer, their eyes as curious and cautious as theirs, it made them wonder why they found something so familiar in circumstances so bewildering. They started feeling drawn in; their innate curiosity was tickled further by questions surrounding the mysterious appearance of unknown islands, beautiful ships, and big frightening birds. It was then to their relief that their captain turned to them with an expression that mirrored theirs, and it felt as if they were on the brink of unearthing something monumental. ¡°Men... Let¡¯s go see what they have to say!¡± Chapter 3.5: A Long Path As of April 22, 2022, this chapter has been rewritten Central Calendar 19/04/1639, Amanoki, Kingdom of Fenn, 16:00 ¡°As requested by His Majesty, the Sword King Shihan, we will be conducting a demonstration of one of our weapons: our standard issue Smith & Wesson Model 5906 pistols.¡± A man in blue overalls projected his voice towards the crowd of onlookers as the demonstration was starting. The crowd that had gathered in the wide expanse of the shooting range at the Fennese capital Amanoki was of a variety of faces from all walks of life: Fennese guardsmen, blacksmiths, traders, palace officials, and several Japanese men in snappy, black suits and uninspiring haircuts. One of these suits exuded a relaxed appearance, on top of a face that said ¡°get on with it!¡±. This man was diplomat Tanaka Noboru, whose acute sleepiness was causing his now sluggish appearance to become even laxer. Ah, fuck. Why am I here again? He knows that they were demonstrating one of their pistols, a trivial weapon in the grand scheme of things, to a literal Edo Japan knockoff. Sure, it was going to impress them, but does it matter? Isn¡¯t the cat already in the bag when it comes to diplomatic relations? Tanaka, despite his teeth gnashing, just couldn¡¯t seem to remember. In the midst of his soft groaning, his eyes drifted to his left, and he caught sight of the marvelous red coat of the man standing next to him. His hands were in a proper, neutral position crossed in front of his person, and looking up, Tanaka saw the man¡¯s face from the side. A long, well-groomed beard of grays and blacks grew from his jawline down to the chin, and his eyes were laser-sharp in watching the demonstration unfold. A slight smile was visible on what could be seen of his lips, as if eager and impatient for the show to ¡°get on with it.¡± Ah, right. His Majesty, Shihan, invited us to ¡°show our power¡±. Despite being given the title of ¡°Sword King¡±, the man next to Tanaka was devoid of any blades on his person, at least from what was visible to everyone. As the blue overall-dressed personnel of the Japan Coast Guard took their positions at the range, Tanaka revisited the events of earlier. After being assured assistance by the lord of Higashinohate, Amaya in their diplomatic mission to see the Sword King, Tanaka and his delegation made their way to the capital, Amanoki, situated several dozen kilometers to the west. With Tanaka insisting on a meeting on the same day, they opted for using their ship, the Yashima, to get to the capital with speed. Amaya came along with them, and as such his banner was flown high on the Yashima¡¯s mast to let the kingdom know that they were a friendly vessel. Upon arriving at the capital, Tanaka remembers being greeted with unwelcome hostility, as the Yashima faced warning shots from the capital¡¯s fortress, as well as a buildup of troops at the harbor. Accompanied by Amaya, Tanaka and his delegation made their way to the harbor through a patrol boat, brandishing Amaya¡¯s banner high for the Fennese defenders to see. He remembers the anxiety he felt as their boat neared the point-blank range of the capital¡¯s massive cannons, who thankfully withdrew their fiery roars in recognition of Amaya¡¯s presence. Once at the harbor, they were greeted by the steel blades and guns of the Fennese troops, but Amaya¡¯s diplomatic tone ensured a bloodless de-escalation. To their surprise, the malevolent figure of the Sword King, Shihan, had personally come to greet them. ¡°I have... a shitton of respect for foreigners daring to face the brunt of our capital¡¯s defenses. You are to proceed to the castle at once, as my guests!¡± He remembers the Shihan¡¯s excited grin when he came to greet them at the harbor, obviously impressed by their lack of diplomatic professionalism in showing up uninvited to the capital. Damn. Looking back, that was a Commodore Perry move right there. With the Yashima still at the harbor entrance, just shy of the range of the capital¡¯s guns, the Japanese delegation was brought into the castle, a splendid reincarnation of medieval Japanese castles with the flair of new world motifs and colors. On their way to the top, they came across the grand tree of marvelous height that towered behind the green-painted keep, its thick branches littered with talisman-like ornaments hanging through threads of interwoven red and white. Tanaka remembers standing underneath the titanic tree, which was said to have been the same specimen that sheltered the initial settlers that would soon establish the kingdom. It feels as if I¡¯m being drawn to this place... Like I¡¯ve been here before in another life... It evoked feelings of deja vu, yet he was well aware that he had never been to a similar place in his life. Arriving at the royal hall, the Fennese and the Japanese restarted with their formalities. Shihan and his officials introduced themselves and their kingdom, and after that, the Japanese introduced their country, their circumstances, and their urgent need for friends and trade partners. While doubts on the Fennese side prevented them from accepting their story wholesale, it was not without supporting details that lend credence to it being true. ¡°How outlandish... But then I don¡¯t really see how it¡¯s possible for both of us to speak almost the same tongue, despite not having been acquainted with each other in the past.¡± For the first time in a while, Tanaka seriously felt on edge with the meeting, as for the first time since meeting Shihan, he was finally showing his distrusting face. Fortunately for them, the Sword King was open to the possibility of intellectual cooperation on investigating the matter, and even hinted at greater cooperation in other fields. However... ¡°Before we talk about our relationship, I have but one itch that needs to be scratched...¡± Just like with Amaya before, the Japanese delegation braced for the worst. However, unlike Amaya, Shihan offered them a grin with his next line. ¡°Show me your power!¡± And that was how they got here. The Japanese already had an idea of what Shihan meant when he said that, so Tanaka and his delegation immediately asked their companions on board the Yashima to lend their firepower for a demonstration. As a discussion on the legalities and diplomatic repercussions brewed up between the diplomats and Coast Guard personnel, Tanaka broke the impasse by claiming responsibility and the burden of paperwork on the matter. Fuck. I¡¯m ready to die, but I¡¯d rather not have it be due to overwork... Giving his cheek a slight slap to wake himself up, Tanaka re-focused on the Coast Guard personnel taking aim at dummies on the other end of the shooting range. Behind him, he could hear murmurs from the various people that had come to watch the foreigners show off their ¡®power¡¯. ¡°Their guns look small... How could those be as powerful as our guns?¡± ¡°They¡¯re nothing like the Parpaldian guns either. Their ship was impressive, but this?¡± ¡°And that distance... It¡¯s too much for our guns. Perhaps their guns excel in accuracy? But then they¡¯re so small...¡± Hearing and understanding the words uncensored by the lack of a language barrier, Tanaka couldn¡¯t help but snicker under his lips. His facial muscles twitched as he tried to contain his amusement. Hahaha. These bastards are in for a surprise. True to his arrogance, Tanaka held his head high as the demonstration commenced with a reverberating boom that was as dry as the hot afternoon air. Pam! The pistol held by one of the personnel let out a puff of smoke, followed by the ejection of the still smoking casing as the gun¡¯s slide slid back from the recoil. At the other end of the gun range, the straw dummy was rocked by the brass bullet hitting its ¡®head¡¯. This entire sequence of events happened in less than a second, and before the crowd could even gasp in surprise, the array of Coast Guard personnel let loose with their fingers. Pam! Pam! Pam! A cascade of dry gunfire cluttered the soundtrack of the range, audibly drowning out what sounds came from the crowd. The shock from the speedy reloads of the ¡®small¡¯ pistols of the Japanese personnel silenced whatever doubts the Fennese had as their attention drifted to the dummies at the other end of the range that had now collapsed into simple piles of hay from the relentless barrage of brass. In less than ten seconds, the personnel emptied their magazines, and with terrifying discipline and speed, they reloaded their next magazines and resumed their attack. Pam! Pam! Pam! The crowds¡¯ faces turned from glum skepticism, to clear surprise, to awful dread at a rate faster than the pistols pumped out bullets. They were no longer in doubt about the power the Japanese possessed and the terrifying threat posed by their pistols. Its novelty and practicality were as clear as day to everyone; a firearm that could fire as fast as the ¡°repeater cannons¡± of the Parpaldian forces but far smaller than even the smallest rifles. The Japanese literally held in their hands the power to massacre armies. Even Shihan, once so eager to witness Japanese power, was taken back by the ferocity of the demonstration. After the personnel emptied their second magazines, their commander ordered them to stop. With the smoke from the gunfire still hanging in the air, the commander turned around to face the shocked faces of the crowd. ¡°Ladies and gentlemen of the kingdom of Fenn, that was just our handguns. We too have rifles like yours, and they could fire even faster.¡± The crowd, riled up by the commander¡¯s claims, exploded into a mix of excitement and terror. In the midst of the hushes and shouting, Tanaka turned to Shihan with a face that tried to hide just how full of himself he was. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. ¡°Well, your majesty? Are you satisfied with our power?¡± Shihan¡¯s stare was fixated on the shiny steel pistols held by the Japanese, his expression was that of feelings that clashed in his heart. ¡°Indeed. Frightening, if I might add!¡± ¡°How about adding terms for trade that benefits both of our countries, hm?¡± Sighing in gleeful exasperation, Shihan felt that he had little to lose from commencing trade with this nation, Japan. While he was impressed by their power, there still existed skepticism on their intentions, and he knew that he would be gambling his kingdom¡¯s geopolitical position should Japan try to stake their claim on the greater world. He turned to Tanaka with resolve, but he also made it clear in his eyes that there is a long path to friendship between the two. ¡°Aye. Let¡¯s discuss those terms.¡± Myhark, Principality of Qua-Toyne, 11:30, earlier that day The sharp, stinging rays of the late morning sunlight were filtered thoroughly by the canopy of trees hanging above the Sanctuary, as such the space inside maintained a cozy temperature. The atmosphere, however, wasn¡¯t so comfortable. At the center of the Sanctuary was a stone table, its age apparent from the weathering of its edges and surfaces. All around it were equally old stone seats, populated by the High Council of the Principality of Qua-Toyne, discussing a matter of importance: the mysterious flying object that graced through the skies of Myhark, one of their major cities. In the midst of this hours-long discussion, an aide walked up to them through one of the stone paths that lead towards the stone table at the center. Turning to face this aide was one particular elf on the council, his troubled face a sign of the impasse their discussion has come to. ¡°Did the Parpaldians say anything?¡± ¡°No, Your Excellency, other than, quote, ¡°We concern ourselves not with the fairytales of barbarians.¡±¡± The elf, councilman Kanata, spat at the rude comment by the Parpaldians, not out of spite but out of disappointment that the impasse remains unbroken. ¡°Typical Parpaldians.¡± ¡°Hmmm... They express disinterest and denial, therefore we can conclude that they¡¯re not the ones behind this.¡± Addressing him was the sole female present in the meeting, her flamboyant dress and disposition telltale signs that she was not of the High Council; her tone with councilman Kanata indicative that she was above him. Kanata turned to the woman with an apologetic, yet undeterred expression. ¡°Your Highness, I still have reservations that the perpetrators behind the mysterious flying object are indeed the emissaries of old... It¡¯s just not believable...¡± The woman, Llanfair, Princess of Qua-Toyne, leaned in with an unamused face. ¡°I have already consulted with the elders at the Great Temple, and this flying object is a spot-on match to the description of the emissaries¡¯ flying machines.¡± Standing up from her seat, Llanfair took a walk around the circumference of the stone table, passing behind the seats of her councilmen. The loud taps of her heels on the stone floor echoed throughout the expanse of the Sanctuary as a curtain of anxiety hung over everyone else. Unable to look directly into her eyes, the councilmen did not dare look at the angelic figure walking behind them even as her probing fingers gently stroked the rests of their seats. Steadily pacing herself, she began reciting lines in poetic fashion. ¡°They came in like a plague of locusts, their beating wings sounding the alarms of pestilence as they drew closer and closer.¡± The tapping from her heels ceased as she turned towards the back of the councilman sitting in front of her. Her small, slender hands found their way on the councilman¡¯s broad shoulders, which twitched slightly upon contact. Struggling to contain his anxiety, the man could only redirect his shaking away from the point of contact, so as to not upset his princess. Llanfair leaned in, her lips dyed in blue lipstick almost making contact with the man¡¯s ear, which started to perspire as soon as it felt her warm breath tickling its sensitive skin. ¡°Tell me... Didn¡¯t the mysterious object in Myhark produce insect-like buzzing when it flew by?¡± The councilman clumsily produced a reply to Llanfair¡¯s question. ¡°Y-Y-Yes...¡± Getting the answer she wished for, Llanfair chuckled, a sign of praise to the man¡¯s complicit honesty. She then let go of her hold on the man¡¯s shoulders before proceeding to resume her stroll. ¡°They flew like dragons, prancing in pride of their control of the sky¨Ca feat which they accomplished over the demons¡¯ dragons. Like dragons, they unleashed their fury in explosive hellfire, drenching the earth in flames that cleansed the demonic menace. But they were no ordinary dragons...¡± Llanfair paused, as if to highlight an upcoming point in the line. ¡°...for they bore the symbol of their allegiance on their wings, forever seared into their skin the frightening red glory of the Sun.¡± She then turned towards the table, looking out onto the still timid faces of her councilmen. ¡°Did the flying object not have a red disc emblazoned on its body and wings?¡± ¡°It... did...¡±The councilmen answered her, giving her the confidence to strike a look of dominance towards councilman Kanata, who continued to give her an expression of difficulty. ¡°That does not necessarily prove that these are the emissaries of old... For all we know, the old texts which described them may have just been exaggerating or are allegorical in their description...¡± Llanfair looked around, probing the others¡¯ reaction to Kanata¡¯s statement. Most scratched their heads and their faces were supportive of Kanata¡¯s assertion, but it was also obvious that they were hesitant in going against their princess¡¯s theory. With nothing more to support her own claim and disprove Kanata¡¯s counters, she couldn¡¯t help but stay silent, inwardly sighing that their discussion was still at an impasse. Just as she was returning to her seat, she felt the presence of someone entering the Sanctuary. ¡°Your Excellencies! Your Highness!¡± Another aide had appeared, running down the stone path that led towards the stone table at the center of the opening in the grove. With everyone¡¯s attention firmly on him, he laid out his message. ¡°We have just received word from one of our ships that tracked down the flying object that flew north...¡± The eyes of the councilmen widened in interest at the development. ¡°Go on!¡± ¡°Following the trail of the flying object north, they said they came across a chain of islands at this point.¡± Taking out a map of the region, the aide walked towards the stone table and laid the map on it for all to see. He then pointed to an open patch of ocean roughly in between the continents of Philades and Rodenius just north of Myhark. ¡°Around here.¡± Seeing the aide¡¯s finger landing in the middle of nowhere, the councilmen erupted into disbelief. ¡°Islands?! There?! That¡¯s impossible! We could not have missed them!¡± ¡°That¡¯s even more preposterous than the mysterious flying object itself!¡± It was difficult to believe that a chain of islands lying in the ocean just north of Myhark was not discovered beforehand by any sailor. The position of the islands were not too far to be settled by Qua-Toynians, but they were also equally susceptible to be settled by other peoples, such as the Fennese, the Altarans, the Gaharans, or even the Parpaldians. Any island in that patch of ocean would be a boon to power projection for any nation that claimed it. As such, they should have known of any islands in that part of the ocean, but even their maps from long ago don¡¯t tell of any islands in between Myhark and the southeastern coast of Parpaldia. Eager to hear more of the story, Llanfair chided her councilmen. ¡°Shh! Please continue.¡± The aide bowed in response before continuing. ¡°According to them, they have made contact with the civilization on the islands. They remarked that they were unable to speak or understand the common tongue.¡± Hearing this, the councilmen did not shy away from hiding their disbelief. They did not want to doubt the words of their own sailors, but the discovery of the islands and the mysterious people that inhabited it were more than what they could bear to swallow. Although it was difficult to consider, they somehow felt that it was connected to the flying object that flew across the skies of Myhark, which was beyond dispute since the entire city witnessed the event. Still, extraordinary claims require the backing of extraordinary evidence. The aide continued. ¡°The commander of the ship, Captain Midori of the 2nd Fleet, stated that they made contact with the civilization on the island. He noted that while there were misunderstandings at first, they were able to communicate using signs and body language. He stressed, however, that the civilization on the island was advanced, taking note of iron hulled ships without sails, other flying objects similar to the one that flew above Myhark, and buildings of silver that towered to the heavens.¡± The more the councilmen listened, the more they were convinced of Llanfair¡¯s claim that they were the emissaries of old. While they were not known to have buildings of silver, the other descriptions matched those of the old elven texts from the bygone age. The signs so far pointed away from the great superpowers like Parpaldia, Mu, or the Holy Mirishial Empire, as all three would have known how to speak the common tongue. Their resignation started to show on their faces, and was made worse when they saw the smug expression on Llanfair¡¯s victorious face. ¡°This is starting to look more like my claim was right...¡± Adding insult to injury by stating the obvious, Llanfair did not shy from gloating about her victories. ¡°If these really are the emissaries, then what are they doing here again?¡± ¡°With all due respect to Her Highness, I think it¡¯s still too early to conclude that they are the emissaries...¡± ¡°Indeed. Maybe they are just another advanced civilization.¡± ¡°If so, then what does that mean for us? What do we do?¡± A gloomy atmosphere then hung over the Sanctuary as the councilmen started to think of the ramifications of having an advanced civilization next door. Remembering how they weren¡¯t able to prevent the flying object from flying over one of their most important cities, they shuddered at the prospect of making enemies with them. After all, their hands were already full with their war-hungry neighbors to the west. Llanfair was not spared from these anxieties, but she maintained her composed appearance nonetheless. ¡°If we are to go by Captain Midori¡¯s accounts and how he is still communicating with us, then we could assume that they are not openly hostile...¡± The aide coughed at Llanfair¡¯s inference, eager to add something to it. ¡°I was just about to get to that part, Your Highness...¡± ¡°Oh? Forgive me. Do continue.¡± ¡°Captain Midori has also stated that the civilization on the island has expressed their desire to come and meet our leaders. He noted that the signs they used made it difficult to understand the message, so he may be wrong in this assumption.¡± The councilmen turned their faces to Llanfair, eager to hear what she had to say on the matter. Llanfair spent some time thinking. All of the evidence so far presented was still loose, despite her inclination to believe them. She had faith in her sailors, and she knew they had little to gain from lying about their discovery of yet-unknown islands. If their statements regarding a non-hostile advanced civilization were true, then there was little to lose with finding out more about them. Still, it was a gamble based on shaky evidence, but one in which Llanfair had a vested interest in making. Going by the fact that they did not know how to speak the common tongue, it wasn¡¯t far-fetched to say that they don¡¯t know much about the world. By presenting Qua-Toyne as a venerable ally to help them in the world, there was an opportunity for them to gain power. This was an appealing choice to make. Turning back to her aide, Llanfair made it clear that was resolute in her decision. ¡°Inform Captain Midori to stay where he is. We¡¯ll try to see if we can get some translators who know their language so we can communicate with them. Let¡¯s see this matter to the end.¡± Chapter 4: Welcome to Asherah As of April 22, 2022, this chapter has been rewritten Central Calendar 21/04/1639, Myhark, Principality of Qua-Toyne, 10:00 ¡°Your tea, Your Majesty.¡± Placing a white porcelain cup of steaming hot tea on top of the elegant brown surface of the table, the servant maintained his professional, unemotional face in front of his sovereign. Sitting dignified on the only chair present along the table was Llanfair Gwergin, princess of the Principality of Qua-Toyne. She looks up to him with her usual domineering glare, with her words and tone being a bit more reserved. ¡°Thank you.¡± After a single prompt bow, the servant made himself scarce, leaving Llanfair alone in the room with her thoughts and her tea. Looking down at it, she meticulously observed the stalks standing upright as they floated on the surface of the still steaming, translucent liquid. There were no ripples, no waves, no disturbances; it was as if time had stopped. But time still marched on, so she went along with it. Picking up the teacup with her slender fingers, curling neatly into the intricacies of the handle, she maneuvered its lips to her own. The hot tea hardly bothered her as it found its way down her tongue and onto her throat. Satisfied, she returned the cup back. ¡°Mmm.¡± The leaves that made the tea could still be felt from the smell emanating from it, reinforcing the natural, somewhat earthy taste that engulfed her taste buds. It provided a soothing emotion to her otherwise stressed mind, a window through which she could feel the calming allure of the forest, her race¡¯s natural dwelling. Indeed, she wanted to feel the liberating sensation of being in one, free from duties, paperwork, managerial stresses, and so on. However, this tea was what she had to settle for, because today, she is in the city of Myhark, the largest Qua-Toynian settlement on the northern coast. Specifically, she was in her ducal villa, situated on top of one of the hills that could be found south of the city. From where she sat, she could see the ocean through a window directly opposite her, the glittering waves under the mild spring sun looking like the twinkling pearls that they undoubtedly contain. ¡°To think that there lies a new nation beyond...¡± Her thoughts subconsciously manifested through her speech, but she paid no heed for she was alone. Thus, the source of her increased anxieties as of late. Far more pressing than even the Lourian warmongers to the west, their recent discovery of a yet-to-be-contacted nation in the seas just north of their chunk of Rodenius threw her government into confusion. Not only was it unbelievable that they¡¯d never been contacted before, despite being right next door, but their quest for answers was plagued by them not being able to speak nor understand the common tongue. However, for some strange reason, the Fennese were able to communicate with them, having already established trade relations as of yesterday. Through the Fennese ambassador to Qua-Toyne, they were able to learn of this new country¡¯s name. ¡°Japan...¡± A name so short, it simply rolls off the tongue. They didn¡¯t even identify by what kind of country they were. A kingdom? A confederation? Perhaps an empire? According to the Fennese translators, they did have a type of country, but even they had trouble trying to make sense of it. In their best attempt to word it, they were a ¡°country dictated by the will of the people.¡± ¡°Pfft...¡± Remembering that one single statement, her amused reaction came forth subconsciously, reigned in by her willingness to uphold courtesy. ¡°The will of the people... That is an exciting concept.¡± Llanfair took more sips from her tea. As a near autocratic ruler herself, she wasn¡¯t keen on having her powers and authority totally restrained by a system that diverted those powers and authority to her subjects. The people are too loose, too incoherent, and to rely on them to run a kingdom is akin to building a house on fine sand¨Cthe structure is bound to fail. Popular sentiments change as easily as a blade of grass is disturbed by the wind, and as a massive, often heterogeneous force, there are bound to be inconsistencies in the perspectives of each individual. Having built and maintained the state of Qua-Toyne according to what she sees as the best for its collective wellbeing, Llanfair was confident that her authority was justified. Still, there were lingering doubts about the new country¡¯s popular system. ¡°How in the world are they so... advanced???¡± If her beliefs on a nation that is run based on the people¡¯s will are true, then the nation should have long withered away, their attempt at immortalization a failure, and their memory condemned to be damned to history. Yet here they are, matured enough to be coherent in that they have a functioning government. Worrying of all for Llanfair was their demonstration of what they were capable of. The scenes flashed in her head. A huge, inanimate flying object easily bypassed their airborne forces, casually threatening their largest settlement on the coastline, and flying away as if to further insult their unpreparedness. She wasn¡¯t there, but she felt the harrowing fear and terror of her people as she read through and listened to their testimonies. It was incredibly vexing as a leader and embarrassing for her country as a whole. Despite years of preparations for open hostilities with Louria, they were still caught with their pants down. Imagining the thoughts of the foreign merchants and traders that were undoubtedly present in Myhark at the time, Llanfair couldn¡¯t help but be ashamed of her lackluster administration. Despite them being a country ruled by the people, they still managed to show how superior they were. Where were the Qua-Toynian dragon knights? Why didn¡¯t the supposedly powerful elven mages do anything? That princess loves to talk of unity and solidarity. It turns out that her mouth is as loose as her crotch! The imaginary screams of outsiders and their perspectives raced through her mind, overwhelming her sense of reason and calculated calming responses. Before she realized it, her entire person began to quiver. Her already titanic grip further hardened, threatening to shatter even the handle of the porcelain cup that she was holding. Her worries had turned into fury. The contempt with which her imaginary foulmouthed berated drove her to assail them with the same amount of contempt mentally. Her thoughts tilted towards the use of magic, and it wasn¡¯t long before her inner mana started to be cast. As a skilled magic user herself, she could cast spells without having to openly recite the chants, which usually came at the cost of lost time spent physically mouthing the difficult words. Being able to cast spells subconsciously was also difficult since it requires self-control of gargantuan proportions so as not to use magic when not appropriate or intended. This self-control, amidst her fury, began to slip, with the mana she was using manifesting into a slowly accelerating vortex of wind around her person. ¡°P-Princess...!!¡± In the midst of the loud swirling motions of the winds circulating around her, the masculine voice of someone close to her reached her eardrums. Opening her eyes, she looked down towards the source of the voice, kneeling down on the cold floor underneath the table in the gap between her legs. His ogling, somewhat teary eyes, a far cry from the masculinity evoked by his voice, looked back at the princess¡¯s surprised eyes. ¡°Silas?¡± Calling out the name of her personal confidant whom she forgot about, having ordered him to remain on ¡°standby¡± underneath the table, the sight of Silas¡¯s worried expression evoked feelings of concern which temporarily pulled Llanfair out of her anger. Having been provided with the slap-back-to-reality that she needed, bit by bit, she relaxed every inch of her person, mentally and physically. The anger she felt over the Myhark incident started to dissipate, and her grip on the teacup handle loosened. Before long, she regained her self-control, and with the valves of her inner desire now shut, the subconscious chants ceased too. Their driving force was gone, the winds circulating around her person ebbed away and the air in the room returned back to its near stagnant state. ¡°I forgot you were down there.¡± Having more or less calmed down, Llanfair proceeded to address the man under the table. ¡°I¡¯m pretty much forgettable, huh?¡± ¡°No no no. I was just preoccupied...¡± Caressing the long elven ears of her long-time friend, she continued to look at his sullen, baby-ish eyes. Despite having a mild inferiority complex, Silas has always been there for her, having known her in his time as a hired hand at the ducal household. Their closeness was an open secret, but hardly anyone doubted the man as a usurper or a manipulator, as the woman he was close to already ticked those checkboxes. He was willing to do a variety of things for her sake, even if it led to questionable deeds. As such, he allowed himself to be cooped up underneath the very table Llanfair was on. ¡°Don¡¯t you have a meeting to attend, princess?¡± Silas asked her. Staring directly at his face, which continued to tickle Llanfair¡¯s heart, the fatigue and frustrations from her constant work made it easier for more twisted thoughts to take hold of her decision-making. Although she was tired from the momentary loss of her grip over her mind, a desire for gratification won over her sense of urgency to attend the meeting. After all, she still had an hour or two. ¡°That can wait. I want something, Silas, and I want it bad.¡± Her desires were reflected in the blankness of her stare, which Silas picked up on. ¡°Anything for you, princess.¡± Finally given the go, impatience took the wheel, driving her hands to take action immediately. Pulling on the white cloth of her dress, she lifted it up over Silas¡¯s person before grabbing his head through the fabric and pushing it straight down. Without resistance, Silas¡¯s head willingly surged forth, his face making contact with the means that can give Llanfair what she wants. Himself sensually agitated, the lukewarm liquid oozing from his frothing mouth spilled all over her lower half, tickling the sensitive nerves on the one part of her womanhood that mattered. His luscious lips and naughty tongue acted in concert to assail her sanity, and every time she squirmed ever so slightly, they would be pushed deeper into the recesses of her person. Soon, the sweat pouring out of her pores was not the only liquid that was seeping into the linen fabrics of her undergarments. Her lower half turned into a stove, extremely hot from the excessive provocations on her sensitive parts. It felt as if she was going to lose control of her mind. Leaning back on the cold wooden rest of her chair, she started to lose all sense of reason as her carnal desires took control of her limbs. Her legs drooped like that of a marionette without its marionettist before the muscles along her thigh contracted in pleasure from the rigorous rhetoric emanating from Silas¡¯s tongue. ¡°Ngh...¡± Just as the suction from his endless kisses over her stimulating maiden turned her mind to mush, the lasting sensation of dangerously thrilling pleasure surged throughout her entire person. Her plump hips moved up and down and squirmed left and right as her nether regions exploded with welcome indulgence. Like scratching an annoying itch, Silas¡¯s mouth danced to the tune of her silent groaning, which was driven further by the impulses sent by her clitoris to her mind that demanded one thing: ¡°MORE.¡± ¡°Ah... Silas...¡± Hearing his name through the enchanting femininity of an aroused moan, Silas pushed through to give his princess what she wanted. He wasn¡¯t alone¨CLlanfair¡¯s hands gripped the hair strands on his head as she forcefully pushed it inwards. Her flower bloomed as if to consume his face, eager to receive the bountiful offering of his oral playfulness. Even as pain gripped him over her thrashing about, at times clobbering his head in frustrated pleasure, he nevertheless continued. However, the energy and heat pouring into her lower half meant that the rest of her body began to feel sluggish as if they were about to ebb away into nothingness. Driven by the explosion of bodily thrill, her mind slid into a momentary state of blankness, leaving her body alone to quiver from the sensual impulses emanating from her lower half. Her back slouched further on the chair rest and her breathing became haggard, intermittently pausing to moan out her gratification audibly. ¡°Fuck... Fugd... Fijgmk...¡± Whether she was tired or having lost her ability to coherently think, Llanfair¡¯s speech was temporarily over the place. The stress from her duties had taken away most of her energy, leaving only barebones for her to pleasure herself. As such, it wasn¡¯t long before fatigue overwhelmed her sensual indulgence, and she started feeling more tired than exhilarated. Looking at her cum-stained dress, sweaty and red-flushed face, and her womanhood leaking her precious juices, she was more ready for another rigorous session of sex in bed than she was for a high-level diplomatic meeting with another country. ¡°Hah... Right...¡± It all came back to her: after a coherent sense of communication was achieved via the Fennese, the other country, Japan, had asked for a meeting with her and her government. Some time had passed, and it was now only a while before they¡¯d come to see each other. Reeling from her disgusting yet self-gratifying episode, she remembered that this was the reason why she was currently in Myhark. Considering her pitiful state, she had to redo her dignified appearance before she could see them. Releasing her iron grip from Silas¡¯s head, she allowed him to stop and take a breather. Her exasperated eyesight, blurry from the intense pleasure of which the remnants she was still feeling, landed on her subordinate¡¯s face. Underneath the perspiration and her womanly juices dripping over much of his face was an expression of affirmation, reminding her that he was happy to be of use to her. ¡°Oh Silas...¡± Llanfair once more caressed his face, and Silas held her hand close. Her exasperated yet gleeful expression was more as if she was looking at a pet. ¡°Get yourself washed too. I¡¯ll give you your reward after the meeting.¡± Royal Reception Hall, 14:00 Having met with the sharp appearances of the Japanese diplomats some hours ago, their first meeting at the reception hall was already dragging to a close. Wearing an elegant, flowing dress of green and yellow, the colors of Qua-Toyne, with a pearl necklace around her neck, Llanfair projected the awestruck magnificence that was expected of a sovereign. She sat in the middle of one side of a long table, surrounded by the neatly-dressed persons of her high council. Populating the side of the table opposite to them were the diplomats from Japan, all bearing neatly trimmed haircuts and snappy, fashionable black suits. Llanfair sat directly across from the head of the delegation, a stern-faced man with a handsome-looking haircut who calls himself Kuribayashi Jizaburo. His glaring eyes were as sharp as the edges of his jawline. Having been forced to look at him for the entire meeting, she couldn¡¯t help but note how not once did Kuribayashi ever open his firm, muscular hands. As a power-hungry leader, she too held her face up in stark defiance, not wanting to submit to the Japanese man in front of her, even if the battleground was just appearances. Heck, even his apology for their flying object, which they call an ¡°aircraft,¡± transgressing their sovereignty, felt very unapologetic simply because of his rugged expression. ¡°This all seems well and good...¡± Kuribayashi muttered as their talks were drawing to a close. Having spoken in Japanese, his statement was lost on the Qua-Toynians, but the Fennese with them, who was acting as the translator, conveyed to them in the common tongue. ¡°Kuribayashi says that they are satisfied with the terms.¡± After nearly three and a half hours of exhausting back and forth regarding topics such as their resources, workforce and technical capabilities, the terms of an economic and trade deal, and so on, they managed to arrive at the endpoint. It was also surprisingly fast too, almost as if the Japanese themselves wanted it done as fast as possible. ¡°Excellent!¡± Clapping her hands in mild exasperation, Llanfair wanted to move along to a topic she wanted to discuss. All this time, she thought of them as being the emissaries of old, the divine warriors sent forth by Shamash, the sun god, to drive away from the demonic menace that harassed their ancestors. Even though she felt like sticking to reason and not believing the Japanese story of them being transported to this world from another, it sounded exactly like how the sun god¡¯s emissaries first appeared. Adding fuel to the curiosity of a plausible relation, she took notice of a decorative pin on the diplomats¡¯ collars, which depicted a stunningly red disc on a cloth of pure white. If this was their country¡¯s banner, then it was strikingly similar to the banner that the emissaries had left behind. Was it a coincidence? Llanfair believes otherwise. To nail the coffin on this personal interest, she wanted to address the Japanese head-on. ¡°One more thing I¡¯d like to ask, however...¡± She paused, giving time for the Fennese translator to convey her message to the Japanese diplomats. Kuribayashi responded and allowed her to ask them. Considering that her direct questions may somehow be lost in translation, she opted for asking simpler, roundabout questions. ¡°Here in Qua-Toyne, we¡¯re still very much attached to our mythologies. Our national banner contains symbolism that pertains to the deity of agricultural blessing and fertility, Astarte. If the pin you wear on your collar represents your banner, can you tell me more about it?¡± As soon as the translated question reached his eardrums, Kuribayashi answered without delay. ¡°We too are attached to our natural world, but we hardly let those beliefs govern our lives anymore. One such vestige of this is our national flag, the Hinomaru, officially the Nissh¨­ki, which depicts the sun.¡± Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. After a brief moment of translation, Llanfair¡¯s eyes widened. The other councilmen next to her picked up on this as well, and they started considering their sovereign¡¯s wild idea about the old emissaries. Even councilman Kanata, once stubborn and hesitant, was more or less convinced in finding out more. With the topic firmly on where she wanted it to be, Llanfair got more direct with her questions. ¡°Does it hold any religious significance? Perhaps a sun deity?¡± Kuribayashi tilted his head off to one side. ¡°We do have a mythology surrounding the creation of the universe, which involves the goddess of the sun, Amaterasu. As the legend goes, our emperor, now mainly a figurehead, descended from her.¡± A moment of silence gripped the room as the Qua-Toynians processed the translated answer of Kuribayashi. It still left room for coincidence, but they now felt that they had enough to go around to warrant an actual investigation on the matter. Satisfied with the answers she¡¯s been given, for now, the princess was eager to send the Japanese off, but there was one more thing... ¡°As we go and formalize this relationship, there¡¯s one last thing I want to ask of you.¡± Kuribayashi raised his opened palms at long last, encouraging her to let him and his people hear it. ¡°I want to visit your country, learn of its particulars, and meet with your leaders. Surely that is not impossible, hm?¡± The Japanese looked at one another, their expressions riddled with uncertainty. However, it would be rude to leave the sovereign of another country unanswered. Turning to face her with his usual poker face, Kuribayashi responded. ¡°We will see to it.¡± Central Calendar 05/03/1639, off the coast of Myhark, 8:45 As the mid-morning sunlight peeked through the intermittent clouds close to the horizon, the daily lives of the inhabitants of one of Qua-Toyne¡¯s biggest cities were already in full swing. Traders, merchants, and fishermen took to their sailboats, and sail ships of various sizes and nationalities as the quaint waves of the calm sea came to greet them at the largest port on the Qua-Toynian coastline. Markets selling all kinds of goods coming from both overseas and domestic producers were already bustling with sorts of peoples from different walks of life, from fisherfolk beastmen to artisan dwarves and elven entrepreneurs. At the port, carts of goods packaged in crates and barrels were being wheeled across the sandy stone wharves by horse-drawn carts. Standing off to one side was the figure of a woman in a stunning dress of interwoven blue and white, her head covered from direct sight by the bowl-like parasol she held. Next to her were several men of various aristocratic clothing, but none of them showed hesitance to be amidst the commoners walking past them. ¡°Hmph. What¡¯s taking so long...¡± Clad in her usual opulence, Llanfair did not shy away from showing her impatience. Two weeks had passed since the Qua-Toynian, and Japanese officials last met. Some days ago, they were contacted by the temporary Japanese diplomatic mission in Myhark about her request to visit the country being approved, with the date set for the 5th day of Mev, the 5th lunar cycle in the Central Calendar. Apparently, according to the Fennese, the date took the longest to set, as the Japanese were using a completely different calendar system, and it was the onset of autumn in their world when they got transported here. ¡°Maybe I should take their story seriously...¡± What gave Llanfair more reason to consider this appeared at the other end of her sight. Looking out towards the ocean from the port, she caught sight of something mind-boggling. Beyond the defensive harbor walls that enclosed parts of the port was a long, massive vessel painted in different hues of gray and white. The gigantic size of the ship made her doubt her own sense of scale and distance as she struggled to compare it with the various sail ships that traveled across its vicinity. Seeing its towering hull project a sense of power all throughout, Llanfair could not even fathom how such a massive ship was even possible in the first place. Only some weeks ago, Myhark was the site of one of Qua-Toyne¡¯s most harrowing moments when a Japanese aircraft easily grazed the skies above it, a point of personal embarrassment for Llanfair. Now, in that very same place, the Japanese had once more demonstrated just how untouchable and powerful it was. The massive ship undoubtedly caught the attention of everyone in the city, with scores of people across the port taking the time to gawk at it. ¡°How vexing...¡± Llanfair clicked her tongue at her powerlessness to project a strong image to the Japanese, being thwarted time and time again by their titanic technological capabilities. Even on her home turf, it was the Japanese who were turning their heads and not the other way around. At this point, it was beyond doubt that their heads would turn once they got to their mainland. ¡°Ah, look!¡± Councilman Kanata, next to her, shouted out loud as he pointed toward the ocean. A group of small, black boats traveling at ungodly speeds through the waters darted towards them from the massive ship, entering the harbor in no time. Fluttering above one of the boats was a white banner with a red circle in the middle. ¡°I think that¡¯s our transport vehicle.¡± With the Japanese boats approaching, the Qua-Toynian officials hurried to do last checks on their luggage. Haneda International Airport, Tokyo, Japan, 13:30 ¡°Dear Astarte...¡± ¡°Land... At last!¡± Upon exiting the innards of the rumbling cylindrical steel deathtrap the Japanese call an ¡°airplane,¡± the wobbling Qua-Toynian officials immediately got on their knees and kissed the concrete tarmac. Some of them even fell flat on their stomachs, exhausted from the tense sensation they felt throughout the aerial journey. The entire trip was relentless for them. After being taken to the massive gray ship stopped outside Myhark, they were then led to a small aircraft capable of taking off at a vertical angle. It was an extremely unpleasant ride, as they encountered turbulent winds along the way. After nearly two hours, they then landed on an island called Okinawa, where they were then immediately taken to a bigger aircraft to travel to the capital, Tokyo, which was two and a half hours away by plane. Quivering on her heels and feeling off-balance, Llanfair reached out for a place that she could lean on. ¡°My fucking...¡± Reeling from the sickening, stale ¡°food¡± she was given onboard and the overall frightening experience of being taken to the skies, the princess tried her best to keep her lunch within her stomach. ¡°Are you alright?¡± Approaching her was an unfazed Kuribayashi, who with a little delicacy and capacity to read the room, asked her in his still crude common tongue. Exhausted and motion sick, she tried her best not to lambast the thickheaded diplomat with a colorful flurry of words so as not to cause a diplomatic incident. ¡°I will be waiting over there. Ah, and welcome to Japan, your highness.¡± What a dastardly shitty welcome, thought Llanfair. Slowly finding her footing on solid ground again, Llanfair looked at her surroundings. All around her was an endless flat plain of grayish stone, almost as if it were a single, uniform block. Looking back at their aircraft, a sizable machine of shiny red about the length of four adult wyverns, she then compared it with the monsters parked all around them. These goliaths... can all fly?! At times, the massive white aircraft, with wings as broad as entire parks, would appear to be as large as entire sections of castle walls. The indomitable keep and walls of the fortress town of Ejey in the countryside came to mind. The extreme technological marvels required to create these giants were something that was simply beyond comprehension. Even the gigantic facility that stood before them called an ¡°airport¡± by the Japanese, shocked the Qua-Toynians with its towering height and extensive use of uniform, supposedly expensive glass panels. Then, there was the breathtaking sight behind the aircraft they came in. Beyond the waters beyond the endless plane of stone lay an alien skyline of white and gray buildings that soar into the heavens. They sparkled beautifully in the early afternoon sun and were testament to the hair-raising power that the Japanese possessed. Having never seen such an imposing sight in their life, the Qua-Toynians were now more inclined to believe that they were in a completely different world. ¡°No... They really are from a different world...¡± The inescapable feeling of them being incomparably tiny was etched into their hearts. Llanfair, however, continued to resist, adamant about maintaining the image that she was the leader of a proud nation. With her heart in chaos, she proceeded to catch up to Kuribayashi to be transported to their lodgings. Central Calendar 05/04/1639, Tokyo, Japan, 9:00 Emerging out onto the foyer, or ¡°lobby¡± as the Japanese insist on calling it, of the building they call a ¡°hotel,¡± Llanfair took to one of the mirrored walls that lined the lobby. There, she examined her reflection on the mirror¡¯s pure and stainless surface, admiring the extravagance of the handwoven black patterns that decorated her stunning purple dress. Satisfied with her almost-menacing appearance, she then took to indulging herself with the grandness of the lobby. Rose-red pillars stood imposingly along two parallel lines running through the middle, acting as support for the rest of the hotel above. Glistening chandeliers hung from the ceiling, which was as shiny and aesthetic as the marble floor she walked on. Off to one side, there was even a functioning fountain, complete with the artistic depiction of a nude siren with a vase from which the water poured out. She had already seen these features yesterday when they arrived, but the fatigue from the air travel had driven them to their beds, which was the pinnacle of what it means to feel something soft and comfortable. ¡°Shall we go, your highness?¡± Caught up in her admiration, she did not notice the smart-looking figure of Kuribayashi standing next to her. Turning to face him, she then took note of another man standing to the left of the Japanese diplomat. He also wore the same sharp, black suit that Kuribayashi was wearing, but his rustic facial features and grown beard led her to assume that he was not with the Japanese. ¡°Forgive my transgressions for the late introductions, but this person here is Kado, the new ambassador of Fenn to Japan. He will be assisting us in the translations.¡± Managing to somehow read the passage given to him by Kado in transliterated common, Kuribayashi introduced the Fennese ambassador to Princess Llanfair. The two then exchanged bows. ¡°Now then, we will proceed to our session in the National Diet of Japan. This way, your highness.¡± With Kado¡¯s translation assistance, Kuribayashi led Llanfair and the other Qua-Toynians out of the hotel towards a convoy of black cars awaiting them outside. As part of the first state visit of a new world country to Japan, the sovereign of Qua-Toyne and some of her government officials will be making a speech at the National Diet, the parliamentary body of Japan. With guidance from Kuribayashi and the Japanese foreign ministry, as well as from her own councilmen, she managed to prepare a few words to say to the lawmakers of Japan. She herself added some parts in it that she did not divulge to anyone, so no one knows what exactly she was going to say. Led into the interior of the sleek, metallic, horseless carriage, Llanfair took note of the alien sensations she experienced as her body sank in her seat. Unlike the thin cushions of the carriages she was used to, the cushions on the seat of this ¡°car¡± were plump, so much so that her thigh muscles tensed up from the unfamiliar degrees of comfort. Not only was the seat so soft, but the back and headrest were also of noteworthy suppleness. Leaning back and feeling at ease was something Llanfair found exciting. Holy blades of Astarte... I will never ride those carriages again! I need to know if these ¡°cars¡± are for sale!!! Consumed by the overwhelming sense of being at ease in the car seat, she didn¡¯t even notice that they were already moving. Turning her head off to one side, she looked out of the glass windows of the car, noticing the rather fast movement of the vehicle as it sped down the road. The prospect of getting to ride in such a comfortable vehicle back home got her all giddy, as now she was also impressed by how smooth the movements of the car were. There was hardly any violent shaking that assaulted her back and bum, and she could still reliably feel comfortable just leaning on the rest. Still, there was one more thing she wanted to do. According to Kuribayashi, the National Diet Building, where the National Diet holds its ¡°productive back and forth,¡± was situated in the heart of the capital. Since their hotel was close to the airport, it was going to take some time to get to the building as the distance to it from the hotel was modestly far. As such, it was reasonable to think then that they would be passing through the streets of the Japanese capital, an opportunity for Princess Llanfair to get a glimpse at the power that the nation held. Her eyes widened at what they were seeing looking outside: everywhere she looked, it was all artificial, whether it be glass, stone, metal, or other alien-looking materials. There was hardly any green; there were only a few trees, shrubbery, and other signs of life that appealed to her elven tendency to be with nature. Without these signs of life, it wasn¡¯t that surprising when she thought of how dead the capital was. They were the only cars out, despite the size of the streets being able to accommodate even more. The sidewalks were devoid of people, and the places that seemed to be storefronts on the streetside were all closed and darkened. Just as she wondered where everyone was, answers came to view. On multiple occasions, they passed certain places where there were long lines of people. Taking a quick glance at their faces, she saw that they were disheartened, confused, and frustrated. Whenever they passed a big sprawling park, a refuge of green in an otherwise gray metropolis, she saw barriers around the park manned by what seemed to be armored personnel clad in blue and black, keeping at bay what seemed to be people who were crying and begging for help. The park was littered with tents and people who seemed to be living in relative squalor when they examined the area more closely. Her mind filled with questions as to the reasons for the chaotic scenes playing out before her, she glanced towards Kuribayashi, who was in the same car. However, all she found was that he and the driver were actively ignoring the sights before them, their faces looking elsewhere and their mouths mum. This was not what I was expecting... Their convoy then came across a street blocked off by stone barriers. Before they completely turned away, she was able to take a detailed look at what was happening beyond the barriers. There, she saw a line of armored personnel with clear, glass-like shields withstanding a hail of rocks and attacks by what appeared to be protesters. With the line of personnel being driven backward, one of them tripped and fell, leading to that person getting focused on by attacks by the protesters, which were beaten and cuffed in retaliation by the other armored personnel. Before long, a bigger, bulkier car appeared next to the uniformed personnel. A small, metallic pivot-like object on top of it suddenly spewed out an intense jet of water against the protesters, forcing them to disperse and run away. While the violence paled in comparison to the crimes committed by Louria, it was still surprising that so much unrest and unhappiness was occurring in the Japanese capital. She wondered if the other Japanese cities were suffering the same predicament. Still, the reasons behind the general social disorder she witnessed eluded her. Their convoy then emerged out into a part of the capital that was clear of the extremely tall buildings she had witnessed earlier. There were also more trees and greenery to the point that the ratio of nature to artificial structures was beyond comparison from where they passed through. Off to one side, she found a gray, imposing building that jutted out of the layer of trees that blocked off its lower half. It was massive and wide, and its unimpressive yet menacing facade evoked a sense of being intimidated. ¡°There it is, the National Diet Building.¡± Kuribayashi remarked in common, still trying to get the hang of proper intonation. As the brutalist symbol of Japanese politics loomed ahead, Llanfair steeled herself for her speech. - - - Guided by dozens, maybe hundreds, of Japanese suits and shaded spectacles, the Qua-Toynian delegation, headed by the magnificent opulence of Princess Llanfair, made their way through the halls of power. In spite of maintaining an aura of supremacy and predominance, she can¡¯t help but feel dwarfed by the sheer scale and grandeur of the Diet building¡¯s interior. Marble walls, intricately carved reliefs, massive perfect arches, vibrant paintings; it was as if she was in an imperial palace of first-rate world power. She then entered into a grand chamber of wooden walls, with an array of tables arranged in an amphitheater-like semi-circle facing a podium on a slightly elevated platform. The chamber was populated with all sorts of Japanese lawmakers wearing the common black suit, as well as some individuals that carried with them small, boxy contraptions that emit short bursts of light. They were notified by Kuribayashi beforehand that these were harmless machines that take photographs, which was something that the Qua-Toynians were already aware of given that the Parpaldians already possessed technology that could do something similar. Ignoring the flashes and judgemental stares descending on her person, Llanfair ascended to the platform and faced the condescending glares of the Japanese lawmakers head-on. Absolutely confident in her self-presentation, she was unfazed by the crowd before her. After positioning herself before the podium, she heard the well-modulated voice of a Japanese person echoing throughout the chamber. ¡°We will now commence the address of her highness, Llanfair Gwergin, princess of the principality of Qua-Toyne, to the National Diet of Japan.¡± She did not understand a single word. Fortunately for her, Kado was standing behind her side, and he then told her that she was now allowed to speak. Relying on the Fennese ambassador for the translation, she exhaled one last time before proceeding to open her mouth. ¡°My greetings to you, noble officials of the state of Japan, and to the astute people that inhabit your nation.¡± Llanfair was taken aback by how her voice was also being amplified in volume. This was presumably the work of a magic device or a technological machine that the Japanese were using on her. She was not alone in being surprised, though. Hearing the unrecognizable, unfamiliar, completely alien language being spoken by the princess, the Japanese lawmakers couldn¡¯t contain their shock. Immediately, they began talking amongst one another, their tones and expressions a mix of worry and amazement. ¡°This is probably the most convincing presentation on how we¡¯re in a new world...¡± ¡°Well, crap... I appreciate her kind words, but we¡¯re not gonna go anywhere with the economy...¡± ¡°Is she actually an elf? Look at her ears!¡± The chamber was drowned out in excessive hushes by the Japanese lawmakers. Seeing the disrespect to her presence happening before her, Llanfair can¡¯t help but be irked. Fortunately, she was the type of person who would do anything to command respect. As such, she deemed her next move to be appropriate for the occasion. ¡°As a token of my gratitude for your hospitality in accommodating us, I will provide you with firsthand experience of something you¡¯ve never witnessed before.¡± We, unfortunately, don''t have magic in Japan. It has never existed for us, so knowing it and casting it is out of the question. That was what Kuribayashi told her and her councilmen when confronted with the question of magic. Since magic was so natural in this world, Llanfair took his word with a grain of salt, but it did reinforce their story of being transported here. With that in mind, she knew that the Japanese had never witnessed magic before, and so she deemed it adequate for her to demonstrate it to get their attention. Letting go of some of her self-control, she felt the mana flow out of her body, which was then immediately cast according to the chants of her subconsciousness. Using her hands as conduits, she twirled around, the slightness of her nimble hand movements exciting the air around her. The Japanese, witnessing her perform fluid movements of unknown nature, were beholden to her image by the curiosity of what she was doing. Then, they saw the air around her person slightly warp as the spell she cast sped up the flow of wind. Before long, a swirling vortex of winds had gathered around her. The Japanese looked on with terror and awe as the violence of the winds threw around objects lighter than a pebble. With her wind magic on full display, she cast another spell that served as the cherry on the cake. Bringing her arms in, she muttered a few words before proceeding to spread them out. In response, the vortex of winds around her dissipated into the crowd of Japanese before her. After the winds blew through them, particles of snow started precipitating from their wake, fluttering beautifully down on the ruffled hairs of the lawmakers. Reeling in from the stupefaction of what they had witnessed, the Japanese had their mouths and eyes wide open, unable to utter even a single word. All they could do was look back at Llanfair, who looked back at them with a triumphant face. ¡°People of Japan, I bid you welcome to our world: Asherah!¡± Hot on the heels of this announcement and with attention still on her, she continued. ¡°It is an amazing world filled with all sorts of magic, breathtaking scenery, and plentiful natural resources. The people that inhabit it are hardworking and diligent, and like us back in Qua-Toyne, they are willing to be friends.¡± Then, she went straight into the crux of her speech, the part that she wanted the Japanese to hear. ¡°However, not all are friendly and are of good heart. One of these bad-hearted people is our neighbors, the Lourians. Every full moon, they raid our borders, burning everything and everyone. They destroy, set alight, torture, rape, and massacre our peoples! Pillage is but a norm to these barbarians!¡± Intentionally putting some exaggerations, Llanfair could see her emotional words tugging on the heartstrings of the Japanese officials before her. ¡°Just months ago, the king of these barbaric Lourians, ordered for our submission. This is no empty threat, for their war-hungry soldiers and terrifying wyverns amass at the border in the hundreds of thousands as we speak! We, who are your friends in peace and partners in economic progress, will be put to the sword for the crime of existence!¡± Still, she knew her proof-less assertions were without merit, so she went loaded with her statements. ¡°You doubt my words? Go then! Fly your aircraft to witness the horrors happening at the border! Still don¡¯t believe us? Are you going to wait until we, your only source of necessary foodstuffs, are eradicated?¡± The atmosphere in the chamber got tense. Llanfair, seeing that the iron was hot, landed her strike. ¡°But I know you¡¯re not going to do that... I know this because you¡¯ve done this before.¡± She was delighted by the confusion on everyone¡¯s faces, knowing that they were basically now wrapped around her manipulative fingers. ¡°Long ago, the Sun God, Shamash, sent down her emissaries in divine flying ships of iron, and in their wake, they left a trail of fire and thunder. They had saved us and humanity from the jaws of extinction, allowing us to thrive and rebuild. Seeing your sophisticated technological marvels only convinced me more of what I know. That¡¯s because the banner that the emissaries of the Sun God flew was this.¡± She took out a wrapped package from a small sack that she had brought. Unwrapping it, she produced a worn cloth stained with age and burn marks. As she unfurled it for all to see, the reaction from the Japanese was a resolute and resounding ¡°what?!¡± The chamber descended into rattlings and commotions as the banner fluttered gently in the air, the occasional light that directly hit the bright red disc on the center reflected back, making it appear as if the banner was shining, complementing the 16 bright red rays that radiate from the center. A smile appeared on Llanfair¡¯s face, satisfied with the outcome her actions were having on the Japanese. Intent on pouring more fuel into the fire, she ended her speech with a hanging question. ¡°To have the privilege of meeting you in this age is nothing but divine intervention. This doesn¡¯t go just for me, but all of my people as well. In these trying times, could your nation serve as our sun? A beacon of hope in the endless darkness? Just like the very banner that represents your people?¡± Unreasonable expectations, a reignited spirit of national wellbeing, and a desire for a united social order clashed in the hearts of the Japanese officials. Faced with troubling circumstances as they stand, it didn¡¯t take much for them to develop conflicting ideas on how to best respond. Chapter 4.5: Only Time Will Tell As of April 22, 2022, this chapter has been rewritten Cent. Calendar 25/04/1639, Barrat, Kingdom of Quila, 10:00 ¡°Hmm...¡± A silent groan was the only thing that echoed within the dusty interior created by the four earthen, mud-brick walls. There were no windows, but there was one big, rectangular opening in the ceiling, covered by a holed wooden board that let in thin streaks of sunlight. Behind an earthen slab that functioned as a desk was a man with a dark complexion leaning back on his stiff, wooden chair. Despite his shorter-than-life stature, he was an adult in his middle ages, as apparent in his thick, graying beard and bald temple. His stubbiness is but a natural form for him, for he was a dwarf. ¡°What is going on here...¡± Scratching his scalp that was devoid of hair, Metzal, foreign affairs consultant to the kingdom of Quila, was brooding over something. In an effort to make sense of it all, he went through the events that transpired yesterday. - - - Arriving at his work quarters early in the morning, a Metzal buried in a thin film of coarse, irritating sand entered through the entranceway. After using a sizable stone slab to cover the entranceway, he patted his entire person, from his stubby shoulders to the lower parts of his maroon robes, to clear them of pesky dust. ¡°Damned sandstorm!¡± Outside, a blistering sandstorm continued to ravage the modest settlement that was Barrat, the capital of the kingdom of Quila. Laying claim over the barren wastelands that formed the great southeastern aridness of the Rodenius continent, Quila always had little to offer to the greater nations that lay outside of it, and as such it has seen little in the way of economic prosperity, let alone development. In spite of its tragic, unproductive lands, the primary source of pride that the kingdom was known for was its hardy people, a conglomerate of beastmen, humans, and dwarves who¡¯ve built up extreme tolerance to unforgiving circumstances. Driven by the economic wallows in their pitiful homeland, they¡¯re forced to employ themselves in difficult jobs abroad, especially as mercenaries. The sandstorms that constantly plague the Quilan wastelands gave birth to a people with unmatched resolve, but that doesn¡¯t necessarily mean everyone likes it. ¡°Ugh...¡± Metzal tried to breathe through his nose but they were clogged, presumably from the tingly dust particles that made their way through his nostrils. ¡°Manners, dear friend of mine. Here.¡± The voice of another person in his work quarters reached him from behind, mildly startling Metzal. He recognized the elegance of the voice¡¯s tone, but he still turned around to visually confirm it for himself. ¡°Folen...¡± Sitting on one of the earthen slabs that served as a couch was the green-clothed figure of an elven man. Called Folen by Metzal, his clean and refined appearance reflected the fact that he was from the better off principality to the north: Qua-Toyne. The elf¡¯s hand was extended out towards him with a clean, white cloth in the middle of his palm. ¡°I¡¯ve no need for your baby wipes, Folen.¡± ¡°You¡¯re doing a bad job of acting like an adult, Metzal. With that stubby, baby height of yours, the only redeeming, adult-like feature is your bald head.¡± ¡°At least I look like a man, you she-elf. If it weren¡¯t for your diplomatic status, you¡¯d be dragged to the brothels by Barrat¡¯s horniest men.¡± Despite the divisive undertones rooted in racial differences in the banter between the dwarf and the elf, the two were at the very least in amicable terms; a reflection of the uneasy friendship between Quila and Qua-Toyne. Codified in a pact of friendship between the earlier sovereigns of the two nations, they¡¯ve never been as close as they are until recently, when Lourian warmongering to the west threatened the existence of both nations. With the question of Lourian provocations still fresh, Metzal assumed that this was why Folen had summoned him to a meeting. ¡°So. What did the Lourians say this time?¡± He got straight to the point as he took his seat on the wooden chair behind his designated earthen slab. ¡°The usual. Although that¡¯s not why I¡¯m here.¡± ¡°Ah. Well, if it¡¯s the defensive pact, I already told you that his majesty is still in the middle of considering it.¡± ¡°No, not that¨CWait, are you serious? We brought it up months ago, and your king still hasn¡¯t decided? Isn¡¯t this span of time unreasonable?¡± Reminded of the general Quilan sloth when it comes to commitments, Folen got distracted and started hurling complaints at Metzal. Annoyed by Qua-Toynian persistence to do things their way, Metzal stooped down to Folen¡¯s level and got dirty with his own remarks. ¡°W-Wait! For Astarte¡¯s sake, let¡¯s focus on why I¡¯m here! This is very important, not just for Qua-Toyne, but for you and everyone!¡± Intrigued by the last part of the elf¡¯s statement, the hot-headed dwarf decided to control his temper-driven tongue and listen. ¡°Last week, on the 19th, we made contact with an island nation to the east. There¡¯s a lot more story and surprises than what I can say for myself because I also can¡¯t believe them myself. What matters is that they¡¯re a starving nation, and they¡¯re hungry for resources.¡± Metzal, believing he had heard enough to be convinced otherwise, leaned back on his chair and stopped listening. ¡°That sounds like your problem.¡± Quila had little to offer in the way of resources. If ¡°manpower¡± in the form of slaves were what they wanted, then they were not interested in any form of agreement with this nation. ¡°No, dear Metzal, it¡¯s an ¡°us¡± problem. They asked about you, particularly the black lakes.¡± Metzal¡¯s eyes opened. Hearing about the new nation¡¯s interest in the ¡°black lakes,¡± he leaned inwards with reinvigorated curiosity. ¡°What about the black lakes?¡± ¡°What those lakes are, what you know about them, and most importantly, whether you are selling the liquid from those black lakes.¡± His fists clamped up in response as confused rage boiled up in his head. Why are these newcomers interested in the black lakes? Why do they want the water? On top of it being near useless to them, the black lakes are considered sacred sites in Quilan culture, having a connection to the great emissaries of Shamash long ago. ¡°What could they possibly want with the black lakes?!¡± ¡°Now, now. Do you remember these expeditions?¡± Folen took out two thin sheets from his person and showed them to Metzal. Displayed on the sheets were the colored images of the Quilan wasteland with the figures of several men in the foreground. Behind these men were countless derelict truss structures protruding from the arid desert. Laying his eyes on these, Metzal was immediately reminded of the background behind these images. ¡°The Imperial and Muish expeditions to the sacred boneyard? Yes, I remember those. The king at the time allowed these expeditions for a hefty sum. A robbery, if you ask me. They got nothing but these pictures and some notes from the boneyard, while we got enough gold to more than double our budget for that year.¡± ¡°Well, they expressed a lot of interest in the boneyard as well. On top of the black lakes I mentioned earlier, those have more than warranted their attention to want to talk to you about them.¡± - - - With that said, a meeting between them and the new nation was reserved for today. On top of an insatiable curiosity regarding the nature of the people he was going to deal with, he had persisting concerns over what their motives were. ¡°Just who are these people?!¡± Clutching his head to try to contain his runaway anxious thoughts, Metzal could only remember the reminder Folen had left him before he went his ways. ¡°You will realize it when you see them for yourself.¡± Just as he finished replaying that memory in his mind, he heard the shaking sound of the stone slab on his quarters¡¯ entranceway being moved to the side. The towering figure of a beastman clad in sturdy leather armor was revealed to be the one moving the stone slab. Ducking to enter through the low clearance of the entranceway, the beastman soldier then stepped to the side, revealing the smaller silhouette of a female human behind him. Wearing an elegant and clean black suit and slacks, the woman made it appear as if she was a representative of some big shot nation in the civilized areas. She¡¯s representing that nation, Japan?! Just who the hell are these people, Folen?! The woman walked forward towards him. Following behind her was a human man whose scarred face and overly complicated red garb with stylish finishes led Metzal to believe that he was a man from the northern island kingdom of Fenn. Why is someone like him with her? His question was immediately answered when the woman extended her hand towards him and opened her mouth. ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to finally meet you, sir Metzal. I am Fujinuma, representative of the country of Japan.¡± Metzal stared at her hospitable eyes blankly, having understood nothing of what she had said. Before he could blurt out unrestrained remarks, the Fennese man next to her spoke up. ¡°She says it¡¯s a pleasure to be in your presence, sir Metzal. She introduced herself as Fujinuma, the diplomatic representative of Japan.¡± Ah, a translator, huh. But why? Turning his gaze towards the Fennese man, he automatically answered the question he had asked in his mind as if he could read it. ¡°The Japanese can¡¯t speak or understand Asheran common, hence why I¡¯m here.¡± In spite of this straightforward answer, Metzal didn¡¯t find it satisfying. Proceeding to shake the still extended hand of Fujinuma, he then introduced himself. Mentally, he remembered the reminder Folen had left him, and after what he had experienced in these first few minutes, he started to believe the substance behind those words. These bastards better be good, you damned she-elf! Cent. Calendar 05/04/1639, Shibuya, Tokyo, Japan, 10:30 ¡°Eh?!¡± ¡°Holy shit!¡± ¡°She¡¯s actually an elf?! And she can do magic?!¡± Countless surprised voices from all sorts of languages echoed throughout the wide-open spaces of Shibuya in the heart of Tokyo as thousands of people were present to watch the live broadcast of the Qua-Toynian princess giving her address to the National Diet. In what is usually the busiest, most crowded places in Japan, the chic, cosmopolitan culture of flashy billboards and zooming trains were replaced by a chaotic scene of people, mostly non-Japanese, who¡¯ve taken to living in the streets after their catastrophic transfer to Asherah. Shibuya Station, which used to be one of the busiest train stations in the country, had long stopped welcoming passengers and trains alike in wake of the suffocating power restrictions, and thus had become a massive, temporary shelter for those that could not be accommodated elsewhere. People from all over had gathered at the carless Shibuya Crossing, watching in disbelief as the elven princess showered the National Diet with powdered snow through her wind magic. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. With so many people present in one place and an event of historic proportions occurring on live television, it was the perfect opportunity for media outlets to come out and do some interviews. One such outlet sent their television crew into the foray, broadcasting their own live broadcast for those not tuned into the official broadcast. ¡°We¡¯re right here, live, in Shibuya Crossing, where thousands have just witnessed an extraordinary event happen!¡± The young-looking reporter gave her best vocal projection as she faced the TV camera looking right back at her. ¡°Her Highness, Llanfair Gwergin of Qua-Toyne, had just finished dazzling the members of the National Diet with her m... magic? Did you just say magic?! Really?!¡± She lost her composure in disbelief at what she was saying. Just as she was about to resume her report, they heard the crowd of people behind them explode into shouts and jeering. ¡°What the fuck is this bullshit?!¡± ¡°Boo!!! Fucking fake-ass Japanese propaganda!!!¡± Turning around, the reporter, along with the cameraman, had their mouths wide agape at what was projected on the several televised billboards all around Shibuya Crossing. In clear definition, they saw the elven princess holding an old tattered flag in stains, but what it depicted was no doubt the shining rays of the Rising Sun. There were exactly 16 rays and the sun was at its center: the flag used by the former Imperial Japanese Army. ¡°H-H-How?!¡± The reporter found herself stammering in sheer shock at what she was seeing. Listening in closely, beyond the thousands of shouts echoing throughout the spacious crossing, were the words of the princess coming from speakers. ¡°To have the privilege of meeting you in this age is nothing but divine intervention. This doesn¡¯t go just for me, but all of my people as well. In these trying times, could your nation serve as our sun? A beacon of hope in the endless darkness? Just like the very banner that represents your people?¡± Although her claim was as dubious as it was extraordinary, there was little doubt of the effect it had on everyone who was watching. Most non-Japanese who were present, foreign tourists from all over the world which became stuck as a result of the transfer, did not take the event with any hint of positivity. Some were in denial, some were quivering and crying in fear, while the majority were enraged and livid at the princess hinting that the Imperial Japanese were a ¡°beacon of hope¡±. The Japanese, however, were mostly divided into two groups: those who didn¡¯t care about it, and those that felt an intense surge of patriotic zeal. Unfortunately for everyone, the latter group had more of a presence in Shibuya than the former. It didn¡¯t take long for animosity between the non-Japanese and the reinvigorated nationalists to manifest. With everyone extremely tense and emotional following the authoritarian measures put in place by the Japanese government since the transfer, with authorities forcibly shoving foreigners into makeshift camps in empty parks and buildings, enacting strict rationing and labor conscription, and so on, it was a no-brainer that people will start resenting one another. On one hand, the foreigners were angry with the inhumane treatment they¡¯ve received, and on the other, the Japanese were angry with the presence of the foreigners, who they think are taking away the lion¡¯s share of the resources. Soon, after a single provocation from one side, both sides started to congregate to face off against one another. The tense atmosphere in the crossing turned from uneasy to one of bloodlust in an instant. ¡°You motherfuckers! Don¡¯t think for one second that we¡¯ll forget what you did to our forefathers! No angelic elf from an alien world is gonna change that!¡± ¡°So what? This transfer was obviously a sign from the gods! They know who¡¯s more deserving! You pests are nothing but a nuisance!¡± ¡°Fuck off! We didn¡¯t choose to come with you on your little quest to become the conquerors of this world!¡± ¡°The way I see it, you dumbasses were the ones who came here in the first place! We are the rightful homeowners of this house, and what we say to you outsiders, you must follow!¡± Degrading insults replaced all meaningful exchanges. The atmosphere got even worse, and all it took was one event to set off the sensitive powder keg. As the reporter continued to report about the rapidly disintegrating order at the crossing, the sound of ear-piercing feedback coming from loudspeakers reached their ears, prompting everyone to stop what they were doing to cover them in response. ¡°Good day, everyone!¡± Immediately after the feedback faded, they heard the squeaky, high-pitched voice of a woman, which through the loud volume of the loudspeakers got even those from the other end of one of the streets to hear her. The reporter looked around to find the source, coming upon a conspicuous white van with loudspeakers on top and ultranationalist slogans painted on banners all across it. Standing beneath these aggressive words was a woman whose age was indiscernible when going by her voice and appearance, holding a wired microphone. ¡°There! Point the camera towards her and the van!¡± At the reporter¡¯s command, the cameraman swiveled around to point the bulky TV camera he was holding towards the van. ¡°Good day to all of you Westerners out there! To all of you Asian foreigners, good day as well! Finally, to my fellow, red-blooded countrymen; the standard-bearers of the exalted flag of the rising sun and the heralded emissaries of the sun goddess... Good day to all of you!!!¡± In response, the majority of the Japanese present greeted her back in cheers. ¡°GOOD DAY TO YOU TOO!!!¡± The shouts were loud enough that they echoed throughout the highrise-flanked major streets that led to the Shibuya Crossing. ¡°A very good day indeed!¨CNow, as per the announcement of her highness, Princess Llanfair Gwergin, we are the beacon of light in this dark, horrible, new world! However, affecting this shining beacon are insects clamoring to take a piece of the light, blocking it out and forcing everything to go back to a darkened state! These insects are none other than YOU!!!¡± The woman shamelessly extended her menacing index finger towards the crowd of foreigners, which were predominantly made up of East Asians such as ethnic Chinese and Koreans. ¡°We¡¯re tired of your foul presence, a privilege that we, full of tolerance and mercy, allow simply because we¡¯re the said beacon of light!¡± ¡°Yeah!!!¡± ¡°Send them on a boat out to sea! Get them out of here!¡± Spurred by this overwhelming surge in nationalistic fervor, brought about by the words of two women, a Japanese and a Qua-Toynian, the Japanese crowd began physically provoking the equally massive crowd of foreigners. ¡°If you dare¨Cand I say dare provoke our wrath¨C, we will not hesitate to repeat Nanki¨Cno, it will be the great massacre of Kanto! We will bring it upon you!!!¡± The woman made explicit threats of genocide, but the immorality of her statements and tone were drowned out, if not completely ignored, by the Japanese crowd, including bystanders and passersby that were ignoring the devolving situation at the crossing. The mixed words of Mandarin Chinese, Korean, English, and other languages coming from the foreign crowd clashed with the barrage of threats, fists, and garbage being hurled by the Japanese. ¡°Oh god...¡± The reporter watched on teary-eyed as a massive, thousand-man brawl ensued. The sheer animosity and hatred shown by her fellow countrymen had an effect on her, causing her bowels to feel more acidic and her heart feeling like it was sinking. For the first time in her memory, she felt ashamed to be Japanese. Her words wanted to come out, both for the sake of reporting the ongoing incident and her own feelings of wanting to get rid of her secondhand guilt. Swallowing her hesitations, she turned back to the camera and continued with her report. ¡°We have an unexpected development here in the middle of Shibuya Crossing where as you can see, thousands of people have begun fighting amongst one another, throwing objects, fists, kicks¨C¡± As she, together with other media crews on the scene, reported the chaos at the crossing, the loud, unnerving wails of police sirens reverberated across Shibuya. Dozens of police cars and black armored trucks descended on the crossing, their incoming presence alone scaring off a large portion of the crowd that dispersed into the countless alleyways and building spaces all across the vicinity. Myhark, Qua-Toyne, 18:20 The sun was setting on another uneventful day in the Qua-Toynian port city of Myhark as the normally crowded cobblestone streets were now mostly devoid of people, who¡¯ve already taken to their homes to prepare for the night ahead. With the sky dyed in a beautiful yet almost furious fusion of indigoes and oranges, oil lamps all across the city were beginning to light up, providing the darkening surroundings with a constant, imperfect semblance of daylight. Somewhere close to the harbor, one in was finishing servicing their last customer. The innkeeper, an old dwarf, named Lars, was behind the counter accounting for their earnings that day. For every few gold and silver coins he took note of, he would scratch the itchiness on his nape coming from the sweat and grime of a hard day¡¯s work. After having gone through half their day¡¯s earnings, the presence of another soul in the vicinity drew his attention. Emerging from one of the hallways that led to the rooms was one of his employees, a human named Poma. His exhaustion was obvious in his loose movements, although he may just still be not used to working in an inn, having only done the job for a month. Still, despite his shortcomings, he was doing well, a fact that not even Lars could deny. ¡°Thanks for your work today, Poma. You can go home now.¡± Feeling the need to give some gratification to the young man, he offered him to go home for the day. ¡°What? But boss, won¡¯t you need me for tonight?¡± It was awfully nice for Poma to protest, thought Lars. However, this was one thing he was going to insist on. ¡°Nah, I¡¯ll have Cid take over. He¡¯s been begging for another job after being booted by the garrison for excessively trying to woo Milly, the poor lass.¡± With this opportunity to finally get a night off, Poma almost bawled his eyes out as he thanked Lars. After packing up his belongings, he bid one last good night before setting off onto the now darkened streets of Myhark. Taking one of the undeveloped dirt roads that lead into the heart of the city, Poma kept his sack close to his person. His vigilance was at a normal level, but the significant lack of powerful lighting along the road did unnerve him a bit. What little light in the form of oil lamps outside the facades of some buildings only gave him enough to gauge whether or not he was still on the same road. However... ¡°Hm?¡± He caught a glimpse of a silhouette of a person standing behind an unlit corner of one of the buildings to his left. They were standing on an unmarked alleyway sandwiched between two minor storehouses that led to a parallel street on the other side. Since there was little lighting, it was difficult for him to make an accurate image of the contours of the person, but he had enough to go by to conclude that it was a person. Still, he did not feel any particular fear from the person, nor did he get the urge to avoid them. On the contrary, he dropped his guard, evident in the slower beating of his heart. He looked at the person with emotionless eyes, unchanged even when the other party decided to look back at him. With attention firmly established between them, Poma spoke first. ¡°Just came back from Awan? Are their oranges for sale?¡± In response to this unusual, baseless question that came out of nowhere, the other person entertained the question with an answer that was just as out of place. ¡°If I did, I¡¯d have none left for my ailing wife.¡± Hearing the reply he expected, Poma approached the other person and entered the alleyway. He was wearing light clothes and carrying a light leather satchel, the perfect getup for someone who intends to travel far within a short span of time at short notice. Poma then maneuvered close to their ear, whispering something. ¡°Here¡¯s my report, complete with rough sketches and all.¡± He then handed him a parcel, which the other guy immediately placed in his satchel. ¡°That better make it to the lieutenant general.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I heard that every single report we¡¯ve so far sent back over the last month is getting the leadership fidgety, even his majesty himself.¡± ¡°Sounds like it¡¯ll be all over soon. I hope to shit we get something good out of this.¡± ¡°We will, brother. Glory to the house of Louria!¡± Parting ways with the messenger, Poma set out back on the dirt road towards his lodgings. On the way, he pondered about the recent events that led up to where they were now. Before, he was confident that they would be able to secure victory once they commenced the invasion, even when taking into account the possible lack of cooperation and loyalty from the lords and princes. However, something unexpected happened along the way. Ever since the terrifying flying object appeared over the skies of Myhark weeks ago, weird visitors he had never seen before started appearing at the harbor. They wore inexplicably clean and sophisticated clothing and carried with them an aura that evoked respect, but what really unnerved him were the things they brought with them. Massive seagoing vessels, various artificial flying objects that flew at various speeds, sometimes exceeding that of what wyverns could achieve, alien-looking knick-knacks, and worrisome above all: objects held by certain people wearing all-green clothes that appeared to be guns. Unfortunately, he had little information outside of hearsay and his own visual accounts, so he didn¡¯t have much of an idea of who they were and where they came from other than a common word that was rapidly becoming known throughout the city. He had never heard of it before, but whenever he heard it, it was usually used in reference to these unexplained visitors. ¡°Japan...¡± He mouthed the word out loud, yet it still didn¡¯t make any sense. Although since it was in reference to these worrying visitors of note, he included it in his intelligence report that was now on its way back home. ¡°Only time will tell what kind of role they play...¡± With lots of doubts in his mind and a droopy body, Poma continued to walk back to his lodgings to rest his spirit and recuperate from fatigue for the coming day. Chapter 5: A Countrys Interests As of April 25, 2022, this chapter has been revised Cent. Calendar 4th Day of the 5th Month of the Year 1639, Tokyo, Japan, 10:30 Hot on the heels of a monumental, history-changing revelation, the National Diet of Japan has proceeded to do what it did best in times of crisis: do nothing and fight. As the tension in the chamber continued to escalate, the Qua-Toyne delegation could only watch in silence as, despite the language barrier, the shouts of Japan¡¯s top lawmakers began to unnerve them. ¡°Shut up, all of you!¡± Catching the attention of everyone in the room was one Masakage, an outspoken conservative of the Liberal Democratic Party, the ruling party of Japan. ¡°In what seems to be an unprecedented crisis befalling Japan in this age, why do we resist in accepting an opportunity for us to be united? A looming threat over the horizon is precisely the best chance for Japan to show the people that we are united in our response!¡± Masakage ended his remark to the tune of other conservatives cheering for him and repeating his remarks. The prospect of Japan uniting together, facing the unknown, was attractive and gained traction within even the moderates and the opposition, especially since most of them have already been afflicted by the crisis brought due to sudden transfer. However, the staunchest of the opposition did not give in, proceeding to instead go against Masakage¡¯s call for unity, which they assumed was riddled with hidden intent. ¡°I disapprove of you using the good intentions behind a call for unity in furthering your outdated thirst for war!¡± Standing up and speaking in an equally outspoken voice was Yukino Tadao, leader of the Constitutional Democratic Party, the second biggest political party behind the Liberal Democratic Party and the primary opposition party. Having caught the attention of everyone, Yukino continued. ¡°Pushing for such a drastic response this early in the new world¨CAsherah¨Cwould leave a bad impression on its natives! We must carry out this response with diplomacy and with as much care as possible! Japan, in this current state, cannot sustain a military response!¡± With some reasoning, the idea of a diplomatic solution in lieu of an armed one was convincing. Having been severed so abruptly from Earth, Japan was now in a downward spiral economically, and a sustained military conflict in this state was nothing but suicide. If Japan can avoid such an exhaustive economic drain, wouldn¡¯t that be beneficial for all, possibly including the aggressors? They may also be a potential trade partner. Masakage, along with several more, weren¡¯t convinced, however. ¡°A diplomatic solution? When the princess herself stated that they were going to burn their lands? Are you seriously saying that we just stand by and do nothing while our vital trade partner gets beaten into submission?¡± While the statement is indeed loaded, the tension-filled room did little for the others to notice, putting pressure on Yukino to respond. Fortunately, he hasn¡¯t given in to the pressure, putting up a composed reply to Masakage¡¯s verbal push. ¡°We do not know yet if the Princess¡¯s statement is indeed true. I think it would be best for us to not simply charge in like bulls but to assess the situation with diplomacy. If there is no other choice, if we certainly do indeed have to, for the sake of our people, then we proceed with your response.¡± Yukino¡¯s calm and well-thought reply resonated with everyone. Why do they have to resort to a military solution? Wasn¡¯t it the way of modern civilization to conduct business in civil manners? Why do they have to forego their progressive stance and return to barbaric warmongering just because they¡¯re in a new world without any of their old adversaries? The other side, finding Yukino¡¯s outlook to be convincing, largely disengaged. However... ¡°Cowards! The opportunity is already here for us to secure our future! Why do we have to sit around and do nothing?!¡± One of the far-right Diet members spoke up, releasing his pent-up anger at the moderateness of their solution. ¡°If we remove this menace at once, we won¡¯t have to worry about them later! The United States, China, and other countries are no longer here to watch over and criticize our every action! We can simply get rid of them, and no one will bat an eye!¡± Before Yukino could respond, opposition members burst into their own heated cries. ¡°Have you never considered the constitutionality of such actions, you dumbass?!¡± ¡°Their countries may no longer be here, but their people still are! Don¡¯t you see them rioting in the streets?!¡± As the exchange devolved from a productive conversation between leaders of the parties to a bantering between their more radical members, the solutions that have been proposed earlier were lost to name-calling, personal attacks, and other deviations from the topic. ¡°Unlike you, I¡¯m thinking of Japan¡¯s future!¡± ¡°What future is there when people like you are in charge, you son of a bitch!¡± With the shots being fired getting more personal by the second, certain members of the parties began to get physical, facing one another in intense staring contests. Before long, they were unleashing their fists. The fistfight began to involve more and more lawmakers from both sides, turning into a brawl right in the smack dab of cameras broadcasting live to the entire country. Despite the clamoring of others to stop the fight, the brawl continued to escalate, forcing some to call for security teams to stop them. As uniformed personnel flooded into the chamber, the Qua-Toyne delegation was pulled out. ¡°Your excellencies and your highness, we¡¯re being requested to evacuate!¡± Kado informed the rest of the Qua-Toyne delegation, who soon heeded his and the Japanese security personnel¡¯s calls. As the Qua-Toynians left in orderly fashion, Llanfair took one last look at the chaotic scene that still played out in the chamber. It was a reinforcement of what she assumed before about Japan being led by the people, and she couldn¡¯t help but smile at the disunity of the ¡®emissaries¡¯. If anything, she got a glimpse into how she could manipulate their mindset to further her country¡¯s interests. Two doctors arrived to tend to the injury of the wounded ministers and officials once additional security forces had arrived to contain the brawl. ¡°Hmph.. It¡¯s as if they can¡¯t cool their heads or something.¡± ¡°Good grief¡­ No wonder they wanted us to attend this meeting.¡± While throwing underhanded remarks underneath their breaths, they started to tend the wounded once the security contained the brawl. Those who suffered serious injuries are taken to a nearby hospital for further treatment. Cent. Calendar 7th Day of the 5th Month of the Year 1639, Prime Minister¡¯s Residence, Tokyo, Japan, 14:00 After Princess Llanfair and the rest of the Qua-Toynian delegation had left following the end of the first Asheran state visit to Japan, the government had once more returned to its duties of preventing Japan from imploding under the weight of its rapidly deteriorating economy and social order. While they are yet to see the fruits of trade with Qua-Toyne, Quila, Fenn, and Gahara, they¡¯ve received their wake-up call; that it was indeed a no-brainer that the new world was filled with those with hostile intent. Barely a month after they first appeared in Asherah, they¡¯ve come across another existential crisis, this time in the form of a warmongering kingdom called Louria. While Princess Llanfair¡¯s audacious statement and revelation in the National Diet some days ago raised mixed feelings, it was definitely hard to confirm or deny her claims regarding Louria. If these Lourians are indeed hellbent on conquering the Rodenius continent, then Japan¡¯s newfound trade, a now important lifeline that keeps it afloat, is in danger of being severed. While there was also sufficient room to assume that the Lourians might be a good host after the conquest, those hopes are about as unfounded as Llanfair¡¯s statement. Pressured by the Diet and the people to come up with a solution to this newfound problem, Prime Minister Takamori Hideaki and his cabinet have convened to determine what to do with Louria and how Japan will handle future threats in Asherah. As Takamori entered the meeting room, he was greeted by his ministers and their aides standing up to bow. Before they could, Takamori interrupted them. ¡°No need. Let¡¯s get on with this shitshow.¡± Taking a seat as his ministers sit back down, he looks at Agano Kenzo, the Minister of Foreign Affairs. ¡°Before we move on to the elephant in the room, perhaps a crash course on what we¡¯ve gathered about Asherah, Minister Agano?¡± Hearing the prompt, Agano orders his aide to distribute to everyone the document that they have prepared. After everyone had been given a copy, he proceeded to verbally report. ¡°We have compiled a profile of Asherah¡¯s political entities outside of our immediate sphere of influence. In other words, these are the nations beyond Qua-Toyne, Quila, Fenn, and Gahara.¡± As everyone perused through the papers, Agano took two rolled maps. He then spread it out on the meeting table for all to see. One was a glossy, printed map of the immediate area around Japan, created based on data collected from aerial surveys, radars, sea expeditions, and so on that had been conducted over the past few weeks. The other was a hand-drawn map that looked like it was from the late 19th century, complete with names written in an obscure language, elaborate drawings of sea monsters and mermen, drawings of flags and national banners, and such. It also contained a superimposed to-scale map of Japan plastered on its approximate geographical position relative to the other landmasses. Everyone looked at the map with visible shock and disbelief. ¡°Those continents are massive!¡± ¡°Why are the oceans so wide? And there¡¯s nothing but ocean off to the east too!¡± Hearing the remark, Okada Masako, Minister of Defense, spoke up to corroborate the map¡¯s depiction of a massive ocean to the east. ¡°Aerial reconnaissance sent to the east has shown that there is indeed nothing but ocean. We are currently arranging for a maritime expedition with ships to try and find any continents in that direction, but so far, even airborne radars tell us that there¡¯s nothing there within reasonable reach.¡± The other ministers, not knowing whether to feel relief that their eastern front is safe or to feel worried that something unexpected may lie further east, elected to set it aside for the moment. What earned their concern now was the presence of a term called ¡°great powers¡± on the document handed out by Agano. Reading further into the document, they realized that one of the powers, named the Parpaldian Empire, was located just a few hundred kilometers west of Japan. Looking back at the map, it didn¡¯t take long for them to spot its gigantic continental reach. ¡°This... Parpaldian Empire... Since it¡¯s an empire and whatnot... It¡¯s sufficient to say that it didn¡¯t get that big with just diplomacy, right?¡± Maeda Kuri, the Minister of Agriculture, Forestry and Fisheries, asked out aloud, with pristine drops of sweat visibly forming on his forehead. Agano answered him with a gloomy aura hanging over his face. ¡°Unfortunately... That would be the case.¡± The meeting room tensed up. With attention now focused on him, Agano continued. ¡°According to everyone we¡¯ve spoken to, the Parpaldian Empire is a hegemonic state. Possessing technological superiority, unparalleled centralized control and political will, and a massive land army, they¡¯ve bullied their way to dominance in the region, often making threats to weaker countries, securing unfavorable trade deals, and outright conquering and enslaving them if they refused.¡± The ministers all took deep sighs. The presence of a hostile, hegemonic empire so close to Japan meant that contact with them, whether directly or through their trade partners, was more or less inevitable. Worse was the high possibility that first contact may not even be from their merchants or diplomats. If the Parpaldians do not bat an eye to sending a fleet of warships whose commanders will not hesitate to pull the trigger, then Japan¡¯s diplomatic and trade missions are in danger. ¡°Do we at least have some idea of who they are?¡± Maeda once again asked. This time, Okada responded. ¡°The reconnaissance planes that we sent out during the day of the transfer were able to fly into...¡± Okada slipped a glance at the map, having forgotten the names of the landmasses. ¡°...the Philades continent, especially the Parpaldian part. While our intrusion was minimal, unlike Qua-Toyne, the aircraft¡¯s presence didn¡¯t seem to trigger any response on their part. Preliminary signals intelligence focusing on Parpaldia have also come up empty-handed.¡± Prime Minister Takamori, piecing it together, says his conclusion out loud. ¡°So they don¡¯t have radio signals of any sort?¡± ¡°It appears so.¡± Before the ministers could take a breath of relief, Okada raised her hand. ¡°However, the same recon plane that I mentioned a while ago managed to take some photos of some of Parpaldia¡¯s infrastructure. While I don¡¯t have them with me right now, the Ministry of Defense has confirmed the presence of paved roads, rail infrastructure, industrial complexes, and such, which are reminiscent of a developed country from the mid-to-late 19th century.¡± While the military threat from a great power on the level of a 19th-century colonial power seemed relatively low, the prospect of them possessing relatively advanced guns and a huge territory meant that a shooting war would be costly, if not downright exhaustive. ¡°If only they weren¡¯t so militaristic, then maybe we could get along with them. Their developed industrial complexes are exactly what we need the most.¡± Kagawa Tatsunosuke, the Minister of Economy, Trade and Industry, muttered. ¡°We can consider that, seeing as the volume of trade won¡¯t be enough in the near future. Still, we need to think of a way that won¡¯t provoke those bastards into a shooting war...¡± Takamori replied, to which the rest of the ministers showed their agreement through bobbling nods. Kubo Ryuzo, the Minister of Land, Infrastructure, Transport and Tourism, seeing that something was off, raised his hand and asked Agano. ¡°What¡¯s up with the Parpaldians possessing 19th-century technology when our neighbors, also their neighbors, are only on the level of Renaissance Europe and, in the case of Fenn, Edo-era Japan? Why the discrepancy?¡± Agano, itching to continue his presentation, answered immediately. ¡°Unlike on Earth, the primary power distribution in Asherah lies within three distinct zones which they all refer to as the ¡°civilized areas¡±.¡± Returning to the hand-drawn map, Agano pointed out these civilized areas. Maneuvering his finger around Philades, he called it the ¡®Third Civilized Area.¡¯ Moving towards the center of the map, where an equally massive continent was found, he called it the ¡®First Civilized Area¡¯ or the ¡®Central World.¡¯ Towards the westernmost end was another massive continent which Agano labeled as the ¡®Second Civilized Area.¡¯ ¡°These civilized areas are where the powers of Asherah are concentrated, and the areas themselves, if not yet clear from their naming, are rated in ascending order. That means that the Third Civilized Area, containing the Parpaldian Empire, is the least powerful of the three.¡± As the ministers are deep in thought on the matter, Prime Minister Takamori asked a question that was more or less what everyone else also had in mind. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. ¡°Who else are the so-called great powers?¡± ¡°According to what we were told, there are four other great powers located in the two other areas. The powers in the Second Civilized Area are called Mu and Leifor while those in the First Civilized Area are called the Holy Mirishial Empire and Eimor.¡± Looking at the map to find the names of the mentioned countries, the ministers once more sweated buckets. While Eimor commanded a small territory, the other three had continent-spanning nations comparable in scale to either the People¡¯s Republic of China or that of the continental United States. While the resource distribution and the overall population numbers still eluded them, the scale of the territories that these great powers possess was indeed worthy of the title. Before the other ministers could follow up questions, Agano quickly moved to resume his presentation. ¡°Before any of you ask, I will move on to this very important part. When we asked our counterparts in the other countries regarding the technology of the powers, all of the great powers possessed ¡®sea-going iron fortresses,¡¯ which more or less fit the description of iron-hulled warships. In the case of Mu and the Holy Mirishial Empire, they both seemed to possess super dreadnoughts on the level of the interwar period. This however, may not be an accurate assessment, as we considered the information we have on hand, which is certainly plausible to be dubious.¡± The room was divided on two axes depending on how they felt about what Agano said. One was concerned about the presence of a hierarchical system and the logical supposition that the other great powers were also as hegemonic as Parpaldia. The other felt eager to explore the world, knowing that developed, industrial nations, which are the kind of trade partners Japan desperately needs, exist. Having massive industrial powerhouses in the world meant that there was now a viable market for Japan to sell their more important manufactured goods. Prime Minister Takamori, however, remained straight-faced. ¡°So it isn¡¯t much of a stretch to assume that they have aircraft, or possibly even... nukes.¡± Upon hearing the word of nukes, the other ministers turned their heads towards Takamori with faces that said, ¡°Fuck! Right!!!¡± Agano, with a composed expression, answered. ¡°According to what our counterparts said, they do seem to have planes, especially on the level of piston engines and early jets. However, they don¡¯t seem to possess WMDs.¡± Before the other ministers could breathe sighs of relief, Okada immediately spoke up. ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean we should relax our vigilance. Interwar period technology means that they could be on the cusp of figuring out how the atom works. Furthermore...¡± Okada then looks to Prime Minister Takamori. ¡°Prime Minister, according to intelligence from the Americans, which we got through our intelligence-sharing agreements, they can corroborate the accounts of the Qua-Toynians, the Fennese, and the other countries of Mu¡¯s technological level. Through their facility in Okinawa, they managed to detect radio and other forms of signals coming from the Second Civilized Area. However...¡± Okada readjusted her glasses and coughed before continuing. ¡°They were also able to detect stronger, more refined signals further to the west of Mu. While the origins of these signals are still relatively unclear, some of the signals, according to the Americans, correspond to early examples of early warning radar meant for detecting bombers traveling at high altitudes.¡± Sanda Tomoya, the Minister of Education, Culture, Sports, Science, and Technology, raised his hand and asked. ¡°Early warning radar meant for detecting high altitude bombers? That doesn¡¯t sound interwar to me. Hell, while it¡¯s possible for a WW2-era nation, it¡¯s a stretch, isn¡¯t it? Could that mean that there could be another nation out there that¡¯s more advanced? Past the point of interwar level?¡± Before Okada could answer, Takamori cut them off with a wave of his hand. ¡°Let¡¯s not dive deeper into that matter without sufficient, conclusive information at hand. Minister Okada, can I trust that your ministry will find out more about this matter?¡± Okada nodded her head in a silent, resolute response to Takamori. Intent on steering back to the topic they started, Takamori wanted to conclude this part of Agano¡¯s presentation. ¡°According to this part here, the top powers, Mu and the Holy Mirishial Empire, have been at odds with one another and were noted to have even engaged in wars against each other in the past. That knowledge would prove useful in diplomatic maneuvering between them.¡± Agano nodded his head with a mix of certainty and doubt on his face. The prime minister stared at the document Agano handed earlier with a questioning, disbelieving look. Not knowing if it was a typo, he adjusted his reading glasses and even brought the document closer to his face. Despite this, the content of the document did not change. In order to settle his confusion, he looked straight at Agano and asked. ¡°Does it really say here that since Japan isn¡¯t geographically located in any of the civilized zones, we are considered non-civilized or just a peripheral country?¡± The notion that Japan was considered non-civilized sparked disbelief and skepticism among the other ministers. Not exactly understanding what it meant, they waited for Agano to answer the Prime Minister¡¯s question. ¡°It is indeed as it says. When we asked all of our counterparts if we could make contact with the powers, they downright denied that we would ever get the chance. According to them, the power system in Asherah meant that the countries which are outside the civilized areas are looked down upon by those within. Also, answering the question a while ago, it can be seen in this divide between the civilized and the peripherals the disparity in progress. Those within the civilized regions, being more powerful, could wield their influence on trade and diplomacy with impunity, to the point where they could bully or set aside the peripheral nations. While we may be able to break this global stigma in the future, it is, unfortunately, the status quo.¡± The mood in the room got gloomy. Since Japan wasn¡¯t in any of the civilized regions, to the other nations in Asherah, it meant that Japan was in a position of diplomatic weakness. Unlike on Earth, where nations engaged with one another in ideally equal terms, Asherah¡¯s geopolitics was more or less the strong against the weak. Being outside of the civilized regions was essentially a handicap, especially in Japan¡¯s case. What¡¯s worse was that the reigning power of the Third Civilized Area, where Japan was close to, was a hostile, expansionist hegemon. Not only is Japan ¡®weak¡¯ in their eyes due to its geographical location outside the civilized areas, but it was also a possible target for Parpaldia¡¯s expansionist ambitions. If Japan were to survive in such a hostile, dog-eat-dog world, it needed to prove to the others that it was a capable beast¨Cone that anyone shouldn¡¯t cross. Takamori was the first to arrive at such a conclusion. Slamming the table with his fists, he started speaking as soon as the other ministers were caught back by his action. ¡°If we want to remain afloat at least, we must engage in trade, first among our neighbors and then soon with the great powers, who we should convince to be friends with us.¡± He took a glass of water to soothe his dry throat, he continued to speak after putting down the glass, and the water was well past his vocal cords. ¡°To convince them, we would need to show them our capabilities¨Cour technological prowess! We are not lowly barbarians that resort to gunboat diplomacy, but if the other side does not hold back in their provocations, then we will have to show them that we too pack a punch!¡± As some of the ministers cheered and showed faces of reluctance, Agano leaned forward with a cautionary look. ¡°But prime minister, we still have to formalize and work out the details regarding that foreign policy...¡± Dismissing Agano with a mere ¡°alright¡± and the wave of his hand, Takamori then maneuvered the meeting back to discuss the elephant in the room. ¡°Now... About Louria...¡± The other ministers quickly fixed their posture after hearing the name of the country that has recently been tossed around in newspapers, Diet sessions, and social media after Princess Llanfair¡¯s televised revelation in the Diet. Takamori thought in silence, trying to remember details that were once mentioned, but after failing to come up with anything significant, he opened his tight fists and laid them flat on the table. ¡°Do we know anything about them? Anything that can corroborate or disprove the Princess¡¯s statements?¡± Agano sighed, seeing that most of the ministers looked to him for answers. Leaning in forward, he began to speak. ¡°Aside from them, Fenn and Quila are the only ones to offer statements regarding them, which are quite similar to what our counterparts in Qua-Toyne are saying: Louria is also a hegemonic expansionist, having absorbed numerous kingdoms and duchies all around it. According to them, they also have been purported to practice...¡± Pausing to cough, Agano continued as the other ministers stared at him, anticipating what may be crucial information in the following words. ¡°...genocide.¡± The mention of genocide sparked discussions among the ministers. Could it really be true, given that more than three countries are saying the same thing? If so, is it really beneficial for Japan to start a diplomatic relationship with such a country? What would the public and the embassies of other countries in Japan say if they got friendly with a country known to commit crimes against humanity? Setting aside these questions for the moment, Takamori asked Agano. ¡°What do you think about the validity of such accusations?¡± ¡°Well, all of the countries that we asked also point out that the Lourians, especially their king and those in the heartland, are xenophobic. We have to remember that there are other races besides humans in Asherah. As they¡¯ve been keen on exterminating or subjugating non-humans, which, if you¡¯ve seen the demographic makeup of Qua-Toyne and Quila, I think they indeed have sufficient reasons to be anxious.¡± ¡°Only one way to find out, right Minister Agano?¡± Agano, understanding what Takamori meant, nodded in affirmation. ¡°Right. I¡¯ll have a diplomatic mission prepared.¡± With that set, Takamori then moved on to another important part of Princess Llanfair¡¯s statement that requires verification. ¡°Do we know if Louria is indeed ¡®taking up arms¡¯ against Qua-Toyne?¡± While the question was directed to no one in particular, attention once again fell on Agano. ¡°Only Qua-Toyne has given us that statement, saying that Lourian troops have been amassing across the border from their border town of Gim. However, Fenn¡¯s Sword King, Shihan, noted that the Parpaldian Empire has a history of supporting proxies in Rodenius.¡± Takamori clutched his head, which reacted in pain in response to hearing the word ¡®Parpaldia.¡¯ Regaining his composure, he looked towards Okada and asked. ¡°Is there any way of verifying that?¡± ¡°While Parpaldia supporting Louria is difficult to verify with what little infrastructure we¡¯ve set up outside of Japan, verifying the buildup of troops on the Louria-Qua-Toyne border is not a problem of much significance.¡± Getting an affirmative response from the defense minister, Takamori said, ¡°I¡¯ll leave that up to you¡± before returning to the rest of the ministers. ¡°While it is difficult to conclude that they¡¯re planning to invade with a troop buildup, hopefully, our diplomatic mission will provide us better, more conclusive answers on whether or not they¡¯re really planning to invade.¡± As the other ministers nodded in agreement, Takamori clapped his hands together to end the meeting. ¡°We¡¯ll convene once more to discuss options regarding Louria once we have more information. Alright, dismissed!¡± Cent. Calendar 10th Day of the 5th Month of the Year 1639, Royal Castle, Jin-Hark, Kingdom of Louria, 10:00 ¡°How do we report this to the King?¡± Meeting inside one of the meeting chambers within the royal castle were the commanders of Louria¡¯s military wings, including Royal Defense Knights commander Patagene, Lieutenant General Adem, chief royal mage Yamirei, General Pandour, and so many others. Instead of the usual merriful cheering and jeering that happens in their planning of the Rodenius unification, this meeting has them all tense and riddled with sweat. Their problems started about three weeks ago when one of the spies they embedded in Qua-Toyne mentioned a mysterious flying object that flew over the skies of Myhark. Then, less than a week ago, they heard from them that a massive, gray ship with similar-looking flying objects had appeared at the harbor. While they initially dismissed this, their suspicion grew when subsequent spies over the succeeding days reported the same thing, along with accounts of several ships of smaller nature that docked in Myhark which didn¡¯t have sails. Wishing to know more, they sent in more artistic spies, ordering them to sketch and draw the ships if they caught a glance. In the days since, their spies reported in with their sketches, which all depicted massive, multi-colored ships mixed with gray and white ships that sometimes had cannons, all seemingly dwarfing the harbor entrance, which some of them couldn¡¯t enter. Even for the higher commanders, who have seen Parpaldia¡¯s iron-hulled warships, the ships depicted in the photos seemed more or less alien. While the Lourian commanders harbored skepticism about the reports, the fact that every single spy they sent was saying the same thing meant that they were likely genuine. ¡°Do we have any idea where these ships are from?¡± Asking the question was Yamirei, an aged figure who wore robes that went well with his title as chief royal mage. Adem, who handled much of the spy work, answered. ¡°I couldn¡¯t really trust my own spies after hearing their reports, but all of them said that the ships sported a white flag with a red disc at its center.¡± Those present in the room wracked their heads for answers, trying to juggle their memories on the banners of countries. However, none of the countries in and outside of the area sported what was described. Ignoring the question of nationality, Patagene went straight for the question he deemed important. ¡°What currently matters, in my opinion, is whether the nation these ships represent is our enemy or not. Seeing their sailless nature and iron-looking hulls reminds me of Parpaldia¡¯s more advanced warships. While they look nothing like them, we can at least assume that their capabilities are on par with them.¡± While the others nodded in agreement, vice admiral Sharkun, who commanded the Lourian fleet that will be used in the conquest, sweated bullets at the prospect of facing a foe on the same level as Parpaldia. While they had been generous in providing them with ships that had guns, everyone knew that they would only be so generous to the point of giving out technology that was significantly weaker than those in their arsenal. As everyone pondered about what to do next, lord Maus offered his thoughts. ¡°Regarding informing the King, I think that we should gather more information on the matter before telling him.¡± Before the others could respond, the doors to the meeting chamber flew open, and in came one of Maus¡¯s personnel. ¡°Lord Maus! We have a situation at the harbor!¡± Hearing the words ¡®situation¡¯ and ¡®harbor,¡¯ the other commanders immediately took interest and started standing up, hoping to understand what had happened. ¡°What happened?¡± ¡°A massive white ship with a flag we¡¯ve never seen has appeared! A voice emanated from it, saying that their intentions were diplomatic and that they wanted to speak with those in charge!¡± Having heard what they wanted to hear, the commanders ran out of the room and down the hallway towards one of the northern balconies protruding out of the royal castle. From there, they could see the multi-tiered city of Jin-Hark, with each tier representing a wall that successively defended the layers of the royal capital. Outside the walls to the north was Jin-Hark¡¯s port, surrounded by towns that have sprung up to take advantage of the commerce there. Far from the port, they could see a shining glimpse of the white vessel floating in the oceans outside the harbor. While appearing minuscule due to the distance, its hull could be inferred to be colossal due to it dwarfing the rest of the Lourian warships and merchant ships that are docked in the harbor and those that are entering and leaving it. Its equally pristine white flag, sporting a shining red disc, stood out from the rest of the monotonous ship. ¡°It¡¯s so massive!¡± ¡°Look at how clean it looks compared to Parpaldia¡¯s iron-hulled warships!¡± ¡°To think that they¡¯d come here...¡± While they looked on in awe at the ship, they also realized that the opportunity had come to them. If they had willingly come to them, that meant that they were also willing to talk. As such, if they can convince them to side with them, or at least stay away from Qua-Toyne in their conquest, their plans can move in peace. Seizing the moment, Patagene, Yamirei, followed by Adem and Maus, departed for the harbor to meet with the diplomats of the massive white ship. Jin-Hark¡¯s port, 11:30 Accepting Japan¡¯s request for a diplomatic talk, the Lourians prepared a meeting room at one of the government halls near the port while the Japanese approached the port with their small, fast boats. The speed of the boats and the fact that they lacked sails stunned the Lourians and the other merchants at the harbor, only being interrupted in their awe by the annoying, buzzing sound the boats seemed to produce. As the Japanese diplomats stepped onto the port, they were welcomed by Lord Maus, who then proceeded to guide them to the meeting room. Once there, the diplomats, accompanied by a Fennese translator, were greeted by the Lourian commanders, who sat at the opposite side of the table. Taking their seats, the diplomats proceeded to introduce themselves. (Past this point, all dialogue lines in the common language are depicted in italic.) ¡°Forgive our intrusions. My name is Kuribayashi, and my colleagues and I represent the state of Japan.¡± Hearing the translation from the Fennese man, the commanders were perplexed at the need for a translator. Shadowing this initial curiosity was the fact that they had never heard of a country called Japan. Lord Maus took the initiative and spoke for all. ¡°Japan, huh... Do you mind showing us where your country is? We have never heard of it before.¡± Kuribayashi then pulled out his briefcase and procured from it a map, which the Lourians noted to be of high quality. Spreading it out on the table, Kuribayashi pointed his finger to a group of islands close to the Philades continent. ¡°This, right here, is Japan.¡± Underneath the finger of Kuribayashi were a sprawling group of islands that none of the Lourians have ever seen before. Finding the diplomat¡¯s statement to be fishy, they called him out. ¡°That¡¯s impossible! There were never any islands in that body of water, much less countries!¡± Recognizing their disbelief, Kuribayashi attempted to explain their predicament and position. However, he was cut off by Lt. Gen. Adem, who had been holding his impatience for the entire three minutes that the meeting had occupied and wanted to get straight to the point. ¡°Alright, enough diplomacy! Let¡¯s get to the real questions that matter! You! What¡¯s your business here?¡± While Kuribayashi and the others recognized Adem¡¯s hostile tone, they waited for their translator to translate his statement. He then responded with a calm, unaffected tone. ¡°We are here to make friends and conduct trade, if that¡¯s the answer you¡¯re looking for.¡± Hearing the translation, Adem couldn¡¯t spare enough energy to hold back his laughter. Looking back at Kuribayashi with a menacing yet light-hearted grin, he asked. ¡°Trade? Are you sure you¡¯re not here to intimidate us into submission?¡± The others on his side looked at Adem with pondering expressions. While they were keen on protesting his open hostility, his statements nevertheless resonated with them. Forgetting their original objective of trying to convince the Japanese to side with them, they were now more or less suspicious of the true intentions of the Japanese. ¡°Excuse me?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t play coy with us. We know of your relationship with the Qua-Toynians!¡± ¡°What of it?¡± Failing to hold back his laughter, Adem turned away from them, leaving Lord Maus to answer for his sake. ¡°If you are indeed not aware yet, our foreign policy is simple: you are with us or against us. This is our bottom line. By having a diplomatic relationship with the Qua-Toynians, whose sovereignty we don¡¯t recognize, you are taking a side that is, for all intents and purposes, against us.¡± Lord Maus then looked over to the Fennese translator, who stared back at him. Since Fenn has a diplomatic relationship with Qua-Toyne, they and Louria went their separate ways diplomatically, which was a one-sided maneuver from the Lourians. Sensing where the topic was headed, Kuribayashi proceeded to fulfill their original mission of finding more about the Lourians¡¯ ambitions against Qua-Toyne. ¡°While we respect your interests, personally and off the record, why does it matter to you?¡± Before Lord Maus could respond, Adem returned and instead asked him a question. ¡°Listen here, you dolt. Kuribayashi, was it? What¡¯s your view on those non-humans?¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡± ¡°Just answer it!¡± Ignoring Adem¡¯s now evidently hostile tone, he replied with Japan¡¯s formal stand on the issue, which has been formed in light of the presence of sentient, non-human races populating Asherah. ¡°Japan¡¯s stand is that we recognize and uphold the inalienable rights of humans, elves, dwa-¡± Hearing the translation in real-time, Adem cut him off. ¡°You see, that¡¯s the problem! Why do you treat non-humans so... humanely?¡± ¡°Because that¡¯s what we believe to be morally correct?¡± ¡°Morally correct? What the fuck is that? If it¡¯s what I think it is, then we can happily throw that shit out of the window, just like those demi-humans. Sorry, SUB-humans. Those fuckers just don¡¯t deserve... to live.¡± Upon hearing the translation, the Japanese diplomats didn¡¯t even try to hide their shock at one of the Lourian commanders¡¯ open display of xenophobic hatred. While inwardly taken aback by this, Kuribayashi retained his usual stern disposition and waited for Adem to complete his statement. ¡°Us, being the supreme race of Asherah, are destined to wipe them out with our superiority. Most of the great powers are ruled by humans, are they not? Now that I realize that the ones piloting the massive gray ships are humans themselves, it just proves my point! Why not join us in indulging in this righteous affair?¡± Finally showing hints of disgust, Kuribayashi looked at Adem with a face that matched Adem¡¯s hostility. ¡°Wow. Alright, this is no longer something we could talk about.¡± Before Adem could pounce and retort with more of his mocking remarks, commander Patagene stopped him short. Standing out from the rest with his specially-made, gold-painted armor, Patagene spoke with a voice that commanded awe and fear, matching Kuribayashi¡¯s iron-faced expression and demeanor. ¡°Forgetting what Lt. Gen. Adem was rambling about, this is our one and only question to you, if you still want to be friends with us: are you willing to side with us? Or are you willing to take the path of destruction against us by siding with those sub-humans?¡± Kuribayashi, having heard more or less what they needed, had already decided that they no longer needed to talk. ¡°Your offer, just like your ¡®cause,¡¯ is disgusting and unattractive. We¡¯re done here.¡± Standing up from the table, followed by the other diplomats and their Fennese translator, Kuribayashi adjusted his suit before continuing his statement. Looking at the Lourian commanders with his stern eyes, he was met with equally unwavering eyes from the Lourian side. ¡°There is no point in talking with you people who have no respect for the races, much less possess etiquette befitting of a diplomatic setting. Considering our interests, this was nothing but a waste of time.¡± Offended by the diplomat¡¯s tone, Yamirei stepped forward, laying his emotions out for all to see in his facial expression. ¡°You are making a grave mistake! Consider the consequences of your actions before you leave this room and especially before you doom yourselves!¡± Hearing the now blatant threats being made against them, Kuribayashi, who was about to leave for the door, turned back to entertain the man. ¡°Those consequences are within our scope and have already been considered. Now, mark my words: try to consider the consequences of you stepping on certain boundaries, especially one which may demarcate the point of no return for Louria.¡± Ending his statement with their own vague threat, Kuribayashi, the Fennese translator, and the rest of the Japanese delegation left the room in order. Chapter 5.5: The Three Weeks Since As of April 25, 2022, this chapter has been revised Cent. Calendar 10/05/1639 (DD/MM/YYYY), Ministry of Defense, Tokyo, Japan, 21:30 It was getting late at night in the Ministry of Defense in Tokyo, Japan. The air in the main building was hectic at best and depressing at the worst¨Ca scene that reflected the entirety of Japan¡¯s woes in the three weeks since appearing in Asherah. In one of the rooms of the highest echelons of the ministry toiled away Okada Masako, Minister of Defense. Checking reports and approving and denying papers and such, her eyes were still glued onto her computer screen as the distant wails of sirens continued to play outside. Due to rotating electrical blackouts and general restrictions imposed on electricity usage, an effort to curb the consumption of now extremely precious non-renewables, the only objects in her office that still consume electricity were her computer and her telephone. While opening the window to let more air in would have been a bad choice before the transfer, the lack of cars, given that unnecessary road travel was prohibited, meant that the air was cleaner. As she finished the reply to an email, she heard a pattern of knocks on her door, a sequence that she immediately recognized. ¡°You don¡¯t have to knock on my door, Matsumoto-kun.¡± The door creaked as it slowly opened, revealing the figure of one Matsumoto Akira, a man in his late 20s and secretary of Okada. ¡°I still think it¡¯s down to respect, Minister.¡± Matsumoto responded with poise as he closed the door behind him. ¡°Should I take that as a compliment, then?¡± Okada retorted without looking away from her screen, still finishing her reply to another email. As Matsumoto drew closer to her desk, she finally let her eyes off her screen to entertain the presence of her secretary, looking up at his fair face and young, innocent eyes. Wishing to wrap up his work and head home for the night, Matsumoto raised his hand, which was holding an envelope, and said, ¡°Here¡¯s the report.¡± Just as he was about to leave it on the desk and leave, Okada cried out. ¡°Wait.¡± He looked back at Okada with a face that said, ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°Come over here.¡± Matsumoto hesitated, not knowing what the command meant. Seeing his confusion, Okada distanced herself away from the table on her office chair, and then beckoned to him with her extended arms. ¡°Here.¡± Finally understanding what she meant, Matsumoto navigated around the desk towards Okada¡¯s side. ¡°Turn around.¡± Doing as she says, he turned about-face towards the wall with his back facing Okada. Just as he was about to ask her about what she was going to do, he felt the mellow, all-encompassing touch of a person¡¯s arms locking onto his entire waist, along with the sensation of warm breaths intermittently blowing against his back. Aware of what was going on but still holding doubts, Matsumoto spoke up. ¡°Minister Okada?¡± Silence. At least for a good ten seconds. In that time, his back muscles, originally tense and shivering from the sudden physical contact, had loosened and relaxed to accommodate the tight lock of the minister¡¯s slender arms. Then, he finally got a reply from the minister, whose face was firmly lodged onto his broad back. ¡°Don¡¯t move.¡± Heeding her command, Matsumoto stood still as he felt her embrace further clamp on his person. Even though he wanted to go home already, Matsumoto knew that he was not in the position to spoil this somber moment. Laying down his hovering arms, he put his firm, manly hands onto Okada¡¯s. Sensing her secretary¡¯s comforting gesture on her own tired, droopy arms, she loosened her guard and let go of her usual steely disposition. ¡°God... I¡¯m so tired, Akira-kun...¡± Jerking in surprise at his superior¡¯s sudden use of his personal name, Matsumoto quickly started sweating bullets. Hoping to redirect the topic back to work, he quickly raised his left arm, still holding the report that he was supposed to give to the minister. ¡°Minister... The report... It¡¯s regarding the Lourian troop buildup... The recon flight has returned...¡± Silence. Okada simply tightened her grip, possibly irked by the mere mention of work¨Cwork that she wished she could ignore and not return to. ¡°Why did they send it physically?¡± ¡°Minister... You asked for it.¡± ¡°Oh...¡± Hearing his superior¡¯s relatively wimpy ¡°Oh...¡± had Matsumoto blush. While he had caught glimpses of his superior¡¯s soft side before, he wasn¡¯t expecting to witness it personally and upfront. ¡°Okay, you can put it on the table.¡± Just as Matsumoto did as she asked, he heard a very faint sniff coming from his back. Despite the unnerved presentation of herself in public appearances and in meetings, he somehow finds it natural for her also to have her breaking points. It has been a very shitty three weeks, after all... The sounds of police sirens outside got louder and louder. Hearing the tireless repetition of alarming sounds in this calm situation, Matsumoto remembered his own tribulations in the horrible period that were the previous three weeks. In the moments after he looked up and sighed deeply, he felt Okada¡¯s embrace loosen for the first time. The two then moved away from each other, with Matsumoto laying eyes on a different Okada from the one he had last seen. Hoping to at least save some face, even from her own secretary, she hurriedly wiped away semblances of tears from her eyes and cheeks. Despite her best attempts, she could not put away her red eyes and wipe away the tears that had stained Matsumoto¡¯s jacket. ¡°I¡¯m sorry that you had to deal with that.¡± Returning to her usual, formal manner of speech, the mood in the room was well on its way to returning back to normal. With the words stuck in his throat, Matsumoto struggled to say something to the still recuperating minister. Before he finally found the will and strength to speak, Okada raised her hand. ¡°You may go home now.¡± With that, he swallowed the words that had just reached the tip of his tongue. Matsumoto then sealed his mouth shut and bowed before making himself scarce. Taking one last look before closing the door behind him, he saw the same scene of the minister toiling away on her computer, having now returned to her sense of duty and professionalism. Cent. Calendar 07/05/1639, somewhere in Hyogo prefecture, 15:00 ¡°Shit!¡± Pestered by the incessant ringing of her home phone while tending to her daughter and her homework, one Izumi Hikari had inadvertently tripped on her matting. With the ringing telephone mercilessly blasting away its annoying chime in endless repetition, Izumi recovered from her fall and fixed her now messy chestnut hair. As she traveled to the other end of the room where the telephone was, her tracks were then stopped by another noise coming from behind her. ¡°Okaa-san! What does ¡®shit¡¯ mean?¡± Her 4-year-old daughter had now learned how to curse. Irked and completely out of it, she simply cursed herself for her blunder as a single mother. ¡°I¡¯ll hafta get back to ya, Sayaka!¡± Kicking that proverbial can down the road, she went on to finally pick up the phone. ¡°Hello?¡± Another annoying voice clawed at her ears from beyond the phone before she could even complete her hello. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Yo, Hikari-chan! ¡®This a bad time?¡± Instantly recognizing the voice on the other end of the line, Izumi let out a loud, hopefully, audible-to-the-other-end sigh. Coupling it with a facepalm, she finally responded to the other person¡¯s greetings after two gritty seconds of asking herself, ¡°why the fuck...¡± ¡°What is it, Kita? It¡¯s our scheduled break from the mandatory labor program... Curse my luck!¡± The person on the other end, Kita Michi, was a close friend of hers. After having gone through middle school and high school together, they then went their separate ways when Kita was held back a year in high school while Izumi moved on to Keio University in Tokyo, taking up Archaeology and then later a Masters and a Doctorate in History. Kita followed suit, taking up Archaeology at Hiroshima University and later moving to Keio for her Masters and Doctorate. Both of them ended up teaching undergraduate courses at Keio, much to the chagrin of the more senior Izumi. After the transfer, at which point higher education institutions were either closed or forced to operate at reduced capacity to redirect labor towards urgent and important sectors, Izumi returned to her home city of Kobe in Hyogo prefecture. Since then, she hasn¡¯t spoken to many of her colleagues in Keio, including her long-time friend. ¡°Same ¡®ere! Anyway, did¡¯ja receive an email from yer department?¡± ¡°My laptop broke after the transfer, and I can¡¯t get it fixed since most shops have closed down.¡± ¡°Yer phone?¡± ¡°Sayaka has been playing on it, and I don¡¯t really get the time off to check it...¡± After a momentary pause, Izumi finally realized what receiving an email from the department may entail. Hot on the heels of this realization, she quickly broke the silence. ¡°Wait, we¡¯re being called back???¡± ¡°Nah, Keio U¡¯s still closed... Anyway, I¡¯ll be forwardin¡¯ the email over to ya, so check yer phone!¡± Hearing her phone notification chime go off, Izumi quickly walked over to pick it up. Unlocking the simple swipe lock on her phone, she then opened her email and checked the newly forwarded one on the topmost part. After opening it, she read out loud the subject title. ¡°¡±Recruitment for a commission from the government regarding Asheran archaeological sites¡±?¡± ¡°Yeah! That¡¯s da one!¡± ¡°Not gonna lie... I have been interested in the cultures of this supposed new world. If only there weren¡¯t so many pressing problems at hand!¡± ¡°True that. Anyway, I beckon ya read further. There¡¯s a shitton more to it than just archaeological sites.¡± Egged on by her friend, she scrolled down to read the main body of the email. Scrolling past and ignoring the formal introduction from their department, she went straight for the juicier parts below. ¡°They¡¯re recruiting archaeologists, historians, linguists, and those from related fields?¡± ¡°Not just any frickin¡¯ archaeologist! Read deeper, dammit!¡± Blissfully ignoring her friend¡¯s friendly banter, Izumi looked further into the recruitment details; finally getting to the weirder parts. ¡°Hm? The fuck? They¡¯re looking for historians with expertise in Japanese military wartime records? Why? They¡¯re also looking for those with expertise in infrastructure from the early Showa period? This is too niche and specific, don¡¯t you think?¡± ¡°Yep! Sounds intriguing, doesn¡¯t it? The commission, assembled from the good ¡®ol government, for studying them Asheran archaeological sites, and they¡¯re looking for those with Showa-era expertise? Like... It sounds hella interestin¡¯!¡± While the prospect of the commission coming from the government warranted more than enough suspicion on its own, the details of the recruitment were equally sketchy, if not even more so. Her curiosity, now undeniably piqued, had her clawing for evidence to quell her own suspicions. In this pursuit, something came to mind. ¡°Hey, Kita. Remember that elven princess showing a rising sun flag in the Diet last week? Maybe it has something to do with that?¡± ¡°Yer onto somethin¡¯ there! So does that count that¡¯cha wanna do it?¡± Investigating archaeological sites in a new world felt like an otherworldly opportunity. However, her own pressing issues close to home kept her down to earth. ¡°I don¡¯t think I can...¡± ¡°Didja even read it all? It says ¡®ere that the government will pay us fair compensation, which is up for negotiation, and that they¡¯ll provide lodging and basic necessities! Ain¡¯t that a steal?!¡± That did sound appealing. Izumi had been struggling with helping her daughter through her preschool, having spent the majority of her time in Tokyo, with Sayaka having to stay with her grandparents back in Kobe. While she felt obligated to help her as her mother, she did want to have an escape from her motherly duties and her obligations as a citizen. Taking what she still assumed to be bait from Kita, she relented. ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll consider. I need to know more about the details, though.¡± To be continued in the ¡®Emissaries¡¯ side story Cent. Calendar 19/04/1639, Otaheit, Mu, 2:30 Things were... absolutely splendid, if not downright glorious. The enemies that had once assaulted the united realms of Mu were now firmly defeated¨Ca feat that the ancestors of all Muish people had long dreamed of attaining. Those bastards across the pond to the east, the imperial worshippers of the vanity of Mirish, have been silenced by the ever-present, ever-expanding, exceptional Muish armies for good. The backwater larpers, the Leiforians off to the west, gunned down to the ground, their blood to stain the earth for eons to come. On top of the overthrown statue of Mirish in Runepolis, its silver edifices and golden crown soundly stripped of their dignity, was a man so brilliant and cunning, he single-handedly led the invasion force that easily toppled the fragile Imperial forces as soon as the first boots made contact with the fragile Central World sand. Waving his hands at crowds of cheering Muish soldiers, civilians, and children, he smiled triumphantly as everyone cheered in song his name: "Theodore! Theodore! Theodore!" Just as he began to join in the chanting, he began to feel that something was off. The chorus of praises soon faded away, followed by the silhouettes in the crowd being reduced to sand dispersing into the air. Stepping down from the toppled statue of Mirish in confusion, he found himself alone in a rapidly disappearing landscape. Desperate for company, he was looking around when he came across one silhouette that had remained, staring back at him with emotionless eyes and an equally nonchalant expression. The silhouette, that of a woman, revealed its features to him. She wore bright clothing emanating rays of soothing golden glow, the details of which were indiscernible and unrecognizable, with the only thing Theodore being able to take from her was that she was divine. The woman continued to look at him, as if waiting for him to say out loud a realization that he wanted to keep to himself that was either out of shame or lack of necessity. Still... "So it was all just a dream... A century¡¯s worth of humanity, and yet I still fall folly to unattainable desires." For the first time, the woman finally moved, turning half a side away from him as a faint smile appeared on her face. When her mouth opened to speak, he heard a voice so unusually calming that it felt as if he would never forget it, if not for the fact that he was dreaming. "You, of all people, know how desires are not entirely unattainable. ¡°Nothing wit and will could not solve¡±¨Cin your own words." Feeling mildly disturbed by the woman''s statement, Theodore looked away, off to the sunset that he pretended existed. "It''s been nice talking to my subconscious. I have no idea why I had to take the form of a beautiful woman, but I digress. Farewell." Unilaterally withdrawing from a conversation with what he assumed to be his subconscious, he closed his eyes. Wake up. Two seconds passed. Three. Four. Thirty. A minute. It felt as if nothing had changed. He felt not a single tingle in his hair strands reacting to the chill wind that would blow within his chambers, nor the ungodly cloth that gave him the power to conquer sleepless nights as soon as it touched his skin. The gravity of the world pulling him down laterally all across his body still eluded him. Wishing he was wrong, he opened his eyes, which unfortunately shattered his expectations as he found himself in a bright, white landscape devoid of features. Worst of all, the only feature that managed to stand out from the barrage of white was the figure of the same beautiful woman standing before. Freezing in disbelief, he watched on as the woman took soundless steps towards his person, the unrecognizable features on her apparel reacting to the subtleties in her movements. Soon, he found himself staring at the woman''s gorgeous, crystalline eyes at point-blank range. As he started to sweat from subconscious fears welling up, the woman broke the silence. "Theodore Gabrielle Leonard Aldher. A man of many titles. Sovereign of the United Realms and Dominions of Mu." The woman grinned after having named him, the sovereign monarch of Mu. Ignoring Theodore¡¯s now apparent confusion, the woman continued. "I am Shamash. Goddess of the Sun." "A goddess? Lady, that¡¯s not how you introduce yourself to a king like me." Pushing aside Theodore¡¯s remark, the woman who called herself Shamash gripped Theodore''s right hand and held it up at face level. Despite calling herself a goddess and appearing as such, her hands felt awfully human; warm, slender, motherly. "You will wake up from this dream and return to a different Asherah: an Asherah irreversibly changed." After having pressed it for a good amount of time, she let go of Theodore''s hand before looking at his still befuddled eyes with an ominous glare. "When you wake up again, the sun will rise, this time from the far east." "But that''s how it''s always been, hasn''t it?" The woman shook her head. "I command the sun, but this sun is different. Its 16 bright rays will extend outwards, first the east, and then the west, before finally engulfing the world in light..." After a slight, discomforting pause, the woman removed her ominous glare and returned to her indifference. "...A light born from the embers of a ruined Asherah, or in the glorious rays of prosperity." Theodore shuddered. What is this woman yapping on about? As if hearing his inner thoughts, the woman leaned forward, eager to answer them. "You, as the king of Mu, proud descendant and bearer of her legacy, get to decide which of those will happen. This ¡°other¡± sun... it will be the key to your future." Exhaling from the pent-up tension, Theodore wanted to speak. Before he could, however, the entire ¡®place¡¯ that he was in turned pitch black. The woman¡¯s divine presence disappeared from his senses, leaving Theodore truly alone. Then, he felt the highly intense heat of hellfire burning all over his body. As he struggled to put out the imaginary fires that had suddenly come upon him, out of nowhere the ¡®place¡¯ that he was in gained form, manifesting into the darkened flaming ruins of a building. Looking outwards, he saw the indomitable silhouette of a city¡¯s skyline, one which he immediately recognized, but it was perverted by the massive cloud of fire and mana that protruded from somewhere off in the distance. Immediately, he forgot the scorching heat that had assaulted him, replaced by his urge to fall down on his knees and weep. "O¨COtaheit! No!!!" The glorious capital of the united realm was in flames. Just as the first teardrop formed in the corner of his eyes, something caught his attention. Far off beyond the extensive girth of the mushroom cloud that had devastated the beloved capital of the great kingdom, he saw something parting away from the clouds of destruction¨Csomething inherently menacing. The pain in his knees gave way to jitters as terror gripped his thinking, made worse by each passing second he spent looking at what he recognized from some text that he had seen long ago. "The ancient empire?! Here?! Already?!" Now on his rear, he instinctively scampered away from what he and the rest of the world had come to know as evil incarnate. However, before he could fully retreat, his back pushed hard against a wall, the shock of which caused loose debris from the destroyed roof to fall on his head, knocking him out. Immediately afterward, the blazing heat from the dream was replaced by the familiar, chilling wind offered by the air conditioning that he usually fell asleep to. Drowning in sweat at the unforgettable dream, Theodore rose from his slumber, wiping away the perspiration that had built up over his face. As he tried to wipe away the greasy sweat with his clenched right fist, he felt that he was gripping something hard and circular. Relaxing his tense fingers and spreading them out to reveal his palm, he saw a shiny, metallic, circular object. Not knowing what it was, he got up, went to his study, and turned on the lamp to further examine the object. What greeted him under the warm light of scrutiny was a small, silver coin of a currency that he didn''t recognize. Engraved on the coin were strange symbols in an alien language which said, The State of Japan, 100 YEN, Heisei 30 (2018). "What the hell is this coin? I''ve never seen this writing before! How on Asherah did I get my hands on this?" Answering him almost immediately, the intact memories of the dream that he had come back to him, reminding him of the goddess''s angelic voice. Recalling the woman taking his right hand for some moments, he came to the conclusion that the coin in his hand was definitive proof that the dream was real and that her words were genuine. Playing her words back in the honey-like voice that he couldn¡¯t force himself to forget, he came across some lines which he considered instrumental. "Its 16 bright rays will extend outwards, first the east, and then the west, before finally engulfing the world in light..." Theodore took a deep breath as his legs started shivering from the memories of the more horrible parts. "This... This is a matter of great concern!" Chapter 6: A Rock and a Hard Place As of April 25, 2022, this chapter has been revised Cent. Calendar 10/05/1639, Jin-Hark, Kingdom of Louria, 19:30 ¡°O great king...¡± Patagene kneeled down on one knee, offering his respect to his superior. Following his actions were chief royal mage Yamirei and lord Maus behind him. Their superior, king Hark Louria XXXIV, sat gracefully on the throne five steps up from the floor where his three subjects kneeled. His handsome, well-built face and stern expression commanded authority, reinforced by his unwavering posture and only contradicted by his bathrobes¨Ca sign that he had recently come out of the royal baths. Giving only a mere ¡°hmmm¡± in response, his less-than-friendly expression exposed his impatience at his subjects, urging them to get to the point. Patagene stood up, followed by the other two, before coughing and continuing to speak. ¡°Just before noon, we met with a delegation from the country of Japan...¡± The name of the country invoked no special reaction from Hark, who continued to stare blankly at them. ¡°We have ascertained their motives and so turned them back. They have made their point clear that they are not willing to back off from their relationship with Qua-Toyne.¡± The king closed his eyes, probably out of pity for the country that decided to side with the undesirables. ¡°Regrettable. As much as we are on the lookout for allies, I don¡¯t think we need to lament on the fact that we gained a new enemy.¡± Hearing Hark¡¯s alarming lack of urgency on the matter, Patagene started sweating profusely. ¡°But great king! They may be a country we have never heard of before, but all information we have on them suggests that their ships are at least on par with Parpaldia¡¯s! Did you not see their ship at the harbor?¡± As a matter of fact, Hark did see their ship from the harbor. While spending his late morning in the baths, he caught a glimpse of the clean, white ship stopped just outside of Jin-Hark¡¯s harbor. The vessel stood out with its long, sleek, white hull, presumably made of iron or even better materials. The design philosophy baffled him, as the singular mast in the middle of the ship would have hardly caught enough power from the wind to get the ship moving, leading him to assume that the ship was just like Parpaldia¡¯s more advanced models and didn''t travel by sail. The single cannon, albeit tiny, mounted on the ship¡¯s front reminded him of the gun turrets in the ships of Mu¡¯s possession, which Parpaldia itself was still struggling to develop. All in all, the ship¡¯s design and manufacture screamed ¡®advanced¡¯, leading him to assume that the new country, Japan, may have been in possession of equally advanced technologies elsewhere. Entertaining Patagene¡¯s cry for urgency, Hark broke his posture, leaning in and joining his hands as he asked Patagene. ¡°Do we know more about them?¡± ¡°Not much more, unfortunately...¡± Patagene looked down, hoping to avoid Hark¡¯s probing stare. Backing him up, Yamirei spoke up. ¡°What has been clear to us from our spies in Qua-Toyne is that their military presence there is limited, if not non-existent. While ships that seemed to be used for merchant and construction purposes have been spotted to be continuously stopping by their ports, we have only spotted 1 or 2 military vessels, ones which look armed, in the span of 3 weeks.¡± Contemplating Yamirei¡¯s statement, Hark stared off into the distance. While Japan¡¯s military assistance to Qua-Toyne may be limited as of the moment, if they are indeed on the level of at least Parpaldia, they can likely mobilize quickly if they make any moves, negating their months-old advantage of advanced preparation. He then came to a solution that, for him, made sense. ¡°Move the timetable up. We need Qua-Toyne¡¯s major cities to fall before the month ends.¡± Now sweating waterfalls at the highly unreasonable deadline given to them, Patagene wanted to bite his tongue out in frustration. Their mobilization against Qua-Toyne, despite years in the making, has been received poorly by their local lords. Hark¡¯s efforts to rally all of them under his banner of unity could only do so much, as the strength of his armies and the speed at which he can levy them still depends highly on the cooperation of the lords. Given his already severe unpopularity, born from frustration with constant ¡°unification¡± conquests, if they force them to mobilize faster, it could boil over to a point where the lords would cease to cooperate with them altogether. However, the king also had a point. If they suddenly backed off the conquest, they would appear weak to their lords, causing his regime to lose support from the more radical, xenophobic lords in their domain. Moreover, support coming from Parpaldia meant that they needed to show results and secure additional payment avenues to pay their loans. And then there was the sudden appearance of a strong country on the side of their enemies, which complicated everything. Driven to a corner with rapidly decaying chances for success, he wanted to protest to the king to at least get him to make a more reasonable deadline. ¡°Great king, with all due respect, I believe that that is impossible! The lords are already tense and uncooperative with our current timetable! At best, if all goes according to plan, we could only hope to secure Gim and maybe Myhark before the month ends!¡± Hark, too, was hard-pressed with everything. Having made promises of conquering Qua-Toyne to too many people, he has everything to lose should he back out. He suddenly stood up from his throne, startling the three other men in the room. ¡°We cannot afford to dawdle any longer! Our foe is backed by a country that appears to be on the level of the Parpaldians and are likely as ruthless! If they are to be believed as such, we must act now! Rodenius must be decisively under our thumb before the month ends!¡± ¡°But great king...!¡± ¡°I will not entertain any more protests, Patagene! Dismissed!¡± Dejected by how unreasonable things had been set for them, the three men simply bowed in silence before turning to leave the throne room. Now left to his own devices, Hark immediately broke down, clutching his head in agony and despair. All this time, he had been holding in his own worries and anxieties, especially after failing to rid his head of the memory of seeing the flag that the Japanese ship flew. ¡°The bright red sun... The emissaries of old...! Why?!?! WHY?!?! WHY DID THOSE GODDAMN ELVES SUMMON THEM AGAIN?!?!¡± Remembering the tales of how the elves appealed to their god to summon the sun god¡¯s emissaries to wipe out the demonic menace, he shivered in fear at the accounts of explosions and massive, floating fortresses that breathed out flames. ¡°No... No... Not today! We will... crush them...¡± Cent. Calendar 11/05/1639, Prime Minister¡¯s residence, Tokyo, Japan, 10:00 Informed that the diplomatic contact with Louria ended in failure and that the recon flight sent to the border had come back, prime minister Takamori Hideaki called for a cabinet meeting. The meeting this time involved the Japan Self Defense Force¡¯s Chief of Staff, Joint Staff, Koji Yuuichi. After listening to the audio recording of the meeting between Japan¡¯s diplomats and the Lourian higher-ups, they concluded that the Lourians have the motive and intention to invade Qua-Toyne, finally putting some merit to Llanfair¡¯s words back in the Diet. The ministers sighed in dejection, as they watched the hope for the crisis getting diplomatically solved get dimmer and dimmer. ¡°Let¡¯s see the results of the recon flight.¡± As ordered by Takamori, the projector in the meeting room displayed onto a white screen the pictures of the border taken by the JASDF recon flight. The captures depicted multiple camps with Lourian banners, soldiers, horses, and even a small airfield dedicated to their wyverns. As the slides went on, the expressions on the ministers grew grimmer and more resigned as the reality that the Lourians weren¡¯t willing to back down began to sink in. With only one realistic solution in mind on how they¡¯ll soon have to deal with the problem, Takamori sighed before checking with Koji. ¡°This level of preparation... Is it safe to say that they have been planning this for a while?¡± ¡°Yes. According to the Qua-Toynians themselves, this camp right across Gim has been here for at least a month and continues to expand. In all that time, the Lourians have not even made it a secret that they intend to attack them.¡± Takamori paused to ascertain the reactions in the room. Some ministers wiped the sweat that had formed on their brows, anxious that the Lourians were about to threaten their trade in the Rodenius continent. Some sighed, knowing that a diplomatic solution was no longer feasible as the Lourians themselves were not willing to cooperate. Some were eager to bring the fight to the Lourians, either for satiating their strong vs. weak complex or to simply secure Japan¡¯s continued survival. Preparing himself for the inevitable when facing the Diet, he took a deep breath before exhaling it out and looking back towards Koji. ¡°Admiral, I believe it is about time to draft up plans for military deployment in Qua-Toyne.¡± Koji nodded in resolute yet sorrowful affirmation. Knowing that Japan could not afford a large-scale, protracted war due to their current crises, the prime minister added more to his commands. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. ¡°I believe that you are also aware of Japan¡¯s current situation. While we can¡¯t divert more resources to this expenditure, I believe we still have to spend the bare minimum on this deployment to ensure that we won¡¯t have to resort to large-scale deployments in the future. Find a way to keep our expenses at a minimum and, if possible, end this threat with as little time and resources spent!¡± Getting another firm affirmation from his Chief of Staff, Joint Staff, Takamori turned to everyone. ¡°Louria has forced our hand, but it is still up to us to determine whether the days up ahead will lead to further trying times or a brighter future!¡± Seeing resolute nods from his cabinet, Takamori almost shed a tear at the lack of hesitation among them, a silver lining in an otherwise bleak situation. However, his cabinet is not what he needed to convince to get the Japan Self Defense Force to deploy. Dismissing everyone, he went on to prepare himself to convince the hardest-headed people that he knew: the National Diet. Cent. Calendar 13/05/1639, National Diet Building, Tokyo, Japan, 13:00 Appearing in a session to address the Diet regarding the crisis with Louria, Takamori was to give out an impassioned speech to rouse sentiments of urgency and emergency among the otherwise languid, ineffective, and hostile Diet members. Before this, the Diet was discussing the recording of the diplomatic meeting between Japanese diplomats and Lourian authorities. After listening to the recording, they proceeded to either side with Kuribayashi, the diplomat in the recording, or lambast him for his lack of delicacy in handling the situation. Some considered the recording as conclusive evidence of the Lourian determination to escalate the crisis while some were more skeptical and not entirely convinced, citing that the voices in the recording may not have even come from the Lourians. Others called into question the legality of the recording as it was done without considering the consent of the Lourians. Tired of all the hopeless, fruitless back and forth, Takamori began his speech. ¡°This diplomatic crisis with Louria has found us at an unfortunate time where our country is still struggling to get back on its feet after the transfer phenomenon, which we are also still trying to understand. Already they have turned away our diplomats at their doorstep who were only hoping to find a way to settle tensions peacefully.¡± Mentioning the recording in his speech, he noticed how some of the Diet members visibly opposed him, shaking their heads and sighing in frustration. While it was still within the realm of respect, they were obviously coming from those who are not a fan of Takamori¡¯s supposed ¡®fear-mongering¡¯ tactics, ¡®pro-militarist¡¯ stance, and ¡®authoritarian¡¯ handling of the crisis. Ignoring them, Takamori continued. ¡°Their stubbornness in continuing to deny cooperation with us has naturally surfaced suspicion and wariness among the Qua-Toynians. It is to that end that, with Qua-Toyne¡¯s approval, the Japan Air Self Defense Force has flown recon flights over their border to settle doubts and to hopefully dispel anxieties.¡± At this point, some of the opposition party members in the Diet began making bewildered faces. Why was the JASDF deployed over Qua-Toyne without informing them beforehand? The Self Defense Force had acted without the Diet¡¯s approval. While the prime minister is indeed the commander in chief, their actions were not necessarily welcomed by the Diet as a whole. Takamori could argue that the recon flight was not a deployment and therefore did not need the approval of the Diet to materialize, but increasing his already high notoriety with the Diet would not help him in getting their approval for the deployments that they need to secure Japan¡¯s survival in Asherah. Ignoring them for now, he began to show images of the recon flight over the Louria¨CQua-Toyne border, showing a clear mobilization effort on the Lourian side and indicating their intentions of an invasion. ¡°What you see here are the pictures taken by the JASDF of the Lourian side of the border. Already we see more than 9,000 Lourian troops, 20 wyverns, flying lizards capable of unleashing napalm-like fireballs, amassed in these camps, and the numbers are still increasing as seen in the caravans that are traveling towards these camps.¡± Pausing to quickly glance at the Diet members¡¯ reactions, Takamori found moderate to high levels of success in shutting up the majority. Most of those who had been vocal against the recording were now reduced to simply looking in shock at the pictures or looking down on their shoes in defeat. Intending to drive home the discussion, Takamori shifted the topic. ¡°These people are hell-bent on their conquest of what they call ¡®undesirables¡¯ that plague this new world, Asherah. If this was anywhere else, we could dismiss it with a denunciation of their government. However...¡± Pausing to cough, Takamori took a quick glance at the Diet. At this point, everyone was now looking at him, likely already anticipating with a varying conviction of what his next words were. ¡°Their actions are endangering the very existence of our newfound trade partner, the principality of Qua-Toyne, and possibly even the kingdom of Quila, both of which are primarily made up of non-humans¨Cthe very people the Lourians consider undesirable. If war breaks out, it is not far-fetched to conclude that all important trade with Rodenius will be halted and reset every step we¡¯ve taken to make sure Japan doesn¡¯t starve.¡± Bringing up Japan¡¯s survival and its current progress in recovering from the food crisis, Takamori intended to appeal to the stomachs of the Diet members, who have also been subject to the harsh rationing that has taken effect since Japan transferred. As the food trade with Qua-Toyne went on, there was progress in talks of loosening the rationing and conscription of labor towards food production. However, Louria¡¯s aggression and hostility against Qua-Toyne have put these talks teetering over the cliff, threatening to cut Japan¡¯s newly established lifelines. Riding on the fears of the Diet members of returning to harsher rationing, Takamori continued. ¡°These Lourians, who have already considered us their enemies, will likely not be so cooperative in trading with us once they¡¯ve fulfilled their conquest of Qua-Toyne. If we stand by and watch as Lourian soldiers pillage the Qua-Toynian countryside, we will be allowing 120 million Japanese people to suffer malnutrition and starvation.¡± In spite of putting in a loaded statement, no one opposed Takamori, which was surprising. Despite its inherent fallacies, it still made sense and, most of all, it appealed to their growling stomachs. The food trade with Qua-Toyne was allowing them leeway to consider loosening the rations. Despite the success of the sea monster fishing industry, which has resulted in a boom in seafood in Japan, it still wasn¡¯t enough. The prospect of them losing their food, a resource they¡¯ve taken for granted before the transfer, made them fear the Lourian crisis even more. ¡°The continued sovereign independence and survival of Qua-Toyne is instrumental, if not paramount, to the survival and economic recovery of Japan. In order to stop the Lourians from making drastic moves, we must spend at least the bare minimum in diverting resources to defend Qua-Toyne and to deploy the Self Defense Forces! If all it takes to stop Japan from plummeting into the abyss is the deployment of our Self Defense Forces, then we must do it!¡± Vocal opposition once more returned, warning and condemning Takamori of his hastiness in making conclusions that warranted a deployment of the Self Defense Force. However, the opposition was audibly drowned by shouts of agreement coming from the rest of the Diet, which, motivated by their near-empty stomachs, wanted none of the food coming into Japan from Qua-Toyne to be halted. Some even stood up and cheered, advocating for the quick resolution of the crisis with a show of force. In the end, Takamori stood in front of a (majority) cheering Diet, having accomplished what he needed to do. Later on, the National Diet of Japan, in a vote that ended in a majority, agreed to the deployment of the Japan Self Defense Force to the Principality of Qua-Toyne, ushering in Japan¡¯s first overseas deployment of its armed forces hardly a month into being transferred to Asherah. Cent. Calendar 16/05/1639, Llanfair¡¯s villa, Myhark, Principality of Qua-Toyne, 10:00 ¡°...and so, the National Diet of Japan has approved the deployment of the Japan Self Defense Force to the Principality of Qua-Toyne.¡± Diplomat Kuribayashi read out an official notice from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs transliterated from Asheran common to Japanese to members of the Qua-Toynian High Council, including Princess Llanfair herself. Despite Kuribayashi¡¯s wonky pronunciation and intonation, the council members were all more than ecstatic to hear the news of Japan coming to their aid. Llanfair, despite being happy herself, was still all too skeptical about the notice, drawing from what she had seen when she went to give a speech in front of the lawmakers. That infighting mess of apes managed to actually make a decision? Her impression of Japan¡¯s democratic system was also from her own personal belief that a singular rule, with power concentrated on an individual, was paramount for a nation. Still, she remembered her visit to the Diet building, which was muddled with scenes of the Diet members openly brawling amongst themselves in front of her and her delegation, which soured her taste of Japan¡¯s so-called ¡®progressive¡¯ system of government. Returning to the present, she calmed down her fellow council members before addressing Kuribayashi. ¡°This is splendid news, Sir Kuribayashi. As the highest commander of the Qua-Toynian military, I will order my soldiers to cooperate with yours, and your forces are given access to maneuver freely within Qua-Toyne¡¯s borders for as long as it¡¯s necessary.¡± Still struggling to understand Asheran common, Kuribayashi could only pick up certain words before resorting to help from his Fennese counterpart. After hearing the translation, he turned back to Llanfair. ¡°Excellent. I will tell the government your reply.¡± Trying his best to get the words in Asheran common right, Kuribayashi paused to think of the words and syntax before continuing. ¡°Also. We have an additional request.¡± Largely tired from trying to read out Asheran common, he gave the paper instead to the princess, which contained a request from the Japanese government. After she finished skimming through the translated contents of the request, she turned back to Kuribayashi with an unsurprised face. ¡°You¡¯re asking us to loan you some land near Myhark for use as an airfield?¡± Understanding what an airfield is since Qua-Toyne itself had its own dedicated sites for wyvern take off and retrieval, Llanfair used their own word for the airfield. Kuribayashi, however, still unfamiliar with the more complex words, turned to his Fennese counterpart for the translation. Finally understanding it, Kuribayashi spent some time forming the reply before speaking. ¡°Yes. It is needed for our aircraft.¡± ¡°I will allow it... on one condition of course.¡± Understanding the condition part, Kuribayashi replied. ¡°What condition?¡± Llanfair grinned, twisting her wrist in a twirl before stopping with her index finger extended towards Kuribayashi. ¡°The condition is that you have to be made ambassador to the principality.¡± Even after hearing the translation, Kuribayashi found it difficult to understand the condition itself, let alone its undertones. Satisfied with taking it at face value, he replied. ¡°I will forward your request to the government.¡± Cent. Calendar 19/05/1639, Myhark, Principality of Qua-Toyne, 09:30 It was 9:30 in the morning. The shops and markets in Myhark have already begun the workday as the first hours of the morning rush are in full swing. Poma, working for Lars¡¯s inn and undercover spy for the Louria Kingdom, went on with his duties as a lowly servant. He was serving tired merchants coming in from far away with the inn¡¯s drink and Pynn bread, which were delicious, highly nutritious bread made from the wheat grown exclusively in Qua-Toyne¡¯s extensive farmlands. Lars¡¯s inn was located on the first floor of a building facing the docks, which featured a lot of burly beastmen loading and unloading wares from various sail ships. Today, however, they noticed something strange. ¡°Thank Astarte, the Qua-Toynian farmers, and cooks for Pynn bread! I always look forward to this leg of the journey towards Altaras from east Philades!¡± ¡°You never get tired of it, right? Somehow, it¡¯s so good on its own. Sadly, they lose their taste once we bring them out of Qua-Toyne. I wonder why...¡± Two dwarven merchants coming from the Kingdom of Riem up north had settled in the inn for the time being. With the aromatic smell of newly baked Pynn bread tickling the nerves in their noses, they offered their thanks to the gods for the delicious food. ¡°Say, the last time I was here was two weeks ago, and back then, there¡¯s always this huge gray ship lingering out of the harbor.¡± ¡°Indeed. Although the ship today seemed strangely smaller and different. It really makes you wonder what they¡¯re doing here.¡± Catching the conversation about the Japanese warship outside the Myhark harbor, Poma began listening in, taking down notes of what they were saying in his mind. ¡°Though I must say, the small fast boats that those big ships have been regurgitating have been replaced by bigger boats with small fans, similar to the mechanical fans being sold from Mu. They all seem to be heading to an unwalled section to the west of the city for some reason.¡± Noticing a stark difference in the Japanese movements, he quickly took note of details that could help him pinpoint where the developments were occurring. He immediately ran back to his superior, Lars, and asked him. ¡°Boss! I¡¯m going to run an errand. Do we have anything that we are lacking?¡± ¡°Nothing in particular... Oh! Get me some of those apples being sold in the western market! The Philadean apples they sell have that special taste to them.¡± Getting the affirmative from his boss to leave, Poma set out towards the western parts of the city. - - - Having bought a bunch of Philadean apples from the western market in Myhark, Poma ran through the city¡¯s western gate, exiting the walls. There, along the cliffs beyond the coastal road overlooking a beach, he saw a growing crowd of people clumped together against the simple wooden fence separating them and the 10-meter drop into the sands below. Before he could even push through the crowd of people, he could already hear some strange sounds, which were louder than the foreground noise of people chattering amongst themselves. Finally emerging out of the crowd on the other side, what greeted him on the beach baffled him more than it shocked him. The bigger boats mentioned by the dwarves in the inn were present and they indeed did have two windmill-looking spinning blades attached to their back, kicking up seawater and sand as they maneuvered themselves from the ocean towards dry land. As their black underbellies deflated, a ramp-like structure at its front dropped onto the ground, revealing alien-looking carriages inside the boat. Guided by multiple people wearing similar-looking, green, mottled uniforms, the mysterious carriages roared to life, autonomously following the hand signals of the uniformed men and climbing down from the boat and onto the beach. Before the eeriness of the entire situation could register in Poma¡¯s head, he noticed common patches of white and red on the shoulders of all the people on the beach, snapping him back to his senses. ¡°The flag of the Japanese...! These are probably Japanese soldiers! I have to inform Adem!¡± He muttered to himself before darting back to the direction of Lars¡¯s inn. On this day, exactly a month after the appearance of Japan in Asherah, the 2nd Logistic Support Regiment and the 2nd Engineer Battalion of the Japan Ground Self Defense Force¡¯s 2nd Division landed on the shores west of Myhark in Qua-Toyne to begin the construction of the airfield and a temporary pier, marking the start of Japan¡¯s first overseas deployment in Asherah. Chapter 7: Operation Zanzibar As of May 5, 2022, this chapter has been revised Cent. Calendar 19/05/1639, Prime Minister¡¯s residence, Tokyo, Japan, 11:00 Exactly one month after their transfer to Asherah, the Japan Ground Self Defense Force have begun landing in Qua-Toyne, stamping out any lingering hopes for a peaceful resolution to the Lourian crisis. As the logistical elements of the 2nd Division began setting up key infrastructure, including an airfield and port facilities in Myhark, prime minister Takamori Hideaki convened his cabinet once more after the SDF brass had informed him that plans for a swift end to the crisis, should it escalate, have been drawn up. Entering the room and dismissing the rest of the ministers from bowing, he took his seat. Also present in the room was General Hinoki Yousuke, chief of staff of the JGSDF. ¡°I believe we are all looking forward to the plans you¡¯ve drafted, which I personally thank you and the rest of the SDF for coming up with in such short notice.¡± Takamori opened with a remark to the chief of staff, Joint Staff Koji Yuuichi, who was standing on the other side of the table and ready to report their plans. ¡°Thank you, prime minister. We have consulted the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and our Qua-Toynian counterparts on the status quo of Louria¡¯s political landscape to ensure that this plan will have its intended results.¡± Getting the hand gesture from the prime minister to begin, the admiral had his aides distribute documents to all the ministers in the room before continuing to speak. ¡°Taking into account Japan¡¯s limited resources available for diversion to military operations, we have decided on the implementation of this plan of action which we have dubbed: Operation Zanzibar.¡± The lights in the room darkened and the shutters were closed as the projector at the other end of the table lit up, projecting an empty slide on the white, featureless wall. Then, the words ¡°Operation Zanzibar¡± in all caps flashed in the middle of the slide. As Koji opened his mouth to begin presenting the plans in detail, the others present in the room sank into their comfortable, leather chairs in anticipation of the heavy topics they were about to hear. Cent. Calendar 04/06/1639, Gim, Qua-Toyne, 14:00 Two weeks after the 2nd Division¡¯s logistical units landed in Qua-Toyne, the Myhark airfield was completed, along with a temporary pier in the port that allowed for roll-on/roll-off disembarkation by the following GSDF elements. The airfield had then begun receiving JASDF C-130H transport planes from which more GSDF elements disembarked. Since then, the Japanese forces had completed their deployment in Gim, the border town that was rapidly becoming the frontline, and began cooperating with the Qua-Toynian soldiers garrisoned there. Princess Llanfair, wishing to better understand the Japanese way of fighting, sent Myhark Defense Knights commander Ine as her personal observer to the town of Gim. Arriving on horseback after a long, hurried journey throughout the Qua-Toynian countryside, she finally arrived before the aged, stone walls of the border town. As her horse trotted along the dry dirt road, she looked up at the arch that formed Myhark¡¯s east gate, its stone construction riddled with dirt and moss and its iron gates rusting from age. Doesn¡¯t really compare to Myhark... Inwardly commenting on the ¡°countryside¡± and ¡°rustic¡± feel of the town through its walls and gates as she looked at them, she was then caught by surprise when her horse suddenly stopped. The cause: an elven warrior holding his long pike readied at her and her horse. Judging from the well-maintained state of his armor and weapons, as well as his garments and boots, he was a regular of the Qua-Toynian professional force. ¡°Identify yourself.¡± The elven pikeman, a guard for the east gate, barked at her. Disembarking from her horse, Ine pulled out a parchment stamped with the royal seal and showed it to the guard. ¡°Ine, commander of the Myhark Defense Knights. I¡¯ve been sent here as an observer Her Highness herself.¡± Upon recognizing the royal seal on the parchment, the guard quickly fixed his posture and saluted Ine. ¡°O-Of course, commander Ine! Right this way!¡± Humbled by the high status of the she-elf before him, he quickly turned away to hide his flustered face. Following the elven pikeman through the main road, Ine looked around, taking notes for the report that she will have to submit to the princess. The town of Gim, once a vibrant residential area that housed the farmers that work Qua-Toyne¡¯s western lands, has been reduced to a mere ghost town, only populated by its garrison and their camp followers, due to an evacuation order from the government following the deployment of the Japanese forces to the town. The deeper they got into the town, the closer they got to the lesser square, and the more Japanese soldiers she encountered. She took notes on their common uniform, a sign of a well-trained professional force, as well as their gear. Their uniform, despite looking dirty at first glance, appeared to be actually well made. When they were stopped by a Japanese soldier on guard near the square, she managed to get a closer look on what they looked like. The square patterns on the fabric were intricate yet uniform, the implications of the sophistication that went into its construction making Ine feel queasy at its impossibility. Despite the best patterns Qua-Toyne¡¯s best tailors could manage, there were still imperfections and sprinkles of mistakes on them. The Japanese soldiers¡¯ uniforms, however, were unnervingly uniform for all individuals. It was as if they were all made from a single copy. She then noted the lack of iron armoring, although she did notice that the complex tailoring of the vests they wore above their clothing and their alien-looking fabric may help deflect blows and slashes from swords and such. Finally, she noted their weaponry, which were primarily guns, uniformly distributed between all soldiers with some minor differences here and there. The guns, which looked less stylish than the unwieldy Lourian arm cannons, were noticeably cleaner, sleeker, and smaller. All in all, while Ine could only say amazing things regarding the equipment of the Japanese soldier, she hardly understood the logic or doctrine behind them. Ine was then led to a large, olive-colored tent by her elven and Japanese escorts. Inside, she was greeted by a suite of thin panels, which contained moving pictures, fixed onto bars that lined one side of the tent, which she assumed to be equivalent to their manacomms, as well as some more recognizable equipment like tables, chairs, food, and such. As she took mental notes of what she was seeing, her inner processes were abruptly stopped when one of the Japanese soldiers approached her. ¡°Good afternoon, miss. Is there anything I can help you with?¡± Surprised by the Japanese soldier¡¯s sufficiently fluent Asheran common, Ine took her time digesting everything before replying. ¡°Good afternoon. I am Ine, commander of the Myhark Defense Knights. I was sent by Her Highness, Princess Llanfair, as an observer.¡± The soldier, whose wrinkles and grooves revealed his age, pulled out a black booklet from his pocket. After a pause spent staring at several pages, he turned his gaze back towards Ine. ¡°Well met, miss Ine. I am Major General Akiyama Hayate, commander of the GSDF¡¯s 2nd Division.¡± Extending his hand as a force of habit, it took a moment of awkward silence and staring before Akiyama realized that the elf may not be aware of this gesture. Before he could pull his hand away completely, Ine, instinctively assuming his action was one of goodwill, grabbed his hand with her own to return the gesture. ¡°Nice to meet you, Major General.¡± Exchanging smiles, the topic of their conversation then forced them to drop their initial warm expressions. ¡°We up north are not really up to date with the current situation, Major General. I was hoping you¡¯d brief me on what¡¯s happening here.¡± Internally lamenting that the Qua-Toynians aren¡¯t up to date with their own situation, Akiyama then urged Ine to follow him. Moving towards one of the panels with the moving pictures, he then turned to look back at her, glanced at his booklet, and spoke. ¡°This is one of our... Uhh... unmanned aircraft, which allows us to see what the Lourians are up to in their camp. Right now, they¡¯ve mostly been keeping to drills and welcoming more soldiers coming from deep within Louria.¡± Still unsure at what ¡°unmanned aircraft¡± means, she set it aside as her eyes followed Akiyama¡¯s finger, which pointed to one of the panels. Looking closely, she realized that the moving pictures depicted on the panel showed humans¨CLourian soldiers¨Cmoving around in their camp and doing various activities in splendid color and quality. It took her a while to realize that the soldiers were being viewed from above, at which point she also figured out what the term ¡°unmanned aircraft¡± meant. To clarify, she asked Akiyama. ¡°Do you currently have a flying object up in the sky right now? And that flying object has no person piloting it?¡± Akiyama nodded in affirmation, his inward praise for Ine¡¯s aptness showing through the slight grin on his face. ¡°And through the eyes of that flying object, you can see the Lourians as they are right now?¡± Another nod from the major general. Ine, knowing the importance of accurate, real-time information of the enemy¡¯s movements, felt the power in her limbs ebbing away in awe of what the Japanese were capable of. Not only did the Lourians not realize they were being watched, but the Japanese were also likely to be already aware of details regarding the Lourian movement, how many men they had, and maybe even spot potential hiding places of additional troops and weaponry. Hell, they probably know more about the enemy¡¯s movements than the enemy does. Swallowing her shock and maintaining her outward composure, she tried to make sure she did not stammer in her following words. ¡°Do you know of their total strength?¡± Akiyama paused for a moment to remember his Asheran common number terms before looking back at Ine. ¡°They¡¯re estimated at about 15,000.¡± Ine turned pale. 15,000 was a moderately high number of troops for taking one, simple, countryside town. Gim¡¯s own garrison numbered only at around 400 troops, with possible wyvern support from the fortress city of Ejei further to the east. According to the documents their government received from Japan, their military is only deploying 6,090 troops, with 1,000 dedicated to the construction and engineering aspects, which meant that the Lourians amassing at the camp on the border more than doubled the entire Japanese presence in Qua-Toyne. If these Japanese really are confident with their numbers, then they surely must have some sort of force multiplier that allows them to compensate for their obvious disadvantage. ¡°Are you, Major General, confident in your numbers?¡± The Japanese commander grinned for a moment, as if in disbelief at the question hurled at him, which he immediately took back as soon as he remembered that he was talking to a commander whose knowledge of war didn¡¯t match theirs. While he was eager to soothe Ine¡¯s startled nerves, he also felt like showing off. After having thought of the appropriate words, he responded to her. ¡°Numbers, too, are important in warfare. However, we have something that can offset sheer numbers. Come with me.¡± Finally getting her answer that the Japanese might indeed have a force multiplier, she eagerly followed Akiyama, who ventured outside the tent. Walking through the square, she noticed an eerie calmness and tranquility hanging over the town, despite the looming threat of the Lourian invasion. Granted, the soldiers of their garrison were on their nerves, but the foreign soldiers were anything but. They did maintain their discipline but tension or anxiety were nowhere to be found on their faces. Why the calmness? Do they not see nor hear the Lourians next door? Akiyama then led her up Gim¡¯s bell tower, the tallest structure in the town. Scaling the spiraling stone stairs, they reached the top of the tower where the bell was located. Posted as a lookout next to the gigantic, bronze bell was a Japanese soldier, who then saluted towards the major general as soon as he became aware of his presence. From there, they have a clear, commanding view of the quaint and small skyline of Gim, the sprawling farms that surrounded it, and the topography of the land tens of kilometers away, provided they weren¡¯t obstructed by something else. The town was situated in the plains just north of the divine forest, which was the thick, old overgrowth of trees that covered much of the mountain range that served to demarcate the border of Qua-Toyne and the kingdom of Quila. As Ine began to wonder why they were up there, Akiyama then handed her a pair of binoculars. ¡°Use that to look over there.¡± He then pointed to the horizon towards the southeast. Recognizing the pair of binoculars as a more sophisticated telescope, Ine instinctively understood where to put her eyes. Following Akiyama¡¯s direction, she then pointed the binoculars southeast along the feet of the mountains from where the Divine Forest began. For a few moments, she struggled to find what he was asking her to look at but then she happened upon some weird lumps of green that narrowly blended in with the prairie equally spaced out over it. Upon adjusting her focus to scrutinize the lumps better, she saw that they were huge, metallic carts fixed with long, massive tubes pointing up into the sky towards their direction. She inferred the size of the lumbering carts from the numerous people, likely Japanese soldiers, that she saw on top of and walking around them. The intimidating sight of the wagons, their tremendous articles of war looking as if they were converging directly on her very person, made her feel as if she wasn¡¯t safe¨Cthat she was never going to be anyway¨Cas if the enormous distance in between her and the machines meant nothing. Seeing that she had stopped looking around, Akiyama assumed she had found the Type 99 self-propelled howitzers and began explaining them. ¡°Those vehicles that you see are our mobile long-range artillery batteries, which we call ¡®self-propelled howitzers¡¯ back in our old world. Their cannons, a concept I hope you¡¯re familiar with, can lob highly explosive... errr, cannonballs, over long distances.¡± Ine, however, was still slow to comprehend the concept of these metallic carts. Reviewing his booklet, he then adjusted his vocabulary so that she may better understand it. ¡°Another way in which I could describe their capabilities is this: those moving cannons can reach and hit the Lourian camp from where they currently are.¡± Hearing those words, she connected the dots. While she still didn¡¯t know what else the Japanese had in store, what she was shown and what she noticed alone were enough to convince her that they had considerable firepower that allowed them to punch above their weight in spite of the stark numerical difference. Cannons that can reliably reach and hit targets outside of what they could see, eyes in the sky that tracked enemy movements and deployment... If push comes to shove, the Japanese could single-handedly eliminate the Lourians right now if they wanted to. However, she remembered reading in one of the documents that Japan had codified laws that prevented them from being the aggressor in a conflict, which sounded more like a defeatist, self-imposed handicap. Shelving these thoughts to the back of her mind, she moved on to the next topic. ¡°What have the Lourians been doing?¡± Before he could answer, they heard the footsteps of heavy boots on stone getting closer and closer. From beneath them, one of the Japanese soldiers called out to him in their native language, a statement that was completely lost on Ine. ¡°Major General, the Lourians are at the border again!¡± If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Seeing the commander¡¯s expression turning to one of urgency upon hearing the unintelligible remark, she assumed that there had been unsavory developments. Akiyama then turned to her and invited her to come along. ¡°Come. The Lourians have been spotted deploying in formation at the border... again. I think it¡¯s best if I explained it there.¡± Running back to the tent with the panels, they were guided by the soldier that had called their attention back to the panel that showed them the Lourian camp a while ago. Looking at the vivid, colorful screen, the moving pictures on it depicted an open field dotted with ranks of musketmen and pikemen in their pointed hats and typical infantry iron armor, with the lightly armored cavalry forming up on either flank of the center mass. Seeing the masses of heavily armored Lourians packing incredible firepower, their faces loosely reflected on the screen but clearly hungry for war, Ine couldn¡¯t stop her body from unleashing buckets worth of sweat. When she looked over to Akiyama and the other Japanese in the tent, she found them eerily composed and unalarmed, with serious nonchalant expressions on their sweatless faces. Returning her gaze to the screen, she saw that the Lourian army had begun marching forward towards the Lourian¨CQua-Toynian border, throwing up a sizable cloud of dust in the process. Despite being far away from where the march was actually happening, the depiction of it through the screen was enough to make her feel as if the very ground beneath her was shaking from the sheer amount of leather boots being forced against the earth. As the first row of soldiers inched closer and closer to the border, Akiyama picked up a weird-looking black box of unknown construction and began talking to it in Japanese. ¡°All units. Stand by.¡± Immediately afterwards, she heard the running footsteps of heavy leather booted Japanese and tanned cow leather Qua-Toynians outside the tent, presumably taking up their positions against the incoming attackers. Her unwavering eyes still firmly glued to the screen, she saw the formation of the Lourian infantry close the gap to the border, which was demarcated by long, dried logs that were placed loosely on where the line was on a map. She estimated the time it took for the invaders to cross it and began counting down in her head. Five. Four. Three. Two. One... At the very last second, she saw the Lourians cease their march with one, resounding, synchronized stomp mere inches away from the logs before turning about-face to resume their march towards the opposite direction. Confused by this restrained show of intimidation, uncharacteristic of the brutal Lourians, she turned to Akiyama for clues, but much to her added confusion, he and everyone else in the room collectively breathed sighs of relief. ¡°Phew. Just another marching drill for today then.¡± Turning to look at the still confused face of the Qua-Toynian commander, Akiyama entertained what he assumed to be the question she was about to ask. ¡°That was one of their drills. I hope you understand what it means.¡± Satisfied with the answer, she silently mouthed ¡°ohhh¡± as her eyebrows rose in mild surprise. ¡°The Lourians conduct marching drills every two to four days with a pattern that we could only conclude to be random. Though I admit that their drills do indeed have us on the edge sometimes.¡± Giving out a mild chuckle, Akiyama was then interrupted by one of his subordinates still watching the screens. ¡°Sir! We¡¯ve got wyverns incoming!¡± Despite not understanding what the soldier said, Ine instinctively looked to the screen that he was looking at, which was pointed towards the grayish blue of the cloudy, early afternoon sky. Clearly visible against this backdrop was a force of 25 brownish-red wyverns flying in formation towards the direction of Gim. Before Akiyama could even issue orders through his manacomm-like black box, the wyvern unit scattered, their individual elements forming an imaginary eight-petal flower as they did, before they could even cross the invisible wall that separated the airspaces of the two nations. With this clearly unexpected development, one of the personnel present in the tent commented. ¡°It appears that they timed their wyvern drill with their marching drill this time.¡± Akiyama, without looking away from the panel, also added his own comments. ¡°That¡¯s a first.¡± Letting out a deep sigh through his nostrils, he continued to watch the feed for another five minutes. Seeing that there were no longer any other surprises, he finally let his guard¨Cand his shoulders¨Cdown. With the wall of screens no longer depicting any Lourian soldiers or wyverns present, he pulled the handheld manacomm close to his mouth and gave out the all-clear. ¡°All units, stand down.¡± Rubbing his palm over his old, exasperated face, Akiyama let out a hearty sigh that echoed his pent-up stress over everything. Turning to look at Ine¡¯s still confused expression, he finally found an excuse to temporarily back off from the events currently at play. ¡°Why don¡¯t we go eat? I¡¯m hungry and... I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ve been lousy as a commander in not giving the information to you straight.¡± Accepting his offer, she and the Japanese commander went to a nearby, larger tent that housed the cafeteria for use by the soldiers from both sides. - - - Being briefed on the incremental changes in Lourian personnel count, suspected alternative deployment routes for the army, the position of the camps on the map, and then finally the deployment of Qua-Toyne and Japanese forces on their side, Ine learned that the Japanese had been meticulous in tracking and studying the movements of the enemy forces. She also learned from Akiyama that there were numerous close calls during their night patrols, where Japanese soldiers would discover Lourian soldiers hiding near the border before scaring them off, likely attempting to pounce on unsuspecting Qua-Toynian patrols. Through hearing these stories, if they were to be believed, she learned that the Japanese could also work in the dark of night, which was truly a game-changer, although how they do it still remains to be seen. Akiyama also brought up six different occasions wherein official Lourian emissaries would come up to the border calling for dialogue. When Qua-Toyne and Japanese officers responded, the Lourians would always make verbal threats with the intent of scaring them away from the engagement. While the ¡®dialogue¡¯ never devolved into quarrels, malicious words and offensive threats were often exchanged between the Qua-Toynians and the Lourians. Hearing of these incidents, Ine simply chuckled and rolled her eyes, as if this wasn¡¯t the first time she¡¯s heard of such occurrences. ¡°Heh. Typical Lourians. That¡¯s nothing of note, Major General, though I appreciate you telling me these things.¡± ¡°No problem, Miss Ine.¡± After an honest, straight-to-the-point reply, Akiyama indulged his weary taste buds and growling stomach with the savory and plumpness of the Pynn bread he was eating. Taking a generous, near bear-like bite off of the wheat-yellow loaf, his facial muscles contracted in reflexive joy as he felt his saliva glands on overdrive at the sheer tastiness of what he had bitten. Having been also subject to the harsh rationing in the wake of Japan¡¯s transfer, Akiyama was representative of Japanese people enjoying bountiful, delicious food after a month of heavily reduced food consumption and increased physical labor. Taking another helping off of the rapidly disappearing Pynn bread, he couldn¡¯t help his face from grinning in excess. Ine even noticed the shining bulbs of tears forming in the corners of his eyes. ¡°Holy shit. I missed food. I¡¯m sorry for my inexcusable behavior, but goddamn. Food just never tasted this good!¡± Looking at the other Japanese soldiers eating in the cafeteria, she found the very same story of joyful reactions over food consumption. For every single bite of either Pynn bread or Gim¡¯s famous fatty roasted pork, its brown oily skin and juicy flesh a high point of the Qua-Toynian countryside, the soldiers all shed tears, overwhelmingly exhilarated at the mere stimulus of tastiness. It might have been either due to the fact that Qua-Toynian food was exceptional, or that the Japanese simply had a bad time back home with their rationing. One of them, after taking a teeny bite of the rich brown skin of the roasted pork, immediately got on his knees and raised his hands up, apparently in gratitude to the gods for the food that they were given the long-awaited opportunity of consuming. Either way, it was more than obvious to Ine that the Japanese army, including their commanders, were equally subject to the same conditions, leading her to assume that Japan had some sort of culture that emphasized egalitarian measures. Hoping to understand more about the culture within the army, Ine opened her mouth to ask Akiyama, but... ¡°Major General! The Lourian emissaries are back at the border!¡± A female officer, the first time Ine has encountered one from the Japanese in her experiences so far, ran to them from outside, reporting in as she saluted. ¡°Again? Well, fine...¡± As Akiyama stood up from the bench, the officer continued. ¡°They¡¯re looking for you, sir.¡± Now stood up and only now processing the officer¡¯s words, he looked back at her with a blank expression on his face. ¡°Me?¡± ¡°Yes, sir. According to the Qua-Toynian patrol that found them, they are asking for the highest-ranking Japanese officer in Gim.¡± Akiyama let out another exasperated sigh, almost as if the glee he had experienced mere moments ago with Pynn bread were all for naught. He looked down on the ground and considered the scenario. Never before had the Lourians asked for their presence, almost always ignoring them and instead laying their threats down on the Qua-Toynians. However, as the commander, he knew of the tremendous responsibilities and expectations that were weighing down on him. He can¡¯t afford to refuse the Lourians, lest he lose face. Having made up his determination, he looked back at the officer. ¡°Alright. Get a vehicle ready in front of the west gate.¡± Dismissing the officer, Akiyama turned towards Ine as he fitted back his officer¡¯s cap on his head. ¡°I¡¯ll be heading off now.¡± Ine, eager to see the Lourians personally, caught Akiyama¡¯s attention with a ¡°wait!¡± ¡°I want to come as well to fulfill my duties as an observer.¡± Seeing that there¡¯s nothing wrong with a Qua-Toynian officer coming along for the ride, he allowed her to come. Louria - Qua-Toyne border, 15:20 Disembarking from a high mobility vehicle, Akiyama, Ine, and two Japanese soldiers walked along a dirt road that led upwards towards a small ridge. Upon arriving at the crest of this ridge, they found a Qua-Toynian officer and five pikemen with the steely pointed ends of their pokes haggardly pointing towards three Lourian soldiers standing just short of the log-demarcated border. One of the Lourians had a more distinguished chest plate, its shiny, well-polished iron serving as the canvas of countless intricate reliefs. Compared to the other two next to him, he carried with him an aura of poise and dignity that were deserving of an officer. He looked excellent, possessing blue eyes, blond hair, a fair complexion, and a sharp jawline that culminated in a prominent, cleft chin. The Lourian officer, noticing the green outfits of the Japanese approaching them, lightened his stern expression and looked at them with a gaze that had hints of mockery. ¡°Why, hello there! You must be the highest-ranking Japanese officer here... or not.¡± Pretending to not hear the Lourian officer¡¯s rambling, Akiyama dismissed the Qua-Toynian officer and asked him to have his men stand down. Walking towards the border, he looked directly at the Lourian officer¡¯s eyes with unyielding determination. ¡°Ooooh. Don¡¯t tell me you can attack us with your stare, now? Heh!¡± Forcing a laugh, the Lourian officer taunted Akiyama, to which he responded. ¡°Perhaps I could. Wanna find out?¡± As the two men stared at each other with grins on their faces, mocking each other¡¯s features silently from behind their giggling breaths, Ine walked closer to just behind the two Japanese soldiers standing behind Akiyama. The Lourian officer then broke his expression, instantly turning his wide smile to an unamused frown. ¡°I¡¯ll get to the point. You...¡± The Lourian officer pointed directly at Akiyama before shifting his finger to point at the two Japanese soldiers standing guard behind him. ¡°And you. And you. This isn¡¯t your fight and it doesn¡¯t have to be. To be sent to a place far from home to be among... undesirables, it makes sense why there was some hesitation before your government finally ordered you to go here.¡± Stabbing in the dark and hopefully hitting some nerves, the Lourian officer actually knew nothing of Japan¡¯s motives in siding with Qua-Toyne. Fortunately for him, the point did resonate with Akiyama and the others, although they did not show any hint of being persuaded. With a kind yet resolute expression, the Japanese commander responded. ¡°You made it our fight when you refused to do things peacefully.¡± Taking a deep breath, the Lourian officer shed away all facets of respect, his expression and glare now clearly reeking of frustration. With an irritated exhale, he proceeded to lambast the Japanese. ¡°Why side with the undesirables? Aren¡¯t you humans as well? Don¡¯t tell me that whore of a princess offered herself for Japanese steel!¡± The two Lourian soldiers who were with him began giggling and laughing as they grotesquely imagined themselves violating the Qua-Toynian sovereign, known throughout Louria as an elven whore who pleased herself on the dull swords of those she hired to fight against them. The Qua-Toynians, hearing their dear princess being referred to as a whore, in turn, began hurling coarse insults at the Lourians. The mood amongst them turned for the worse as both sides yearned to have the other gutted and mutilated. ¡°And you, Japanese officer. Don¡¯t tell me this elf whore here...¡± The Lourian officer pointed to Ine, who was standing behind the two Japanese soldiers. ¡°I get it... I bet she already seduced you, giving you a nice taste of her plump, juicy, elven thighs... Hmph! Perhaps the only redeeming quality, besides her many holes...¡± The officer then ogled at the healthy curves of Ine¡¯s thighs, which despite her modestly thick armoring were still pronounced. Feeling her very person violated, she looked at him with disgust and bloodlust. Just as she was about to draw her sword and hurl her own insults, Akiyama stopped her with his hand. ¡°I think that we should end this futile attempt at a talk...¡± Pausing to look at the Lourian officer directly in the eye, he felt like doing a mic-drop moment before walking away. ¡°While we¡¯re at it, I also can¡¯t control myself when talking to someone whose balls are located on his chin.¡± Hearing this snide remark, the Lourian officer immediately got self-conscious and covered his cleft chin, which comically resembled testicles with scant strands of hair growing out of them. The soldiers on both the Qua-Toynian and Lourian side, realizing what Akiyama said, set aside their quarreling to laugh at the Lourian officer. Having been the recipient of what had been the most offensive insult to his person, he lashed back at the one who wronged him. ¡°Fuck you! Come back here and let¡¯s settle this like men!¡± Driven by fury, the Lourian officer stormed forward towards the logs demarcating the border. The moment his leather boots made contact with the wooden husks, the two Japanese soldiers behind Akiyama instantly raised their Type 89 assault rifles at the officer, their intimidating black muzzles staring down on the man¡¯s forehead. The Lourian officer, recognizing that the Japanese weapons were also guns, stopped dead in his tracks. Glancing behind him, his guards had failed to raise their own firearms in time and also froze in place. Realizing that they were not in an advantageous position, he backed off a few steps away from the logs, an action to which the Japanese soldiers accordingly lowered their rifles. Not intending to leave the tense standoff as it is, Akiyama left one last remark. ¡°I do hope we get to see each other again. Hopefully not in this kind of setting.¡± Taking off his cap as a gesture of farewell, Akiyama then turned around and returned to their high mobility vehicle, followed by Ine and the two Japanese soldiers while the Qua-Toynian soldiers returned to their patrols. Lourian camp, 18:00 Dejected and insulted, the Lourian officer brooded in his personal tent. Leaning back on a velvet cushion couch specifically tailored to his demands, he held up a mirror to his chin, cursing his parents for giving him such a laughable, almost comical-looking cleft chin. In spite of the rage, he mostly felt regret for failing to shave his pathetic excuse for a beard, a horrific oversight that allowed him to get insulted. Just as he was about to reach for a blade to shave with, one of the soldiers under his command entered his tent and saluted. ¡°Commander Kerges, they have arrived!¡± Hearing that they have arrived, Kerges¡¯s face brightened. ¡°Great! Show me.¡± Following his soldier out of the tent, they walked past the bright red tents of other officers, followed by the rows upon rows of insignificant brown tents in which the regular soldiers dwelled, before arriving at the open space in the middle of the camp. As horses trotted into the open field, the carts they pulled, each containing something gigantic, were pulled into position. As soon as the gigantic objects were equally spaced from one another, the soldiers then detached the horses from the carts while placing wheel guards on the carts so that they wouldn¡¯t budge. With the carts still draped in cloth, Kerges went for the closest one and anticlimactically pulled away the dusty covers, revealing the enormous round bore of an equally leviathan mortar staring back at him. Taking a closer look at it, he could see that there were parts all around the mortar, indicating that it still needed to be assembled. Grinning in satisfaction at their new toys, he admired the stunningly beautiful piece of long-range artillery before him, happy at the prospect of unrivaled destruction afforded by them. ¡°Our benefactors have really outdone themselves.¡± As he was patting himself on the back for trusting their benefactors, a voice called out to him from behind the mortar. ¡°Said benefactors are expecting these things to allow you to yield results. I fear that I might have to keep reminding you, Lourians, that.¡± Emerging from the other side of the mortar was a man wearing a white theater mask that concealed his entire face. Despite his attempts to hide his identity through full-body robes and a mask, the man¡¯s accent was a dead giveaway, reminding Kerges of the haughty manner of speech that those in the Philades continent seem to possess. Still, even as he feels annoyed by his overbearing attitude, the masked man was indeed their benefactor, so they still had to show them respect. Bowing to the man, Kerges replied. ¡°Louria¡¯s children thank you and your people for your support. I assume that you are one of the operators for these... excellent works of art?¡± Dismissing Kerges¡¯s show of respect, the man went straight to business. ¡°Anyway... Your commanders said that it begins tomorrow, yes? If that¡¯s the case, we will need to set these up.¡± ¡°Ah, of course!¡± Ordering his men and some of the camp followers to assist in the assembling of the mortars, the Lourians, together with their benefactors, were able to fully set up and train the mortars at Gim just as supper was about to begin. Gim, 18:15 ¡°Yep, those are mortars. Mid-19th century, from the looks of it. Reminds me heavily of the ones used in the American civil war.¡± The drone operator for the ScanEagle tasked with monitoring the Lourians, after spotting multiple horse-drawn carriages mysteriously clad in cloth arriving in the Lourian camp, asked for confirmation from one of the soldiers who were more aware of historical weapons. Watching the covers being pulled away from the carriages, revealing the mortars, they were able to assess the range and damage the newly brought-in artillery were capable of. Akiyama, who was also watching the drone feed, asked the soldier. ¡°Can these mortars reach all the way here?¡± ¡°Considering that Gim is about a km away from the border and the Lourian camp is less than 500m away from the said border... Yes, sir. Those mortars can reach us. Their accuracy could be better if they set them up a bit closer too.¡± Immediately coming up with plans in his head, Akiyama walked away from the station to discuss plans of redeployment with his officers. ¡°Continue to watch them! I want to know if they intend to use those mortars soon!¡± Cent. Calendar 05/06/1639, Jin-Hark, Louria, 6:00 As the morning sun barely cleared the horizon, an amazing fleet of 123 warships (of which 33 are galleys, 20 galliots, 20 galleasses, and 50 merchant ships converted to warships) left the harbor of Jin-Hark to commence the invasion of Qua-Toyne later that day. By the time they would have reached the waters off the Qua-Toynian coast, the advanced force would have already crossed the border and besieged Gim. At the helm of the flagship stood Vice Admiral Sharkun, admiring the sight of the rising sun that was casting a somber yellow unto the ocean and onto his face. Remembering the events of the previous week, Sharkun groaned. Having received intelligence from their spies in Myhark that the Japanese forces had completed the construction of an airfield that allowed for their iron flying objects to arrive, the other commanders ordered him and his fleet to launch an assault on the airfield, in addition to them clashing with and defeating the Qua-Toynian and Japanese navies. Prioritizing the destruction of the airfield, the other commanders ignored Sharkun¡¯s protests and had many of the larger ships in his fleet refitted to accommodate 1 or 2 wyverns. It was this last-minute change that Sharkun lamented. Despite the usefulness of having wyverns with them, the ships¡¯ combat capabilities were drastically reduced just to allow for their accommodations. In addition, they were only refitted to allow for takeoffs, which meant that after the wyverns had left, the ships that they came from would literally become dead weights to their operation. ¡°Now we have less men and cannon to fight our enemies... Fuck...¡± Cursing his luck inwardly, Sharkun could only watch in sorrow and anxiety as their fleet inched ever closer east, towards the direction of the rising sun. Lourian camp, 6:10 Standing guard outside the Lourian camp, two soldiers were almost on the verge of falling asleep, having stood guard for the good part of the early morning. Just as they began to snore, they were kicked back to life by the sound of a galloping horse approaching them. Narrowing their eyes to better see who was coming, they then forced themselves awake after recognizing who it was. The man on horseback, who had now arrived in front of them, gazed out towards the east with an eager yet resentful glare. Climbing down from his horse and stepping onto the dirt, the man was greeted by the two soldiers on guard. ¡°Lieutenant General Adem, sir!¡± Ignoring their greeting, Adem zoomed past them and into the camp. ¡°Today¡¯s the day...¡± Barging into the officers¡¯ tent, Adem then took command of the entire advanced force before moving on to plan their moves for the upcoming battle. Chapter 8: Bombs Away As of August 21, 2022, this chapter has been revised Cent. Calendar 05/06/1639, 1.5km southwest of Gim, 12:00 With the sun seemingly at its highest, 15,000 of Louria¡¯s best professional soldiers have formed up in the plains north of their camp in the sweltering heat. Today looked like it would be another one of their drills, meant to keep them in shape and in discipline as well as to keep their enemies on edge. Marching to the echoing beat of their drums, the Lourian soldiers masterfully kept their formation as they performed increasingly complex maneuvers that displayed their cohesion at all organizational levels. Watching all of it was Adem, who was situated on a small hill at the rear of the formation that allowed him to overlook the entire Lourian advanced echelon. Despite his splendidly decorated armor and his muscular, well-built steed, his undesirable facial features and menacing glare betrayed any first impression. With his pride in the Lourian war machine that he built up and confidence in his men at an all-time high, he then turned his gaze to the east. He took a long, deep breath, remembering all the planning and anxiety that he went through taking into account the military deployment of the Japanese. After being warned by their spies in Myhark that they had deployed their technological marvels in force with baffling speed, the invasion was pushed back as revisions to their strategies warranted the movement and deployment of additional men and equipment in both their ground and naval forces. Now that the planned day of the invasion has come, the advanced echelon that he led would take Gim, shelling and pulverizing it with artillery and wyvern attacks before the troops march in and dispel any surviving resistance. From there, they continue on to the major fortress city of Ejei and besiege it while waiting for the main echelon, a force of 25,000 conscripts from the different lords under the kingdom, to join them. He exhaled, stopping himself from looking too far into their war plans and grounding himself in the present. He refocused his sights on Gim, then he waved his left hand to his standard bearer, who then raised his standard around for all to see and began waving it around in a specific pattern. Seeing the signal, the men that were left in the camp and the sub-commanders of the Advanced Echelon moved into action. Today, Gim will fall. The drummers simultaneously changed their beat, to which the Lourian soldiers accordingly responded by turning east. This time though, they won¡¯t stop at the border, for a good time awaits them in Gim. If they could spare the women fighters, especially the high-ranking Ine, they could savor their first taste of Qua-Toynian enabled pleasure. Then there was the growing faction within the soldiers that began to consider the Japanese female soldiers, especially after their spies in Myhark reported that the Japanese employ women in their ranks. If they¡¯re lucky, they can catch some of them today and finally taste the best parts of Japan¡¯s flowers. Eager for these rewards, the soldiers salivated and smiled as they rigorously marched forth, their discipline seemingly undeterred by the carnal desires that plagued their minds. Meanwhile, back in the camp, the benefactors of the Lourians were signaled that the invasion was beginning and so rushed to the mortars to take off their covers. Having prepared them the night before, the mortars were already loaded and ready to fire. As one of the benefactors kneeled next to the mortar, he was approached by one of the Lourian camp followers. ¡°You bastards confident that this¡¯ll work?¡± Turning towards the man that approached him, the benefactor made a disgusted expression, which was lost on the camp follower since he wore a mask that hid his entire face. ¡°Sit back and watch, peasant. You couldn¡¯t possibly fathom the power Parpaldia has given you even if it blows up in your face!¡± The benefactor then turned back to the mortar. Hearing their commander shout the order to commence the bombardment, the masked benefactors then began to chant spells to their respective artillery pieces. Reacting to the spell being cast, the magic gems loaded in the mortar began to glow as their internal mana, deposited into them long ago by the planet¡¯s underground mana veins trickling to the surface, started being released from their eons-old prisons. With the benefactors nearing the completion of the spell chant, the mana in the gems were now almost released, ready to be casted. As the benefactors simultaneously reached the final word in the spell¡¯s last stanza, the mana then spontaneously combusted, destroying the gems that have housed them, culminating in a controlled explosion that forcefully pushed the heavy ammunition out of the muzzles of the mortars in loud, cloudy booms. Having fired their first salvo, the benefactors quickly ordered the camp followers to prepare for the next while they recuperated their breaths and voices from the chanting. After being readied by their caretakers in another part of the camp, 25 wyverns and their dragon knights took off to the cloud scribbled heavens one after another. Leading this 2nd Wyvern Squadron was captain Aldebaraan, who was the first to taste the strong winds of the sky as he flew his fellow wyvern up into the great blue. After all wyvern units were airborne, he then led his squadron towards the town of Gim. The continuous loud bangs from their mortars synchronized with the drums and marching of the troops, while their wyvern units streaked across the sky towards the border. Watching the magnificent scene unfold, Adem couldn¡¯t help but shed a tear at the spectacle of the invasion in full swing. Feeling pride and lust from the upcoming slaughter of Gim and Ejei, he let out a sinister smile. ¡°Spiced beef and wine for lunch... Elven pussy and screams for dinner...¡± 2nd Division TOC position ¡°We¡¯ve confirmed that the Lourian artillery has begun their fire missions.¡± ¡°Lourian wyverns have just crossed the border!¡± Shouts from the ScanEagle drone operators echoed across the command tent as they witnessed through their feeds the sight of the Lourian invasion finally commencing. Cold sweat ran down major general Akiyama¡¯s already perspiring back, but he was not going to let the jitters get the better of his ability to command. ¡°It¡¯s time.¡± Akiyama muttered below his breath as he exhaled. Turning to his communications team and ever-faithful staff, he issues them an order. ¡°Tell the artillery to commence fire missions on the targets marked by our forward observers! Inform Myhark to phone Okinawa that Operation Zanzibar has started!¡± While one officer informed the 2nd Artillery Regiment, another officer sent the go signal to Myhark. ¡°The sultan has entered his castle. I repeat. The sultan has entered his castle.¡± Naha Air Base, Okinawa, Japan, 12:08 Three F-2 multirole fighters, two F-2A and one F-2B, from the Japan Air Self Defense Force¡¯s 8th Tactical Fighter Squadron forward deployed to Naha Air Base for Operation Zanzibar began taxiing to the runway after being informed that the Lourian invasion had begun and was underway. The two F-2As were each loaded with six 500lb laser-guided bombs, while the lone F-2B was equipped with a Sniper TPOD for laser guidance. As soon as the control tower gave the clearance for takeoff, the three navy blue-colored fighters accelerated before taking off and zooming ahead to the skies southwest. Somewhere northeast of Gim Two soldiers from the 1st Airborne Brigade on lookout duty at a windmill perched on top of a hill to the northeast of Gim were observing Lourian wyverns take a circling pattern over the town. Moments later, several clouds of dust erupted from the stone buildings in the town as the mortar munitions landed, pummeling the clay rooftops of houses and smashing open some of the old, mossy, town walls. Looking at the damage done by the mortars, one of the soldiers sighed in release of pent-up stress. ¡°Thank goodness we evacuated last night. I just saw the building we were sleeping in collapse.¡± The other soldier, who was looking through a pair of binoculars at the incoming wyverns, replied nonchalantly. ¡°Well, they made it pretty obvious that they were gonna attack today.¡± As his companion replied, ¡°Yeah,¡± he continued to examine the wyverns and their riders. Despite being a biological creature, the wyverns traveled at speeds that challenged or even exceeded helicopters. While the need for a runway baffled him initially, he found comfort in knowing that the flying lizards needed a crucial piece of infrastructure before they¡¯d need to take off. Maybe it was more exhausting for them to try and take off without the momentum from running? Exhausting a wyvern¡¯s energy at the start was disadvantageous, that much is clear. The soldier also noticed that the wyvern didn¡¯t carry anything else other than the rider, some armor, and a box he assumed must be important, leading him to conclude that weight also matters a lot to these flying beasts. Remembering from an earlier briefing that wyverns possess a fireball attack, he subconsciously sweated as he imagined the wyverns noticing them and going on the attack. While it was mentioned by their Qua-Toynian counterparts that wyverns can withstand arrow attacks, this did not necessarily mean that the wyverns can survive a barrage of lead from their Type 89 assault rifles. Whether it could work or not, however, neither of them wanted to come to a situation where they could test it out. The other soldier, looking through his own pair of binoculars at Gim being bombarded, remembered something else. Just before midnight last night, their ScanEagle operators noticed that the mortars were being loaded with real ammunition and covered up, leading them to conclude that the mortars were going to be fired soon. Akiyama, the other commanders of 2nd Division elements, and Moizi, commander of Qua-Toyne¡¯s forces in the west, carried out the evacuation of their forces from Gim under the cover of darkness. While the rest evacuated, several of Moizi¡¯s men and some Japanese soldiers stayed behind to prop up torches, electrical lighting, scarecrows, and tents on the earthen walls to deceive Lourian spotters and dragon riders. Seeing that the bombardment on Gim continued and that the wyverns were heading for Gim, the soldier was left with the conclusion that their deception had worked. Just then, they heard an unending series of different-sounding explosions coming from their southeast, towards the direction of the divine forest. Diverting their binoculars towards the direction of the sounds, the Japanese soldiers looked to where the 2nd Artillery Regiment was deployed. There, spread out on the same plains as before, rows of Type 99 self-propelled howitzers, with all of their guns pointing upwards towards the direction of Gim, were firing their 155mm cannons ceaselessly. ¡°It¡¯s begun, huh.¡± ¡°Too bad we can¡¯t see the results from here... Oh wait, here they come!¡± The soldier spotted the banners and glints from the armor of the Lourian soldiers marching towards Gim emerging from the tree-laded ridge to the west. While they were eager to see the results of their own artillery bombardment, they subconsciously felt a bit sorry for the soldiers that were woefully unaware of what was to come. - - - Emerging out onto the extensive plains of Qua-Toyne from the ridge, the soldiers of the advanced echelon finally got to see their target before them: Gim. As the last soldiers cleared the crest, Adem was now able to see the pitiful-looking town for himself. Savoring the last time that he gets to see Gim pure from his men¡¯s touch, his nasty grin offered an insight to the lack of delicacy and remorse in his character. While he grew impatient with the painfully slow march, he knew that the Japanese possessed guns, which would make it difficult for them to cross all the way to the outskirts of the town. Moving his sight away from Gim and down to the earthen walls erected around it, he assumed that the Japanese soldiers were lying in wait for them to get within range before unleashing a devastating barrage from their firearms. He then looked around to confirm irregularities in the landscape that could allow his men to take cover when the bloodshed started. Since the advanced echelon was made up of their best professional soldiers, a good portion of which were trained in the Parpaldian Empire on how to best utilize terrain irregularities to maximize protection and return fire with their own guns, Adem was confident that his sub-commanders would know what to do. In addition to their troops, the 2nd Wyvern Squadron was in the air to rain fireballs on any Japanese and Qua-Toynian troops resisting them. They also have their mortars, which have now yielded results in the form of the inconsistent destruction of some of the town¡¯s infrastructure. ¡°I had my doubts... Hmph. Those Parpaldians may be a decent bunch after all.¡± Adem initially resented the Parpaldians for offering support, even going so far as to appeal to the king that they were setting a trap for them. Still, the king accepted the support with open arms, welcoming their sole ally in their quest to unite all of Rodenius under one banner. Now that his doubts about the Parpaldians sabotaging their efforts have been washed away, he set those original thoughts aside, choosing instead to relish in the sight of Gim being pounded away by the artillery they¡¯ve been given. They were now only a thousand paces away from the closest earthen walls that faced them. His mind was filled with questions: at what range are the Japanese going to fire their weapons? Could the huge, metal carriages that they brought with them appear? Did they issue guns to the Qua-Toynians as well? As considerations and countermeasures were processed in his mind at breakneck speed, he watched his troops sweep across the flat farmland west of the town. Desperately trying to find something to satisfy his growing doubts, there was one that he just couldn¡¯t silence. As if discovering something groundbreaking, Adem¡¯s eyes widened. It was a glaring inconsistency that he couldn¡¯t force himself to come to terms with. If anything, it almost felt like he had failed to divert himself and his forces from a fatal mistake. ¡°Where are the enemy soldiers?!¡± He screamed out. The reports from their scouts earlier in the morning reported ¡°the usual¡±, with lit torches decorating the earthen walls and buildings in Gim, coupled with the unnaturally bright light from the Japanese installations. Looking back, he realized that they didn¡¯t report spotting a single soldier. According to reports from before yesterday, their early mornings were usually preoccupied with them running into Qua-Toynian patrols in the groves and then being scared away by Japanese soldiers. Now that he realized it, no such reports reached him nor his sub-commanders this morning. It was too unnatural¨Ctoo artificial¨Cfor it to be a coincidence. It was as if the Japanese and the Qua-Toynians were expecting them to invade on this day, this hour, this very moment. However, it was too late. Without sparing sufficient time for the other commanders to react to Adem¡¯s sudden outburst, the ground shook tremendously. The shock from whatever struck the ground startled his steed, throwing Adem off his saddle and onto the ground together with his other commanders. Regaining composure almost immediately, he turned his head to where he thought was the front. His vision was blocked by dirt, but from what he could see, he saw his elite, professional soldiers thrown to the ground, their formation forever lost, clamoring to get back on their feet. Before he could even ask himself what happened, the ground shook once more, accompanied by an ear-shattering boom coming from his right. Looking in that direction, he saw a gigantic splash of soil and earth erupt from the ground in spectacular fashion, soaring to a height that overshadowed even the towering bell tower of Gim. Squinting his eyes, he saw some of his soldiers thrown high up into the air to a height that guaranteed a fatal injury when they fell back to the ground. Along with them were recognizable and unrecognizable body parts, which were Adem¡¯s confirmation of their first casualties. As hopelessness began to seep in in the absence of urgent answers to his questions, the ringing in his ears finally started to subside, slowly being replaced by the screams and cries of his professionally trained human war machines. Just as he finished finding his footing to try and regain command of his forces, he was thrown back by another powerful, ground-shaking explosion behind him. Recovering faster than he did initially, he got a bit more time to assess the situation. It was chaos. Just in his field of vision, he could count ten, twenty, one hundred fatalities, either with their bodies still whole or their torso, head, arm, or whatever else torn off from what still remained. He could see some break formation and run while others continued to try to maintain their composure. Either way, both weren¡¯t spared from a gruesome death at the indiscriminate hands of the earth that swallowed them. He slowly and frustratingly watched the advanced echelon melt, either from deserters or from this unknown, powerful attack. His confidence in the invasion evaporated faster than they accrued casualties. Picking up his shaking self from the earth with his jittery extremities, Adem resigned himself to the fate of the invasion. It was lost. Just as another explosion rocked the ground, Adem tripped on the ripped open torso of a man, presumably an officer from what remained of its breastplate, sending him tumbling back to the ground. As he lamented how his life had turned out, thoughts ran across his head, urging him to pin the blame on someone else. Those filthy Parpaldian sneaks must have likely turned on them! They must have collaborated with the Japanese to destroy Louria¡¯s capacity to fight and carve the country in half between themselves! It was the king¡¯s fault for accepting a deal riddled to the brim with red flags! Either way, even if it were someone else¡¯s fault, Adem¡¯s fate was sealed. Cursing the king with a scream, he was eternally silenced by a direct hit from a 155mm high explosive round, gruesomely running through his chest like a knife through butter before its fuse, upon making contact with the hard earth below him, detonated its explosive package and obliterating his pitiful shell in a fireball. His surviving sub-commanders lost all morale and hope in continuing the invasion, but before they could even think of retreating, let alone lead a rout, the relentless rain of high explosive rounds made sure that none of them saw the peaceful blue skies above them ever again. - - - As the 15,000 troops of the advanced echelon were reduced to less than a thousand mortified souls who were either still trying to push with the invasion or were now running back to the border, the 2nd Wyvern Squadron, which was lined up to rain fire on Gim as soon as the mortar bombardment stopped, diverted out of their attack pattern when they caught sight of the carnage ensuing below them. Back in their circle pattern above the town, the 25 wyverns and their dragon riders could only watch in disbelief and horror as the once mighty formations of the advanced echelon were decimated en masse by the onslaught of explosions. Aldebaraan, recoiling in disgust from the countless mutilations he was witnessing, wondered what was causing such absurdities. ¡°How?! How in the bloody fuck are our men being slaughtered so easily?!¡± His train of thought then wandered somewhere else. ¡°Who could be doing this?!¡± Now diverted away from attacking Gim, the 25 wyverns and their dragon knights experienced delays in hearing the heart-thumping explosions that were erasing the advanced echelon from existence. However, some of them started to hear softer, more distant booms that preceded the louder, closer explosions. Realizing this as well, Aldebaraan started swiveling his head, trying to locate the source of these mysterious booms. His eyes then looked towards the divine forest, along the contours of which he happened to catch sight of several dark green dots spread out on the plains far to the southeast. Examining them further, he saw some of them had long poles sticking out of their bodies. Suddenly, the dot that he was focusing on emitted a bright flame that immediately turned to clouds of smoke. Seeing this happen to the other dots, it didn¡¯t take long for Aldebaraan and the rest of the squadron to come to the conclusion that these may have been artillery pieces, probably similar to the mortars the Parpaldians offered to them. Aldebaraan¡¯s blood boiled. ¡°Those... things! They¡¯re the ones killing our comrades!¡± Picking up his manacomms, Aldebaraan screamed. ¡°Form on me! Let¡¯s teach ¡®em a lesson!¡± Hearing cheers and war cries echo through the air and through his manacomms, Aldebaraan felt the adrenaline rush as he ordered his wyvern to swoop down towards the direction of the massive guns. Just as they were ordered, the rest of the 2nd Wyvern Squadron followed suit, forming a long line of wyverns that darted towards the enemy. Looking behind him to savor the sight of his unit committed to the attack, he felt a strong sense of pride being their commander. Turning his head back forwards, he steeled himself for their charge. As they got closer, the shape of the enemy dots began to take form, resembling oversized carriages painted in greens and browns, a smart idea that made it harder for them to discern their size and shape from a distance. With the enemy gun carriages drawing near, Aldebaraan savored the wind blowing through his body and clothing. After this brief stunt, they should be coming out of it with some burning bodies, maybe even disabling some of the carriages. Feelings of revenge and a desire to counterattack overflowed from his heart. He wanted nothing less than to fuck over Louria¡¯s enemies. Suddenly, he felt a slight sting all over his body, which immediately dissipated as his consciousness ceased to exist. In a flash of light and fire, he and his wyvern were instantly turned to chunks of flesh and red mist. Not even having the time to notice what was happening, let alone react, the other wyverns and their dragon riders immediately after Aldebaraan were instantly turned to lifeless lumps of flesh. Further down the line of lizards, the others, having more time to react, instantly broke formation after seeing their comrades explode out of nowhere. Some of the more attentive dragon riders noticed that they were being assailed by a hail of bullets from multiple places, but before they could even discern what was going on, the remaining wyverns and dragon riders of the 2nd Wyvern Squadron ceased to exist in spectacular explosions. As the echoes of gunfire and explosions subsided, residual smoke ebbed out of the muzzles of multiple Type 87 self-propelled anti-aircraft guns, as well as from the arms of some Type 93 surface-to-air missile launchers from the 2nd Anti-Aircraft Artillery Battalion. Outside from view, the mortars back across the border were still being reloaded, unaware of what had transpired on the other side of the ridge. As the Parpaldian operators began to chant their firing spells once more, they were interrupted by a similar set of explosions, throwing off some of the Lourian camp followers and operators, as well as destroying the mortars. Before the quicker ones could run away, additional explosions followed, maiming them instantly. With the dust clouds settling in long after the explosions stopped, no one was left alive nor standing in the Lourian artillery position. 2nd Division TOC position, 12:25 ¡°Looks like that was all of it.¡± Akiyama sighed with exasperated relief and sorrow, having seen the live footage of the aftermath of the bombardment on the Lourian artillery position that showed that the mortars had been destroyed. Just before this one, they had confirmed the annihilation of the Lourian advanced echelon in the fields west of Gim, which was now peppered with craters and the mutilated body parts of what were once soldiers. Assisting in the sweep for survivors, Moizi and his men, together with the garrison of Gim, set out to comb the battlefield under the supervision of ScanEagle drones. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Ine, who was with Akiyama in the command tent, scrutinized the footage more closely. While she was delighted that the Japanese effortlessly halted the Lourian invasion in less than ten minutes, she couldn¡¯t help but feel resentful and disgusted at the results of the counterattack. It was nothing more than a slaughter. ¡°That... was it?¡± She asked Akiyama with a hint of disbelief in her voice and a tint of disgust smeared across her eyes. To her subconscious disappointment, the major general simply shrugged in response, with a facial expression that said, ¡°Were you expecting more?¡± Considering that this was the power that the Japanese wielded, Ine saw for herself that even the Lourians, with all their fancy advanced weapons and tactics and rumored to even be backed by Parpaldia, were anticlimactically slain with vexing ease. There was simply no competition¨Cno justice in how each side unfairly played with different levels on the same battlefield. However, she also realized that this was better in terms of efficiency. Why spend more resources and time if it was possible to do it with as little effort, all while maintaining a high level of lethality and destruction? Coming to this thought, she feared the gross reality that had taken hold in the Japanese¡¯s old world that drove them to develop and use such destructive and efficient weapons. Warfare didn¡¯t seem to be the romantic and thrilling experience she had read about in the histories. If anything, it was gruesome, calculated, hollow, and dead. While her expression turned gloomy in light of this dreadful epiphany, her train of thought was derailed when something caught her attention on the drone feed. ¡°Wait! What was that?¡± Asking the Japanese drone operator in Asheran common, it took a while for the operator to process what she was asking for. Turning the camera back to where it was, he, Ine, and even Akiyama were horrified by what they saw. The ScanEagle drone was still circling above the Lourian artillery position. Its camera pointed near to one of the craters left behind by the artillery bombardment. There, through the screen, they saw the torso of a woman, lying face up towards the sky, with the rest of her lower body gone. Her left arm, too, was gone. Blood, intestines, and other internal organs lay scattered on the ground, spilling out of the upper half of her body and dying the earth a harrowing crimson red. From the clothing she wore, they could only deduce that she wasn¡¯t one of the soldiers. Aggravating their rapidly disorienting bowel movements, they also found other bodies and body parts belonging to people that didn¡¯t appear to be combatants. They had no swords, no bows, no guns, no leather nor iron armor. ¡°T-Those are... their c-camp followers... Oh, dear Astarte...¡± Ine squeezed a line out as her voice cracked. Moments later, her body jerked, forcing her lunch upwards. She tried to stop the onslaught of digested food with her mouth and hand but failed to do so, and she let it out on the floor. The drone operator, realizing what they¡¯ve done, also felt like puking. ¡°Excuse me, sir...¡± Swiftly standing up and leaving his post, the drone operator ran out to release his regurgitated lunch. Akiyama also seemed like he was about to hurl one himself, but he was able to keep composure and swallow both his lunch and his sorrows. In the end, he could only sigh deeply as he covered his eyes in remorse. ¡°Fuck...¡± The skies north of Rodenius, 13:05 Three streamlined jet fighters painted in navy blue soared through the empty skies in a wedge formation above the ocean north of Rodenius at speeds never before achieved by any of the Asheran nations. They carried a horrifying payload of bombs, the explosives of which could level several buildings in a single drop. Their target: the royal castle in Jin-Hark where the king of Louria resided. These three Mitsubishi F-2 multirole fighters of the ASDF were the pillars of Operation Zanzibar. The main objective was to end the conflict in a single, swift action by means of a decapitation strike on the Lourian leadership. Taking inspiration from the Anglo-Zanzibar War, the leaders of the JSDF hoped to replicate its brevity to decisively force the Lourians to the peace table with as little time and resources spent as possible. With cooperation from their Qua-Toynian counterparts, they learned that the kingdom was a feudal system of lords with loose fealty to the Lourian king, which was made even more strenuous by the unpopular invasion. The JSDF concluded that if they took him out and eliminated the invasion force, the Lourians, convinced of the invasion¡¯s failure and spurned by the king¡¯s loss, would effectively cease to be a coherent force and would start to fight each other for the throne. However, they were still bound by the limitations imposed on them by the constitution; they needed the Lourians to attack them first before initiating the operation as a ¡°defensive counterattack.¡± Leading the flight of F-2s was the lone F-2B, piloted by one Kyobo Usagi (callsign Rabbit 1) and co-piloted by Kaizo Ikari (callsign Rabbit 3). Traveling to their left was Sakaki Isumi (callsign Rabbit 2) while Sato Tojiro (callsign Rabbit 4) occupied the right. All four pilots were friends in the 8th Tactical Fighter Squadron and have a colorful history in operating together. Kyobo and Sakaki were even friends back in their days in the academy. Having been chosen as the first ASDF pilots to participate in combat operations in Asherah, the quad of friends were in a state of exhilaration in finally being able to fly, especially after a month of generally bad times in Japan. At this point in time, it will almost be one hour since they took off from Naha Air Base, with the aerial refueling part of the flight coming up soon. ¡°Well fuck. Guess this isn¡¯t going to be Zanzibar, huh? Mission failed guys, let¡¯s RTB.¡± Filling the silent flight with his voice was Rabbit 4, known to occasionally quip jokes. ¡°Well, duh. We were already briefed that the flight to Jin-Hark would take at least two hours, so this was never meant to be a 30-minute thing. Were you actually listening?¡± Taking the bait, Rabbit 1 coldly responded. ¡°Yeah, but... This is a new world, right? With that magic shit we saw from the princess back in the Diet, you¡¯d think that time would also run differently or something.¡± ¡°And it doesn¡¯t so that¡¯s that, right? But doesn¡¯t it seem strange to you that this just feels similar to Earth? Well, we haven¡¯t found nuke-wielding nations yet, so we could afford to do this.¡± Joining in on the conversation and adding his own comment was Rabbit 3. ¡°Wait, is this Sakaki, or is it Kaizo? Hahaha! Seriously, dude. You can pose as a vtuber with that kinda voice! Set one up, I''ll superchat you 10,000 yen!¡± ¡°M-Maybe... Wait, no! Shut up, you baka!¡± Rabbit 4 joked about how Kaizo had a feminine voice and made fun of him for it. ¡°You¡¯re not gonna convince him any time soon with that tsundere attitude of yours, Rabbit 3. Anyway, you shut your mouth, Rabbit 4. At least Kaizo got his cherry popped.¡± Throwing the grenade back to Rabbit 4 was Rabbit 2, the lone female in the flight. ¡°How the fuck would you know? Wait, don¡¯t tell me...¡± ¡°Okay, Rabbit 4, shut it off, or I¡¯ll beat your ass myself.¡± With Rabbit 1 shutting down the conversation, the flight returned to its silent, uneventful course towards their objective. Not even a minute of silence later, Rabbit 4 once more spoke up. ¡°Ughhhh... We never had to fly this far before...¨CYou guys wanna watch me do an aileron roll?¡± The rest of the flight laughed amongst themselves. ¡°I¡¯m serious! Fine, fine. I¡¯ll behave.¡± It truly was a dull, boring flight. Even after they arrived at Jin-Hark to drop their payload, it¡¯s expected that they will enter and leave uncontested, given the laughable operational altitude and speed of the wyverns Louria uses. That¡¯s also if they respond at all since their air defense relied on visual sighting and the speed of the reaction of their wyverns. In any case, the only thing that excited them about this operation was the fact that they were the first ASDF pilots to conduct a combat operation in Asherah. As the pilots sighed in resignation to their unexciting mission, they suddenly heard a loud ¡°oh fuck!¡± on the radio. The pilots immediately recognized the voice behind it. ¡°Rabbit 4?! SITREP, now!¡± Unable to see what happened behind him, Rabbit 1 ordered Rabbit 4 to check-in. No answer. Just as Rabbit 1 thought of asking Rabbit 2 to check, she spoke first. ¡°Rabbit 1, Rabbit¡¯s 4¡¯s canopy is gone!¡± Unable to process what Rabbit 2 said, there was a moment of silence as Rabbit 1 paused to repeat Rabbit 2¡¯s words in his head. ¡°Gone?! What do you mean gone?!¡± ¡°It¡¯s gone! Exactly as I said! It blew off or something!¡± In the midst of their shouting, they heard Rabbit 4 struggling and groaning. ¡°Ngghh... What the fuck was that...?¡± ¡°Fuck, are you okay, Sato?!¡± Dropping the callsign, Rabbit 1 checked in with his friend. ¡°I¡¯m fine... Just another one of my airheaded things.¡± With Rabbit 4 still managing to pull a joke in this bad situation, Rabbit 1 inwardly commended his subordinate¡¯s self-control as he pulled himself back from laughing. ¡°What happened?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t fucking know... The canopy just poofed. Maybe I forgot to secure it, I don¡¯t know...¡± Worried for the sake of his friend, Rabbit 1 wanted to order Rabbit 4 to return to base, but... ¡°You don¡¯t have enough fuel to go back. But if you eject all the way out here, we don¡¯t even know if there are any JCG or MSDF ships to pick you up...¡± As Rabbit 1 cranked his head into overdrive to think of a solution, Rabbit 4 cut him off. ¡°Nah, screw ejecting. I will refuel with you guys and RTB. This is more than enough ¡®eventful¡¯ for me...¨CStill wanna see me do an aileron roll?¡± After he chided him for his out-of-place humor, Rabbit 1 judged that it was the most secure option and went with Rabbit 4¡¯s suggestion. - - - A Boeing KC-135 Stratotanker from the 909th Air Refueling Squadron and her F-15C escorts of the United States Air Force stationed in Kadena Air Base was loitering in the area north of the Rodenius continent to facilitate the refueling of the F-2 fighters for Operation Zanzibar. As part of the tactical command agreements between Japan and the new government of the United States based in the US Embassy in Tokyo, Japan ordered one of the USAF¡¯s tankers stationed in Okinawa to provide support for their operation. This became the first involvement of the United States Forces Japan and the United States in combat operations in Asherah. Traveling in a holding pattern, the enormous gray plane, flanked by its smaller yet more nimble-looking escorts, was easily spotted by the Japanese fighters. As the flight of F-2s neared and lined up with the tanker, the boom operator noticed something odd about the leading fighter. Getting closer, it became clear to him what was wrong. ¡°Holy shit! The guy doesn¡¯t have a fucking canopy!¡± Talking to himself first, he then radioed the lead fighter as he maneuvered the boom towards it. ¡°Uhhh, Rabbit 4?... You seem to be missing your canopy...¡± In response, Rabbit 4 waved his hand from inside his cockpit to the boom operator. ¡°Ah, yes. Thank you for noticing! Mitsubishi likes its fighters open top, you know?¡± Laughing at the pilot¡¯s witty remarks and unexpectedly good English, the boom operator made doubly sure to perfect his maneuvering so that the Japanese pilot doesn¡¯t have to spend as much time in the air. Once the refueling was over, the canopy-less F-2 slowly maneuvered away before separating totally from the others to return back to Naha Air Base. ¡°Gotta see you back there, Rabbit 4!¡± ¡°At least I get to have a fun ride back home, unlike you guys!¡± With the refueling of the remaining two F-2s done, the two groups of planes then went their separate ways to complete their respective missions. The skies northeast of Jin-Hark, 14:10 A sliver of the great, arid expanse of the northwestern Rodenius continent was finally visible over the horizon. As the F-2s cruised on, they soon happened upon the skyline of the Lourian capital, Jin-Hark. From where they were flying, it was hardly visible, the minuscule, dusty, earthen buildings blending into the savannah-like colors of the land. What helped them in identifying the city was its extensive port, which welcomed hundreds of ships at its mouth. From there, they looked further inland, after which they sighted their target: the royal castle. While the rest of the city, both outside and inside the triple-tiered walls, were unremarkable, the royal castle that housed King Hark, his guards, and hundreds of his servants, maids, chefs, and others was a towering splendor to behold. Being the only towering building in the city, it was extremely easy to pick out from the sea of monotonous arid brown. It was the defining cherry on top of a poorly built cake¨Cone that would come crumbling down once someone takes the cherry away. As the Japanese fighters entered Lourian skies unannounced and uncontested, they reached their drop point. Rabbit 2 consequently released her payload. ¡°Bombs away.¡± Royal Baths, Royal Castle ¡°Hmmm...¡± Inside a massive, extremely ornate, and lavishly decorated bath sat King Hark Louria XXXIV, naked and deep in thought. Despite being the king and de jure commander of the Lourian army, he relegated the tasks of military command to his chosen commanders and spent most of his time in the royal baths and mingling with foreign dignitaries and local lords. The royal baths were something of a marvel to him. The royal baths were a magnificent artistic and technological marvel built by his great grandfather, also named Hark Louria. Spending exorbitant amounts of tax money to import heating and simple plumbing from Parpaldia and the Holy Mirishial Empire, respectively, and on artists to sculpt the nude depictions of Asheran goddesses, he brought the wonders of baths with on-demand heat to the non-civilized areas. Praising his great grandfather for his amazing taste in how he burned time, Hark spent most of his time in the bath being under one of the plumbing-enabled fountains squirting from the nipples of the elven goddess, Astarte. Seeing the long-eared features of the goddess, his mind then wandered to their current predicament with the elven nation to the northeast. ¡°That whore, Llanfair... I wonder if they could catch her alive, so that we may know if her breasts are as big as these...¡± Feeling his manhood perk up from imagining an undesirable¡¯s breasts, Hark slapped himself for betraying his own beliefs. If anything, he felt something biting at the back of his head. Entertaining it, he realized that he couldn¡¯t imagine Llanfair being taken prisoner becoming a reality as easily as he did before. Remembering why, he sighed deeply. ¡°Damned Japanese... You make everything hard...¡± Immediately realizing his bad wording, especially after catching a glimpse of his fully erect manhood, Hark screamed in frustration. ¡°NO, FUCK! WHY DOES IT HAVE TO BE THIS WAY!¡± In reality, Hark saw Llanfair as a competitor of sorts. Being a powerful elven woman in direct control of her domain, Llanfair exercised near-authoritarian levels of power over her subjects. On the other hand, he, the great king of over 10 million people, couldn¡¯t even bring his own lords to his side. In spite of his attempts at unification by providing everyone with a common enemy, the undesirables, his call for the invasion was met with stiff resistance. It was only when Adem, Patagene, and the rest of his commanders stepped in to intimidate the lords with their force of professional soldiers did they begrudgingly agree to support the invasion. How was Llanfair able to do it? What¡¯s so special about her? Failing to justify his own accusations against Llanfair, Hark could feel his sense of superiority crumbling around him. He needed the invasion to work. Aside from his personal reasons, Louria is also indebted to Parpaldia for their support in making the invasion sure to be a success, so they needed to secure additional revenue sources to pay them back. Clasping his hands together, he prayed for the success of the invasion. ¡°Gods... give me a sign that the invasion will work.¡± Almost immediately after, the gods answered his prayers. Through the glass part of the roof designed to give the baths natural sunlight while still being enclosed fell something. For a split second that it crossed in front of him, Hark was able to somewhat examine what had fallen through the glass roofing. It was a big, green-colored object pointing towards the ground. On it was a drawing of a woman in an ultra-stylized style winking back at him. Written next to the character was a script alien to Hark that read out: ¡°Ehe! Kyun!¡± Before he could even process the object, it exploded in a fireball as it made contact with the hard tiling of the floor underneath the bath water, obliterating Hark in an instant. The damage wasn¡¯t limited to the baths as the explosion rocked the entire floor, disturbing the delicate framework of the stone-built castle. Adding even more to what was already a damaging blast, five more of those objects followed suit, completely leveling the baths. As a result of the overpressure wave from the blasts, the heavy stone supports keeping the castle together were either broken or pushed mere millimeters from their foundations, which was enough to bring down some of the more sensitive parts of the castle. Those who were not killed as a direct consequence of the explosion and the shockwave were sentenced to a gruesome grave as the great stone pillars and edifices of the royal castle caved in from above their heads. A fortunate few managed to get out, but much of the castle staff, administrators, lords, and their respective families were buried under extremely heavy rubble, doomed to die from either asphyxiation or as a result of their serious injuries. The skies above Jin-Hark, 14:20 Cruising across the skies of the capital in a holding pattern, Rabbit 3, who operated the Sniper TPOD to guide the six 500lb laser-guided bombs to their target, was now using it to assess the damage from the bombing. ¡°All bombs have hit the target.¡± Receiving an OK from Rabbit 1, Rabbit 3 continued to examine the ruins of the royal castle. He remembered the castle¡¯s layout provided to them by the Qua-Toynians, courtesy of Llanfair¡¯s extensive spy network in Rodenius. Taking the castle plan in his head and mentally superimposing it over the ruins of the castle depicted in the live feed from the Sniper TPOD, he was able to confirm what they were hoping for. ¡°The baths and the throne room, where the king is frequently in, have been leveled. Safe to say that the king is dead.¡± ¡°Are you sure?¡± ¡°They¡¯re on the upper floor, and I can see the foundations of the castle where they used to stand. It¡¯s extremely likely that we got him.¡± Trusting the word of Rabbit 3, Rabbit 1 then gave the order to return to base. As the F-2s vacated Lourian airspace still uncontested, little did they know that the trail of destruction they left behind here would usher in a new era for the region as much as it guaranteed Operation Zanzibar¡¯s success. - - - ¡°What the hell is going on?!¡± Situated in one of the watchtowers of the outer wall where he was reviewing the capital¡¯s defenses, commander Patagene heard and felt six distinct booms and their shockwaves, which came from the direction of the royal castle. Stepping out onto the ramparts, he turned his worrisome eyes towards the castle, only to find a massive dust cloud obscuring the Lourian administrative power base. As he repeatedly screamed wondering what had happened, sweat began to rapidly form and drop from his forehead. ¡°What happened?! Who did this?! Was it a saboteur?!¡± Immediately, Patagene¡¯s train of thought pointed the finger at the Parpaldians, whom he also distrusted. Were the Parpaldians so eager to plant their influence in Rodenius that they had to take away the Great King? He immediately refuted this by remembering the Great King¡¯s lenience and friendship towards the Parpaldians. Why would the Parpaldians be eager to get rid of someone who actively welcomes their influence and support? The next entity he could pin the blame on was Qua-Toyne, but as far as they know, Qua-Toyne doesn¡¯t possess such extremely potent explosives in their arsenal. That is, of course, unless... ¡°Japan?! No... How did they-¡± As if answering his questions, he heard a high-pitched sound echoing throughout the city. Looking to the guards, he sees that they, too, have heard the sound. Deducing that the sound seemed to emanate from above, they looked up at the clear blue sky that unfolded above them. Not knowing what to expect, Patagene scanned the great azure for the thing that was making the high-pitched sound that was still clawing at his ears. His eyeballs danced frantically in search of whatever it was that was so noisy. Then, his eyes happened on something. ¡°What is that?!¡± Looking at it further, he struggled to explain it with what vocabulary he has in mind, much less come to terms with. Heading towards the northeast out to the ocean were two streaks of something blending into the color of the great sky. Before he could scrutinize more details, something disappeared into the dark, blue void, leaving only the alien high-pitched sound that still echoed throughout the city and the destruction of the royal castle. Unable to conclude with confidence what exactly was it that did this, Patagene could only sweat uncontrollably and stare at the empty patch of sky where something disappeared to. Main echelon camp, 14:45 The Lourian invasion force, dubbed the eastern subjugation army, was split into two parts: the 15,000 battle-ready professional force that was the advanced echelon and the 25,000 levied army composed of the lords¡¯ personal retinues and subjects under the command of the lords themselves, which was referred to as the main echelon. The advanced echelon would open the invasion and secure Gim as a staging point before heading to Ejei and besieging it, crushing any Qua-Toynian field army that responded to oppose them along the way. The main echelon was to provide the numbers necessary for the rest of the campaign as they advanced northeast to take the more populous major cities deep in Qua-Toyne proper. However, as of the 5th of Sevsrune, the main echelon was still waiting for some of the other lords to join them to hit their intended goal of a 25,000-strong force. Expecting the advanced echelon to have taken Gim and report in, the commanders of the main echelon waited to hear from them, but ever since the message telling them that they were commencing the invasion, they¡¯ve never heard back from them. They never even honored the scheduled hourly updates, and that was almost three hours ago. Worrying that something bad had happened, general Pandour ordered the 1st Wyvern Squadron, composed of 25 wyvern lords and their dragon knights, command of which was lent to the Lourians by the Parpaldian Empire, to fly to the advanced echelon¡¯s camp and report back. Utilizing the faster speed of the wyvern lord breed over the regular wyvern, they would be able to report back earlier than if they had sent a normal wyvern squadron. When the 1st Wyvern Squadron reported back the utter carnage and destruction they witnessed, the commanders of the main echelon bickered back and fought about what to do next. ¡°To hell with this invasion! If the advanced echelon was indeed annihilated, then everything¡¯s for naught! I maintain my position that we should disband and head home!¡± ¡°But the great king and his commanders... they¡¯ll be furious with us if we do so!¡± ¡°With the entirety of the professional forces basically gone, what¡¯s stopping us from deposing him?¡± The lords were resentful of their king. Having been forcefully put underneath the foot of the Lourian dynasty for generations, the lords were more than happy to take advantage of the loss of the king¡¯s powerful professional force to their advantage. Still, the king had the support of the Parpaldian Empire, a great power with military strength beyond whatever they could muster. If they decided to depose the king and ruin Parpaldia¡¯s interests in Rodenius, it would mean a great deal of trouble for them. As the lords continued to bicker about what to do, one of the manacomm officers came running to them. ¡°My lords! The great king... He is dead!¡± Hearing this, the lords, unable to contain their reactive happiness, cheered. After a moment of gay and merry, the lords instantaneously realized the gravity of the situation and immediately started sweating bullets. ¡°WHAT?!¡± ¡°My lords... According to the administrators in the capital, the royal castle erupted in a great explosion. In the search for survivors, they could not find the king nor any of his remains. They deduced it was an attack from the sky due to an ominous sound emanating from the heavens after the explosion.¡± One of the lords who had closer ties to Qua-Toyne immediately remembered the tales from merchants that described the amazing performance of Japanese flying objects, called aircraft, that came in and out of an airfield in Myhark. Without much to go on, he still made the connection. ¡°An attack by the enemy... Japan...¡± Hearing his statement, the other lords began to consider the possibility of Japan killing their king. Supposing that Japan eradicated the advanced echelon while also mounting a strike on the capital, then that was enough to conclude that they have much more potent military capabilities than they initially thought. Even if they couldn¡¯t conclude that Japan was the one that killed the king, they at least knew that continuing with the invasion was asking for slaughter. Looking at the good side of the situation, the king was dead and not by their own hand. There was no longer anyone controlling them. There was no longer anyone on the throne since Hark had no heirs. It was a prime opportunity to seize the seat of power. With the lords more or less coming to the same conclusion, they all looked at each other and instantly realized that they were all potential enemies to each of their ambitions. However... ¡°I know where this is going. Before we get there, we need to eliminate the threat of an enemy invasion coming from our eastern flank. So that we could equally represent ourselves at the peace table, I propose a truce.¡± Sensing logic in general Pandour¡¯s proposal, the other lords agreed to a truce. They didn¡¯t want any one of them getting more favorable peace terms with the Japanese and the Qua-Toynians over everyone else, much less having only a handful of lords be accepted by the enemy to make a peace deal. Agreeing to send their retinues as representatives to request a peaceful conclusion to the war from the Qua-Toynians and Japanese, the lords packed up and marched west with their armies to take control of the capital. Off the northern coast of Rodenius, 15:00 Having stopped and picked up some more ships along the way, it was already three hours past noon, and the Lourian war fleet was still a considerable distance away from their target, Myhark. Hours ago, their headquarters in Jin-Hark notified them of some unexpected developments in the ground invasion but did not elaborate on this. With headquarters not responding to their calls for details, vice admiral Sharkun grew restless at the lack of information in their possession and started pacing back and forth on the helm of the flagship. ¡°What in the world does ¡®unexpected developments¡¯ mean?¡± Coming up empty-handed, Sharkun could only scratch his head in frustration as their ships languidly inched eastward. Suddenly, the manacomm officer called out to him. ¡°Vice admiral! Urgent message from headquarters!¡± ¡°What is it?!¡± ¡°The great king is dead and it is also extremely likely that the ground invasion has been stopped altogether by the enemy. Due to concerns of violent revolts and uprisings, the war fleet is ordered to turn back and return to port immediately, and its men to be brought under the command of commander Patagene!¡± Sharkun found it difficult to process, let alone accept, the message. How did the great king die? How did the invasion of Qua-Toyne fail so early in the timeline? Out of the countless questions that arose, one fact appealed to Sharkun: they were no longer obligated to continue their invasion. Mentally disposing of his planned countermeasures in dealing with the massive Japanese warships, Sharkun decisively ordered the entire fleet. ¡°Get all ships to turn back!¡± Chapter 9: There Will Be Consequences As of August 23, 2022, this chapter has been revised Cent. Calendar 05/06/1639, Prime Minister¡¯s Residence, Tokyo, Japan, 18:00 As the sun set on what had been an eventful day in Louria, prime minister Takamori Hideaki and his cabinet were called to be briefed on the results of Operation Zanzibar and what had transpired in Gim. Eager to find out what had happened himself, Takamori had made extra sure to be early, entering the empty meeting room and spending an hour or so cooped up in the air-conditioned environment. The sound of his hand rhythmically tapping the table was the only sound that permeated within the four white walls. He then remembers the countless meetings he had had with his cabinet in the room since the day of the transfer a month and a half ago. Understanding that the operation had a risk of blowing up in their face, he nonetheless still greenlit its execution, as the dire economic situation in Japan meant that a prolonged deployment of men and equipment more than the minimum would be fewer resources towards other important avenues, like healthcare, food production, law enforcement, etc. If the war did not end immediately and on their terms, everything would spiral beyond what they could realistically manage. As the rhythm of his hand tapping began to pick up, the beat was finally broken by the sound of the door opening and then the footsteps of his cabinet. Walking behind the ministers taking their seats was a man in a suit whose urgency and poise were more than apparent from his sleek movements moving past the ministers and their aides with minimal contact. Emerging at the other end of the table to face the ministers and Takamori, the man adjusted his glasses and coughed before speaking. ¡°Prime minister, if I may.¡± Confused at his presence since he was expecting someone else, Takamori took the time to ask. ¡°Asada? What are you doing here? I have not been informed of your return.¡± Despite being National Security Advisor, the man, Asada Taiji, hasn¡¯t been present in the meetings due to a traffic accident during the day of the transfer that left him with a broken rib bone and arm. While he was given the minutes of previous meetings and reports during his time at the hospital, he decided to be the one to present for this particular meeting. The result of the accident was still apparent in the form of a cast around his left arm.. ¡°Apologies, prime minister. I decided to return on short notice of my own volition after hearing of what happened with Operation Zanzibar.¡± Giving out his hand as a gesture of affirmation, Takamori signed to Asada to get on with it. The injured National Security Advisor then got his aides to distribute the documents detailing the outcome of the operation in question. As soon as they got their hands on it and began perusing through the pages, Asada coughed before starting. ¡°At exactly noon six hours ago, the advanced elements of the Lourian army crossed the Louria¨CQua-Toyne border and commenced their assault on the town of Gim.¡± Asada then turned to his back, where a map of the battle was projected onto the blank sheet on the wall. ¡°The GSDF 2nd Division responded accordingly, annihilating the Lourian army, its wyvern airborne units, and artillery units. They¡¯ve confirmed around 15,000 casualties on the Lourian side while Japanese and Qua-Toynian forces suffered none. However, the town of Gim suffered considerable damage to much of its infrastructure due to Lourian artillery bombardment.¡± A collective sigh emanated from the ministers. Some of these contained tones of long-awaited relief while some had hints of unavoidable sorrow. While they were all content with the lack of loss of life on their side, the 15,000 casualty count they inflicted on the Lourians was a number too big for many to swallow. Moreover, the fact that Gim still suffered damages worried some of them about dealing with certain angry voices that might call on the government to handle responsibility for the damages. Not everyone wins, unfortunately, even in a lopsided engagement. ¡°Did we completely annihilate them?¡± Sanada, the Minister of Education, Culture, Sports, Science, and Technology, raised his hand and asked. ¡°No. During the sweep, Qua-Toynian soldiers happened upon Lourian survivors, who immediately surrendered to them. They are currently totaled at 57. Fortunately, there were no incidents or altercations during the sweep as the Lourian soldiers were all too shell-shocked from the fighting to do anything significant.¡± Some of the ministers, including Sanada, nodded with varying levels of contentment with what they heard. Having some survive the encounter may be good for persuading future plans on attacking them. Then again, the toll on the mental health of these survivors is worrisome¨Ceven more so the annoying voices that may advocate for the welfare of these soldiers. There will definitely be tears and shouts of anger as some ministers thought about it. ¡°On another note... Ine, an observer, sent by Princess Llanfair, has remarked that our artillery strikes on the Lourian positions have caused unfortunate damage.¡± Perplexed by the wording of the statement, the other ministers looked in confusion and grave anticipation at Asada. Sighing deeply, he continued. ¡°According to her, the mortar positions were manned by civilians¨Cthe camp followers of the Lourian army.¡± Hearing the c-word, the ministers¡¯ faces suddenly turned pale. Their first war in 70 years, and their combat actions already produced collateral damage. While the thought of getting those civilians killed was horrible, the ministers all had one concern above all else: the backlash they¡¯d earn from everyone in the country. The opposition will definitely have a field day. The media will more than certainly hound their asses for the foreseeable future. For the sake of moving on with the presentation, Takamori waved at Asada to continue. ¡°More pressing, however, are the remains found among the wreckage of the mortars. According to the Qua-Toynians and surrendered Lourians that examined the remains which still had uniforms, they all said that those were the uniforms worn by soldiers from Parpaldia.¡± Willing to distract themselves from the prior issue, the ministers then shelved it mentally before taking in what Asada said in full. They then scratched their heads at the diplomatic issue this could present. While they were aware of rumors that the Parpaldians were helping the Lourians in exchange for influence, they weren¡¯t expecting them to actually provide arms and men. For such a diplomatic issue to come up despite not yet contacting the Parpaldians was indeed a headache. Thinking of something to soothe the worries of everyone, Takamori spoke up. ¡°If the Parpaldians aren¡¯t public with their armed support for Louria, then they might rather sweep these casualties under the rug rather than directly pin the responsibility on us. Doing so could implicate them in this conflict.¡± Minister of Foreign Affairs Agano Kenzo, feeling that the Prime Minister¡¯s statement was too optimistic, countered. ¡°With all due respect, prime minister, I still think we need to be cautious with regards to that. It¡¯s no secret that the Parpaldians are expansionist and proud, so they still might hold us responsible for this.¡± Nodding in agreement with Agano¡¯s statement, Takamori then ended the topic so that they could move back to Operation Zanzibar¡¯s results. Asada then continued to speak. ¡°At 1215h, our ASDF contingent took off from Naha to proceed with the decapitation strike on Louria. At approximately 1320h, they conducted an aerial refueling with a USAF tanker before proceeding to their objective. At this point, one of the fighters had to return due to a canopy malfunction.¡± Hearing the words ¡°canopy malfunction¡±, the other ministers sighed and chuckled. All too often, they heard of ASDF fighters suffering such malfunctions during routine exercises and even intercepts of Russian or Chinese airspace violations. While amusing, it was still serious, and it highlighted the delicacy of the SDF¡¯s equipment, now made even more pressing by the disappearance of international suppliers. Takamori then looked to the Minister of Defense, Okada Masako. ¡°Get the ASDF to investigate this issue. We need to lessen the occurrence of these incidents in the future.¡± ¡°They are already investigating.¡± Okada replied with promptness and brevity. Asada then continued. ¡°At approximately 14:10, the fighters reached the capital, Jin-Hark, uncontested and dropped their payload. After the bombing and subsequent analysis of the wreckage, the pilots all concluded that King Hark Louria XXXIV was killed, and refueled before returning to Naha. Their conclusion is corroborated by representatives of Lourian lords, who were leading the main Lourian army, coming to the border to sue for peace. According to them, the king was killed in an attack, and they wanted to cease hostilities with Qua-Toyne and Japan.¡± Happy with the success of Operation Zanzibar, the ministers applauded. After four hours of hostilities, the Lourian War could finally conclude in their favor. Them taking the risk had paid off. While he too was glad about the peaceful outcome, Takamori ought to bring the meeting back to earth. ¡°A crisis averted is indeed a cause for celebration, but the peace hasn¡¯t been settled yet. Who¡¯s on the ground on our side?¡± Agano responded to Takamori¡¯s question. ¡°Our ambassador to Qua-Toyne, Kuribayashi, is now at Gim to discuss terms. As for Qua-Toyne, they have sent several of their High Council members. We will scrutinize the terms before it can be set in stone.¡± Content with the plan of action, Takamori clapped his hands to signal the end of the meeting and the beginning of the backlash. ¡°We can¡¯t be too happy with this outcome. Once this goes public, we must anticipate that many of our countrymen will not appreciate this move. This meeting is adjourned!¡± Cent. Calendar 07/06/1639, National Diet Building, Tokyo, Japan, 10:00 Deep inside the gray, monolithic walls that house the men and women of power that determine Japan¡¯s survival in this new world, shouts of anger and frustration reverberate across the chamber, adding more fuel to an already raging conflagration taking place across the country. ¡°How could you openly and outright kill the sovereign of another state?! Without consulting us?! This is a blatant act of power abuse!¡± ¡°Japan is not the United States! Is this not an act of aggression?! Japan is supposed to be a state sponsor of peace! Is it not stated in Article 9 of the Constitution?!¡± After details of Operation Zanzibar were made public, the entire country exploded into chaos. Pacifism-leaning politicians, peace advocates, non-Japanese Asian populations, and survivors of the Second World War all cried out in unison their denunciation of the operation and those who greenlighted it. Being summoned to the Diet to provide a statement and answer questions, Takamori was in hot water. His expression may have taken a stern outlook but even his palms were sweating from harsh words being hammered right at his face. Not even his own party members¨Cincluding those more outlandish ones under ultranationalist ideologies¨Cwere out there defending his actions. It makes sense: a prime minister and his cabinet had just approved a military operation¨Cwithout consent from the Diet nor the people¨Cthat aimed to and succeeded in killing Hark Louria XXXIV, king and sovereign of the kingdom of Louria. From what perspective they have, it was an act of unnecessary escalation on Japan¡¯s part and an act of power abuse on Takamori¡¯s; at this point in time, standing up for him was a death sentence. Keeping his own wavering confidence under the blanket of an unmoving poker face, Takamori responded to questions regarding his involvement in the operation. ¡°...I gave the operation a greenlight.¡± With those words coming straight out of his own mouth, the Diet erupted into a frenzy. ¡°So you did facilitate the bombing of another capital!¡± ¡°Militarist scum!¡± ¡°How dare you stand before us! Japan will suffer a long road of destruction with you at the helm!¡± ¡°Thank goodness I didn¡¯t vote for you!¡± ¡°How do you think other countries in Asherah will take this?! This will make a horrible first impression!¡± ¡°We agreed only to the deployment of the Self Defense Force! This operation, which did not even pass through us, is clearly you abusing your powers!¡± If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Fuming internally, Takamori could only bear to show some of his animosity by scratching his head in frustration. Taking a deep breath, he started to speak. ¡°I made the decision to give the operation a greenlight since it was the best option in ending the conflict, considering our limited resources.¡± Hearing this, the Diet had more than enough comebacks to hurl at the Prime Minister. ¡°¡®The best option?! Are you out of your mind?! Did you not consider its constitutionality?!¡± ¡°We could have settled this diplomatically and peacefully!¡± ¡°Japan does not want any blood on its hands! We should have exercised more caution!¡± ¡°Just resign, damn it!¡± Out of the sea of enraged voices, this one line commanding him to resign stood out. Soon, the other lines were drowned out by repeated calls for resignation with varying degrees of anger and sarcasm. To this, Takamori lost some of his cool, tearing off his facade of composure with a deep sigh, which he made audibly clear on the microphones on his podium. ¡°Resign? Really???¡± He wasn¡¯t even holding back at this point¨Chis own frustrations were out there for everyone to see and hear. Intimidated, most of the Diet members flinched and stopped shouting at him. With this temporary respite in attacks, Takamori pressed on. ¡°In these trying times of hunger, suffering, and melancholy, do you really want to plunge the country into a political crisis?!¡± This diversion of the topic was not lost on many of the Diet members, who then quickly readied themselves to berate Takamori for it. However, he was well aware of this and so he pressed his tone and point. ¡°While our countrymen are out there toiling away blood and sweat to provide food on the table for themselves and their countrymen, you dare bring up politics?!¡± With whatever empty confidence he could muster, Takamori slammed his fist onto the podium and bared his gruffly, obviously pissed voice onto the Diet¨Ca tactic which somehow worked. The chamber was as silent as the empty streets of Tokyo. ¡°A danger that would have plunged Japan deeper into this transfer crisis has just been taken care of. We did it not for the sake of furthering any of our political goals; it is simply for the good of our countrymen and the different peoples that are stranded here.¡± ¡°But you fail to understand the cons-¡± Suddenly, a loud slam echoed throughout the chamber. Takamori, shedding away the last of his composure, slammed the podium with both of his fists. It was an act, but his emotions weren¡¯t. ¡°Let me finish, goddammit!¡± His resounding remarks nailed the coffin on any further resistance, and thus the Diet was now rendered as ineffective as the hungry, despairing citizens watching from beyond their television screens. ¡°Trade with the Rodenius continent remains open, allowing food to begin returning to pre-transfer levels. Our decisive action in Jin-Hark has guaranteed peace on the continent; the Lourian princes and dukes are now at the peace table in Gim with our diplomats!¡± Everyone in the chamber knew that every word coming out of Takamori¡¯s mouth sounded a bit terrifying. These were bonafide truths¨Cthere is no fault there. However, it set off alarm bells¨Ceven if relatively silent¨Cwithin these Diet members. Despite the benefits they have gotten off of Operation Zanzibar, it was clearly still achieved via an act of aggression: Japan had used military force to settle an international dispute¨Csomething clearly forbidden in the Constitution. It was flat out illegal and unconstitutional. Yet... somehow... they couldn¡¯t speak up. Takamori¡¯s points about them being in the middle of an existential crisis was legitimate¨Cbut it was also an urgent matter they needed to attend to. Was his unconstitutional act forgivable in this sense and context? Apparently, it doesn¡¯t matter, for Takamori was going to keep talking to keep everyone from pondering over it. ¡°You can debate the politics and constitutionality of our actions in the past week, but the effects are undeniable. Louria is pacified with little blood shed on their part, on our part, and on the Qua-Toynians¡¯ part. With that out of the way, our most pressing domestic concerns still hang over us: nonrenewable energy sources, raw materials, new trade partners that can buy our more sophisticated goods...¡± He was right. Most of their constituents are part of industries that are hit hardest by the abrupt transfer of Japan to Asherah. While the countries within their sphere are a welcome boon, none of them possess the kind of massive economy that can afford or even support the sophisticated, manufactured goods the industries of Japan produce. To this end, the past one and a half months have been harsh on their coffers, which now contain practically valueless currency that can¡¯t be exchanged. Plans of investing in the modernization of the countries around them have been brought up, but they hoped to find peoples and countries that are already modern enough. At this point, the Louria issue was more or less sidelined: Takamori was victorious. Until he actually wasn¡¯t. ¡°If I may, Prime Minister. While I can admit you and your cabinet¡¯s decisiveness have saved us from having to again endure a cup of rice a day...¡± Yukino Tadao, president of the Constitutional Democratic Party, the leading opposition party, spoke out. Touching on the food shortage, he inadvertently put his hand above his stomach as it growled. Hearing his words, the other Diet members, who have also been subjected to the rationing to satiate the demands of equality from their constituents, felt their own stomachs growl. ¡°...I cannot overlook Zanzibar¡¯s potentially disastrous consequences in diplomacy moving forward.¡± Yukino¡¯s calm voice added to the resoluteness of his statement, resonating not only within the halls of the chamber but also in the minds of everyone, including the prime minister. Everyone¨Ceven those in the prime minister¡¯s own party¨Cwere compelled to agree with him in one way or another. ¡°There will clearly be consequences, Takamori. ¡± ¡°I hide nothing and blame no one else. I will eat your consequences for breakfast.¡± A scene of an immovable object meets an unstoppable force suddenly manifested in the halls of the Diet. Having delivered his piece¨Ca brutally honest and frank remark not typically associated with a politician¨CTakamori stood proud behind his podium. However, the other man was not one to allow his opponents to languish in their victory¨Cperceived or otherwise. ¡°Six months. I¡¯ll give you at most six months before your actions yesterday will have caused us to plunge into another diplomatic crisis.¡± Defiant and confident, Yukino¡¯s words were backed by a backbone not even Takamori could hope to possess. Most especially harrowing was their substance, something which resonated within his mind. He knew that arrogant, hegemonic powers exist beyond Rodenius; should he not be more careful, Yukino¡¯s words will become reality. As silence fell upon the Diet Building in the wake of Yukino¡¯s statements, the matter of Japan¡¯s future felt all the more bleak. Around that same time, outside the Diet building As Takamori spoke in the Diet chamber, protests continued in full swing all across the country. Most of these protests were in response to Operation Zanzibar as the majority of the peace faction considered it ¡®an attempt at the revival of Japanese militarism.¡¯ While much of the Japanese people not involved in the protests remained undecided on the issue, a sizable counter-protest to the peace faction protests also came out in support of the Takamori cabinet. One of the places where these two sides clashed was directly in front of the Diet building. On one side were the protesters that were against the operation. While the protest was led by ethnic Japanese proponents for a peaceful solution to the Lourian conflict, a significant portion of the protesters were East Asians who have either normalized into Japanese society or are part of the now stateless foreigners that were in Japan when they got transferred to Asherah. The protest was peaceful, only gathering together to sing along with a well-known Japanese rapper. On the other hand, counter-protesters supporting the Takamori cabinet¡¯s decision to push through with Zanzibar gathered opposite to the peace faction protesters. They were made up of ultranationalists and led by a member of the Nippon Kaigi. They were more boisterous, and the mood among them was celebratory, with multiple protesters waving big rising sun flags as the others cheered them on. Caught in the middle and keeping the peace were two police officers from the Tokyo Metropolitan Police standing guard close to the middle of the two crowds of protesters. ¡°When do you think the Prime Minister will finally stop speaking?¡± Tall and lanky Meguro randomly asked his partner, Sannomiya, visibly tired of the situation of having to deal with protesters for days on end. ¡°Beats me.¡± Short and bulky Sannomiya disinterestedly replied as he picked his nose. Much to their relief and disappointment, the two crowds of protesters have been more or less cordial with the other¡¯s presence, if not ignoring them completely. Tokyo alone was host to many of these protests, as well as countless other forms of unrest with varying degrees of violence unrelated to the Diet appearance of the Prime Minister. Due to this, only Meguro and Sannomiya were able to be present at this moment in time to monitor hundreds of protesters. As Meguro yawned, his nose was stimulated by the saccharine smell of plum. Looking to his left, he saw Sannomiya munching on a plum onigiri. ¡°What the fuck? How the hell do you have an onigiri?!¡± ¡°Mom sent me a lot yesterday. The rationing in the countryside is a lot less harsh than here.¡± Sannomiya replied with his mouth stuffed with chewed and unchewed rice and plum. ¡°Fatass motherfucker. I can¡¯t even get more than one cup of rice a day since the rationing in my district has become stricter over the past week! Mom even refuses to send shit my way!¡± As Meguro ranted, Sannomiya muttered ¡°uhuh¡± as he stuffed his mouth with another onigiri. ¡°You had another?! Gimme some man! My stomach is killing me!¡± Skipping all forms of respect and diplomacy, Meguro went straight to trying to snatch the onigiri from Sannomiya¡¯s hand, who despite his bulky build, reacted swiftly to distance the onigiri from Meguro. ¡°Fuck off. This is mine.¡± Before the police officers could duke it out, they heard a scream from one of the protesters on the pro-Zanzibar side. ¡°...¡®I will eat your consequences for breakfast.¡¯ HAHAHA!!! Takamori got that bastard Yukino good! Banzai Takamori!!!¡± In response, the entire crowd of pro-Zanzibar protesters cheered ¡°BANZAI TAKAMORI!!!¡± As loudspeakers were brought to the scene, the two officers let go of one another as they similarly assumed the same thing: bad things were about to go down. Before they could fix their attire, the loudspeakers blared to life, filling the air around the streets of Chiyoda with the tune to Batt¨­tai. ¡°WARE WA KANGUN WAGA TEKI WA...¡± As the protesters sang along to the march, Meguro and Sannomiya approached them. ¡°Turn that off! You are disturbing the peace around here!¡± Before some of the protesters could respond to them, other pro-Zanzibar protesters started hauling objects at the peace faction protesters, who also asked them to turn the music off. Seeing this, Sannomiya darted to their direction as Meguro tried to persuade the pro-Zanzibar protesters to turn the music off. ¡°Hey, hey! That¡¯s against the law!¡± Sannomiya¡¯s efforts proved futile as a fight broke out between several of the protesters from both sides. Some who voluntarily tried to stop the fight got served fists in return for their good intentions, prompting them to drop all hopes of any peaceful conclusion and instead join in the brawl. As a police officer, Sannomiya stepped into the thick of the fighting. ¡°Dammit, stop! All of you!¡± As he tried to create a divide between the two groups with his large body, he was subject to kicks and punches not intended for him, suffering some injuries. In a matter of seconds, he was overwhelmed and Meguro, having only noticed what was happening, ran to help his partner out. ¡°Not this again, Sannomiya...¡± Picking up his comms, he radioed in for help as he ran to try his luck in pacifying the devolving situation. ¡°This is Meguro. Requesting back-up at...!¡± Cent. Calendar 07/06/1639, Camp Higashi Chitose, Chitose, Hokkaido, Japan, 20:30 ¡°Hello? Akiyama?¡± Leaning on his chair in his office at Camp Higashi Chitose in Chitose, Hokkaido was Major General Ouchida Kazuki, commander of the 7th Division of the Japan Ground Self Defense Forces. He picked up his phone to call his friend Major General Akiyama Hayate, commander of the 2nd Division, the elements of which were deployed to Qua-Toyne in anticipation of the Lourian invasion. Hearing what had happened, Ouchida worried for his longtime friend and decided to give him a call after some time had passed so as to not bother him in his work handling the mess after Operation Zanzibar. To his relief, Akiyama¡¯s familiar voice responded to him through the phone. ¡°Good timing. I was about to call it a day.¡± Despite hearing that his voice was still seemingly alright, Ouchida couldn¡¯t dispel his anxieties. ¡°I heard what happened.¡± He then heard a faint chuckle in the background. ¡°Heh... So you¡¯ve seen the report then.¡± ¡°Mmm¡± muttered Ouchida. He could assume that it must have been difficult for everyone at Gim after hearing of the collateral damage. Not only did they fire the first shots from Japanese guns in a conflict since the guns of the old imperial forces went silent 7 decades earlier, their shells had also ended the lives of some civilians. The short war had concluded in extremely favorable terms for them and no one could snatch that feat from Akiyama and his 2nd Division; but in the process, they also cemented their names in Japanese history as the first to kill, both civilians and combatants, since the dreaded war their their forebears fought and died in. To the Japan of the present, an advanced society that had chosen to shake off every single thing related to waging war, this was a massive blemish. Ouchida felt his throat dry up as he struggled to imagine the burden on Akiyama¡¯s shoulders. ¡°42. Forty-two confirmed identifiable remains of non-combatants.¡± Akiyama paused, inhaling deeply, which could be heard by Ouchida on the other side of the line. ¡°And those are the identifiable ones. Goddammit. Do you get that, Ouchida? IDENTIFIABLE.¡± Ouchida sank in his seat as he heard the pained sniffs of his best friend at the end of the sentence. ¡°My men had to sift through maimed body parts... in shifts too since none of them lasted 10 minutes without breaking down or throwing up.¡± He himself felt a tear build up at the end of his left eye; he couldn¡¯t bear hearing his own friend on the verge of breaking down. ¡°And yet in the end... we can only bring justice and peace to 42 people by identifying them... the rest... remains were either too charred, too small... Hell, maybe the only thing that¡¯s left of them is the smell of blood and burnt flesh we inhaled when we were there. Fuck!¡± Ouchida covered his now teary eyes with his left hand as he heard a crash on the other line. ¡°Those damned people that sent me shit and death threats... saying things like ¡®You have brought shame to Japan!¡¯ or ¡®As expected of Japanese soldiers!¡¯ to ¡®Fucking kill yourself!¡¯ Maybe they could help out by being here and offering some advice, right?¡± Sniffing and clearing his throat with a cough, Akiyama continued. ¡°And yet if I spent more time confirming the civilian presence, I could have put Japanese and Qua-Toynian lives in danger... then they¡¯d still cry out I¡¯m a war criminal for letting Japanese citizens get killed in the line of duty.¡± Hearing his friend silently mutter inaudible yet worrying sounds through the line, Ouchida finally mustered the courage to shake off his hesitations and speak up. ¡°You did what you thought was best and as it stands, it was the best outcome possible; you handled it well.¡± Taking a deep breath and exhaling, he continued. ¡°Our mission is to defend Japan, its sovereignty, and its citizens. We are obligated to follow the rules and laws of war, but our duty ultimately lies with the defense of the country and its people. That is what you carried out. Japan has been kept out of the Lourian crisis and as a result no Japanese lives are lost and the country¡¯s peace and sovereignty is preserved.¡± Silence. In the somber yet uncertain tranquility of the muteness in the line, interrupted only by background static, Ouchida waited for Akiyama¡¯s response. After a full ten seconds without anything from him, he called out to his friend. ¡°You there? Akiyama?¡± ¡°Yeah. Yeah, I¡¯m here... Sorry. Thanks for that.¡± Another round of silence followed as the two division commanders tried to come up with something to disperse the unease that had built up. Akiyama spoke first. ¡°Uh... Thanks, Ouchida. Sorry for my outburst earlier. I¡¯m still...¡± ¡°No, no, it¡¯s fine. This is an off-the-record conversation between friends and not an official call. I was just concerned...¡± With the tension more or less relaxed, Akiyama¡¯s tone followed suit, ¡°Heh, I bet you wish you could have been chosen to deploy here. We¡¯re gonna do some drills, and the temp here is hitting 30!¡± ¡°Unlike you, I¡¯ve been bred for real winter ops, so I actually don¡¯t mind! Although it doesn¡¯t make a difference doesn¡¯t it? It¡¯s summer here too and it¡¯s so hot!¡± Sharing a laugh with each other¨Ca sound that had been alien to both of them since the transfer¨COuchida and Akiyama genuinely felt that the situation would get better with time. As Ouchida thought of ending the call, one of his subordinates popped in through the door and silently mouthed, ¡°there¡¯s been a situation.¡± ¡°Ah. I gotta go. Shit happened again.¡± ¡°Ah, of course. I, too, gotta attend to things.¡± ¡°See you when you get back.¡± ¡°Sure.¡± Dropping the phone, Ouchida stood up and put on his commander cap. ¡°Alright. Back to work.¡± Chapter 10: The Wind Has Started to Turn As of August 23, 2022, this chapter has been revised Cent. Calendar 06/06/1639, Third Foreign Affairs Department, Esthirant, Parpaldian Empire, 13:30 ¡°Today has been exceptionally hot, even though it¡¯s spring...¡± Wiping the sweat from his brow with a piece of cloth, Kaios, chair of the Third Foreign Affairs Department tiredly remarked as he walked back to his office. While his department ranked last among the three departments that make up the Foreign Affairs organ of the Parpaldian Empire, it was by no means a slacker. While the first two dealt with the greater powers, the Third is left to deal with the rest of the non-civilized bunch outside the civilized areas¨Cthe so-called periphery. Given Parpaldia¡¯s foreign policy, this was actually a boon since the chair of the Third Dept. is given special authority to dispatch the mighty imperial military to intimidate or crush any state that can¡¯t fight back. Due to this, Kaios possessed many contacts in the military, becoming a rather powerful man, despite the intentions of the creators of the positional hierarchy in Foreign Affairs. Walking through a long hall built with ornate, reflective marble seized from their holdings in the north, Kaios was able to enjoy a breathtaking view of the imperial capital to his left, thanks to the ultra-clear glass manufactured by the best glassmakers in Philades. The important organs of power were all located atop a hill in between the flat plains Esthirant was built on and the mountains to the north. Looking more closely, he could make out the individual parallel and perpendicular streets from where he was, reflecting Esthirant¡¯s roots as a planned city. While the city is renowned for its beauty all across the Third Civilized Region, it has become a bit dirtier due to more recent urbanization and the sprawl of factories popping up all over like weeds. Despite their industrialization putting them on the path of becoming like Mu or the Mirishials, he thought that beauty was the ultimate victim of such progress. Reaching the end of the hall, he was back in his office after a satisfying lunch. Entering it, he found someone else waiting for him other than his beloved housecat. ¡°Commander Marcus?¡± ¡°Good afternoon, Director Kaios.¡± Standing up with a stress-filled face yet still in the poise of a renowned officer of the imperial army, Marcus, who led Task Force Emerald, the Parpaldian contingent tasked with assisting Louria in their Rodenius unification initiative, had hastily returned to Esthirant. Despite not receiving orders from his superiors or Kaios to return, he still decided to return with the remainder of his forces lest he risk putting all of them in danger. Having already reported to his superiors in the evening prior and in the morning, it was now Kaios¡¯s turn to receive his brief. ¡°Are you not supposed to be in Jin-Hark coordinating with the Lourian army?¡± Kaios asked as he bent over to pick up his cat, Yvonne, which had come to him. ¡°Regarding that...¡± Marcus struggled to get the words out, looking down at the floor instead of facing Kaios. Not a moment later, he began to sweat bullets¨Ca fact not lost on the Third Dept. Chair, who immediately assumed that something had gone wrong. Intending to discuss further, je walked over to his desk, dropped Yvonne on it, and asked the trembling officer to sit on the chair opposite his desk. ¡°I won¡¯t bite, commander, tell me as if I were your mother.¡± ¡°I hate my mother...¡± ¡°I don¡¯t care, you get the point: tell me in full.¡± And so he did; Marcus first brought up how everything was going well, bringing up details which were also in the reports Kaios received on a regular basis. However, things unexpectedly turned for the worst about exactly a day ago: two hours after the planned invasion, a powerful boom shook the capital. Since he was also the official diplomatic representative of Parpaldia to Louria, he was staying in one of the more luxurious palaces close to the royal castle. When he went out of the balcony attached to his quarters, he saw a massive cloud of dust obscuring the royal castle that was reminiscent of the aftermath of a bombardment. Almost immediately after, he then heard a sound of something roaring which he felt came from somewhere far up in the sky. The sound was extremely close to the sound made by Imperial aircraft in the Holy Mirishial Empire arsenal, which he was able to witness in action in an airshow in Runepolis. Expecting something similar, he scanned the skies, only to come across two or three distinct trails emanating from what appeared to be objects blending into the background; whether or not they were small or extremely far, he couldn¡¯t tell. After the dust had settled, he learned from the Lourian chief royal mage, Yamirei, that the king, Hark Louria XXXIV, was in the royal castle when it was attacked. Later on, they would learn that he had perished. After hours of stressful information gathering, the situation drastically got worse when an army, the supposed Main Echelon of the invasion force, showed up outside the walls of Jin-Hark and promptly besieged the city. The defenders left in the capital, coupled with the men from the Lourian war fleet that returned, were sent to man the intricate system of walls around the city while the survivors of Hark¡¯s Royal Guard were tasked with maintaining order and making sure no one¨Cnot even the Parpaldians¨Centered or left. Seeing that things had gone from awful to critical, he decided to evacuate whatever he could from Task Force Emerald that night. Incapacitating the royal guards sent to keep him in his palace, he then slipped out under the cover of darkness and met with the rest of his men before sneaking onto a small transport ship towards a Parpaldian Navy steamship that was just outside the harbor. Once Marcus had finished his account, Kaios started sweating bullets himself. Just who was behind the destruction of the royal castle and Hark Louria¡¯s death? ¡°Hmm...¡± He started thinking about the ramifications should the culprit be another power. Sure, the amount of investment they poured into helping the Lourians unite the Rodenius continent was by no means small, but the prospect of another great power directly countering their interests seemed to make that financial loss ignorable. His mind immediately considered the two premier powers of Asherah: The United Realms and Dominions of Mu and the Holy Mirishial Empire. Competing for post-Great War influence in the Third Civilization Area, the two powers have been actively trying to bring the Parpaldian Empire to their side while negating the other¡¯s. While Mu was the determinant winner in the Great War, the Imperial influence of the Central World still remained dominant; that fact coupled with their longtime partnership with Parpaldia, it was obvious they¡¯d lean to the Mirishials. Nevertheless, it was imperative to keep the balance between them and so they entertained Mu as well. At any rate, neither of them had actively tried to get on Parpaldia¡¯s bad side in the past as none of them stand to gain anything from doing that. Their interests in Philades isn¡¯t the cornerstone of either power¡¯s foreign policies, much less their interests in less developed Rodenius. Neither Qua-Toyne nor Quila¨Cthe targets of Louria¡¯s aggression in their attempt at unification¨Care under the umbrella of a great power. Neither were also capable of carrying out the surgical destruction of the royal castle. Scratching his head in frustration from this unexpected development, Kaios was then calmed by Yvonne coming to him and scratching herself on his clothes. Chuckling from the incessant purring of his beloved companion, he was able to take a deep breath and calm down. He then looked towards Marcus with a serious expression. ¡°What¡¯s your take on this?¡± Taken back by Kaios¡¯s lack of hostility¨Chis superiors on the other hand chided him for his insubordination¨CMarcus started to look calm. This change in disposition was also reflected in his tone. ¡°Our interests in Rodenius are thwarted and either of the two great powers may be to blame. Either way, I don¡¯t think this is going to end well.¡± Kaios raised his eyebrows as he nodded. ¡°While your first statement is indeed true, I disagree with your second. The great powers aren¡¯t that foolish.. If any of them were to show some hostility to us, they give the other a precedent to change the status quo in their favor, something that neither of them want to happen. Moreover, both of them have interests in Parpaldia, which they know we could use to hurt them if either tried anything stupid. Whoever did this must not be aware of the intricacies of Asheran geopolitics; that or they want to start a fight with us.¡± Blindly agreeing to the mouthful of words coming out of Kaios¡¯s mouth, Marcus concluded that it did make sense. Just as Kaios was about to say something, one of his aides entered the room. ¡°Director! The Emperor is summoning you!¡± Putting down Yvonne on the floor and standing up, Kaios exhaled deeply as he scratched his head in resignation. ¡°Well, it was only a matter of time before word reached His Highness.¡± Shaking hands with Marcus, both men followed each other out of the room and then the building. Imperial Palace, 13:50 On the lavishly patterned marble floor of the throne room of the Parpaldian Imperial Palace kneeled a subservient Kaios. The room was given a somber orange glow by the electrically powered light bulbs imported from Mu while the chilly air was provided by coolers imported from the Holy Mirishial Empire. The columns that flank the long hall leading up to the imperial throne were decorated with meticulously carved stripes, dyed in colors seized from dye plantations in the far north. In between the columns were banners of red where yellow threads depicted two land dragons facing away each other on a shield¨Cthe imperial banner of Parpaldia. At the end of the hall on the throne facing the kneeling Kaios sat a man whose hairline is still at the onset of receding was the Parpaldian Emperor, Ludius. Having ascended to the throne less than a decade ago, Ludius was still young, and his temper and disposition matched his youth. For this occasion, his temper was once more showing both in his mannerisms and on his face. On his right side stood a woman whose makeup succeeds to cover her aging, late 30s wrinkles but fails to conceal her indifference to the situation: Remille, cousin to the emperor and the last of her offshoot line in the imperial household. Standing up from the throne, the emperor commanded the Third Dept. Chair to rise, his ever-imposing tone echoing across the long hall. ¡°I hope you understand why I had you summoned.¡± Speaking as if he was about to get angry, Ludius gave nudges to Kaios that he should answer yes¨Cor else. Fortunately for Kaios, he understood why. ¡°I assume Your Highness has heard of our failed endeavor in Louria.¡± In spite of his hostile glare, Ludius¡¯s temper was held back by Kaios¡¯s knowledge of what happened. ¡°Do you know who is responsible for that?¡± Knowing that he might lose control over the situation with the wrong words, Kaios took his time before replying. ¡°I¡¯m afraid not, Your Highness. However, my department is currently working around the clock to investigate this matter.¡± Satisfied with Kaios¡¯s promptness and initiative, Ludius expressed this satisfaction by loosening his shoulders. He then turned his head towards the sprawling skyline of Esthirant that unraveled from beyond the windows behind his throne. ¡°I will summon you again in a week. You must know by then who they are.¡± Inwardly thrilled that he maintains a solid grip on the situation, Kaios swiftly bows. ¡°Of course, Your Highness.¡± Glancing towards Remille before leaving the throne room, Kaios subtly expressed some hostility towards her. Not ignorant of what¡¯s happening, Remille returned the favor with a glare. As the Third Dept. Chair left the throne room, she muttered in such a way that not even Ludius next to her could hear. ¡°How interesting...¡± Embassy of the United Realms and Dominions of Mu, Esthirant ¡°Bugger...¡± ¡°Those blasted Imperials are now confusing me...¡± Every Muish embassy is the center of operations of Section 6 of the Central Intelligence Directorate (CID)¨Cthe Muish foreign intelligence organ. Their embassy in Esthirant is no different; they constantly monitor the Parpaldian military, government, and industrial sectors for noteworthy developments that would be of great interest or detriment to Mu. This embassy, however, not only serves as the center of Muish intelligence gathering in Parpaldia, but it¡¯s also where intelligence gathering in Philades and the greater East is centered on. Due to this, the embassy employs a lot of people in its intelligence chapter, sifting through and collecting intelligence from as far north as Topa, to the rich, bustling capital of Altaras in the strait, to the vast, agricultural countryside of bread basket Qua-Toyne down south. Today, something new came up: word of the Lourian capitulation just mere hours after their supposed invasion to ¡®unify all of Rodenius¡¯ sent shockwaves all throughout the east. The smartheads in the embassy are all scratching their heads at this unprecedented outcome; it was clear as day that Parpaldia was supporting the Lourians. Not only did everyone expect Louria to steamroll Qua-Toyne and then Quila, they expected them to do so with ease and speed since Parpaldia was directly providing them military support¨Calbeit in a small quantity. The shocking turn of events wherein Louria capitulated in less than four hours after they started their invasion caught everyone by surprise. What worried the Muish, however, were the varying reports on how it was achieved. ¡°There¡¯s a lot of witness accounts saying that the royal castle where the Lourian king resided was bombed ¡®from the air¡¯.¡± ¡°Eh! Could be a discrepancy. Even if that were true, there¡¯s only two nations that can send a bomber this far. That can¡¯t be us¨Cobviously! We¡¯d fucking know! And those damned Imperials¨Cmay the gods damn them so much¨Care not that stupid... Wait, that¡¯s not true...¡± Everyone chuckled at the not-so-subtle jab at the Imperials, which everyone had come to view with mockery. Sure, Mu emerged victorious in the Great War decades ago, but the Holy Mirishial Empire was still a force to be reckoned with. ¡°Either way, the Imperials would lose their influence over Parpaldia with such a move; assuming they¡¯re smart, they¡¯re not gonna do that. In any case, we¡¯ll do a rain check on the Imperials at their embassy here just to verify.¡± Stuck in a conundrum, the Muish intelligence personnel all thought in silence as they took sips from the dark, bitter drinks they call coffee and tea. Suddenly, another young man in slacks then came running up to them with new reports. ¡°These just came in! Sifting through the witness accounts from both foreign merchants in Louria and within the Parpaldian military present there, there¡¯s something common with all of them.¡± ¡°Other than the fact that the royal castle ¡®blew up¡¯ and that the attack ¡®came from the air¡¯?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Then shoot.¡± Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. The personnel then shuffled through the stack of papers he brought before settling on one. He scanned it for a moment before he started speaking. ¡°According to multiple witnesses, they first noticed an echoing roar coming from the air after the explosion at the royal castle. The more attentive ones added that they spotted objects in the sky heading northeast. While the number of objects is different, they¡¯re all within a small range: only one object at least and three at most. The objects appeared to blend into the sky¨Cperhaps a blue-colored exterior? While the shape could not generally be discerned, we have two witness reports saying that the objects resembled arrowheads. The most noticeable feature was that they produced white trails, and were either small, or far away. The most troubling detail is that they disappeared from discernable view in a matter of seconds, which may be telling of their speed.¡± The Muish intelligence officers looked at one another with confused and worried faces. The accounts¨Cif true¨Ctell of an airplane that can travel at insanely fast speeds with the capacity of carrying a destructive payload of bombs and the capability of dropping them accurately as only the royal castle was destroyed. ¡°Those accounts need more scrutiny. I am betting that the Parps are as stumped as us and are moving to investigate the issue as well. While those frogs aren¡¯t the type to be willing to share with us, that hasn¡¯t stopped us before.¡± The other officers nodded. One of the more technologically aligned officers continued to ponder before giving his opinion. ¡°I don¡¯t like this. If the accounts are accurate, then we¡¯re looking at a very fast plane with a sizable payload and an advanced targeting system of sorts¨Cnot even the best fly boys in the Air Force could produce that accuracy. The roaring sound does remind me of the sound their engines make, as well as those new, experimental ones the R&D boys are having fun with.¡± Everyone now thought of the one thing they didn¡¯t want to consider: they are probably on the verge of stumbling on something big. None of their contemporary knowledge on technology could explain the nature and appearance of the mysterious aircraft. ¡°Those propellerless Gra Valkan planes are close, though. We haven¡¯t seen the planes their military uses, but the planes that their civilians use to arrive at the airport in Otaheit are undoubtedly beautiful.¡± The Gra Valkas Empire is an enigma. Their intelligence on them is lacking, despite the amicable relations between the two industrial giants. The reluctance of the Gra Valkans in sharing more than civilian technologies worries the CID, which had to provide intelligence to their Gra Valkan counterparts due to an intelligence-sharing agreement initiated by their governments in exchange for said civilian technologies. ¡°Given the sophistication of the tech we¡¯re getting from them, the Valkies just might fit the bill here. Still, considering the sheer distance and the fact that they¡¯ve only been here for a year or so, I doubt they¡¯d have anything to do this far east so let¡¯s scratch that out.¡± Standing up from the desk he was leaning on, the chief Muish intelligence officer clapped his hands. ¡°Alright boys. If all of this is indeed true, then we have a problem on our hands. Let¡¯s get back to work!¡± Royal Castle, Amanoki, Fenn, 15:00 In the months since the Japanese and Fennese opened diplomatic relations and trade, Japanese products have poured into Fenn. Rudimentary lighting now lights up their homes and streets as the more well off Fennese began using bicycles to travel between buildings and cities. Steel imported from Japan¨Csuperior in quality and every other aspect¨Cmade itself known in the swords that the Fennese bought en masse. Sword King Shihan himself owns a sword produced by Japanese blacksmiths. One of the things they had to give to the Japanese was knowledge of Asheran common. Even up to this point, Japanese scholars, linguists, and translators occupy Fennese libraries and are accompanied by Fennese scholars to learn Asheran common. For this, some technologies, such as electricity, lighting, air conditioning, and printing equipment were brought in to facilitate the prolonged stay of the Japanese. As monetary exchange neared its finalization, they were finally going to be able to buy more Japanese goods. In the upper levels of the keep of the royal castle in Amanoki, Sword King Shihan was finishing up his calligraphy. Swiping right to finish off the last stroke, Shihan then set aside the brush and looked at his work with a degree of satisfaction. Written on a piece of quality calligraphy paper imported from Japan were the words for ¡°good fortune¡± written in the Fennese script. Putting his work aside for it to dry, he then put on his reading glasses¨Calso bought from Japan¨Cand picked up a rolled newspaper to his left. It was the first edition of a Japanese newspaper translated into the Fennese script. ¡°Hoh. The Lourians capitulated only hours into the conflict?¡± Shihan read out loud the headline in disbelief, repeating it again and again in a vain effort to make sense of it. ¡°They sure are scary... I should invite them to our military festival and have them show off more of their guns.¡± As he read through the body of text, it became clear to him that Japan possessed the capabilities to rival the great powers to the west. Deep inside him, the news ignited hope of the Parpaldians getting their nose bloodied in the evitable clash of interests that will result in the two countries coming into contact with one another. The prospect of getting to see it in his lifetime excited him. ¡°The winds have started to turn. Now... What will Parpaldia do?¡± Embassy of Japan to Qua-Toyne, 18:30 ¡°I demand an explanation.¡± In an ordinary, brightly-lit room that was the office of the Ambassador of Japan to Qua-Toyne, Princess Llanfair of Qua-Toyne was leaning on the desk with her hands, looming over ambassador Kuribayashi, who was unfazed by the show of power by the princess. Hearing that the Japanese only agreed to the reparation of damages done to Gim in the peace treaty and not putting more pressure on the Lourians, Llanfair personally went to the embassy to demand an explanation from Kuribayashi, with whom she has taken a liking. Using this lax in relations with a high-level diplomat, she hoped to ¡®squeeze¡¯ more details from him. She has been especially distraught after being held back by the rest of the High Council in installing a puppet on the Lourian throne or getting more territory than what they got since both actions would make the Lourian lords hostile towards them. Upset that she could not exercise more power in the face of the Japanese, who were also against her ambitions in Louria, she also wanted to exercise her personal power on Kuribayashi as a sort of coping mechanism. ¡°I don¡¯t like your tone.¡± The ambassador flatly remarked, still unfazed by Llanfair¡¯s now apparent frustration. Subconsciously taken back by his defiance, she stepped down her attack. ¡°I-I would like an explanation.¡± ¡°That¡¯s more like it.¡± Said like a master to his slave, he then explained how the National Diet voted against involving Japan in Lourian affairs, distancing itself from a needlessly complicated situation. Moreover, the Diet was still preoccupied with introducing power limitations on the prime minister¡¯s ability to greenlight operations like Zanzibar, forcing decisions to also go through the Diet before they can be approved. After the explanation, the aghast on the princess¡¯s face was plain and all too apparent. ¡°What?! But that was the most overwhelming victory I have ever witnessed! Why are your leaders not capitalizing on it?!¡± Unable to comprehend Japan¡¯s unnervingly hands-off approach on the matter, Llanfair didn¡¯t even try to hide her bewilderment. ¡°Japan is... a nation with a mindset hellbent on keeping the peace.¡± ¡°At the cost of so much potential?! How come?!¡± Kuribayashi then pondered for a minute. He wanted to answer Llanfair¡¯s question, but he needs to carefully pick his words so as to not give away potentially dangerous hints. ¡°We lost a great war seven decades ago in our world and are forced to submit by a great power. Shaken by the atrocities that happened, our forefathers vowed ¡®never again.¡¯ Since then, peace has been kept and so the method of prioritizing peace has essentially worked.¡± Llanfair could not believe her ears. While she did entertain the thought that Japan may not have been the most powerful country in their old world, she was not expecting such a powerful country to lose so badly that they basically ingrained peace into their sociopolitical mechanisms. The thought of a more powerful nation crushing Japan horrified Llanfair. ¡°...What sort of destruction... could your people have lived through to decide... to live in peace for almost a century...?¡± To this, Kuribayashi looked at her flatly and refused to comment. His silence offered little respite for Llanfair, who had already begun imagining the closest thing to utter destruction she could describe. The first thing that came to her mind was a line from a story about a horrible evil from long ago. ¡°The radiance and flare of a thousand suns dominated the land and sky and our eyes, once pure, were now tormented with abominable death and destruction. The great earth¨Conce our faithful ally¨Chad gone mad, taking everything with it: our mana, our bodies, our spirits; all were consumed. The wicked emperor of light, second only to Death Himself, emerged from the ashes and cackled, ¡°There are no Gods. Only us.¡± Such was the irony, for we would have worshiped him as the God of Destruction.¡± While the rest of the passage felt gibberish to Kuribayashi, the initial words struck close to home. A thousand thoughts raced across his head regarding the passage, but after stopping himself short of jumping to conclusions, he went on to ask the princess for clarification. ¡°Did you really say ¡°radiance of a thousand suns,¡± and that the ground acted up to take everything?¡± ¡°The power of the old evil could not be comprehended. This was a passage from an account from a high elf of old that has witnessed the destruction of the mana singularity spell.¡± Hearing the word ¡®singularity¡¯, which Kuribayashi read the Asheran common translation of coincidentally some time before, he inwardly shuddered. If this was the apex of destruction in Asherah, it mirrored too closely the destruction afforded by nuclear weaponry. He pressed for answers. ¡°Tell me more about this mana singularity spell.¡± ¡°Oh. Now why would I?¡± As if pissed, Kuribayashi then slammed the table and stood up to directly meet Llanfair¡¯s gaze, who faltered from the tall stature of a muscular man towering over her. Feeling a tear form in the corner of her eye as she stared down at his blank, unyielded glare, she gave in. ¡°N-Need you only say please...¡± A hesitant, weak plea whimpered out of her mouth as she averted her gaze. ¡°The spell.¡± Seeing Kuribayashi unfazed by her womanly tone, Llanfair felt her heart sink. She was starting to finally realize just how powerless she was to the Japanese. ¡°Fine. It¡¯s a long forgotten spell, written and used exclusively by the light-winged people of the ancient empire. Even if a copy was stolen, the language used was indecipherable and unreadable, so none of the spellcasters of old could even cast it.¡± Kuribayashi wasn¡¯t pleased. ¡°I meant its effects.¡± He was now close that the supposedly terrifying princess couldn¡¯t control her legs from quivering. ¡°According to the accounts, the device that... contained the spellcasting device and mana... would be unleashed on its target, wherein the spell would begin chanting and...¡± Kuribayashi, feeling a bit satisfied, began distancing himself, giving Llanfair room. ¡°...the spell creates a point in space that violently strips all of the mana in a wide area around it. The huge reserve of mana pulled from the surroundings, including the device¡¯s own mana, is then cast by the spell as an explosion. With that amount of mana, the fireball was so ungodly powerful, it burned even the witnesses standing from afar.¡± While the method to achieve the explosion was different, the yield of the explosion generated by a mana singularity spell, or in this case, a mana singularity bomb was reminiscent of a megaton-yield nuclear bomb. Despite the hints at the fact that the bomb was only used long ago, Kuribayashi couldn¡¯t get rid of the worry that some may have survived and are in the arsenals of some of the present-day nations in Asherah. He then decided to report what he learned to the government to investigate the matter more thoroughly. ¡°Thank you for that description. It mirrors the destruction we faced in that great war I mentioned, but I¡¯m afraid that the scale of destruction is... different. I hope I also answered your questions as I am about to head to an important meeting and cut ours short.¡± Deciding to lie a bit regarding the destruction brought on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, he then showed Llanfair out of the room. As she walked out, she looked down on the floor with her hands overlapping. Kuribayashi noted this as Llanfair admitting defeat, but at the back of his head, he also considered that Llanfair may have been expecting more. Cent. Calendar 19/04/1639, a certain JASDF radar facility, 13:00 As turmoil gripped the nation in the wake of the prime minister¡¯s momentous announcement, radar operators all over Japan have been struggling to comprehend what they have been seeing on their radars. ¡°Are those really satellites in orbit? If so, then whose are those?¡± ¡°They¡¯re too big to be any of the satellites that were orbiting Earth.¡± The radar operators have been keeping in check with other radar sites across Japan, who were also tracking the mysterious objects in orbit. While some troubleshot for problems¨Cstandard protocol considering that they just went through an unexplained world-transfer phenomenon¨Cothers tried communicating with the objects. ¡°Yeah, they¡¯re not responding.¡± ¡°What about the others?¡± ¡°Some of them already tried and they got nothing.¡± The personnel in the facility were completely stumped. Having checked the equipment for problems, recalibrated the radars, and done other protocols, the mysterious objects orbiting above them were still reflected on the screens. They were then left with no other choice but to conclude that there were unknown objects in orbit. ¡°They¡¯re not just any captured asteroid... They¡¯re all orbiting as if they were in a constellation.¡± ¡°We need to report this.¡± Cent. Calendar 21/04/1639, Embassy of the United States in Tokyo, Japan, 9:00 ¡°Please raise your right hand and repeat after me: I, Francis Joseph L. Woods, do solemnly swear...¡± Repeating after the Military Judge acting as the Chief Justice, Ambassador Woods had his right hand up while his left was on a Bible. ¡°I, Francis Joseph L. Woods, do solemnly swear...¡± A ceremony was taking place in one of the bigger meeting rooms in the US Embassy to Japan. After drafting an emergency government in absence of the government of the United States, Francis Woods¨Cthe Ambassador of the United States to Japan¨Cwas now being sworn in as President. Despite not being part of the official line of succession, the Americans deemed it necessary to create a government, as there was a sizable number of American citizens¨Cwho were now stateless¨Cstuck on the Japanese islands after having been transferred to a completely different world. As Francis continued with his oath-taking, the limited number of attendees, consisting of the new cabinet and some of the embassy staff, looked on. Daniel, CIA station chief, listened seemingly attentively to the inauguration as he stood next to Tim, deputy chief to Daniel. He then subtly leaned in to Tim and whispered. "Man, those fucking Marines down in Okinawa¡¯s Camp Butler gonna get jacked hard by this shitshow.¡± ¡°What do you think¡¯s gonna happen in that meeting with the Japanese bureaucrats?¡± ¡°Shit. Obviously. How do you expect the Japs to provide for us when they can¡¯t even cover for their own asses?¡± ¡°Agreed. Then there¡¯s the matter of everyone¡¯s ships and people being here. That sweet, sweet money from the multi-billion dollar military budget is now gone and so is our military industrial complex.¡± Danny merely heaved out a sarcastic sigh as a reply to his deputy¡¯s thoughtful remark. ¡°Fuck, there goes my side-hustle¡¯s salary from Lockheed Martin¡¯s honchos for starting wars and raping rag-heads we detained down in Yokosuka.¡± ¡°Poor Carl Vinson is going to fucking rust in fucking Yokosuka and turn into a second goddamn Kuznetsov.¡± ¡°At least she doesn¡¯t need a fucking tug accompanying her sides all the time.¡± ¡°Yeah, but my point still stands.¡± Tim discreetly scratched his head in frustration. There was no telling what the Japanese would offer to them at that conference room. With their massive military presence out of the picture, the Japanese have every power to doom them. Yes, a good chunk of the US Navy, Army, Marines, and Air Force is still present on the island, but that alone isn¡¯t much of a leverage. They badly need funds, provisions, and lodging: all of which only the Japanese could provide. On top of that, they still have the Brits, who brought with them their new carrier HMS Queen Elizabeth and several escorts, to consider. Then there¡¯s the Chinese, the Koreans, the other Europeans, and so on stuck on the home islands. It was¨Cwith all things considered¨Ca shitshow. Seeing Tim frustrated, Daniel knew how to cheer him up. ¡°Hey, there¡¯s no need to be down in the... dumps.¡± As he said this, Tim felt an intense sting on his buttocks. Judging from the light sound, Daniel must have slapped him on the buttocks, a gesture which he took personally. Instead of being angry, Tim looked back at Daniel with a face that said ¡°Really now?¡± ¡°Hopefully that helps distract you from this mess.¡± ¡°Oh definitely. I¡¯ll get back at you later.¡± ¡°Now we¡¯re talking.¡± The two men chuckled amongst themselves as the ceremony went on. Cent. Calendar 07/06/1639, somewhere in the kingdom of Paganda, 21:00 Bam! Another violent sound of bone hitting against bone echoed along the walls of this barely lit chamber somewhere in the depths of some building in the kingdom of Paganda. The clanking of chains could be heard in passing beneath every blow and further still behind it were the groans of a man in pain. His long hair¨Cwet from sweat and moisture coming from the dampness of the chamber¨Cobscured his face, but it was painfully clear from what little torch light reflecting off of his features revealed his bruised and bloodied state. Getting up from the ground and back onto his knees¨Cthe best that he could do while bound by chains on his waist, hands, and feet¨Che was sent back tumbling to the ground with another punch from a man taller than him. This man was masked to hide his identity, although his military police uniform left little to the imagination. With the water on the floor beginning to flow into his mouth and nose, he started coughing. Another man, this time a man with a distinct mustache and wearing a more prestigious uniform, stepped out of the darkness that shrouded one corner of the room and approached the whimpering man on the floor. ¡°Had enough re-education, barbarian scum?¡± The chained man continued to cough as he struggled to articulate his words. In spite of his unsightly appearance, the uniform he wore¨Ceven though in tatters and soaked in water¨Cbefitted that of someone working in the government. Looking at the mustached man through his long hair, he spat at the ground. ¡°Eat shit. Your so-called ¡®re-education¡¯ only served to tell me one thing: you are the barbarians here.¡± Sighing deeply, the mustached man didn¡¯t try to hide the fact that he had enough of the chained man. For his ultimate show of force, he brought his leg backwards before swiftly reversing direction, sending his foot straight to the chained man¡¯s head and knocking him back a considerable distance. Still not satisfied, he then forcefully stomped on the chained man twice before stopping to wipe the blood from his black, leather shoes. For the cherry on top, he spat on the curled, pitiful man on the floor. ¡°Revolting, good for nothing scoundrel! You refuse to learn your place! The other diplomats were more... submissive.¡± Getting nothing in reply but the faint sound of breathing, the mustached man then gave up and turned to give orders to the man in the mask. ¡°Give him the dipping treatment again. This time, don¡¯t pull him out until he¡¯s almost drowned.¡± The man in the mask gave his affirmation in the form of a nod, after which the mustached man left the room. Hearing this, the chained man then got up and began squirming as the sound of footsteps grew softer and softer. ¡°You sorry piece of shit for an official! You really think you could get me to submit by torture?!¡± Bam! ¡°I am Dallas! Esteemed¨C¡± Bam! ¡°¨Cdiplomat of¨C¡± Bam! ¡°¨Cthe Gra Valkas Empire!¡± Ceasing the punching, the man in the mask then untethered the chain from the floor and picked up the man who called himself Dallas and put him over his shoulder. As he walked to the dipping chamber, the chained man continued to cry out to an empty hallway, his attempts at intimidation were¨Cunfortunately for him¨Cout of place. ¡°I¡¯ve suffered at the hands of the government¡¯s secret police! They¡¯ve thrown me into prison countless times, so much so that I know enough of their worst torture methods to say your piss poor fondling has nothing on them! And if you dare kill me, you¡¯ll bring the entire might of the Imperial Army on your fucking heads! Heed my words, your fucking excuse for a kingdom will fall in a day once they¡¯ve¨C¡± Shutting him up once and for all, the masked man put a gag over his mouth before suspending him upside down from a chain hanging from the ceiling above a deep, murky well. Chapter 11: What Goes Around Comes Around As of August 26, 2022, this chapter has been revised The fallout from the Lourian capitulation becomes the focal point of discussion in Japan and the other powers present in the East, but the majority of the world is largely unaware of it, as it has only been a few days. Meanwhile, at around the same time, far off to the West, there were much subtler developments occurring, but their ramifications for the region as a whole were anything but. Appearing to the west of the Mu continent not long after the Central Calendar welcomed the year 1638, the Gra Valkas Empire has since become a mysterious nation to the countries of the First and Second Civilized Regions. Having established relations with Mu first, the Gra Valkans brought with them curious technologies and the willingness to trade, but their unknown nature proved to be a hurdle in establishing diplomatic relations the further east they go. Despite having largely amicable relations with everyone, especially Mu, the lack of openness has left a lot of nations scratching their heads as to what they truly are. Cent. Calendar 08/06/1639, Hochgarten Administrative District, Gra Valkas Empire, 6:45 A dense fog had set in across much of the country flatlands that make up the majority of the administrative district of Hochgarten to the northeast of the Gra Valkas Empire. The sun¨Chaving already risen from the horizon to the east¨Cstill hasn¡¯t had enough time to cast away the blanket of clouds clinging to the land, but there are multiple features that still managed to stick out. One of these was a hill upon which a massive villa complex was built. Inside the main building of the villa itself, the sound of news reports blaring out from a television filled the otherwise eerie silence of the early morning countryside. Accompanying the deep, handsome voice of the newscaster reading out the news were the sounds of ceramic hitting ceramic, and then later the rhythmic clinging of something metallic. ¡°Hmm... Hmmmm...¡± A tall, caucasian man wearing bathrobes was stirring a dark, piping hot liquid in the mug he was holding as he hummed the theme to his favorite soap opera while ignoring the voice of the newscaster. Walking from the kitchen counter towards the spacious area where the television was, he then took a seat on the velvet, avant garde-ish couch. Achieving his desired mixture, he ceased his stirring as his blue irises looked up towards the screen of the television, which depicted the newscaster in color. ¡°...as of this moment, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs has mentioned that they¡¯re cooperating with the Imperial Navy in negotiating the release of the ten diplomats unlawfully incarcerated by the kingdom of Paganda. According to their spokesperson, they will do everything in their power to bring them home...¡± The scene then panned to a female newscaster sitting next to him. ¡°...Oh, this just in! The Imperial Council has issued a joint statement denouncing Paganda and advocating for a quote unquote ¡®immediate¡¯ resolution to the crisis.¡± The camera then went back to the other newscaster, who then engaged in a conversation with his co-anchor. ¡°Ah, decisive action¨Cjust what you could expect from the Imperial Council in a crisis. You know, Gisela, I¡¯m pretty sure they¡¯re more than happy to push us back to war again, don¡¯t you think?¡± ¡°Indeed, Hugo. The sentiment among the members of the lower Diet is mostly peaceful in contrast to the upper Council¨Cthanks to the majority that the Centrists enjoy, but there¡¯s always that lingering sentiment for the bygone days of the war with Kain. There¡¯s even the impasse with the Minimum Peacetime Readiness Bill, which has been pushed since the transfer and¡ª¡± Drinking from his mug, the man stopped listening to the report. Letting out a satisfying sigh from the bitterness and aroma of the drink, he grumbled about what he was watching. ¡°Well I¡¯ll be damned. Those Muish bastards not only give the best intelligence, but they also give the best beans. Too bad I have to drink it with this cheap, hardly-better-than-gossip piece of shit.¡± Reflecting on what the newscasters said, the man chuckled as he scratched his head. ¡°Fucking peacetards. At this rate, there won¡¯t be a military for the empire to demand any level of readiness.¡± Reaching for the remote control, he placed the mug on the glass table in front of him before turning off the television. He then went to a wooden table next to the wall that had multiple vinyl records stacked on top of one another. Instantly picking out one of them as if it were a regular of sorts, he took the record out of its neon red cover and gently placed it on a turntable. After turning the machine on, he gently placed the needle on the record, producing a split-second whirring sound before the soothing, harmonic sound of a classical symphony played. Before long, the villa was filled with rhythmic tunes of string, wind, and other instruments. Waving his hands around as if he were the conductor, the man danced around the room, humming and laughing as he avoided the furniture. There was a reason behind his glee. For almost 40 years, the Gra Valkas Empire fought a war that spanned three generations with the Divine Kingdom of Kain, a fellow superpower and their geopolitical rival for supremacy in Yggdra. The generational spat not only built up their military-industrial complex and formidable military but it also solidified a culture of militarism in the empire¡¯s identity. That was the case until a year and a half ago when¨Cfor some reason¨Ctheir entire nation was transferred into this world which the locals call Asherah. With their archnemesis gone and the locals favoring trade and diplomacy, the Gra Valkans have entered an unprecedented age of peace¨Cbut it was not all sunshine and roses. With a good chunk of their institutions built around warmongering and the military, the lack of enemies meant that they either had to be massively defunded or be shut down entirely. The people, while definitely feeling conflicted with this new age of peaceful existence, were nevertheless eager to see the empire try its hand at peace. Still, there existed a lot of people who fell into despondency as they longed for the ¡®good old days¡¯ of warfighting and one such example was this man. However, he was not the type to stand still as the wind blew in the opposite direction that he wanted. As the man danced, a man in uniform entered the room and called him out. ¡°Um, Herr Schmidt?¡± Gracefully ceasing his performance, Allen Schmidt, the man in bathrobes, director of the Geheimdienst (GD), the Gra Valkan intelligence organ, bowed in front of the man in uniform as the last, powerful, notes to the symphony were struck. Staying in his pose anticipating something, Schmidt then grew impatient after several seconds of silence. ¡°Do you not appreciate the arts, Peters?¡± Schmidt asked, still bowing. ¡°Uhh, Herr Schmidt, I don¡¯t think now¡¯s the ti-¡± Before Peters could finish, he saw Schmidt look up at him with a weak smile. However, a dark aura emanated from his expression, which Peters picked up as passive hostility, betraying any overlaying impressions his weak smile gave off. Wishing to avoid his superior¡¯s wrath, Peters revised his statement. ¡°Uh... Excellent performance, director, bravo!¡± Peters awkwardly clapped as sweat poured down from his forehead. Seemingly satisfied, Schmidt finally liberated himself from his bowing pose, returning to his upright position and looking at his subordinate straight in the eye. ¡°Something important, I presume?¡± Getting to the point, Schmidt caught Peters off guard, who scrambled to reassemble his initial train of thought before he was interrupted. ¡°Yes. The Navy has contacted us: the negotiator is now arriving at the scene.¡± Schmidt¡¯s eyes lit up. Finally, he thought, as he looked up to the right, staring off into the bright morning sky. ¡°They got her to do it, correct?¡± ¡°Affirmative.¡± ¡°Excellent. That man Gesta sure is a piece of work!¡± Schmidt shook his head, thinking that it was an atypical move from a misogynist like him. However, getting her to go be the negotiator was a good move, as one of the diplomats detained by the Pagandans was her subordinate. The GD put forward the suggestion to their allies in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in hopes of distressing her and aggravating the situation for the worst-case scenario. ¡°Keep me updated; I will be right here, enjoying my day off.¡± Bowing in affirmative, Peters left Schmidt to his own devices as he returned to his post in the villa. Priscilla, kingdom of Paganda, 7:25 Just like the foggy conditions in Hochgarten, the waters off the Kingdom of Paganda were humid and damp, yet the conditions were clear enough that they could see the horizon. In between the port of Priscilla, Paganda¡¯s capital, and a lone Imperial Gra Valkan Navy (IGVN) destroyer was a launch traveling at high speeds towards the direction of the former. On the launch were several IGVN personnel clad in dark blue fatigues and armed with assault rifles. Nestled in the middle was a shorter woman with a coat, which mostly masked the uniform she had tirelessly earned by becoming an esteemed diplomat of the empire. Her shining, blonde hair fluttered in the wind, kept only by her bun and her cap, which she held in place using her left hand. Adjusting her spectacles, she laid her blank yet determinant stare on the mass of people gathered at the port, particularly the men in beige-colored uniforms that stood out from the rest. As they got closer to the port, thoughts began racing in the woman¡¯s mind, wondering why things had devolved to this point. Looking back, she remembered how the Imperial Council, with support from the Emperor, unanimously decided to make contact with the Paganda. Hearing the news, she immediately went to her superior, Gesta, and protested the decision, arguing that it was unnecessary. Back when they were first transferred to Asherah, their first contact with the locals was a spy ship belonging to the United Dominions and Realms of Mu. After months of relationship building with Mu, learning the common language, and information gathering about the rest of the world, they learned that there existed a rivalry between Mu and the Holy Mirishial Empire, the other premier great power, with the other players on the geopolitical landscape inevitably tied to the two¡¯s rivalry. One of the players that leaned on the Mirishials¡¯ side, a country called Leifor, was the closest major nation to the Gra Valkans. After establishing relations with them, the Leiforians and the Muish assured them that there was little need to contact Paganda and Irnetia, two island countries in the ocean between them and Gra Valkas since they were Leifor¡¯s protectorates. With Muish officials¡¯ warning that the Pagandans will treat them like barbarians, they¡¯ve made it a policy to stay away and ignore the seemingly useless island nations. The reversal of this policy not long after they signed a nonaggression pact with Mu set off alarm bells inside Cielia¡¯s head, leading her to question the rationale behind such a 180-degree move. Regardless of her protests, Gesta turned her down, forcing her to watch helplessly as they sent ten diplomats to Paganda to establish relations, only for them to be incarcerated unlawfully. With her bosses choosing her to be the negotiator for the release of the diplomats, she could only sigh deeply at how events disappointingly played out. ¡°Frau Oudwin? Are you alright? Are you perhaps seasick?¡± One of the security personnel, noticing the woman¨CCielia Oudwin¨Cwas looking pale, got concerned and asked. Realizing she¡¯s been unconsciously showing her disappointment, Cielia immediately fixed her posture and expression and replied to him. ¡°I¡¯m fine. Just sleepy.¡± In spite of her painstaking efforts to apply makeup, her eye bags were still noticeable, if not outright obvious. Her dedication to her work, coupled with harassment from the rest of the ministry staff since she was the only woman with a team in her department, put a heavy burden over her. However, she needed to forget and put it all aside for now, since her actions and words carried the weight of the fate of two nations and ten diplomats. - - - The launch slowed down as it approached the pier where hundreds had gathered. Standing on the dock that stretched out the farthest were men wearing beige uniforms¨Cofficials of the Pagandan government¨Caccompanied by their guards armed with bolt-action, Leifor-made rifles. The other people on the pier were commoners: fishermen, merchants, city workers, prostitutes, children, and so on. Another noteworthy presence in the harbor was a warship that flew the Leiforian flag, which was moored not far from where they were destined to go. Analyzing it, the IGVN personnel, as well as Cielia, who has some background in the sciences, concluded it to be on the level of a pre-dreadnought, not surprising given what they knew of Leifor. As they finally got within earshot of one another, the Pagandans were the first to speak. ¡°Halt! Come no closer!¡± A man with a comical-looking mustache shouted just as the Pagandan guards readied their rifles, to which the IGVN personnel on the launch reacted promptly by preparing their assault rifles. Moments later, they came to a stop. Cielia, remembering her Asheran common, stood taller, trying to make herself seen from among the IGVN personnel. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°Greetings! I am Cielia Oudwin, and I represent the Gra Valkas Empire. We have come here to negotiate the release of our people!¡± The Pagandans, both the onlookers and the officials, burst into laughter at what Cielia said and ridiculed her for it. Only the guards maintained their stances. The mustached man, recuperating first, offered his impressions. ¡°¡®Negotiate¡¯? HAH! What is there to negotiate, whore?¡± Ignoring the insult that was just hurled at her, Cielia maintained her cool. ¡°Wasn¡¯t our request clear? We have come to negotiate the release of our countrymen, who have been arbitrarily and unlawfully detained by your government.¡± While the rest of the crowd recovered from their laughter, the officials, especially the mustached man, were riled up by Cielia¡¯s statement. ¡°You say ¡®unlawful¡¯ when we, the civilized people here, have every right to detain barbarians that have not an inch of respect for us!¡± Cielia sighed. She knew deep in her heart who it was that likely set off this diplomatic shitshow. Before she could reply, the Pagandan officials stepped aside as some guards brought forward a man in chains. The IGVN personnel and Cielia, recognizing Dallas and his uniform, were both shocked and enraged at his decrepit state. At the orders of the officials, the guards threw him down on the hard, wet pier, producing a loud thump and metallic clinking as he and his chains hit the stone. Despite his seemingly lifeless appearance, Dallas groaned and rolled, signifying that he was still alive and putting some relief into the hearts of the Gra Valkans on the launch. Visibly revolting from the stench that their prisoner gave off, the mustached man turned back to Cielia. ¡°Consider yourself thankful we agreed to your request of ¡®showing signs of life from the diplomats¡¯ and brought this man here.¡± The mustached man then raised his leg and stepped on the back of the wailing Dallas, putting his entire weight on the weakened man. ¡°This is what happens to unruly lowlives that have no respect for their superiors. He, along with the other nine¨Calthough especially him¨Cinsisted that we are on the same level! How dare you drag us to your level! Furthermore, this filth insisted that His Highness was nothing more than an ordinary citizen and that he should abdicate!¡± The mustached man then spat on Dallas¡¯s head. Cielia placed her hand over her face. She knew that Dallas was an outspoken individual when it came to more liberal ideas, even managing to get into fights with leftists and right-wing supporters alike, which usually escalated into scuffs with the police. When she learned that the ministry chose Dallas to lead the diplomatic mission to Paganda, her eyes almost bawled out from their sockets in surprise. Still, despite all of her subordinate¡¯s questionable personality, they were not ample grounds for detaining and then torturing Gra Valkan citizens, thought Cielia. With this resolve, she faced the Pagandan officials once more. ¡°That man may not be the most delicate, but he still upholds a high standard of respect worthy of a diplomat of the empire.¡± The Pagandan officials couldn¡¯t believe their ears. For a few seconds, they looked at one another, confirming with visual cues if the others had heard the same. Once they realized that the woman diplomat did indeed say those words, the mustached man turned back to her with animosity. ¡°So you¡¯re unilaterally absolving him of his crimes?! Are you saying that the decision of the Pagandan government is wrong?!¡± She made no such statement, thought the IGVN personnel. While they were aware that the Pagandan was jumping to conclusions, the crowd of Pagandan commoners and the other officials didn¡¯t and so they started booing and hurling objects and insults at the Gra Valkans. ¡°How dare you insult our king!¡± ¡°Heinous barbarians! Know your place!¡± ¡°His word is final and just! Who are you to say otherwise?!¡± As the statements from the Pagandans became more and more hostile, Cielia¡¯s hopes for a de-escalation plummeted. Mustering whatever resolve she had left, she was about to say something when the mustache man spoke ahead of her. ¡°Apologize at once for your insults and commit to the demands of monthly reparations and exclusive rights for Pagandan citizens on Gra Valkan soil!¡± Here it goes. Cielia breathed out a heavy sigh. They were now forced into an irreversible position. Directly rejecting all of the demands, which was the official stance of the Gra Valkas Empire, would just seal the fate of both nations; acquiescing to the demands was never an option, as it virtually meant submitting to Paganda. Changing the topic wasn¡¯t either, as the Pagandans were dead set on hearing the answer. Upset that it had come to this point but forlornly resigning to it, Cielia looked back up and answered. ¡°We refuse to honor all of your demands. This is and has always been the stance of the empire.¡± The crowd became furious. Not long after, stones and obscene words were hurled in the dozens at the Gra Valkans. While the objects did not reach them as they were far away from the crowd, their words did. ¡°INGRATES!¡± ¡°OFF WITH THEIR HEADS AND PUT THEM ON PIKES!¡± ¡°ONWARD, PAGANDA! ONWARD, PAGANDA!¡± ¡°ONWARD, PAGANDA!¡± ¡°ONWARD, PAGANDA!¡± The national cheer of the kingdom, made even more symbolic by the fact that today was part of their National Day celebrations, caught on to the crowd after one voice shouted it out. Soon, the crowd was chanting it in chorus, giving the listening Pagandan officials goosebumps. The Pagandans had decided that they would not be humiliated on the day that celebrated their pride as a kingdom. The mustached man, turning back to Cielia with eyes burning with nationalistic ardor, spoke. ¡°One day! We will give you one day! If you don¡¯t acquiesce by then... we will leave your fate to the people.¡± Ending his statement to cheers, the mustached man then ordered the Gra Valkans to leave their port. Without any sign of confirmation, the Gra Valkans in their launch sped away back to their destroyer, leaving some worries with the Pagandan citizenry at the speed at which the boat accelerated. Dallas, having been left behind by his comrades, forced his head to turn to look at the speeding launch and the IGVN destroyer off in the distance. Then, he muttered to himself as he produced a faint chuckle. ¡°Heh... Die W¨¹rfel sind gefallen, you Pagandan dumbasses... Just you fucking see. What goes around, comes around...¡± Schmidt¡¯s villa, Hochgarten, Gra Valkas Empire, 9:00 ¡°No, Gerda! I am simply done with your antics!¡± ¡°But Derek! You know that you¡¯re the one for me!¡± ¡°Why then?! Why did I find you sleeping with... with... with Hans!¡± ¡°Oh Derek!...¡± Lines from a cheesy soap opera now echoed all throughout the empty villa, leaving the men of the GD posted at the villa cringing and snickering at their director¡¯s awful taste in consumption media. Unbeknownst to them, Schmidt was only watching the soap opera for two things: nostalgia and Lisbeth Berggman. Due to the development of color television, Schmidt was excited at the prospect of seeing his crush, Lisbeth Berggman, in color in one of her earlier dramas, which his mother used to watch when he was younger. As he followed the intricacies in the actions of Berggman, who played the character of Gerda, he remembered how he was able to tell that she was uncomfortable in the filming for this particular soap opera, which she later said in an interview. Since then, he honed in his skills in detecting the subtleties in people¡¯s actions and looking past their facades, enabling him to grow the necessary skills to become the director of the Geheimdienst. Watching on, Schmidt chuckled at a thought that passed his mind. ¡°Would anyone believe me if I told them that Lisbeth Berggman was why I¡¯m here in the first place...¡± It¡¯s a leap in logic, but it would be a good conversation starter, thought Schmidt. Leaning on his couch, he felt his consciousness starting to fade away from the general boredom of watching the soap opera when the telephone rang, which kicked him back to life. Getting up then walking over to pick up the telephone, he answered it. ¡°Yeah, hello.¡± ¡°Schmidt.¡± Hearing the voice he was anticipating, a big grin appeared on Schmidt¡¯s face. ¡°Ahaha! Why if it isn¡¯t Gesta! So, how did our negotiations go?¡± ¡°The Pagandans forced their demands; we naturally refused. They gave us a day to answer back.¡± Thrilled that things were going smoothly, he silently punched his fist into the empty air. He then returned to Gesta. ¡°Amazing! This should get those war hawks to start screaming for war.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t forget the imperial family. With their help, that war is as good as real.¡± ¡°Great, great. Time for the GD to do its work and ensure that everything proceeds.¡± Suddenly, the soap opera that had been playing in the background was interrupted as the program changed to that of a mandatory broadcast. Anticipating this, Schmidt turned towards the television, where he saw the colored projection of the Emperor of Gra Valkas, Gralux, taking his position on a podium on the grounds of the Imperial Palace. ¡°Aha! Speak of the devil! I should now be readying myself. The Emperor is about to speak.¡± ¡°Best of wishes, director.¡± Ending the call by putting the telephone back, Schmidt then walked out of the room and back to his study. Imperial Palace, Ragna Having heard the news that the Pagandans were unwilling to negotiate the return of the diplomats and that the diplomats were in a horrible state due to torture, Emperor Gralux¨Cenraged beyond persuasion¨Cdecided to give a speech to the people and personally ordered all broadcasters to broadcast his speech on radio and television. Emerging out into a readied podium on a balcony on the main building of his palace, he was then beset by the hundreds of camera flashes as people, and news crews settled their focuses on him. Accompanying him were some members of the royal family, including his son, Gra Cabal, some Imperial Guards, and members of the Imperial Council. Pausing for a moment to savor in the cool yet polluted air of the city and the imposing yet beautiful skyline of the imperial capital, Gralux took a deep breath before opening his speech. ¡°Citizens of Gra Valkas!¡± Stretching out his hands towards the crowd as his voice was propelled even further by the speakers connected to the microphones on his podium, Gralux paused before resuming. ¡°Horrible news has ruined our peaceful, righteous morning routines: the kingdom of Paganda has unlawfully arrested and incarcerated ten diplomats, all of which are Gra Valkan citizens like you, and they subjected to inhumane acts of torture!¡± The crowd erupted into a frenzy. While a sizable amount of Gra Valkans were either neutral or had negative thoughts regarding the Emperor and the imperial family, the thought of their own countrymen being disrespected and tortured brought back harsh and painful memories of the war with Kain. After one and a half years of peace after being mythically brought to a new world away from the fighting, the Gra Valkan citizenry had been trying to forget and bury their martial past. However, this incident, sparked by fears of international humiliation, brought back once sealed feelings of rage and fury among the citizens, who were now calling for tougher action against Paganda. Majority were more moderate about their desires, calling instead for an international cooperation to isolate them. Regardless, it was safe to say that a sizable portion of the population supported decisive action against the pompous and arrogant kingdom. ¡°We as a people will not cower! We will not yield and submit! We are the Gra Valkas Empire, and just like with Kain, the actions of Paganda will not go unpunished!¡± Cheers filled the atmosphere from the crowd on the grounds of the imperial palace, to the storefront of television stores broadcasting the Emperor¡¯s speech, all the way to the countryside where citizens were tuning in via radio. The speech, designed to be vague enough in how it¡¯ll deal with Paganda, had achieved what Schmidt and other hawks was hoping for: a Gra Valkas hungry for war. One of the foreigners among the crowd, the Ambassador of Mu to Gra Valkas, shuddered in fear and elatement at the prospect of getting to see Paganda, one of the protectorates of nearby Leifor, trampled on. While it was genuinely scary to think of the possibility that Leifor may respond to a flashpoint involving Paganda, he wanted to see the Gra Valkans deploy their military, a facet of the new nation that had been largely elusive to the Muish. ¡°Well I¡¯ll be damned. Let¡¯s see how the Valkies will manage this one.¡± The ambassador murmured to himself as he watched the Emperor of Gra Valkas shook his arms, rousing the crowd. Somewhere in the empire, 19:30 ¡°Gentlemen.¡± A tall man with a slight beard giving off a calm yet commanding aura said to the other men in black fatigues as they huddled around a table in a room lit by only a single light bulb hanging above them. On the table was a map of Paganda and a map of Priscilla, both of which were provided by the GD. The man who spoke up, Stabsfeldwebel Roland Nadler, stood on the right side of another man with similar height, Oberstleutnant Dominik Hippel, the commander of the Kommandokompanie (KMK), a company-sized force of Kommandos serving as the special forces unit of the Imperial Gra Valkan Army (IGVA). Roland then proceeded with the briefing after Hippel gave him a slight nod. ¡°Our shithead-in-chief has given the greenlight for an operation to infiltrate Paganda, extract the ten diplomats, and get them home safely.¡± The commandos of the KMK all subtly expressed their discontent. They¡¯ve only just learned earlier in the morning that the negotiations with the Pagandans had broken down. While they were designed to be deployed at a moment¡¯s notice, they were about to conduct an infiltration into a country that they haven¡¯t had diplomatic relations with before. To remedy this, the GD would give them intelligence, but none of the commandos, including Hippel himself, trusted the conniving man that sat at the top. Having bad blood with each other, Hippel and Schmidt had a falling out, prompting Hippel to take his expertise to the Army and establish the KMK. With that in mind, the commandos could only assume that the execution of the operation was shoved to them in the IGVA and not their Unterseeischk?mpfergruppe (UKG) counterparts in the Navy, which would have been in a more prime position to deploy and execute the operation. Roland, sensing the discontent among his comrades, didn¡¯t feel any better when he took out the intelligence the GD gave them. ¡°According to the intelligence gathered by those asswipers, all ten diplomats are being held here.¡± He then pointed to the vicinity of a compound in the capital. To everyone¡¯s further displeasure, the compound belonged to and was manned by the Pagandan military police. At this point, everyone started thinking that the operation was probably doomed from the get-go. ¡°Important to note here is that the Pagandans are celebrating their three-day National Day event, with celebrations taking place in the streets of the capital at nighttime, and festivities going past midnight. According to the GD, we are told to expect fanfare, fireworks, and lots of drunk and AWOL soldiers.¡± They felt assured by the fact that a national day of celebration would be taking place during their operation. It provided multiple avenues for distractions and diversions, and the loud popping and booms from the fireworks are a perfect screen to operate firearms behind. Moreover, it was likely that they¡¯d encounter guards that are either half asleep or are drunk, on top of them not expecting the KMK to strike. As the commandos took this in, one of them didn¡¯t bother raising his hand before asking. ¡°So our target is a military police compound?¡± The man, Hauptmann Garrit Scholz, asked in a tone that seemed to say that he was expecting it. ¡°Mmm.¡± Hippel promptly replied to his question. Satisfied with the answer, Scholz continued his mental machinations regarding the piece of intelligence in secret. With no more questions, Roland continued. He took out an envelope and from it, a piece of paper which he put on the table for all to see. ¡°So, uh. This is the... ¡®picture¡¯ of the military compound. Courtesy of the GD.¡± As soon as they laid their eyes on the ¡®picture¡¯, everyone couldn¡¯t contain their laughter. The ¡®picture¡¯ was in fact a crude sketch of the main building that dominated the military police compound, accompanied by perspectives from above, and from the four cardinal directions. Included in the picture were points of entry, guard posts on the grounds, the arsenal, and speculations on the patrol routes. It was obvious that the GD had taken pictures, as the detail from the sketches could only be explained by them seeing the building for themselves. Furthermore, there were no mentions regarding the confidence of these pieces of ¡®intelligence,¡¯ which were touted by Schmidt to be the ¡°best the GD can give them.¡± Since the operation was meant to take place within the next few hours, there was no time to lodge a complaint or pass the baton to someone else. With the overall mood in the room went down, Roland, noticing this, decided to do something about it. ¡°Now that you mention it, if this was truly the ¡®best¡¯ the GD has to offer, then they really are just dumbasses with nothing better to do, aren¡¯t they?¡± The commandos chuckled, lifting the mood somewhat. Roland then continued. ¡°Alright, men. This is the first action of the Army since that disastrous retreat from the Rabany continent back during the war. That was a moment of disgrace not only for the IGVA, but also for Gra Valkas. We, the KMK, have been given this opportunity, not only to redeem the name of the Army but also to bring back people¡¯s confidence in us. Despite all these odds, we must give our people something to be proud of!¡± With an encouraging speech from Roland, whom the commandos fondly considered their opa, meaning grandfather, they were now more determined than before in getting the job done whilst taking a jab at Schmidt and his Geheimdienst. Despite being a man of few words, Hippel felt Roland¡¯s passion and drive, prompting him to give his right-hand man a reassuring smile as he looked his way. Now that everyone was in a good mood, Roland proceeded with briefing them about the operation itself. ¡°After careful consideration, we have decided that we will be inserting into Paganda with a high altitude, low opening jump from a Zs-6351 at an altitude of...¡± Chapter 12: Amboss Tropfen Cent. Calendar 08/06/1639, high above Paganda, 23:55 Just before midnight, a lone Zs-635 transport plane of the Imperial Gra Valkas Army (IGVA) flew eastward at the height of 30,000ft. The IGVA woodland camouflage could be seen as light from the two moons reflected off the transport plane, but from a distance, the plane nor its features, paint, or even roundel could be seen from afar. High above the clouds, the only thing that gave off the light to the otherwise dark, serene environment besides the lights coming from the cockpit and the moons were the lights emanating from the Pagandan capital. Drowning out the two turboprop engines of the Zs-635 were the incessant booms of fireworks coming from below, showing that despite it being late at night, the festivities of the National Day are still in full swing. After months of signals intelligence (SIGINT), the Gra Valkans learned that the Pagandans did not operate any sort of radar. After the intelligence-sharing agreements between the governments of Gra Valkas and Mu, they learned from the Muish that the Pagandans resorted to mostly visual sightings from their hundreds of coastal batteries and observation posts. As for their wyvern force, they were only sent out when enemies or potential enemies were spotted beforehand and were hardly sent out on patrols. To the pro-martial conspirators¡¯ delight, the Pagandan military participated in the National Day festivities, drawing a huge percentage of their force to the celebration. With the one-day deadline that the Pagandans gave, the Gra Valkan military command decided that sending in a unit via air was the quickest and most efficient method. Inside the belly of the aircraft, 35 Kommandos of the IGVA¡¯s elite Kommandokompanie (KMK) unit sat along the two rows of seats that lined the sides of the aircraft interior. The majority of them wore their iconic black assault suits underneath their custom-made body armor while balaclavas and ballistic helmets donned their heads. All of them came equipped with headsets and built-in microphones. For this operation, they were split into six Arbeitsgruppe (teams): Anton, Berta, Caesar, Dora, Emil, and Fritz. Anton would maintain oversight of the Pagandan MP compound and handle the diversions, while Berta, Caesar, Dora, and Emil would be the ones that would break into the compound and rescue the diplomats. Fritz would stay behind as a reserve. As the clock inched closer to the drop point, Stabsfeldwebel Roland Nadler took the opportunity to address the men. ¡°Gentlemen.¡± After a slight pause, Roland continued. ¡°Today... Nein... Tomorrow-In 5 minutes, we will be making history as the first unit in all of Gra Valkas to go into real combat in this world, Asherah...¡± Roland then felt a hand land on his left shoulder. Looking in that direction, he saw the eyes of KMK commanding officer Oberstleutnant Dominik Hippel, who was already wearing his goggles, looking at him with an expression that said, ¡°keep it short.¡± Acknowledging his commanding officer, Roland proceeded to end his short-lived speech as he put on his goggles. ¡°Remember your training, men! We have to come back from this mission to face that arschloch Schmidt in the GD and shove his precious ¡®intel¡¯ up his arsch!¡± Ending it on a high note, Roland then proceeded to put on his oxygen mask and check his altimeter, two chutes, and the rest of his equipment one last time. As the hands on the clock struck midnight, the Central Calendar flipped over to the 9th day of Month 6 while the Zs-635 neared the drop point. Consequently, the cargo bay door at the end of the aircraft opened. The first to stand was Hippel, followed by Roland and the rest of the 33 Kommandos. They all faced towards the open bay door and ultimately the pitch-black void that awaited them at the end. It was about time. With their goggles and oxygen masks, the most prominent sound that they could hear was that of their own breathing. The Kommandos each took deep breaths, trying to make sure that they were calm and resolute for the coming task at hand. After all, the fate of ten Gra Valkan diplomats was in their hands. Their countless hours of rigorous training all led to this very moment. And so, the countdown finally began. Each passing second was represented by a beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. At the last beep, the Kommandos all sprinted forward, jumping out into the pitch-black void and out of the comforts of their aircraft. As the last Kommando jumped from the Zs-635, the high altitude, low opening jump phase of Unternehmen Amboss Tropfen had begun. Greeting them almost immediately was the intense blast of air pushing against their entire person as they all descended towards the Kingdom of Paganda at terminal velocity. Fixating their gazes at the colorful display of red, orange, yellow, and green fireworks emanating from the light-filled city streets, which were distinct enough that they could recognize the ones they¡¯ve seen from the maps. The Kommandos had a moment of chronal pause as they momentarily took in the sight, with some inwardly uttering the words ¡°wundersch?n¡± in awe. As the altimeter approached the designated reading, the Kommandos all reached out to open their parachutes. One after another, the 35 Kommandos deployed their chutes, drastically reducing their descent speed. Due to the altitude at which they deployed their chutes, they were able to slip past the observation posts that still maintained their eyes towards the skies, unaware of the threat that had just deployed to their rear. While there was some degree of variation, all the Kommandos were able to steer their parachutes towards their designated landing site: a clearing in the forest some distance away from the MP compound. South of the MP compound, 0:10 It was the middle of the night at the decline of spring, which could be felt in the increasingly dry wind that blew in. In the forests south of the Pagandan capital, darkness reigned almost supreme, only partially set aside by the light coming from the two moons and the countless glow of assorted colors coming from the fireworks being set off in the skies above the capital. Disturbing the otherwise scenic and tranquil night were the echoes of loud bangs from the fireworks, music from the festivities, and cheers of people celebrating in the capital¡¯s streets. Suddenly, filling in the empty skies above the forest were 35 dark flowers: the parachutes of the inserting KMK. Exercising what they learned in training with graceful near perfection, the Kommandos all landed on Pagandan soil without hiccups. Taking off their chutes and other equipment they used in the jump, the Kommandos gathered their equipment on the ground before moving to the bearings designated as their regroup point. Once everyone was there, they did a headcount before organizing themselves to their respective Arbeitsgruppe. After that was done, Anton went on towards a cliff south of the MP compound that overlooked it while the four assault teams moved towards their staging points. Most of the Kommandos, especially those within the four assault teams, were armed with externally suppressed Strauss MP5 submachine guns and Ziegler P39 pistols, Ziegler L?weschu? pump-action shotgun, and stun grenades for breaching and close-quarters combat. The five Aufkl?rer and Scharfsch¨¹tzen of Anton wore camouflaged uniforms, alongside matching tan balaclavas, gloves, and body armor, and they were armed with SSG1 designated marksman rifles (DMRs) and PZG1 sniper rifles. As the spotters and snipers of Anton reached their positions 20 minutes after landing, they were astonished by what greeted them. Pulling out the map and sketch of the compound they made from copying the ¡°sketch¡± handed to them by the Geheimdienst (GD), Unterfeldwebel Bertram Werner double-checked the intelligence, looking up to look at the MP compound and back down at the sketch to see the differences. Much to his frustration, which the other spotters and snipers also felt, the intelligence handed to them by the GD was as garbage as they initially thought. ¡°Verdammt!¡± Werner cursed, muffled by his balaclava. He then turned on his radio and reported to Hippel. ¡°Hochtafel (Hippel¡¯s callsign), there¡¯s a major setback.¡± ¡°I know.¡± From the staging point of the assault teams, they also had a clear view of the MP compound, which was extremely different from what the GD gave them. The main building at the center of the compound was in fact, a three-story building, not a two-story building as drawn in the ¡°sketch¡± provided by the GD. The southwestern main entrance was nonexistent, instead replaced by the stables initially depicted as separate from the main building. Moreover, there was now an entirely new wing to the northeast that extended from the main building. Judging from the wing¡¯s equally spaced barred windows, it was likely the detainment wing of the building. This, along with other differences, such as different entry points, new windows that were not detailed, the presence of two extra guard towers, and more gave everyone a headache. Thoughts of the GD wanting them to fail started coming in, but the Kommandos all swept it aside, as they neither had time nor energy to spare grooming and to entertain such thoughts. Breaking the silence, Hippel checked in. ¡°How long do you need?¡± They were only given a window of three hours to complete the mission before extraction. Without much time to fully draw an entirely new map of the building and the compound, the Kommandos¡¯ hands were tied. Despite the unrealistic expectations placed on them, they were taught and trained to still push through against the odds. Taking a deep breath, Werner replied back flatly. ¡°An hour and 20.¡± ¡°Ausf¨¹hrung.¡± With only an hour and 20 minutes to do additional reconnaissance on the building, the members of Anton moved swiftly and silently to proceed with their mapping of the building and the compound while the other members went their separate ways to plant diversionary explosives. Somewhere inside the MP compound¡¯s main building, 1:20 Drip. Drip. Drip. The sound of water drops falling from somewhere and hitting a puddle that formed on the concrete floor was the only sound that permeated within the cold, dark cell. Listening closely, one could hear the faint sound of air rhythmically entering and exiting a man¡¯s nostrils. The man, Dallas, laid weak yet alive on the floor of his cell with his hands, feet, and waist bound by chains to multiple points on the floor and the walls. Lately, he was too weak to utter even the slightest of groans, having been mercilessly starved by the Pagandan military police and tortured by means of dipping him into a well, beating him up, tying him to a horse to be dragged around the compound, and a multitude of other unpleasantries. He lacks the necessary calories to stand up properly, and he has difficulties in even lifting a single finger. Still, despite the barbaric means that the Pagandans employed on him, he stood true to his beliefs that as a proud Gra Valkan, he would never yield nor surrender his nation. Lamenting that his rich parents did not allow him to fight in the armed forces during the Great Eternity War with Kain, he was instead put into a liberal arts course at a university in Ragna, further aggravating his hate for his parents and by extension, the rich and powerful. Believing that he was destined to fight and give his life for the empire, Dallas harbored resentment from his parents for stealing that away from him. Now, in Asherah, as an esteemed diplomat of the empire, he faced extreme torment from new world adversaries, and despite his initial glee, the Pagandans, in one way, did get to him. Despite his incessant threats to the Pagandans and his own personal beliefs that the empire would come in guns blazing and liberate him from the filth of the new worlders, it did not materialize, fueling the Pagandan mockery and spits he received. A mentality that he had been abandoned, forgotten, perhaps even on purpose due to some backdoor deals made by his parents to make sure that their wretched son never comes home again, had set in, despite it only being a day and a half since his incarceration. He wanted to shed some tears, but his dehydration and growing apathy overpowered him. Disturbing the other sounds was the clacking of hard soles hitting the concrete that was getting louder and louder. Someone was coming. Moments later, the sound of metal being forced into a metal could be heard as the key to the cell door was inserted, unlocking the cell door, which opened with a rusty, ear-piercing creak. Following those sounds were the resumption of the hard footsteps and then a voice, one that Dallas had grown accustomed to and added to the list of voices he despised. ¡°Comfortable?¡± Using whatever energy he could muster to process the Asheran common, Dallas then processed a reply, which sapped much of the energy left in his lungs, vocal cords, and mouth. ¡°Not really. I thought I had smelled the worst you Pagandans have to offer, but oof! You, sir, take the cake!¡± It was a lie. Dallas could no longer properly process his sense of smell. Still, he took the opportunity to jab at the Pagandan military police commander that had walked in the mustached man. Not hearing a reply, only hasty footsteps, Dallas could feel the man getting closer. Suddenly, he felt a hard object pressing on his back with the weight of what seemed to be an entire man. Stepping on Dallas, the mustache man then talked. ¡°Why won¡¯t you submit? Why do you have to make things so difficult, huh?¡± Silence. Shifting his body to put more weight on Dallas, the mustache man pressed on. ¡°Aren¡¯t you afraid of the fate that awaits you when your pitiful nation decides to say no to our demands this morning?¡± To this, Dallas mustered the leftover hope he has to repeat what he has been saying, despite thoughts and emotions that say otherwise. ¡°No. I am looking forward to my end as a martyr of Gra Valkas. As for you, aren¡¯t you afraid of your fate?¡± The mustached man chuckled, once again calling his bluff. ¡°What should I be afraid of?¡± ¡°The empire will not take our incarceration lightly. There are reasons why we ignored you in the first place.¡± Tired of the weak man¡¯s rambling, the mustached man stepped off of him and proceeded back to the door. Looking back at Dallas, he made one last statement. ¡°You will not die a martyr¡¯s death, fool, for death does not discriminate.¡± Dallas rolled around to look at the mustached man. Despite the darkness of the cell, the mustached man could feel Dallas¡¯s stare on him. ¡°That¡¯s comforting. The part where I will not die a martyr¡¯s death, that is. Because, well... I won¡¯t die here.¡± Disgusted and insulted by the man¡¯s borderline crazy optimism, the mustached man slammed the cell door shut and locked it again. Contrary to what he showed Dallas inside the cell, he was actually shaken by the diplomats¡¯ nonstop threats. Looking down on his shoes and trying to make sense of it, he learned that it wasn¡¯t that far logically. They had indeed just given them a day to respond, which is not enough to mount anything significant. However, if a nation is truly desperate, then they would attempt something within such a limited time frame. To be fair, the Pagandans knew next to nothing about the Gra Valkans nor their empire to the west. The most they heard of were territorial violations complaints from their suzerains, the Leiforians, lodged against the Gra Valkans, who, according to themselves, just appeared out of nowhere to the west. Thinking more about it, he came to the question which all of them should have asked back then: how the hell did the Gra Valkans violate Leiforian territory without going through them? Paganda is situated in close proximity to Leifor, particularly their capital, Leiforia, and any such territorial violation by ship would have been seen by them first. Unfortunately for them, they have no such information-sharing agreements with the Leiforians, only a guarantee of safety from being their protectorate. Clutching his head from headaches after only now realizing the ramifications of what they did, he immediately started considering that the Gra Valkans may attempt to do something within the next few hours before the deadline. Unfortunately for him, much of the military and the military police were diverted to host the National Day parade in the capital, and that historically, the festivities have always drawn more soldiers than needed. Due to this, the manpower available to him was smaller in comparison to usual. Aggravating the situation, his men were not in the best of shape, as the lack of significant action in recent history meant that they were mostly inexperienced and coupled with the fact that most of his men right now would rather be at the festivities. This meant that they were extremely vulnerable to an attack, provided that the attackers got past their countless shore batteries and observation posts. Even then, it wasn¡¯t strange for soldiers posted at the batteries and observation posts to desert and join the festivities. As if it wasn¡¯t enough, the mustached man remembered some of his commanders explicitly entrusting the duty of security to him and his men, adding that they themselves will be busy in the festivities and are not to be bothered. About to shed tears from realizing just how unprepared they were, he slapped himself before turning to his vice commander, who was standing next to him at the cell door. ¡°How many men are accounted for?¡± The vice commander scratched his head and looked away. He also knew that a significant number of men in the compound had been drawn away for official duties in the festivities, but men assigned to stay behind were also missing. Without any number to give his commanding officer, he then gave the last headcount he did some hours ago. ¡°Uhh... We have at most 50 men, sir.¡± ¡°50?! At most?!¡± The compound served as a prison and a barracks for the Pagandan military police. On any ordinary day, there would usually be 120 men stationed here. For the festivities, the government redirected 40 personnel from the compound, leaving only 80. If the headcount from a few hours ago still holds true, then that means there are at least 30 men that snuck out to go somewhere else, likely the festival. Moreover, not all of those 50 men are up, as some are likely resting as part of their shifts or are resting during their shifts. The mustached man could not come up with anything other than ordering his men to take arms and be fully alert. He could not ask for reinforcements nor inform his superiors as they previously made it clear that they were not allowed to be disturbed. ¡°Fuck...¡± South of the compound, 01:45 After undertaking additional reconnaissance of the compound and building, the commanders of four assault teams and Anton convened to make the necessary revisions to the assault plan. The revisions were mostly made to their entry points and points of interest where the diplomats may be held. According to the reconnaissance, there are about five watchtowers around the compound, each possessing a single lookout. They accounted for 24 men around the compound, who were either loitering around aimlessly, fulfilling their patrol duties, chattering with someone else, or passed out from drinking. As this was within their scope, they had set up diversionary explosives and gunshot simulators with delayed timers in a shooting range to the northwest, not too far from the compound itself. To know whether the diversion worked or not, they set up anti-personnel mines on the road leading to the shooting range, which would serve as secondary explosions as verifications, as well as to disorient and trap the military police. Once they have been drawn away, the four assault teams would then converge on the compound while snipers from Anton would neutralize the lookouts. After they¡¯ve secured the vicinity, the teams would then move in to prepare to make their entry into the main building: Berta would enter through the southern entrance just next to the stables, Caesar and Dora would enter through the double door entrance to the north, which was the main entrance, and then finally Emil would enter to the northeast wing through an entrance at the very end. Only the main wing itself had multiple stories. While Berta and Emil cleared and searched the southwest and northeast wings, respectively, Caesar and Dora would search the main wing. If a basement exists, Caesar would be the one to clear and search it as Dora moves up the floors. Once all the diplomats are secured, they are to immediately leave the compound before they are surrounded and flooded by the returning Pagandan military police. After that, they are to proceed to the extraction point and set up a defensive perimeter while Anton performs a delaying action as they retreat last. Everyone knew that they lacked sufficient intel and preparation time prior to the operation. In any case, it was unlikely that it would become clinical. However, they were only expected to bring the ten diplomats safely home before they were executed. If anything, the circumstances in which they were forced to operate almost guaranteed that the operation was grubby with lots of potential for things to go wrong, as if that was the intention all along. Setting aside these thoughts and focusing on their mission, the Kommandos then returned to their respective positions. Once they were all back, Hippel gave Anton the signal to commence their diversion. ¡°Jetzt.¡± Hearing the cue, Werber, who possessed the detonator, activated it. Within the next few moments, two flashes of light emanated from the northwest through the gaps in the trees and shrubbery. Almost a full second later, the resounding booms from both explosions rocked the vicinity, disturbing the thumping of their hearts due to the shockwaves. Boom. Boom. The sound of the explosions followed by simulated gunshots captured the attention of the Pagandan MPs in the compound, rousing everyone, including those that were drunk or asleep, back to their feet. They then heard shouts from the MPs who signaled that they were going to investigate the explosions. Taking their rifles and guard wolves with them, all the 24 MPs loitering around the compound siphoned out of the north gate and onto the road that led to the shooting range. The diversion was working. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. ¡°Kehlsteinhaus.¡± With that cue, the four assault teams then emerged from their staging points in the forest to the south and started converging on the compound. Taking also from the cue, the snipers of Anton then took their targets and pointed their SSG1 and PZG1 rifles accordingly. Due to the gunshot simulators happening in the background, they need not worry about being discovered via their rifles¡¯ gunshots. With all snipers ready, Werber gave the command to down all the lookouts. ¡°Execute!¡± In near-perfect synchronization, the DMRs and sniper rifles burst into life. Compensating for wind, distance, and other factors, the highly trained marksmen made sure that their shots all found their targets. Fortunately for them, the lookouts were all busy looking towards the direction of the blasts trying to see through the foliage what it was. In complete anticlimactic fashion, the lookouts all received a piece of lead each, dying instantly from the destructive force applied by the bullets on their heads and necks. Accompanying the bangs from the snipers were the thuds of the lifeless corpses of the lookouts falling down on the floor of their watchtowers. With the lookouts neutralized, the four assault teams could finally enter the compound uncontested. As the teams split to take their designated entry points, they all heard additional explosions coming from the northwest. The explosions were drier and softer in volume, indicating that they were coming from smaller explosives. ¡°Looks like they¡¯re triggering the mines. Right on time.¡± Werber muttered to himself as he watched Berta, Roland¡¯s team, position themselves on the southwestern entrance next to the stables. The six men of Berta took their positions on the left side of the door of the southwestern entrance. The door had its hinge on the side opposite to the side where the Kommandos had taken position, and as expected, it was locked. Turning on their flashlights and making sure to stay silent so as to not alert potential enemies inside, Roland, the second Kommando in the breaching order, notified the others through the comms that they were in position. ¡°Hochtafel, this is Berta, in position.¡± After some time, the comms roared to life as the other teams reached their entry points and readied themselves. ¡°Emil is also good to go.¡± ¡°Dora¡¯s ready.¡± ¡°This is Hochtafel. Angriff, Angriff!¡± Hearing the command, Roland then signed his breacher, Unterfeldwebel Eugene G¨¹nther, to ¡®unlock¡¯ the door. Roland then grabs one of the stun grenades on the back of the first Kommando in the order, Unteroffizier Bardulf Walter, then swings it around to Walter¡¯s face, notifying him of its use. The Kommandos held their suppressed Strauss MP5 submachine guns at the low ready, already pointed towards the side they would take once they entered the building. Eugene then went up to the door and pointed his Ziegler L?weschu? pump-action shotgun towards where the latch bolt of the doorknob would be. Pulling the trigger, the flat sound of the shotgun firing accompanied the flat sound of the wood from the door being blasted apart and the latch bolt breaking. Pumping his shotgun and ejecting the spent casing, he then proceeded to kick open the now unlocked door, which swung wide open with a bang after the door hit the opposing wall on the hallway. Consequently, as Eugene swiftly backed off to the opposite side, Roland threw the stun grenade into the now revealed hallway, the pin of which he had already pulled moments before. Moments after throwing the stun grenade, the expected flash and bang emanated from the hallway, illuminating the surroundings for a split second before returning to pitch-black. As trained, the Kommandos then entered the hallway, with Walter taking point to clear the fatal funnel that was the door. He then took the right side of the hallway with his gun and flashlight attachment pointed down the hallway, finding no hostile targets. He was immediately followed by Roland, who took the left side of the hallway. The other Kommandos behind them followed suit, with the last three going through the middle as the hallway was clear of hostile targets. With the southwest wing being the barracks part, the hallway was filled with doors on each side that led to the quarters of the military police. Berta then proceeded with clearing the rooms of hostile targets and searching for the diplomats in the southwest wing. Meanwhile, from the perspective of teams Caesar and Dora, which were both entering from the main entrance, the entry encountered some resistance. Disorienting the military police in the lobby that were about to exit with stun grenades, the Kommandos of Caesar and Dora immediately cleared the fatal funnel and gunned down the four MPs that were still clutching their rifles and eyes, having not even the chance to witness who their attackers were. Once the sides and corners of the lobby were secured, they saw a staircase at the end, leading to either the second floor or the basement. Without any cues, Caesar and Dora immediately formed lines and headed straight for the flight of stairs that led them to their designated destinations. Despite hearing gunshots and stun grenade explosions from both of the wings¡¯ hallways connected to the lobby, the Kommandos of Caesar and Dora still practiced care, emerging from corners with speed and caution as they proceeded to the staircase. Taking the left side that was going down, the first operator of Caesar, Obergefreiter Klemens Hartmann, had his gun pointed down towards the approaching flight of stairs, ready to pull the trigger if a hostile were to appear. Rounding the corner, he emerged with his gun and flashlight pointed down on the dark, damp hallway of the basement. There, he saw two men in Pagandan military police uniforms armed with rifles, being stunned and dazzled by the sudden ray of light being shone at them and prompting them to react by covering their eyes instead of readying their rifles. Without hesitation, Hartmann disposed of them, firing four shots from his suppressed submachine gun, two for each man. The shots landed on their chest area, which was only reinforced by the cloth from the uniforms they wore, shredding into their vital innards and killing them. Proceeding down the remaining flight of stairs, followed by Hippel, and then the other Kommandos of Caesar, they arrived at a short hallway with an open doorway towards the end. Light was emanating from the doorway with moving shadows on the floor, indicating the presence of people inside the room. Proceeding towards the door, the Kommandos were then greeted by two more men hastily exiting from the opened door, likely hearing the loud shots from Hartmann¡¯s gun, despite the external suppressor. The moment the two men exited the doorway, they faced the Kommandos with their rifles still slung on their backs. However, by the time they realized it and reached for their rifles, it was too late. Identifying them immediately as hostile targets, team Caesar, which had split into two lines stacked on both sides of the hallway, had their guns trained on the two men. With each of their lines of fire uninterrupted, the Kommandos at the front pulled their triggers, showering the two Pagandan military police with bullets to their chest area. With the two hostile targets neutralized, the Kommandos then formed up on the left side of the hallway in breaching order just short of the doorway from where the light was coming from. Hearing slight ruckus inside, and they deduced that there was still someone inside the room. Hippel, the second in order, took a stun grenade from Hartmann¡¯s back then showed it to him before pulling the pin and throwing it in the room. After the resounding flash and bang, the Kommandos then entered the room, led by Hartmann. To their surprise, the room was populated only by a single Pagandan MP cowering on the floor face down with his hands on his head. After securing the corners and the cowering MP, they saw what the room was: the building¡¯s armory. Lined up in racks across both sides of the room were guns, presumably of Leiforian origin according to previous intelligence, lined up neatly in racks. Some of the guns were missing, while the others remained untouched. ¡°Hochtafel! What do we do with this depp?¡± Hartmann asked Hippel what to do with the Pagandan MP, whose hands they tied around. While he didn¡¯t fight back, he was by no means their enemy nor their friend. Since they had no time to waste, Hippel decided to set aside the MP. ¡°Knock him out.¡± With that, Hartmann turned his Strauss MP5 around and hit the confused Pagandan MP with its butt, knocking him out. He then dragged the unconscious MP to one corner of the room and had him lean against the wall. Just as they were about to exit the room, Hippel decided to leave a parting gift. ¡°Oi, koffer. Set up a tripwire mine on the doorway.¡± That same time, Dallas¡¯s cell Hearing the explosions and then consequently gunshots, the paranoid Pagandan military police commander received a wake-up call that it was too late to implement the plans he had drawn up in his head. Left with one last choice, he went to Dallas¡¯s cell, locked it, and decided to use Dallas as a hostage. As he walked to unlock the many chains holding Dallas down on the floor, he shouted at him. ¡°Get up, dammit!¡± Dallas, meanwhile, hearing the explosions and gunshots as well, chuckled. ¡°See? Now that you¡¯re no longer in a position of power, you resort to underhanded methods. Civilized my ass.¡± Ignoring his taunting, the mustache man continued to find and unlock the lock on the second chain binding Dallas. While doing so, he inwardly hurled curses at Dallas, at his own men, at his superiors, at his own circumstances, at the military¡¯s inability to prevent such an attack, and at his own luck since he was not able to experience one more festival before going down. As he unlocked the third chain, he heard a loud bang emanating from the cell door, prompting him to look back at it reactively. Following the bang was the loud sound of the padlock hitting the concrete floor. Knowing that they were finally here, the mustached man immediately reached for his pistol. By the time he pulled it out and pointed it towards the door, the door burst open, followed by a blinding light that disoriented him. Before he could react and pull the trigger on his pistol, he felt two consecutive intense pangs on his chest synchronizing to two dry bangs bouncing all across the cell room. Feeling intense pain, he was knocked down to the floor by the force of the bullets hitting his chest. In an instant, the Pagandan military commander was neutralized, leaving him to die on the floor of Dallas¡¯s cell. As the Kommandos secured the corners of the room, they recognized Dallas from pictures during the briefing. Hippel took point and talked to Dallas while the rest of team Caesar unlocked the chains using the keys from the dead commander. ¡°Herr Dallas?¡± ¡°Y-Y-Y-Yes...¡± Dallas stammered as tears flowed down his eyes and nose. Despite feeling apathetic about his circumstances, the fact that the empire had still come for him was a relief more fulfilling than anything he had ever felt before. Shedding tears of joy, he could not stop himself from bawling. The Kommandos felt some pity for him but set aside their feelings for the moment since their mission isn¡¯t done yet. Hippel, ever the straightforward man, asked Dallas a very important question. ¡°Can you walk?¡± ¡°Barely...¡± Although satisfied with Dallas¡¯s honesty, Hippel scratched his head as he sighed since Dallas was going to be more of a liability than they anticipated. Deciding to undertake the task of carrying Dallas himself, he ordered Unterfeldwebel Helfried Lehmann to substitute his position. ¡°I¡¯ll carry him. Lehmann, take my position. Let¡¯s go.¡± 02:05 All four teams reported whenever they secured a diplomat. As of 02:05, Dora had secured the last diplomat in an interrogation room on the third floor of the building. At that point, all ten diplomats were found with injuries and in varying circumstances. Two were found in interrogation rooms, six were found in the prison wing, one (Dallas) was found in the basement prison, and one was found in the barracks being sexually harassed by a Pagandan MP. Despite their conditions, which ranged from mild bruises to bodily trauma, they were all alive. With the southwestern entry point as their point of exit, the four Kommando teams swiftly proceeded out of the building. However, by the time they were heading out of the compound, they were spotted by the returning Pagandan MPs, which they expected as Anton had warned them earlier that the MPs were coming back. With team Berta taking the initiative to put up a delaying action, the rest of the Kommandos exited the compound and back into the forest with the diplomats in tow. With the last Kommando out of the compound, the Kommandos from Berta withdrew from their positions, and themselves exited the compound. Seeing that their assailants were escaping, the Pagandan MPs gave chase but were stopped by AP mines set by the Kommandos before they broke into the main building. Seeing their comrades maimed by the explosions, the other MPs stood and hesitated, allowing them to be easily picked out by the snipers from Anton. Sensing that they were still being fired upon, the Pagandan MPs took cover behind the stables and what hard cover they could find. As some decided to go back into the building to recover their firearms, others decided to go around the building and attack from the northeast wing. However, they then learned that the armory and the path leading around the northeast wing were both booby-trapped, setting off the mines that the Kommandos had set up. Fortunately for them, however, since the explosions in the shooting range, other MPs from the festival and regulars in the army mobilized to investigate, only arriving now on horseback. ¡°Schei?e! The cavalry¡¯s here!¡± As dozens and dozens of men on horseback started arriving at the gate to the northeast, Anton was starting to feel the pressure from the now volley of fire descending on their position after prolonged fire gave away their position. While their marksmen still scored hits on the Pagandan MPs, downing several, the firefight was now escalating to a point beyond what they themselves could contain. Werner then decided that it was time to join their comrades in the retreat. ¡°R¨¹ckzug! Set up some mines on our trail!¡± Discreetly getting up from their positions, team Anton descended from their overwatch position back into the forest to the south, laying down mines as they ran to join their fellow Kommandos at the extraction point. Several minutes later, the assault teams and the diplomats were fast pacing through openings in the woods southwards towards their extraction point. While the sound of gunfire and explosions were some distance behind them, they still maintained a sense of urgency and alertness since they were still on enemy territory. It was now 02:15, and the extraction point was still some distance away. Some of them had to slow down since the diplomats¡¯ conditions could not afford to run the distance. To this end, the Kommandos resorted to carrying the diplomats that were in the worst condition on their backs to expedite their escape. Continuing through the trail, they managed to reach the opening where they had landed earlier. Scaling the slight hill through the opening, they were treated to the light of the moons shining down on them. Ignoring the waning sound of celebration and the increasing intensity of gunfire and explosions, it was an otherwise calming environment. Had the circumstances been different, they could have set up a picnic or camp in such a location, which despite the slight elevation, was still mostly surrounded by trees that blocked their view towards the ocean and the capital. Then, disturbing their so far uneventful trek, gunfire erupted from the forest to their right: the treeline to the west down the hill. These were Pagandan soldiers posted on guarding the observation posts who decided to descend their hill to the compound to investigate the gunfire. While they didn¡¯t anticipate gunfire coming from that direction, the Kommandos still reacted professionally, either hitting the dirt or taking cover on lone stumps that dotted the hill and returning fire. The Kommandos that accompanied or carried the diplomats all dashed down the hill and into the forest. Taking into account their limited munitions, the Kommandos sparingly fired their submachine guns, having taken off the external suppressor, into the spots where they saw flashes of lights. Despite being outnumbered, the skill and rate of fire from the Kommandos, coupled with being at a higher elevation, offered them the advantage against the Pagandans, who had to raise their rifles to fire single shots at the Kommandos. With the diplomats safely out of the area, the Kommandos that covered them started withdrawing from their positions on the hill to join the escape. The last of these Kommandos was Hartmann, firing off two more shots before turning around to run. It was at this point that tragedy struck: a bullet fired by the Pagandans hit Hartmann¡¯s exposed flank, prompting him to fall on the ground as he was running. No amount of rigorous training prepared him for the excruciating pain that came from an actual bullet hitting his left side just under the shoulder. Screaming in pain, the Kommando in front of him noticed this and hurried to pull Hartmann out from the volley of fire. ¡°Of all the damned Kommandos to get hit, it had to be the koffer!¡± Since their Sanit?ter had already run ahead and the Pagandans were rapidly closing in on the area, he judged that it was better to carry Hartmann to the extraction point where they planned to set up a defensive perimeter to hold out before their extraction came. ¡°Hang in there; I will carry you! Okay, three, two, one-¡± Pulling Hartmann up from the ground, he grunted as the wounded Kommando tried his best not to scream from the pain. Now that Hartmann was on his back, he then ran down the hill to join their fellow Kommandos at the extraction point. 02:30 By 02:30, the first Kommandos had reached the extraction point, a slight hill that had ancient earthworks surrounding the circumference of its base-perfect for a defensive perimeter. The hill was situated just next to a cliff that towered over the waves crashing against it. On the summit of the slight hill was a single monolith dotted with mysterious carvings and symbols visible under the moons¡¯ light. There, at the base of the monolith under its relative safety, they tended to the manageable wounds of the ten diplomats. As the other Kommandos set up explosives on the ancient earthworks which might be used for cover by the Pagandans, the wounded Hartmann was taken up all the way to the base of the monolith at the top of the hill to be treated by their Sanit?ter, Helfried Lehmann. With Hartmann lying on the grass, Lehmann went to work to ascertain the damage and apply the necessary treatment. Returning to the monolith after designating the particulars of the defensive perimeter, Hippel asked Lehmann about Hartmann¡¯s condition. ¡°Will he be fine?¡± Despite feeling anxious over Hartmann¡¯s condition, Hippel didn¡¯t show it in his tone nor expression. ¡°I¡¯ve done what I could. The damage is too extensive for me to do much. He needs to be taken to a hospital immediately.¡± Hippel sighed. He knew that immediately was out of the question, as the scheduled extraction won¡¯t arrive until 02:50 at the earliest. Still, getting beset by emotions during a mission was dangerous, so Hippel set it aside and looked away from Hartmann, who was already starting to look lifeless. Lowering his helmet in a bid to try and hide the dismay in his eyes from the others, Hippel walked away to return to prepare for the inevitable horde of Pagandans that would descend on them. At the same time, Himmel?turz, leFZT., the oceans 75km southwest of Paganda On the deck of the Himmel?turz, leFZT., a light carrier of the IGVN, four Navy Krauss helicopters are starting to take off. The coaxial rotors of the helicopters created powerful downwashes on the deck, blowing winds onto the faces of the aircraft directors guiding the aircraft. As the dark blue-colored helicopters rose into the air, they swiveled to face northeast, towards the Kingdom of Paganda. With a carrying capacity of 12 and a cruising speed of 220 km/h, they will be the ones to extract the Kommandos and the diplomats from Paganda. As the helicopters cleared from the carrier, the pilots in the lead helicopter contacted the KMK through a previously designated radio channel. ¡°Amboss, this is Eisvogel of the 206th Navy Helicopter Squadron. Do you read?¡± Several moments later, they received a reply from the Kommandos, which came with sounds of gunfire in the background. ¡°This is Amboss; we read you loud and clear. We¡¯re currently at the extraction point and under heavy fire from hostiles. LZ is hot. I repeat, LZ is hot. Fire support would be very much appreciated.¡± ¡°Copy. ETA 25 minutes. Designate the hostiles and the LZ, over.¡± ¡°Roger, out.¡± Ancient monolith site, 02:55 It has been nearly 25 minutes since Anton had appeared in the treeline to the north of the ancient site. Running tirelessly up to join their fellow Kommandos on the ridgelines of the hill, they were then subject to the booms coming from the explosions of AP mines set by Anton as they escaped. After readying their guns, they opened fire at the first sight of Pagandan soldiers emerging from the treeline. While they were able to down dozens of them, there were a lot of them that poured out from the north, and then later the northeast. Whenever the Pagandans tried to take cover in the ancient earthworks on the foot of the hill, the Kommandos would detonate their explosives, decimating several soldiers in spectacular fashion and throwing up earth and blood into the air. Despite the initial surprise, explosives, and professionalism that the Kommandos possessed, it didn¡¯t take long for the advantage to swing towards the sheer number of the Pagandans. They were also quick to learn, taking cover in the craters left behind by the explosions after correctly deducing that there were no longer any explosives left in those positions. After 25 minutes of seemingly ceaseless exchange of fire under the moonlight, another sound soon dominated the battlefield besides the popping of guns. It was insignificant at first, but it rapidly grew to a volume that was hard to ignore. The rapid beating of air resounded across the hill and the forest, carrying with it an ominous feeling similar to the sound of a horde of locusts closing in to exact famine on a population. As if it wasn¡¯t yet obvious, Dallas mustered the strength to stand up and raise his hands into the sky, calling out to the approaching helicopters. ¡°HAHAHA! They¡¯re here! The Imperial Navy has come!¡± Seeing Dallas stand up and turn himself into a target, Lehmann proceeded to tackle the crazy diplomat. ¡°Get the fuck down! You¡¯re gonna get shot!¡± Knowing that their extraction was approaching, the Kommandos threw colored smoke grenades, a purple one to designate the landing zone and a red one to designate the Pagandans firing at them. Just then, four dark blue-colored Krauss helicopters arrived in the skies over the monolith, hovering for a few seconds to try and land on the spacious clearing in between the monolith and the cliff. As one of the helicopters continued to hover, the sliding door on its right side opened, revealing a door gunner with an MG 12, a 7.92 mm caliber general-purpose machine gun. Confirming the smoke signal provided by the Kommandos, the door gunner then unleashed a barrage of lead down on the exposed Pagandans on the hillside, shredding the soldiers as they ran for cover. Taking advantage of the chaos, the Kommandos on the ridgeline made a desperate yet organized dash for the monolith. Before the Pagandans realized it, the last Kommando had crested the ridge, reaching the plain upon which the helicopters had landed. The diplomats and Hartmann were loaded first while some of the Kommandos took positions around the helicopters and joined the door gunners that were ready to fire their machine guns, poised to shoot any Pagandan that crests the ridge. Once the diplomats and Hartmann were onboard, the remaining Kommandos sequentially boarded the four helicopters. By 02:57, the last Kommando had lifted his combat boots up from Pagandan soil. With that, the helicopter pilots had the four aircraft lift off from the hill while the door gunners fired on the Pagandans that crested the ridge to shoot at them. The helicopters, with all the diplomats and Kommandos accounted for, flew southwest to return to the carrier, escaping from the range of the Pagandan guns in no time. Himmel?turz, leFZT., 03:20 After the four helicopters had landed safely on the deck of the light carrier Himmel?turz, leFZT., Hippel, Roland, Scholz, and the other Kommandos who weren¡¯t with Hartmann disembarked from their helicopters and rushed to look for the helicopter that carried Hartmann. After checking the two others, Hippel finally found the helicopter, which was flooded by Navy medical personnel evacuating the injured diplomats. Getting past the multitude of people, he then saw several other Kommandos, including Lehmann, looking extremely dejected. Roland squatted on the deck with his hands covering his face while Scholz looked the other way out towards the sea. Hippel finally arrived at the helicopter, where Navy medical personnel were carrying a stretcher with a body covered by cloth. Looking forlornly at the stretcher as it was taken away, Hippel was approached by Lehmann, who took the courage to say what no one wanted to tell Hippel. ¡°He didn¡¯t make it.¡± Lehmann sighed as he looked down on the deck. Seeing the stretcher and the medics disappear into the bowels of the carrier, Hippel was left with his thoughts as his eyes wandered to the two moons shining in the sky. Despite their short time together, Hartmann was the youngest among the Kommandos at 27. His kind and gentle disposition betrayed everyone¡¯s impressions when he was among those selected for the KMK¡¯s initial training, which he then passed. Everyone fondly referred to him as koffer, meaning ¡°new fucking guy.¡± As it was the first operation as a unit, there was always the associated risk of one of them not coming back alive, which was true anywhere in the military. Still, they were all taken aback when the one that kicked the bucket in the first operation was their youngest and brightest comrade. Still, despite the unrealistic expectations placed on them by command and the lack of proper cooperation from the GD, Unternehmen Amboss Tropfen was a massive success as it achieved its objectives. Even so, none of the Kommandos felt that it was the definitive victory they needed to bring back pride to the Imperial Army. If anything, it felt as if they danced to Schmidt¡¯s tune. Overcome with emotions he couldn¡¯t properly express, Hippel threw his helmet on the deck and walked back to retrieve his gear from the helicopter. Chapter 12.5: Diary Excerpts After the dust settled on what had been an eventful start to the 9th of Month 6, 1639, Unterfeldwebel Bertram Werner of the Kommandokompanie (KMK) wrapped up writing down the latest entries in his diary. Cent. Calendar 08/06/1639 16:30 Alert beepers at the base go off with a simple and short message from the High Command informing us to mobilize after the negotiations to secure the release of the diplomats held by the Pagandans broke down. Apparently, the diplomats in the ministry couldn¡¯t negotiate a ¡®peaceful¡¯ end to the hostage crisis... At least we get to do the real thing instead of dragging our asses through the same exercises over and over again now. 17:00 Citizen of the Republic The emperor went public with his speech and said, ¡°We will not yield and submit! And we¡¯ll make sure to punish those Pagandans for their shameful actions!¡± or something along that line. What a bunch of good-for-nothing clowns speaking to each other in that worthless circus of an ¡®Imperial Council¡¯ of theirs. I am starting to regret taking that eid before I signed up. 19:30 Lt. Col. Hippel called all of us in for another hour of forced listening a briefing on the upcoming ops, and as expected, the GD¡¯s shitty supposed ¡®intelligence¡¯ on the target is so faulty that you couldn¡¯t expect less from them. However, with only a three-hour time frame... Do they really want those diplomats back? They gave us neither the proper intelligence nor the time to gather it ourselves, and now they¡¯re telling us to rescue them out of the blue? Bullshit. 20:30 I tried raising our complaints with Hippel before he finalized the assault plan based on that abomination the GD calls the ¡°sketch of the building¡±... But Hippel being Hippel, he chuckled it off just like always and told us to pack our gear up ready to go by 2000 hours. If anything, I don¡¯t like the way this is going, but that is just like saying I don¡¯t trust Hippel and my fellow Kommandos who have never failed so far... especially against the GD. The koffer (Hartmann) tried to ask me for advice on how to prepare himself before the ops, so I kindly told him to PUFO (pack up and fuck off). 21:30 Arrived at the airbase in Leusich and got our chutes and equipment inspected for the jump while we waited for our ride, one of those flyboys¡¯ big planes to arrive. Although those spoiled brats are running quite late, it¡¯s still on schedule. We eventually boarded the transport plane and lifted off 15 minutes later at 2145 hours. 23:55 Gott (Roland) gave us a speech that worked its wonders on all of us just before the jump. The man¡¯s just too good at these types of things, although by doing so, he wasted some time before realizing he had to do a quick check of his equipment. Couldn¡¯t blame the old folk, though. Then, the red light flicked on as we stood up, and the door opened. We sprinted out of the aircraft as fast as we could as soon as the green light came up and threw ourselves into the void. From that point onwards, the game was on. Cent. Calendar 09/06/1639 00:10 The jump and landing went smoothly, although I would¡¯ve ended up on a fucking tree had I not steered away from it in time. Arriving on the ground, I immediately let loose of my chute, and picked all the ausr¨¹stung up. Got my arse off the ground with several Kommandos to the designated bearings where I rallied M¨¹ller, Schneider, Sch?fer, and Braun-the Kommandos, making up the recce team I was in charge of. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. 00:30 Those fucking arschgeiges in the GD couldn¡¯t even tell the difference between a three-story building and a two-story one... I realized the moment we arrived at the compound just how truly fucked up their intelligence was, even though we¡¯d been expecting it before this whole operation began. Shame I didn¡¯t fucking burn the sketch when I had the chance to, but what¡¯s done can¡¯t be undone, so we better get moving... 01:25 From what we could gather so far, each of the compound¡¯s wings has at least a single possible entry point with five watchtowers and at least 24 feindliche Truppen in the immediate proximity of the compound, although aside from that, the security is considerably relaxed due to all those lazy Pagandans being on vacation because of their festivals. Thanks to them, however, things couldn¡¯t have been much more perfect than this; a fact which Hippel and the others acknowledged, so it was now or never. Oh, and don¡¯t go telling the Pagandans we were free to plant our little mines as a surprise gift before they return. 01:45 Blowing up the mines was like single-handedly kicking up the hornet¡¯s nest as all those 24 feinde immediately left the area with their guard wolves and headed towards the mess we caused even before they could properly tell some of their fat colleagues on the towers what was going on, leaving them panicking and exposed as easy targets to our kugeln and paving the way for the assault teams to finally approach the building. Though it wouldn¡¯t be long until those Pagandans return. 02:10 We were left behind to cover the evacuation of the diplomats by the four assault teams, but since we knew we weren¡¯t going to pull off the impossible with only five of us, we decided the best course of action was to give those Pagandans hell while we were at it. By 0225 hours, however, as the five of us tried to continue delaying them, the Pagandans returned the favor with something too difficult to handle: the fucking Kavallerie! At that point, we decided it was about time we get the fuck outta there... That is after making sure Sch?fer left behind some more gifts in the form of mines. Auf Wiedersehen, du Arschl?cher! 02:30 Just as we continued our dash for the treelines, those Pagandans just kept on coming... I swear to god... It was almost like they were aiming for our asses at that point. Fortunately, Braun was lucky enough to stumble upon only a few unlucky Pagandans along the way, so we wasted only a few shots. Schneider wanted to take the honor to reveal our surprises for the Pagandans in the most spectacular way ever, so I duly granted him that. Needless to say, it was fortunate that we kept on running instead of turning back because I am sure none of us would want to fully witness the scale of death and destruction we left behind. 02:55 Finally made it to the LZ, right in time for those navies Hurens?hne to arrive and flex their muscles at the last possible moment, but whatever... not like I want to stay here any longer. We wasted no time getting onto the last Krauss Hubschrauber to land, with M¨¹ller being the last one to come back to his senses to rush into the damn hubschrauber. As far as I can tell, he was also the last Kommando to leave Pagandan soil at 0257 hours. 03:10 On our way to the Himmel?turz, a few Kommandos were exchanging words over the comms about the condition of the koffer. Apparently, he was shot during the withdrawal and is undergoing intensive resuscitation attempts aboard one of the Kraus. The koffer will undoubtedly make it... ja? 03:20 Got off the Krauss and immediately rushed past the crowd to see what was going on, only to see a couple of navy Krankentr?ger carrying a body covered in white cloth pass by and Hippel throwing his helmet to the ground. Seriously...? There just had to be a casualty every fucking time, and it always had to be the koffer... Perhaps too classic for comfort but... Bedenke, dass du sterben musst. Chapter 13: Only One Outcome Cent. Calendar 09/06/1639, off the coast of the Kingdom of Paganda, 6:30 ¡°Ngh...¡± A silent groan filled the somber, metallic room. The early morning sun shining behind the clouds only gave enough light to signal to Cielia that morning had come. Laying down on her uncomfortable bunk inside her unremarkable quarters, she stared at the ray of light coming in from the window above her bunk. She hasn¡¯t slept through the night. Other than the worries of what Pagandans may be doing to her colleagues and subordinates, the incessant sound of fireworks and fanfare being produced late into the night also kept her up. Relaying what the Pagandan officials told her yesterday morning back to the ministry, she then received a short memo that simply said, ¡°wait for further notice.¡± Since then, having not received any more memos from the ministry, she spent the rest of her day wandering the destroyer, observing the Pagandan landscape while coldly avoiding advances from the Navy personnel. Still, even when she stayed up late expecting a memo to come during the night, she wasn¡¯t the slightest bit disappointed when nothing came. Now that there is only an hour left until the Pagandans¡¯ deadline expires, Cielia could only assume that the Gra Valkan stance hasn¡¯t changed and that they are expecting her to convey it. Feeling a sharp pang in her abdomen, she decided to go and eat breakfast. After getting up from the bunk, she went to the sink, turned on the faucet, and filled her hands with cold water before jerking it upwards and splashing it on her face. Getting rid of gunk, sweat, and accumulated fluids on her face with her hands, she proceeded to wash her face again to rinse them off. Turning off the faucet, she looked up towards the water-splattered mirror and saw her sleep-deprived eyes devoid of cheerfulness and determination. Looking at her eye bags, it felt as if they had sunk even deeper than her spirit. Oh, Papa... I¡¯m sorry your little girl has become so... dead... Remembering how her Papa optimistically remarked that she would conquer the world with her wit, smile, and glare, her cheeks warmed up as she blushed in embarrassment after that moment flashed in her head. She then took a towel and dried her face and hands with it before moving to take her morning clothes off. Feeling the chilly morning air on her bare skin, she moved to immediately put on her formal, diplomatic attire that was hanging on the door. As she buttoned the last button and patted down the last creases, she proceeded to tie her hair in a bun. So that I don¡¯t have to worry much about hairdo... Finishing the bun, she then took her folded glasses on the table. As she reached out for them, she noticed a piece of silver neckwear straddled messily next to them. Looking closer, she recognized the pearl attached loosely to a worn-out chain-her mother¡¯s necklace. Putting on her glasses, she then took the necklace and maneuvered her hands behind her neck to fasten the clasp on the necklace. As she did this, her eyes drifted to the mirror above the sink, seeing herself and recognizing that something was missing. Managing to fasten the clasp on the necklace, it then occurred to her. ¡°Schei?e! I forgot to do my makeup!¡± However, her stomach protested by sending pain signals. Inwardly deciding that she would skip it for today, she then proceeded to put on her comfy sandals before exiting her bunk. Mess hall of the destroyer Wotan, Z. Finding a place to sit isolated from the rest of the crew that were also eating their most important meal of the day, Cielia gently placed her tray down on the table as she took a seat. She then took a sip from her brewed coffee, savoring its bitter taste, before listening in on a conversation from Navy personnel sitting at the next table. ¡°Aw, man. Frau Oudwin looks sexy, even without makeup!¡± ¡°But she looked better yesterday when she had makeup! Seriously, your taste!¡± ¡°Heh, that¡¯s to be expected, ja? He has better senses when it comes to men!¡± Blushing from the gay remark, Cielia closed her eyes as her cheeks turned red while continuing to sip from her brewed coffee. While used to the remarks from men around her, she inwardly noted that they could have at least put an effort into not letting her overhear their conversation, unless that was part of their objectives. The coffee she drank finally reached the bowels of her stomach, giving her the final pang of hunger that drove her to eat her breakfast: eggs, toast, and beans. Using her utensils to take a part of each of the three, she dug in. Although the food was relatively tasteless compared to the food back home, the intake of nutrients still did their trick and satisfied her stomach¡¯s cries for attention. Promptly finishing her meal and wiping excess residue from her mouth with some napkins, she was then approached by one of the Navy personnel that had just entered the mess hall. ¡°Excuse me. Frau Oudwin, there is a call for you.¡± Replying ¡°of course¡± to the kind gentleman, she got up from her table before following the man out of the mess hall. Cielia was directed to the telephone in the communications room, which was placed somewhere away from the receiver. Picking it up, Cielia answered. ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°Guten morgen, Frau Oudwin.¡± Greeting her at the other end of the line was a voice she inherently despised but was relieved to hear from. It was her superior, Gesta. ¡°Guten morgen. I assume that this is related to the current situation?¡± ¡°I hate that part of you. You always lead me when it comes to working but elsewhere? Oh, liebling, you¡¯re so cold...¡± Cielia sighed. She made sure her sigh was loud enough that it could be heard by her boss trying to pick her up in a bad situation. ¡°With all respect, Herr Gesta, there is only less than an hour left till the Pagandans¡¯ deadline expires, and I have been waiting for further notice, as you have told me to yesterday.¡± ¡°Ah, yes. Of course. Regarding that... the ten diplomats taken hostage by the Pagandans have all been recovered. We haven¡¯t been given any details, only that the Pagandans are aware that they are gone.¡± Mixed feelings simultaneously erupted inside Cielia¡¯s heart. First, she was relieved that her colleagues and subordinates were now safe. Following that, she then wondered how they managed to recover them. While she was curious about the details, what matters the most is that the Pagandans are aware that the ten diplomats are gone. Even if the fact alone doesn¡¯t necessarily implicate them, it won¡¯t take much of a leap to conclude that it was them that took (likely by force) the hostages from the Pagandans. Since the Pagandans were so quick to jump to conclusions, it won¡¯t be long before they entirely blame the empire for it. At this rate, there was only one outcome from this. While she inwardly lamented that it had come to this point, she knew that the disposition of the two nations regarding this crisis couldn¡¯t afford a gentler solution. Cielia sighed even deeper. ¡°It is likely that they will come to us first, yes?¡± ¡°Whichever the case, the official stand of the empire remains unchanged. Oh and deny any allegations that we are behind the diplomats¡¯ ¡®disappearance.¡¯¡± ¡°Understood.¡± Cielia then hung the phone back on the receiver before sighing and looking down at the floor. Why did it have to come to this... Having enjoyed a year and a half¡¯s worth of peace after a long, generational war with Kain, that they managed to get away from due to the transfer, the Gra Valkans were more than ready to shed off their militarist past for a more peaceful future. But seeing that future fade away due to the crisis with Paganda, Cielia¡¯s sorrow deepened due to the fear that she may be the one that would doom the empire back into war. Remembering her Papa, who experienced physical and mental traumas from fighting in the Great Eternity War, she shed a tear. I¡¯m sorry, Papa... The royal palace, Kingdom of Paganda, that same time ¡°Where¡¯s everyone else?¡± The Royal House Secretary Andres Lardaye asked the Vice Governor of Priscina (the Pagandan capital) Willas Mylne as he entered into a lavish meeting hall in the royal palace. There, he only saw the vice governor sitting alone in one of the chairs, taking a nap. The vice governor woke up to the secretary barging in, promptly wiping the drool from his lips, fixing his attire, and standing up to greet the man. ¡°So far, it is only me, Secretary.¡± As Andres closed the door behind him, he sighed deeply and scratched his head. ¡°Dammit! I had them all summoned by 6:15! I even came late just to ensure that all of you will be here!¡± Andres lashed out. In response, Willas simply looked down in dejection. While pieces of information were still coming to them, what they did know was that multiple explosions rocked Priscina the previous night when the National Day celebrations drew to a close. Due to the disorganization of the Army as they too participated in the celebrations, the response was mostly sporadic, with only the less drunk and more cohesive units being able to head in the direction of the explosions. Not only was the timing impeccable since it caught them in their worst state, but the thought of being attacked during their day of celebrating their national pride would smear their prestige. Thankfully, the cheer of the celebrations allowed them to contain what little panic that arose from the explosions. Still... ¡°Why are you here, vice governor? Where¡¯s that bastard Erasmus?!¡± Sighing in exhaustion, Willas responded. ¡°Governor Erasmus Arett has retired to his summer villa in the north for the celebrations... He¡¯s left me a notice that he is not to be disturbed.¡± At this point, Andres¡¯s eyes began to turn red from anger and frustration. The celebrations have been traditionally a very lax event for everyone, even the authorities. He inwardly cursed Pagandan slothfulness as well as the cunning of the perpetrators for staging something like this at such a horrible time. ¡°And the military?¡± The vice governor shrugged in vexing indifference. Dear gods... What the fuck has this kingdom come to...?! ¡°What do you mean you don¡¯t know?!¡± ¡°Look, I only know as much as you do, secretary. After I retired for the night at around 11 last night, I was woken up by a series of explosions from the south. Other than that, nothing.¡± ¡°Did you not check with the constabulary?!¡± ¡°As a matter of fact, I did.¡± ¡°Well?!¡± Willas scratched his head, at a loss for how to convey what the constabulary told him. ¡°To put it politely, the constable told me to ¡°screw off¡± and ¡°pleasure the governor¡¯s manhood¡± for disturbing his sleep. It also appears that he has a hangover from last night.¡± Slam! Andres slammed his fist on the long, wooden, ornate table that occupied much of the meeting hall. ¡°That drunkard!¡± He was running out of options. Not only are the officials he summoned nowhere to be found, they know next to nothing about what happened. With the public generally too preoccupied with cleaning up last night¡¯s festivities and dozing off, trying to get rid of their hangovers, it seemed like a good environment to pretend nothing happened. Why not? They could blame it on Muish-bought gunpowder supplies going off. What mattered to him was that he needed to say something to the King. If an attack really did happen, he needs to convey it with as many details as possible. ¡°Damn it... What do I tell His Majesty...¡± Miraculously for him, his answer was brought to him by someone barging into the hall. The two men who were already in the hall looked towards the entrance, finding a military officer standing there. ¡°Mister Secretary! Vice Governor!¡± The officer saluted before approaching Andres. ¡°Wait, you¡¯re military police!¡± ¡°Yes. I¡¯ve come to represent Grand-Commander Berand Fidell.¡± ¡°Why? Where is he?¡± ¡°He¡¯s dead. He was killed in the attack on our headquarters.¡± Andres and Willas looked at one another with surprised faces. ¡°Killed?! Attack?! So there was an attack?!¡± The officer coughed as he readjusted his cap. ¡°We¡¯re still getting all the details in coordination with the military. For now, we do know that at around 0150 hours earlier this morning, two explosions went off at the shooting range next to the headquarters, followed by sounds of gunfire. Our men went to check what happened, only to be struck down by further explosions en route to the range. After checking that there were no enemies at the range, some of the men went back to the compound while the wounded were being attended to. There, they spotted numerous people clad in black possessing firearms who attacked our men at sight.¡± Andres interrupted him. ¡°Can you describe these people clad in black? Did you identify who they were?¡± The officer shook his head. ¡°None of the men that encountered them saw their faces or any sort of symbol that could indicate their allegiance. The men even wore some kind of face-covering that obscured their faces. They were, however, potent in a gunfight. They knew how to maneuver around covers and their weapons fired at high rates of fire.¡± The two men sweated bullets hearing the description. The assailants took extreme care in hiding their identities. Moreover, the scale of the attack seemed small and only limited to the military police¡¯s headquarters. As the two men pondered in silence, the officer continued. ¡°The attackers then ran back into the forest, where the darkness enabled them to mow down our advancing men. It wasn¡¯t until the military arrived on horseback that we were able to enter the forest. There, they continued to harass our advancing men with explosives and mines. At around 0230 hours, we managed to chase them all the way to the ancient monolith site, where they dug in and prevented our men from advancing any further.¡± The officer then paused as he took off his cap and scratched his head, visibly at a loss for how to explain the upcoming parts. ¡°Then what?¡± ¡°Forgive me, Mister Secretary. I personally have trouble believing the next part myself, but every soldier that was there all reported the same thing.¡± ¡°Tell us!¡± The officer took a deep breath before continuing. ¡°Just before 0300 hours, four mysterious flying objects flew in from the south. They were slower than wyverns, but they looked inanimate and big. The main striking features of the objects are that they had something on top of them that spun incredibly fast and that they produced a distinct sound of the air being beaten nonstop.¡± The two men struggled to imagine the objects from the description given to them. ¡°One of them continued to hover above the monolith while the three others descended to its foot. The one left in the sky then suddenly fired on us with a rate of fire that resembled the Mirishial circuit guns or the Muish machine guns. After that, all four objects flew back to the south. By the time they flew off, the gunfire also stopped. When we checked the monolith, all of the assailants were gone.¡± The two men looked at the officer with eyes wide open. ¡°None of the arsenals of the great powers have the flying objects you just described... However, circuit guns... This perplexes me...¡± Even with the description of their assailants¡¯ weapons, Willas couldn¡¯t come up with an idea as to who they were. Moreover, the attack still didn¡¯t make sense. How did they get into Paganda? What did they do at the military police headquarters? Why did they attack in the first place? The officer seemed to have the answers as well. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. ¡°Currently, our investigation pins the blame on the Gra Valkas Empire.¡± The two men looked back at him with confused faces. Almost a moment later, their faces turned into expressions that said, ¡°Wait, that kind of makes sense!¡± ¡°When we investigated the headquarters, we found multiple traces of forced entry since the locks were destroyed. Inside, we found 22 bodies, all Pagandan military police officers, including Grand-Commander Berand Fidell. They were all shot two to three times in the chest area. What made us conclude that this was an act by the Gra Valkans is that all of ten diplomats that insulted the King, who were imprisoned at the Headquarters, are now nowhere to be found.¡± It now all made sense to the two men. Having been given a day to think about considering their demands, the Gra Valkans instead opted to retrieve their diplomats forcefully. To achieve that, they staged an assault on the military police headquarters just south of the capital and killed a considerable number of Pagandan men in the process. Not only was the attack a humiliating blow to the security of the capital and the legitimacy of their military, but it was also an indisputable act of aggression against Paganda. Both men were fuming, but Willas lashed out first. ¡°How dare those heathens launch an attack on our capital! They must be punished accordingly!¡± ¡°His Majesty will not be pleased with this... Not only was he insulted, but now those bastards spilled Pagandan blood on our own soil!¡± Andres decided to tell the King what he heard without waiting for the official report to be finished. As he got up, the sound of an explosion echoing through the city reached their ears. Boom... ¡°What was that?! Are they back?!¡± The officer sighed deeply before responding. ¡°No... We are still in the process of investigating the area around the headquarters. Every now and then, one of the mines that they left behind would go off, taking one or two of our men with it...¡± The men all hung their heads. Pagandan lives were still being extinguished, even long after the attack had ceased. They all knew that this must not go unnoticed. Driven by rage, Andres stormed out of the room to go inform the King. Royal study Learning from the servants that the King had already woken up and was in his personal study, Andres went straight for the study. Opening the door, he found the King standing next to the window at the other end of the room, staring outside with a forlorn yet undefeated expression. Closing the door behind him and coughing, Andres bowed. ¡°Excuse me, Your Majesty...¡± ¡°Tell it in brief.¡± The King replied immediately without detracting from his posture. ¡°Last night, we were attacked. The Gra Valkans assaulted the headquarters of the military police, broke free their criminal brethren, and killed countless Pagandan soldiers in the process!¡± As the King looked on, his mind drifted into his memories. The other day, they welcomed a delegation from the Gra Valkas Empire, a nation that had mysteriously appeared to the west more than a year ago. They knew of them from the Leiforians, but other than the fact that the two had a minor territorial scuffle and an insignificant diplomatic relationship, they knew next to nothing about them. In any case, if this new nation decided to warm up to them, the rest of the Pagandan authorities and nobility decided to welcome them, saying, ¡°why not?¡± He himself welcomed the delegation to his court as a gesture of hospitality, but also as a gesture of superiority. He intended to instill to them a sense of Pagandan grandeur and opulence. However, one of the diplomats, who possessed looks and disposition unfitting for one, even from an unknown, presumably barbaric nation, maintained a coarse attitude towards them, even towards the King. At first, he ignored the man and his lack of respect, but it boiled to a point where the man was borderline disrespectful. At first, the man was hesitant to bow to him, only doing so when chided by his own peers. Then, he refused to use the appropriate honorifics, only referring to him as ¡°sir.¡± The tipping point came during one of their talks when one of his advisors politely reminded the man to address him correctly. Flashback ¡°With all due respect, good sir, may I ask that you formally address His Majesty correctly?¡± To their combined annoyance, the man let out a ¡°hmph¡± before proceeding to do as they said. ¡°Very well, Your Highness...¡± The man said mockingly. Whether it was intentional or not, he felt greatly offended by the man¡¯s gesture. His advisors picked up on this and immediately let go of their respectful tone. ¡°Was that an insult? Are you making a mockery of our King?¡± ¡°No! Heavens no! I¡¯m only addressing His Highness appropriately, just as you said!¡± ¡°That¡¯s what you mean by appropriate? That¡¯s telling of who you people are.¡± ¡°That¡¯s funny. Why are you insisting us to respect the man occupying such an archaic position?¡± At that point, his own peers took to reprimanding him, but the man continued his rudeness. From then on, he himself lost all cool as his patience with the disrespectful man finally evaporated. He remembered himself standing up and ordering the delegation to leave his presence. ¡°Heh. We didn¡¯t need to meet with your pissant kingdom anyway.¡± Despite his own peers getting mad at him for letting out such a statement, he could not control his own emotions from the rudeness of the man. In the heat of the moment, he ordered the man arrested and imprisoned. When the man¡¯s peers rushed to defend him from the guards, the other nobles in the room had them imprisoned too. Since then, the disrespectful man never apologized for his behavior and statements, even after being ¡®persuaded¡¯ by his soldiers. Looking back, he felt that the entire situation was unnecessary and uncalled for, and he intended to attempt to restart things from scratch. However, after hearing of what had happened, his own people and nobles called for appropriate punishments against the unruly foreigners, leading his court to come up with unreasonable demands for the Gra Valkans to fulfill. He regretted his lack of composure and decisiveness, but to go against his own nobles and people would not be advantageous to him. Now that the Gra Valkans have done the unthinkable, invading their land and killing Pagandan men, his regrets evaporated. These people were unwilling to talk and thus have resorted to violence. He felt relieved that they didn¡¯t establish relations with such an unruly culture. Now his soul fostered an unwavering desire to punish the Gra Valkans for what they did. While Paganda itself lacks the power to leverage demands, he hopes to use their protectorate status under Leifor, a major power in the Mu continent, to get more diplomatic weight on their actions. Technically, as part of their protectorate agreements, since Paganda was subjected to an attack, Leifor is obligated to come to their aid, militarily if necessary. If the Gra Valkans are aware of this, they should know that they¡¯re going up against one of the major powers in the region and within the Second Civilization Area. With that in mind, the King decided to take measures to teach the Gra Valkans that their actions have consequences. He then looked back to Andres. ¡°Is that so? Very well...¡± He walked to his table, took a piece of paper, and his quill and ink, and then began writing something. After a few minutes, he stamped the paper with his personal seal and handed it to Andres. ¡°The Gra Valkan ship is still anchored off the coast, yes? Go to them and tell them these new demands which must be fulfilled. Else...¡± As the King led on, Andres finished reading the paper given to him and looked back at the King with a determined expression. ¡°At once, Your Majesty!¡± Andres turned around and left the room. Now alone, the King motioned for his communications apparatus to contact someone. ¡°Inform the Irnetians and Leifor that...¡± Off the coast of Priscina, destroyer Wotan, Z., 7:20 ¡°Over here, Frau Oudwin!¡± One of the sailors led Cielia out to the deck of the Wotan. The sailors have been put on alert for some time now, getting them to run towards their designated stations. Walking past sailors running to their stations, Cielia wondered what was going on. Emerging onto the deck on the port side of the Wotan, a different sight greeted Cielia. Some distance away from the Wotan, a shorter yet bulkier ship had stopped. While not immediately obvious, Cielia learned that it was a warship from the single, dual-gun turret mounted at the front. From what it looks like, she deducted that it was an armored cruiser. Looking upwards, she saw the Pagandan flag flying high on its mast, and looking downwards; she saw some rowboats coming towards them. In the midst of the men rowing the middle rowboat, two formally dressed men stood, looking in her direction. They must have noticed her, as she was the only woman on the deck, and she wasn¡¯t wearing Navy apparel. As the rowboats entered within earshot of the Wotan, one of the formally dressed men on the boat spoke up. ¡°Are you perhaps the Gra Valkan diplomat we spoke to yesterday?¡± Adjusting her voice to match the volume of the man, Cielia spoke up. ¡°Why yes. I remember you too from yesterday. What¡¯s your business? It¡¯s still some time before the deadline, isn¡¯t it?¡± The man scratched his head. ¡°Oh, drop the act! We know you were behind the attack on the capital last night!¡± Ah, Cielia thought. That must have been what Gesta referred to over the phone call. The military must have done something last night to retrieve their diplomats. Since the Pagandans came to them, whatever happened must have been really big. Cielia remembered the orders Gesta left her as she decided to learn more about what happened. ¡°Attack? What attack?¡± The other man responded with frustration, tired with the pretentiousness of the Gra Valkans. ¡°Shut your pretentious mouth, you whore! Your diplomats are all gone! Disappeared! They were taken from our custody! You also took the lives of a hundred Pagandan men!¡± Cielia inwardly sighed. Even if the Pagandans were exaggerating, the thought that Pagandans may have been killed during the retrieval frustrated her. Deep in her heart, she knew that it was inevitable, but now there was virtually no turning back. Killing another nation¡¯s citizens, especially its soldiers, is terrible for diplomacy no matter the circumstances. At this rate, the Pagandans would only double down on their demands. Even if they were to, she was ordered by her superiors to maintain their refusal of all demands. Taking a deep breath, Cielia then responded. ¡°We are not behind such an act.¡± The Pagandan men scratched their heads in disappointment. ¡°Deny it all you want, but it¡¯s still undeniable that you are behind it! As such...¡± He then took out a piece of paper and started reading from it. ¡°As punishment for committing gross acts of aggression against the Kingdom of Paganda by violating its territorial sovereignty, injuring and killing Pagandans soldiers, and damaging state property, the King hereby orders the Gra Valkas Empire to return the ten diplomats rightfully incarcerated, hand over the perpetrators of the attack, and execute the highest commander responsible for approving the attack on top of all the previous demands. These are to be carried out immediately.¡± All of the demands were beyond negotiation. In any case, there was no need to negotiate as the empire maintained its stance of rejecting them all. In doing so, Cielia knows that there is only one outcome. ¡°The Gra Valkas Empire maintains its official stand on the matter: we will not accept and carry out any demands. This is final.¡± The two Pagandan men looked at one another. Half a second later, they broke out into laughter, confusing the Gra Valkans on the Wotan. After the men calmed down a bit, the one holding the piece of paper then raised it once more and read out aloud from it. ¡°Should the Gra Valkas Empire refuse even one demand, the King says, ¡°After failed attempts to uphold the dignity of the kingdom through diplomatic means, our kindness was then betrayed by a blatant act of transgression against our people. With this said, I, with the powers I hold as Sovereign of the Kingdom of Paganda, backed by the support of my people, formally declare war on the Gra Valkas Empire.¡±¡± There we go, thought everyone else. While there was still some confusion and denial, it was now set in stone. Cielia acknowledged this but wanted to truly confirm it. ¡°This... came from the King, yes?¡± ¡°None other! Consider yourselves lucky, for he permits you to leave Pagandan territory alive to tell your superiors that we are at war! GO!¡± Turning away from the Gra Valkans, the rowboats scurried back to the armored cruiser. Now that they were no longer permitted to stay, the men aboard the Wotan prepared to set sail. Cielia, watching the rowboats slowly get further, looked on with regret and disappointment. She leaned on the railings on the deck and stared down towards the dark ocean below. ¡°We¡¯ve done it...¡± At the same time, armored cruiser Tilas ¡°Intriguing.¡± ¡°Indeed. We¡¯re fortunate to get this close to their ship.¡± The captain and vice-captain of the Pagandan armored cruiser Tilas commented as they observed and scrutinized the Gra Valkan ship. The Tilas is their flagship, which Leifor sold to them as surplus after the Great War. She is an old design, having been built earlier than the current designs employed by Leifor and even Mu. She boasts a comfortable speed of 13 knots, relatively fast for her class of ship. On the armament side, she comes with a single turret mounted with two massive guns. While she may be on the weaker side in comparison to the ships in possession of the powers on the continent, she was more than enough in dealing with small threats, diplomatic posing, and being a symbol of national pride. Still... ¡°Their ship is so long and sleek... It reminds me of the smaller ships the Leiforians and the Muish have. I think the Muish call them ¡°destroyers.¡±¡± ¡°Indeed. As for their armaments... I don¡¯t think I can say much.¡± The Gra Valkan ship seems to be armed with four turrets, each sporting twin guns that look smaller in caliber to their own. Since the Tilas could take substantial fire from guns of similar caliber as its own guns, the captain and the vice-captain both assumed that they could take hits from the Gra Valkan ship in a fight, although the number of guns worried them. Range and rate of fire were another matter entirely, along with other factors. ¡°Do you think we could come out on top?¡± The vice-captain asked with concern since he felt that he may have to deal with the Gra Valkan ship or similar vessels in the future. ¡°That is difficult to say... At best, I think our ships could hold out against attacks from that kind of ship, but defeating them is another matter entirely.¡± ¡°If the Leiforians are coming to help us, then I think we have a fair chance.¡± ¡°Mhm.¡± Just as they were about to head back inside, they heard an unfamiliar rumbling sound coming from the direction of the Gra Valkan ship, startling everyone. As the two looked back, they saw smoke emerging out from the smokestack on the ship just behind the bridge. The ship then began picking up speed, baffling the Pagandans with its acceleration. ¡°Did you see that, captain?¡± ¡°I... I¡¯m at a loss... How did they do that?¡± ¡°So it¡¯s fast, and it can accelerate rapidly too... That sure doesn¡¯t make things easier for us.¡± As the sun continued to rise on a new day, uncertain feelings hung over everyone. The Gra Valkans were confused since they had already begun their process of getting used to peace. Even if the one that declared war on them was nothing like Kain, it still felt surreal knowing that they¡¯d have to fight once more, this time in a completely new world. The Pagandans, on the other hand, felt their confidence shatter upon seeing the Gra Valkan destroyer sail out of their waters with baffling speed. While they knew next to nothing about the Gra Valkans, the fact that they were the ones that were attacked still holds true. To that end, they were confident that the rest of the nations would back them, especially their suzerain, Leifor. Geheimdienst, Ragna, Gra Valkas Empire, 7:40 ¡°Great.¡± Putting the telephone back on its receiver, Allen Schmidt then clapped his hands in anticipation and excitement. As planned, the Pagandans have finally declared war. Given some time, their suzerain, Leifor, would follow suit... Probably. While the Kommandokompanie successfully completing its task with flying colors irked him, having wanted the Kommandos to suffer a bit, they nevertheless fulfilled what they aimed for them to do: anger the Pagandans. Having received the war declaration, the next thing to do now was to act on it. ¡°Our friends in the Imperial Council and the royal family may want to hear of this...¡± Battleship Herzog Jochen von Gro?er, SCS., one of the IGVN strike groups somewhere in the ocean, 7:55 Kachak A middle-aged man hung the telephone back on its receiver as he exhaled deeply. His tired expression mirrored the horrors of war that he had witnessed in the Great Eternity War, which he fears he may see again in the war that Paganda had just declared on them. Nevertheless, he looked forward to seeing his beloved battleship, the Herzog Jochen von Gro?er, colloquially known as the Gro?er Attraktor, experience some action again. She was built during one of the truces in the war with Kain. As the lead ship of her class, she exemplified the big-gun mentality of the IGVN at the time. In the last arc of the war before their transfer, Kainian air power began to dominate and threatened all of their theaters. In an effort to combat the rise in their enemy¡¯s air power, she and her sister ships were refitted with radar-guided surface-to-air missiles along with the necessary equipment and many of her guns were taken out, exempting the two forward main battery turrets. Her entire class was then relegated to anti-air support roles tasked with defending their carriers, which were now the centerpiece of IGVN strike groups. The man, Captain Luxtal, took out a pocket watch from his pocket. Looking at it, its hands stopped at 9:52. To him, this was the moment his younger brother died when the ship he served in, another battleship, capsized and sank when its main battery magazines detonated. His brother, having already abandoned the ship, died from the force of the explosion, which also stopped the pocket watch¡¯s hands. Luxtal, having gotten out of a pinch himself when Kain air forces attacked their formation, was guilt-ridden by his younger brother¡¯s loss. Having not achieved any significant action with his ship as of yet, he ached to be part of the battle, wanting vindication for their perceived uselessness against the onslaught of Kain air power. To much of his chagrin, the transfer happened, and with the absence of any enemies, the empire had slackened into a state of peace. Now that he was deprived of chances to vindicate himself, Luxtal slid into depression, resorting to alcoholism. It was in this state that he came to know of the pro-martial conspiracy to reawaken Gra Valkan militarism, which if successful in its goals, would put the Gra Valkas Empire once again on the warpath. Enticed by the hope that he would get a chance for vindication, Luxtal offered his allegiance to the conspiracy, collaborating with other supporters to get the IGVN ready for a new war. By the time the diplomatic crisis with Paganda had unfolded, the IGVN already had its strike groups out in the ocean. Now that war had come, Luxtal had mixed feelings. For one, he felt that his personal motivations, enhanced by drink, spurred him to commit to this conspiracy, which he now felt was dubious. Not only were the majority of the Gra Valkans tired of war, but he himself did not want to indulge in additional suffering. Still, he argued to himself that he was too far down the rabbit hole to back out, acknowledging that the people within the conspiracy were themselves powerful. They may not even tolerate desertion. Feeling his doubts get stronger, Luxtal looked back at his younger brother¡¯s pocket watch. Seeing himself in the cracked glass of the watch, he remembers the scene of Kain aircraft harassing their fleet, even if their own fighters were already in the air. He then remembers standing on the bridge of the Gro?er Attraktor, watching the battleship his younger brother served in list beyond control to the starboard. He remembers the immense dread he felt and the desperate hope that his younger brother was among those floating on the ocean around the capsizing battleship. Then, boom. It was perhaps the most powerful explosion he had ever witnessed. Later, even when he saw his brother¡¯s tags on a body bag, he couldn¡¯t stop shaking in fear and dread of what had happened. Remembering how helpless and wimpy he felt, his desire for vindication reignited within him, silencing the doubts that he was feeling just a while ago. Walking back to the bridge, he looks to his left. There, beyond the glass, sailed the fleet carrier Karakaren, FZT.. It was among one of five fleet carriers in their strike group. Its size rivaled that of the Gro?er Attraktor, and despite his ship¡¯s amazing guns facing forward with proud strength, he himself knew that the Karakaren¡¯s complement of aircraft would best them any day. He could already see several reconnaissance aircraft preparing to launch from its angled flight deck. As a sailor of the Navy, he felt pride in seeing the jewel of their fleet prepare for battle. Personally, though, he felt resentful. He feared that the Navy Air Service would steal all the action from them. ¡°Dammit. Am I to hope that they would leave some for us?¡± Hearing their captain¡¯s ramblings, the other sailors on the bridge acknowledged him. While some of them hoped that they would never get to see action, having seen enough during the war with Kain, some of them also genuinely desired to partake in the fighting. With the Pagandans now at war with them, the men of the strike group wondered when their orders would come. Chapter 13.5: Fox One! Aircraft carrier Drachen, FZT. Winds picked up from the southwest as clouds began to gather. The high winds prompted the creation of high waves that rocked the carrier back and forth. The weather wasn¡¯t optimal, but it was by no means terrible. If anything, not even this slight hiccup in the weather would prevent them from putting their operation into action. One of the pilots, Oberstleutnant Anton Leitz, was in his single-seater Ma-67 "Jauchzer" jet fighter, which was already being prepared for taking off. After the crews attached the jet to the catapult, the blast deflector behind his jet raised before Anton¡¯s jet roared to life. Swinging his head to the left, he saw his friend, Oberstleutnant Joachim Weber, piloting a similar fighter, ready for takeoff as well. Signing to the flight director that he was ready, the flight director then turned and stretched out his arms forward, signaling the jet¡¯s takeoff to everyone. A moment later, Anton felt a great tug pulling him forward as inertia dictated that he remain in place. His fighter was propelled by the catapult at an impressive speed through the Drachen¡¯s flight deck before releasing the jet to fly on its own power. Now clear of the deck, Anton slowly pulled up as he disengaged the landing gear. Some seconds after he was propelled into the air, his friend too was then launched into the air. 15 minutes later After his entire squadron had taken off from the Drachen, they flew in formation ahead of the attack aircraft squadrons. The Gra Valkan Navy fighters, cruising at an altitude of 5,000 m with a speed of 850 km/h, headed northeast towards their targets. The clouds were seemingly endless, and visibility was close to terribly poor. Still, even this won¡¯t stop them from proceeding with their attack. Anton surveyed his surroundings, content with the peace and calm and wishing that it would stay the same. However, he himself knew that this wouldn¡¯t last. Feeling drowsy, he yawned. When he opened his eyes, he expected to see the same endless cloud cover. However... ¡°Huh?¡± Unfolding before him was a blood-red sky devoid of features and of the cloud cover that was once there. With a dark crimson light shining on his cockpit, he looked around him only to see the ocean below him tinted black. The ocean surface was featureless as well and empty of any noticeable, crashing, white waves. Seeing the scenery, he could only assume that he was now somewhere in the underworld. No no... Take me back! The sight of the crimson skies scared Anton to the core. As a superstitious person himself, he interpreted what he was seeing as a dreadful omen and associated it with death. Feeling his heart race from the sinister unfamiliarity of his surroundings, he instinctively closed his eyes. When he opened them again... ¡°What the?¡± The dark, gray clouds were back. The puffiness of the clouds of water vapor was more than welcome sight, despite the fact that visibility was still poor. Looking down, he could see the dark ocean dyed a familiar dark blue. He could now make out individual waves on its surface. ¡°Got a problem, Kapitel-08?¡± His comms roared to life. It was his senior who led their squadron. Shaking his head to try and get himself out of drowsiness upon which he blamed his hallucinations, he replied to him. ¡°I-I¡¯m fine. Just drowsy...¡± ¡°Eyes open! Also, turn off your comms! We can hear you mumbling!¡± ¡°Jawohl, Herr Hauptmann!¡± Turning off comms for the meanwhile, Anton groaned in his seat. He is wide awake, but he fears that his drowsiness may bring back the scenery he saw a while ago. He then took deep breaths spaced rhythmically in an effort to keep himself from becoming drowsy again. His mind then drifted to their mission: to fly ahead of their attack aircraft and engage enemy patrols. Repeating this in his mind, the memories of crimson skies and blood-red seas drifted in and out. He was trying his best to keep himself grounded as his superstitious self couldn¡¯t help but keep fearing what he had seen. Just then, interrupting his mantras, he heard a voice over the comms. ¡°Aufnahme aus! Unknown contacts at two o¡¯clock! I count two large formations! At least 20 for each!!¡± Hearing this, he checks his radar and sees multiple dots to the left of the center horizontal line. Since they were close to the horizontal line, the contacts were at roughly the same altitude as them. Anton surmises that they were probably at least 20km away since while they were still dots, they had already started to look like lines, meaning that they are way within their radar range. ¡°I see them! Two o¡¯clock at the base of the storm clouds!¡± One of the better-eyed pilots says. Looking over in the designated direction, Anton peered past the occasional fluff of cloud. There, at the other end, there was a towering, gigantic cumulonimbus cloud. Its imposing, dark gray body occupied nearly much of the direction that they were looking at. In irregular intervals, lightning erupted in flashes of light at various positions inside the cloud and turned it bright gray. The massive chunk of dense water vapor contrasted against the blue skies all around, which was interrupted by other, smaller, distant towering cumulonimbus clouds. However, somewhere at its base, Anton saw some conspicuous dots moving towards the left at great speed. Contrasting against the lighter background, there were two swept wings on some of the dots, which now appeared as elongated sticks. ¡°Kainian fighters! It''s a combat air patrol!¡± ¡°Positiv! Looks like they haven¡¯t noticed us yet! Form on me; we¡¯re attacking them!¡± His commander said over the comms. As he banked over, the rest of the 49 Gra Valkan fighters followed him and reformed their formation. Anton continued to look at their targets and squinted his eyes. He was finally able to count all 48 of the enemy fighters. True to what he heard, the Kainian fighters hadn''t noticed them yet as they still continued to proceed to the north with them proceeding towards their eight o¡¯clock. With the element of surprise on their side, the Gra Valkans wasted no time to eliminate what was likely to be a thorn on their side. Anton felt sensitive all over as adrenaline started to spread through his blood, making him feel the rumblings from the jet engine of his Jauchzer fighter through his seat. He no longer felt drowsy as his eyes continued to stare down his prey. At that point, they were closing in on the Kainian naval combat air patrol. After some time, at around 14km from the Kainian patrol, their commander gave them the order to ready their Smaragd-M semi-active radar homing air-to-air missiles. ¡°Mauerblume, Rakete!¡± Left to pick their targets on their own, the pilots proceeded to track one of the 48 Kainian fighters. Anton switched on the track mode for his radar and chose one of the blips that represented a Kainian fighter. His radar screen then switched to a single target tracking mode where only the blip he chose remained while the others disappeared. Using his control column, he maneuvered his Jauchzer to the direction of the blip, which reflected on the targeting screen as the blip moved towards the center of the screen. He makes up for turbulence and the Kainian fighter¡¯s movements by controlling his Jauchzer, keeping the blip within the center to maintain the lock. At that point, due to their radar locking, the Kainian fighters seem to have noticed them and have begun maneuvers to shake off the targeting locks. Before they could do anything substantial, the Gra Valkan fighters were now within the effective range to fire their Smaragd-M missiles. Anton subsequently armed one of his four missiles and sent it away. ¡°Konzert, Blaues!¡± Anton¡¯s aircraft felt a tad bit lighter, preceded by the rumbling generated by the Smaragd-M missile leaving its hardpoint. Followed by the distinctive sound of rocket propellant going off, he saw the missile emerge from under his left wing towards the front, disappearing into a cloud of propellant that got smaller and smaller. Mere moments later, his comms erupted into life as the other pilots launched their missiles. ¡°Konzert, Blaues!¡± ¡°Konzert, Blaues!¡± The pilots said the brevity code for semi-active radar-guided missiles, followed by the Smaragd-M missiles racing from the Gra Valkan fighters and out towards their Kainian targets. However, that was not the end. Anton continued to maneuver his aircraft to maintain the lock on his target for his missile¡¯s guidance. Precious seconds passed, and he lost the lock on the Kainian fighter as it maneuvered beyond the center of his screen. ¡°Schei?e!¡± Unable to get the lock back, he sees his missile miss wildly off the mark, falling into the clouds below as the Kainian fighter dives to maneuver out of the lock. Unfortunately for everyone, most of the Kainian fighters outmaneuvered their missiles, emerging totally unscathed. Still... ¡°Hit confirmed! I got him!¡± ¡°He¡¯s hit! There he goes!¡± Nine distinct flashes come from the skies in front. The flashes then turn into smoke as Kainian fighters emerge from each one. The fighters trailed smoke as they spiraled out of control and fell into the clouds below. The Gra Valkan side, despite each firing one missile, only managed to bring down nine Kainian fighters in total out of the 48. It was a disappointing result, but still within expectations of their still relatively newly developed missiles. Immediately the Gra Valkans moved to target the remaining Kainian fighters with their next missiles. However... Beep beep beep beep beep! A repeating beep sounded in Anton¡¯s cockpit. He looks to his radar warning receiver and sees the red light flashing: he is now being locked on. The Kainian fighters maneuvered back and reacted first, targeting the Gra Valkan fighters before they could arm their next round of missiles. At roughly six km and going against each other, they were now nearing their effective gun range. Still, the Gra Valkans did not want to risk getting shot out of the sky. ¡°I¡¯m being locked on!¡± ¡°Evasive maneuvers!¡± Detracting from their targeting screens, the Gra Valkan pilots split from their formation, mirroring the maneuvers they learned from the academy and from hours of combat experience. As the Gra Valkans begin to split, the Kainian fighters let loose their own radar-guided air-to-air missiles. At such a close range, there were only mere seconds before the missiles hit them. As Anton dispensed some chaffs as countermeasures against the lock, he skillfully played with his aircraft controls, sloshing across the worsening, darkening Yggdran skies to avoid getting hit by the missile fired against him. ¡°Fuck... Fuck... Fuck...¡± He bit his lip as he rolled, turned, and dived to avoid the missile. He felt the g-forces acting against his body as he fought to maintain consciousness. He then saw a distinctive object fly past him, after which he felt relief as the beeping from his radar warning receiver stopped. Escaping from danger momentarily, he maneuvered to face the Kainian fighters that he saw on his radar screen, which he switched back to search mode some time ago. However, not everyone was lucky. ¡°Schei?e! I can¡¯t shak-¡± The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Simultaneous with the sound of an explosion rocking his canopy, one of his squadmates got cut off mid-sentence, signifying that he was hit. As he flew, Anton managed to catch a glimpse of a Gra Valkan Jauchzer trailing smoke and on fire, lifelessly falling in a parabola into the clouds below. ¡°No, no, no! It¡¯s on my ta-¡± Boom! He heard the sound of an explosion both in reality and on the radio before his squadmate got cut off. Another one of their pilots was shot down. Seven more fighters would suffer the same fate. At this point in time, both sides lost nine of their fighters during the engagement. The two sides have now entered within their respective gun ranges, with neither side intending to detach. The dogfighting had begun. Already he heard disorganized, scattered sounds of autocannon fire. For Anton, he had a target in mind. In front of him, he spotted a Kainian fighter tailing and shooting one of his squadmates. The enemy fighter moved predictably and was preoccupied with trying to shoot down his squadmate. Swooping down from above, Anton went perpendicular to the movement of the two aircraft. Looking at his crosshairs, he prepares his finger on the trigger. His squadmate zips by it. Hardly a moment after, he pulls the trigger. He then felt the rhythmic vibrations coming from both his sides as his 20mm autocannons roared to life, exhausting their rounds onto the empty space in front of his aircraft. Just then, the Kainian fighter, perhaps realizing too late to react, flew into the hail of autocannon rounds, suffering considerable damage. Letting go of the trigger, Anton zoomed past the trail of smoke created by the Kainian fighter he had just shot at and pulled up back to horizontal level. There, he saw the burning hulk of the Kainian fighter he had just shot falling out of the sky in flames. Another enemy fighter had been shot down. Just then, he heard a familiar voice over the radio. ¡°Danke! You saved my arsch!¡± It was his friend, Joachim. He was more than delighted to know that the squadmate he had saved was his own friend. Feeling glee from the depths of his heart, he responded. ¡°Heh, only I can kiss your arsch, Kapitel-05!¡± ¡°Oh shit! It¡¯s you! Go fuck yourself, Kapitel-08! Haha.¡± Despite the unprofessional atmosphere in the chatter between two friends, the rest of the Gra Valkan pilots were preoccupied with not being shot out of the sky. During the encounter following up to his kill, Anton already heard six more of his squadmates go down from Kainian fire. The weather had turned for the worse, adding to the already bad situation they were facing. ¡°Dear Gott...¡± Before he knew it, the fighting was engulfed in a thunderstorm. Anton freaked out, sensing that the sudden change in weather felt too unnatural. His superstitious mind kicked into gear, interpreting the darkness that had swallowed them as a seriously bad omen. The darkness inside the clouds was only interrupted by the lights coming from his flight instruments, the occasional explosion and tracer fire, and the bright flashes of lightning occurring all around them. Without much visuals to go about, he could only rely on the blips coming from his radar to ascertain where the other fighters were. Listening to the comms only served to the detriment of his sanity. ¡°Fuck! They got Kapitel-09!¡± ¡°I¡¯m hit! Shit, I can¡¯t stabilize it!¡± ¡°Ah cr-¡± One by one, he heard his squadmates perish anticlimactically over the comms. He wanted not to mind their seemingly meaningless deaths so that he could continue to focus, but the thought of them being gone weighed heavily on him. So far, they could only account for five kills. While within expectation due to the superiority of Kainian naval fighters in dogfights, the fact that they were losing this air battle still hit hard. As his mind wandered to process the now real threat of dying, his attention was caught by bright green tracers flying above him from behind. His reflexes kicked in and he moved to get out of the crosshairs of the Kainian fighter presumably behind him. As he maneuvered through the dark clouds trying to get back at his attacker, he heard Joachim over the comms. ¡°Ah fuck! They got my right aileron! Fuck!¡± Joachim said with a desperate tone over the sound of autocannon fire. He sounded like he was going to get shot down. Despite the chances of him coming over to save him a second time being realistically low, he couldn¡¯t help but try to find him in the darkness. ¡°Hang tight, Kapitel-05; I¡¯m coming!¡± Anton said over the comms. He then tried to shake off the Kainian fighter that was still firing at him from behind. ¡°Fuck fuck fuck!!!¡± He heard Joachim again, this time audibly more distressed. This heightened his stress levels as he combed the dark skies for signs of Joachim. Knowing he had little time, he frantically looked around as he kept himself from passing out due to g-forces. After a while, he still found no signs of his friend. ¡°Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!¡± He cursed as he looked from one corner of the sky to the other, frustrated that he still couldn¡¯t find his friend. Even though it didn¡¯t make much sense, he felt a deep urge inside him to save him. For some reason, it didn¡¯t feel as if it was for the sake of saving his friend. If anything, it felt more like he feared the guilt he would feel. Then, he heard Joachim over the radio again. ¡°Schei?e! I ca-¡± At the same time, to his upper right, he saw some tracer fire emerge from the clouds, followed by the burning wreck of a fighter. Judging from what he just heard, it may have been Joachim. However, he also considered the possibility it was someone else, wishing that it wasn¡¯t otherwise. Hoping that it wasn¡¯t his friend, he chimed in. ¡°Kapitel-05, status?!¡± Nothing. ¡°Kapitel-05, come in?!?!¡± Still nothing. ¡°Goddammit, Joachim, come in!!! Say something!!!¡± A tear started to form in his eyes. This was not what he wanted to happen... and yet it did. It wasn¡¯t impossible, but he tried his utmost to make it so. Still, it was too late. He watched the lifeless, burning wreck of his friend¡¯s fighter fall out of the sky. As he lamented, he saw something else follow it. Emerging from the wall of clouds, it was a Kainian fighter, presumably the one that shot down his friend. ¡°St¨¹ck Schei?e!!!¡± He cursed as anger and revenge took hold within his heart. He marked the Kainian fighter for death. Pulling his control column and increasing his thrust, he lined himself up with the diving Kainian fighter. He pulled his trigger, intending to eviscerate his target with his autocannons. However, the Kainian fighter pulled away from his crosshairs with godly reflexes, narrowly avoiding the rounds he sent against it. He then maneuvered his fighter to chase after it. There, he saw the Kainian fighter maneuvering through the dark clouds. Whenever he got the chance, he would pull the trigger to unleash 20mm rounds down on the Kainian fighter, who always seemed to dodge his attacks. As he chased down his prey, lightning flashes occasionally lit up the environment, drenching his target with bright light. In every flash, he saw the Kainian fighter¡¯s dark blue airframe contrasting against the bright white clouds. Looking further, he caught sight of the Kainian roundels on the wings: a circular cyan outline encasing a bright, red disc inside. The religious Kain Divine Kingdom believed in the prospect of Heavenly Judgment raining down on heretics and so have molded their doctrine around overwhelming airpower, to symbolically crush their nonbeliever enemies under the weight of a thousand aircraft raining judgment with impunity. As such, their aircraft are strikingly suited for aerial engagements. To further embed this belief, they dedicated their highest religious symbol, the sun, as part of their roundel. To a superstitious man like Anton, seeing his enemy¡¯s heavenly judgment manifest before him started to convince him that he was lost. For every flash of lightning, the bright light would illuminate the sun on the Kainian roundel a threatening bright red, intimidating him as he began to flounder in the engagement. What had been rage occupying his heart was steadily replaced by fear and disturbance. Maybe he was fighting a lost cause. Maybe the gods were punishing him for his failure to save his friend. These thoughts swirled around his head for the good part of the fight when his control column suddenly jerked towards him. In response, his aircraft climbed directly upwards. Baffled by the aircraft suddenly acting on its own, Anton tried to wrestle control back to him. However, the control column nor his other control mechanisms were frozen and would not budge despite his desperate attempts. As the aircraft unnaturally continued to fly upwards, he flew past the thick, dark cloud cover, emerging in the crimson red sky he saw in a hallucination a while ago. ¡°Huh? Wha?¡± Anton looked around, struggling to understand what was happening. The clouds behind him were now uniform, and the tall, stormy, cumulonimbus clouds were gone. Suddenly, he started feeling hot. The intense heat permeated past his flight suit. As sweat began to pour in droves, he looked forward, only to see the source of the scorching heat. There, in front of him, was a perfectly bright red circle. It was the sun. Slowly, his aircraft continued to defy physics as it flew straight for the red disc. All the while, the heat grew more intense, together with his fear and heartbeat. ¡°No... No... Please... No...!!!¡± Anton repeatedly begged for everything to stop as he felt his very skin get roasted. He pushed back on the flight instruments and the cockpit, wishing to put more distance between him and the sun. However, the aircraft, ignorant of his feelings and cries for help, continued to ferry him closer and closer. The sheer redness of the sun was now the only thing occupying the space in front of him. Driven by terror and desperation, he pulled on his ejection seat, which failed to deploy. Stuck in the increasingly hot cockpit, he tried breaking through the canopy, which was still amazingly intact despite the increasing temperatures. However, all of his efforts were met with naught as the aircraft continued to zoom towards the sun. Then, his pain receptors were driven beyond their threshold from the feeling of being on fire. ¡°AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!¡± He patted and patted all around his body, trying to put out the flames that had not yet manifested. Still, it was hopeless. He closed his eyes, wishing to be away from whatever the hell was happening. With his pain reaching the highest possible level, he jumped. Then, for some reason, he felt himself released from the seemingly unbreakable seatbelt on his seat. He jumped out and landed on something cold and solid, and began to roll on the ground, trying to kill the flames that were still hurting him. As he rolled on the ground, he screamed from the intense pain he felt as his skin and flesh seemingly began to melt. The cold ground was welcome, but it felt like it didn¡¯t do much. Just then, he heard something different... and surprising. ¡°What the?! Hey, Anton! Shit, you¡¯re still asleep! Wake up! Wake up!¡± Hearing the sound of his friend¡¯s name, he opened his eyes. There, he saw Joachim next to him trying to wake him up. Confused, he swiveled his head around to make sense of what was happening. As his vision cleared, he saw the dark, comfy confines of his shared bunk room in the aircraft carrier Drachen. He then looked down on his own body to see that it was still intact and not burning. Consequently, his burning sensation disappeared. As he collapsed on the ground, seemingly relieved, Joachim patted him on the shoulder. ¡°Another nightmare? Damn... Why don¡¯t you try seeing a-¡± Joachim was interrupted by the sad-sounding sniff of Anton. Then, Anton burst into tears as he sat upright against the cold wall behind him. Understanding what was going on, Joachim stopped talking and hugged his friend. Anton¡¯s nightmares had been going on for a while at that point. Having served in the Imperial Gra Valkan Navy Air Service for some years, he was part of intense action against the Kainian forces in the last years of the Great Eternity War leading up to the empire¡¯s transfer to Asherah. In one such mission, he was shot down together with another squadmate by the Kainian ground forces during a mission to support a ground offensive by the Imperial Gra Valkan Army. While he was able to eject safely, his squadmate didn¡¯t. Venturing to the crash site to help him out, Anton spotted the intact remains of his squadmate¡¯s fighter. However, before he could help him out, the fighter¡¯s fuel ignited, engulfing the fighter and his squadmate in blazing hot flames. There, he heard his squadmate¡¯s distinct, agonizing screams of ¡°help!¡± which imprinted itself deep in his mind. Due to the intense heat, which evaporated his own sweat, he couldn¡¯t approach the fighter to help his squadmate out. Within the flames, he saw his own squadmate looking back at him with tearful eyes, begging Anton to release him from his sealed fate. Unable to do anything, he watched in helplessness as the flames engulfed his squadmate. While he continued to serve in the Air Service, the memory has haunted him in his dreams since then. Despite logically knowing that there was little he could have done to save him, the guilt weighed heavily on him. As Anton cried from the nightmare, Joachim continued to console and support him. Cent. Calendar 09/06/1639, west of the Kingdom of Paganda, aircraft carrier Drachen, FZT., 8:10 After some time to himself and a briefing on the upcoming operation following the declaration of war by the Kingdom of Paganda, Anton climbed onto his trusted Jauchzer fighter. He looked back to see Joachim climbing into another Jauchzer. Noticing Anton looking at him, he gave him the thumbs up, to which Anton responded in kind. ¡°See you later!¡± ¡°Oh, definitely!¡± As they were taxied to the catapults, Anton looked around him. Beyond the Navy Air Service airmen and crews working all around the deck of the Drachen, he saw the mighty triple 46cm cannons of the battleship Kaiser Luke Von Granderia pointing grandly towards the horizon as she sailed next to the Drachen. Further out were the guided-missile cruisers, destroyers, and support ships surrounding the four fleet carriers at heart. He then remembers his current mission: escort attack fighters to their objectives on the Kingdom of Paganda. With his fighter ready for take-off on the catapult, he looked over to his right and signaled the flight director that he was ready to go. With the flip of his body posture, the flight director signaled to the crews to launch the fighter. Then, Anton felt a great tug as the catapult pulled his fighter through the deck. He was then let go, leaving him suspended in the air as he further gained lift to zoom towards the skies. The first part of Unternehmen Donnerschlag had commenced. Chapter 14: Donnerschlag Part 1 Cent. Calendar 09/06/1639, Royal Palace, Priscina, Kingdom of Paganda, 8:25 A lone man in fine, gray robes cloaking his formal, mustard-colored uniform walked down the simplistic yet elegant halls of the royal palace. The hard soles of his leather boots made loud footsteps as he paced on the polished marble floor. The man, Royal House Secretary Andres Lardaye, was heading to a meeting hall after delivering the declaration of war to the Gra Valkan diplomatic mission off the coast of the kingdom. On his face was a determined expression that notified the world of their conviction to fight. His eyes were dead set on the two large, elaborately decorated wooden doors at the end of the hall. Grabbing the long, ornate, wooden handles, he pushed the doors back to enter into a room bustling with activity. There, military officers, diplomatic officials, representatives of trade unions, and government officials rushed around talking with one another. In the midst of them all was the king, who was talking with some of the diplomats. Seeing him, Andres walked straight towards the king, who then noticed his presence. ¡°Secretary Lardaye.¡± ¡°Your Majesty.¡± After bowing to the best of his extent while standing, Andres then straightened his back and looked at the king with eyes that said it all. The king noticed this and understood what it meant but still waited for the man to say it out loud explicitly. ¡°The Gra Valkans continue to refuse our demands, therefore as you ordered, we have declared war on them.¡± Hearing this, the other personnel in the room fell silent as they looked at him with faces that said, ¡°this is it.¡± However, the representatives of trade unions had a more negative reaction, sighing and leaving the room altogether in disappointment. The diplomats looked back to the king with worried faces. ¡°We do have a pact with Leifor. However, I doubt they¡¯d take this action well, Your Majesty.¡± ¡°It¡¯ll be fine. If we explain to them that the Gra Valkans had attacked us first, they¡¯d understand that our actions are justified.¡± The diplomats then bowed before leaving. The king, followed by his advisors and Andres, moved over to the military officers and government officials. Seeing the king approach them, all of the men stopped their conversations and simultaneously bowed. ¡°Your Majesty!¡± ¡°I want to know how long we could last against the Gra Valkans.¡± The military officers looked at one another with confused faces. They did not know what the king meant or what answer he wanted. One of the senior officers answered in their place. ¡°With all due respect, Your Majesty, I will say some things before answering that. First, neither the army nor the navy is prepared for war. While being on the defensive makes things easier for us, there¡¯s simply a lot of things we have not done yet. We are currently issuing orders to the garrisons on the west coast to begin reinforcing their defenses, and we are still talking about whether to begin conscription or not. Once we¡¯ve done that, we can probably last around one month at most against an attack by the Gra Valkans.¡± The king and his advisors nodded. Since the Great War ended, the military had been neglected for the better part. However, given that they are a small island, mobilizing the necessary manpower and equipment for an effective defense should be easier. Since the Gra Valkans may be coming in from the west, they thought of putting emphasis on reinforcing the west coast. However, everyone knew that this wouldn¡¯t be enough to completely stop the Gra Valkans, who they assumed to be on the same level as Leifor. The senior officer continued. ¡°Since we couldn¡¯t possibly stop a Leifor-level force from completely taking over Paganda, we have concluded that assistance from Leifor is paramount to victory.¡± The other military officers sweated bullets. The prospect of Paganda being toppled wasn¡¯t a comfortable idea to mention to the king and his advisors. However, the king instead nodded in affirmation, agreeing to the point that without Leifor, Paganda would fall. He then offered his thoughts. ¡°I¡¯m assuming then that we should emphasize delaying the Gra Valkan advance long enough for Leifor to respond in force? I think that¡¯s a sound strategy. We must then concentrate on stopping their landings if possible.¡± The officers from the navy then stepped in. ¡°We have put up an initial deployment plan for our ships to conduct delaying actions on Gra Valkan landing forces. There¡¯s also the prospect of deploying some of the naval mines we bought from Leifor to the west since our existing minefields are only found to the east where we used to fear a Muish invasion might come from.¡± The officers then presented a map of Paganda complete with its naval districts and a map of existing and planned minefields. The king and the advisors examined the map before an advisor asked an important question. ¡°How long before this is realized?¡± ¡°Two... maybe three weeks at the earliest.¡± Hearing the time frame, the advisors looked at one another. If Gra Valkas were to be on the same level as Leifor, then they could mobilize a decently sized force in about two weeks. This meant that they may not get the entire plan realized before the Gra Valkans attack, given that they won¡¯t attack earlier. The king then looked back to the other officers. ¡°Then how about the time needed to completely mobilize our forces and reinforce our western defenses?¡± ¡°We¡¯re looking at two weeks for the mobilization. The defenses would take longer.¡± The king pondered on how to buy more time. He could only think of pressuring Leifor and possibly Irnetia to declare war earlier. The addition of more nations to deal with would likely push back the Gra Valkans¡¯ time frame for an attack since they would need more manpower, equipment, and supplies to launch attacks on the three nations. Other than that, he sees no other options. Their navy is not in shape to mobilize and fight a delaying action in the oceans to the west. Their wyverns, if they are indeed ready to fight, could only fly a limited distance away from Paganda. They¡¯d also be disadvantageous against Leifor-level ships since those vessels are designed to defend against even more potent aerial adversaries than wyverns. All in all, there was little else he could do. ¡°Speaking of which...¡± One of the navy officers spoke up. Everyone looked at him. However, before the officer could speak, they heard a deep exploding sound reverberating within the palace. The sound unsettled everyone, prompting them to begin looking for its source. It was reminiscent of the explosions they heard from last night, but it was audibly much, much more powerful. ¡°What was that?!¡± ¡°We should have cleared the headquarters of mines by now!¡± ¡°Then what wa-¡± Boom. Another deep exploding sound rocked the palace. That time, it felt closer, shaking the ground and rocking the shining chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Everyone¡¯s curiosity skyrocketed as they felt that something horribly wrong was happening. The officers ran out from the meeting hall to go outside. The king wanted to follow them but he was stopped by Andres and his advisors. ¡°Your Majesty! You can¡¯t go! It might be dangerous!¡± ¡°I have to see it with my own eyes!¡± Overpowering the advisors, the king rushed out of the meeting hall and into the hallways. As the loud footsteps of his boots resonated throughout the grandiose halls, more and more explosions could be heard happening outside. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. The king began to sweat as he ran. However, his anxieties were the primary source of his perspiration. He could only explain the explosions with a single answer¨Cone that he was not ready to accept. There, at the other end of the hallway, he saw sunlight reflecting from the marble floors as the doors to a balcony lay open. The magnificent silk curtains waved in the wind as the sight of men in brown military suits stood outside with their heads swiveling all over the place. In the time it took for the king to reach the balcony, ten more explosions had gone off. There, standing in the mid-morning sun and breezy gales, the king, looked up to a terrifying sight. The sweat from his brow continued to pour as he lost the energy to even curl his hands into fists. Emotions welled up as his thinking slowed to a halt. ¡°I-Impossible...¡± Large, grey, unyielding metal birds flew in formation from the skies to the west and southwest to the capital. Their extremely fast speeds made the gentlemen on the balcony rule out the fact that they were birds or wyverns. They weren¡¯t even the aircraft from the Leiforians nor the Muish, or even the Imperials. It was beyond any doubt alien. However, eagle-eyed officers spotted peculiar details on the wings and bodies of the aircraft¡ªa black and white cross imposed on a red circle. ¡°T-The Gra Valkan flag...!!!¡± Each aircraft had a role in the form of lumps that dropped from their opened underbellies. These lumps then plummeted into the ground below, erupting into a mess of orange and black as fire and dirt were thrown up in explosive fashion. Boom! In the receiving end were their coastal batteries, which were loosely manned and terribly maintained. In any case, they didn¡¯t have the elevation to shoot even wyverns out of the sky. To the east, the military police headquarters, which had been the subject of an attack by clandestine Gra Valkan forces the night before, was leveled in a series of explosions from the bombs dropped by Gra Valkan planes. At the harbor, where moored Pagandan wooden and iron gunboats were sunk in quick succession, a lone armored cruiser stood its ground against the mass of bombs dropping all around it. Its circuit guns erupted into life as its gunners manually turned them to follow the enemy planes flying overhead. Tatatatatatatatata! However, the manually-aimed circuit guns proved useless as black lumps of explosive fell on the Pagandan flagship Tilas, piercing its deck and exploding through its armored belt. Hit by two bombs, the explosions opened massive holes along the starboard waterline, filling the now exposed protective mana stone bunkers with seawater at egregious rates. In no time, the Tilas unceremoniously went down under the shallow waters of Priscina harbor. Under the noise of explosions and unorganized, disparate rifle fire from their own soldiers against the unstoppable Gra Valkan onslaught, they heard the heart-piercing shrieks of their own citizens in the city below running for their lives. The government and military officials looked on in horror, unable to cope up with the extremely fast pace of the course of events. Before long, their anger and frustration came to a boiling point, but they unwittingly decided to turn these feelings against one another. ¡°How could you not have seen this coming?!¡± ¡°None of us could ever know that they were capable of attacking now!¡± ¡°But we had our own circuit guns for anti-aircraft use! Where the fuck are they?!¡± ¡°I-I don¡¯t know...¡± ¡°Didn¡¯t the budget specify that they should have been deployed to the capital?!¡± ¡°We never received them!¡± ¡°What do you mean?! We gave you the budget!!!¡± ¡°What budget?! The ones you suck up dry every damned year?!¡± The king, snapping from his state of shock, decided to step in and calm the situation. ¡°That¡¯s enough! This isn¡¯t the time for infighting and bringing up past scuffles! The enemy is attacking the capital, and we must coordinate the defense... Get me information on the deployment of our forces and check if our manacomms are still intact! Information is vital!¡± The officers and government officials reluctantly disengaged and lowered their heads. The Gra Valkan onslaught continued as more and more explosions lessened the number of guns being fired against the sky. The Pagandan authorities retreated to consolidate themselves in an attempt to coordinate the defense of the capital. The oceans west of Paganda, 8:35 Five ships sailed in a column across moderately high waves in the oceans to the west of Paganda. They had been sent there for a routine patrol, decided way before the diplomatic crisis even happened. The lead ship in the column, the Tilas-class armored cruiser Rakis, sailed north as it was followed by four steam-powered wooden-hulled frigates. The Pagandan flag flew high on their masts, fluttering wildly in the same gusty wind that was causing the rough waves. The captain of the Rakis stood inside the bridge, staring forward towards the turbulent seas ahead of the ship. With him was a Grand-Captain, who commanded the entire column. As the Rakis rocked forward and threw itself into a wave, throwing up seawater all around the ship, a communications officer approached both of them. ¡°Captain! Grand-Captain! We have received word from headquarters! We have declared war on the Gra Valkans!¡± The grand captain and the captain looked towards him. The grand-captain replied. ¡°Do we have new orders?¡± ¡°We¡¯re only told to be vigilant and report anything suspicious. Otherwise, we proceed as planned.¡± The captain dismissed the officer before the both of them turned back to the view of the ocean. The captain then entertained his own thoughts and feelings on the matter. He did think that the Gra Valkan envoys acted rudely and disrespectfully towards their royals, but the hastiness of the king in imprisoning them left a sour taste on his impression of the Pagandan head of state. The Gra Valkans were mysterious, and their objectives in suddenly reaching out to them felt dubious. While they were indeed a newcomer, yet to prove their mettle on the Asheran geopolitical stage, the lack of delicacy between them and Paganda bothered him. Now that they were at war, they would be forced to fight a country they had only heard of a year ago. They know next to nothing about them. While the prospect of being under Leifor¡¯s protection comforted him, the Gra Valkans would not be so aggressive against established powers if they were logical. That is, of course, unless... As the captain began to entertain the thought that the Gra Valkans may be one step ahead of them, he started hearing high-pitched whirring sounds coming from outside. He looked towards the grand-captain, who looked back at him with a face that said, ¡°do you also hear that?¡± Looking back at his crew, it appears that they were also hearing the mysterious whirring. His first instinct was to look for the sound, but standard protocol compelled him to check if his lookouts were seeing anything. Just as he was about to raise them, they reported in. ¡°Aircraft of unknown origin approaching from the west! I¡¯m counting more than ten!¡± The captain and the commander then moved outside to get a better look at what was coming. There, looking out to the skies to the west, he sees several aircraft silhouettes moving towards them. The grey color of the aircraft contrasted with the cloudy background that was the sky, making them easy to spot. At first glance, they appeared to be Imperial aircraft from the Holy Mirishial Empire, but further scrutiny told them a different story. In place of the Imperial dark blue and gold roundel, a black and white cross imposed on a red background decorated the aircraft wings and body. The grand-captain, having seen the symbol before in the form of the flag flown by the Gra Valkan diplomatic ship back in Priscina, immediately remembered that they were now at war with them. While the fact that the Gra Valkans possessed such majestic-looking aircraft impressed both of them, it wasn¡¯t long before their disposition as officers kicked in. ¡°Gra Valkans! They¡¯re hostile! Man the circuit guns!¡± The grand captain then followed up on the captain¡¯s orders. ¡°Inform the other ships! They are to maintain formation if we have to do some maneuvers!¡± The communications officers informed the other ships behind them while the Rikas¡¯s sailors manned the only anti-aircraft weapons in the entire column: two Leifor-built circuit guns mounted on platforms on the deck. The sailors removed the coverings on the two automatic, belt-fed weapons, revealing guns that resembled World War I machine guns. Other sailors brought the ammunition in canisters before carefully bringing them up to arm the guns. Now that they were ready to fire, the gunners then swiveled the circuit guns to the west and up at the sky towards the incoming enemy aircraft. Left to their own discretion as to which aircraft to shoot at, the gunners activated the magic circuitry on the guns. The pre-programmed spell imbued into the circuitry was automatically chanted, casting the mana in the Imperial-designed triangular cartridge to combust and expand, propelling the bullet through the chamber and out of the barrel at an amazingly fast speed. The circuit guns roared to life, sending lethal lumps of steel up into the sky towards the Gra Valkan aircrafts. Tatatatatatatatata As their anti-aircraft weapons lashed out yet to produce any result, the captain and the grand captain closely monitored the actions of the enemy. Then, the grand-captain notices that the underbellies of the closest planes opened, and not long after, numerous black objects began to emerge from their innards towards them. Sensing that this was how the aircraft attacked, he immediately ordered the captain to perform evasive maneuvers. Despite knowing that their maneuverability couldn¡¯t afford them enough chances to dodge the incoming attacks, the captain still carried out his orders. ¡°Hard to starboard!¡± The helmsman then accordingly swung the wheel to the ordered directions. However, before they could even feel the ship move as designated, a violent outburst shook the entire vessel as a huge column of water erupted just a short distance away from the port side. Boom! The crews were thrown off their footing by the force of the explosion as the thrown-up seawater rained down on the Rikas. It was the first of many. Mere moments after their first taste of the Gra Valkans'' might, another bomb landed in the ocean closer to the Rikas than the first. Boom! Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. The circuit guns had stopped firing as the gunners were thrown back from the sheer force of the explosion. Seeing the pattern, the captain and the grand-captain could only guess that the next one would hit. Despite their best efforts at performing their duties as soldiers, they were simply no match for the Gra Valkans. The following explosion then came from the Rikas itself as a bomb landed on the starboard deck, penetrating it and exploding inside. The explosion was immense, throwing up burnt steel, wood, and flesh as it opened up a massive gash on the hull. As if without mercy, several more explosions followed as a consequence of direct hits, catastrophically damaging the Rikas. The grand captain and the captain perished after a bomb landed close to the bridge, wiping out the head of the Rikas and, by extension, the entire column. Taking in enormous amounts of seawater from several gaping holes on the hull caused by the explosions, the Rikas submerged into the ocean with breakneck speed, leaving only some of its remains and a handful of survivors chaotically scattered about the surface. The frigates, possessing no real anti-aircraft weapons of their own, were swiftly and unceremoniously disposed of by the Gra Valkan aircraft without difficulty. As the planes of the Imperial Gra Valkan Navy Air Service circled back, returning to where they came from, the surviving Pagandan crewmen desperately clung on to whatever piece of wreckage floated on the rough seas. The Forbundsting, Leiforia, Federal Empire of Leifor, 8:50 Having received the official war declaration by the Kingdom of Paganda from its sovereign, the Leiforian legislative body, the Forbundsting, had been called to an emergency joint session to discuss what to do next. The declaration came with a message addressed to the Forbundsting, heads of state and government, and the Leiforian people which said: In light of our justified actions in response to the villainous transgressions committed by the Gra Valkas Empire against us, as the sovereign of the Kingdom of Paganda, I invoke Article 4 of the Leiforian Protectorate Pact of 1590, signed in goodwill between the peoples of our respective nations, so that we could stand united and steadfast against the Gra Valkas Empire that operates to undermine the security of our nations! President of Leifor, Sauren Axar, was infuriated upon reading the message. Sharing his sentiments were the left-leaning congressmen in both the Senatet (upper house) and the Folkemod (lower house). They were all collectively outraged at the hastiness of the Pagandans in committing to such a drastic measure and dragging Leifor into the mess. Hearing of the diplomatic crisis unfolding only yesterday, many of the Leiforians ignored it, hoping that the situation would resolve itself. The Gra Valkas Empire, while suspicious, was generally neutral towards them. Pressure from Mu to the east compelled the Gra Valkans to focus solely on them and to ignore Leifor, leaving their diplomatic relationship much to be desired, yet the Leiforians didn¡¯t mind. Their own intelligence, after gathering what disparate information they could from their long-term friends in the Holy Mirishial Empire and in the other nations in the Second Civilized Area, pointed to the high likelihood that the Gra Valkas Empire was a peer nation. While the consensus was not to be hostile with the newcomer either out of wariness or the belief that the Gra Valkans have nothing to offer to them, the recent development had the Leiforians split along party lines. In the Forbundsting, where the Senatet, the Folkemod, and President Axar had convened to discuss the matter, they, however, did the little fruitful discussion. ¡°To hell with the Pagandans! We should have gotten rid of this goddamn pact when we ousted the nobles from power! The pact is a relic of the imperial period selfishly signed by the nobles without consideration for the people!¡± ¡°They¡¯re important to us! So much so that it would do us harm not to take their side! We can¡¯t just forsake them!¡± ¡°Hah! You oldies only stand to lose money when the Gra Valkans step in to nullify your investments in the kingdom! You lot are nothing but greedy!¡± ¡°Don¡¯t you understand what reneging on our pact means?! The entire world will know that we don¡¯t honor our word! Not only do we stand to lose prestige, trust, and a handful of bucks, the investments we made are for the benefit of our people!¡± ¡°So you¡¯re suggesting going to war against the Gra Valkans? Whom the military considers being a peer-level nation?!¡± ¡°They¡¯re nobody from outside the civilized areas! No one knows what they¡¯re actually capable of! Not even Mu nor the Imperials! They just appeared to the west and have started commerce with everyone! Even if they are indeed a peer-level nation, we have fought against Mu in the past!¡± ¡°Yet we emerged, barely surviving from it! What makes you think it would go differently this time?!¡± The heated back-and-forth between the two splits of the Senatet only escalated. The progressives, social democrats, liberals, reformists, and the general left, who were advocates for pragmatism and internal recovery and were anti-imperialists. They did not want Leifor committing to what they saw as a pact signed by their imperial past and believed that Leifor should not put itself in jeopardy for what seemed to be a lost cause. On the other hand, the conservatives, right-leaning moderates, and some independents, who were either noble themselves, traditionalists, or were involved in big tycoons, did not want Leifor to abstain from its longstanding commitments. They favor upholding their dignity and protecting their allies against what they see as a threat to everyone''s security and interests. The politicians on both sides continued to angrily hurl arguments that simply flew over the other side¡¯s heads, contributing only to fuel the intense atmosphere in the chamber. President Axar looked on, disappointed that nothing was being accomplished. As a veteran of the Great War, he hoped to lead Leifor to a bright post-war future, but drama and politics bogged down his efforts. Despite his own opinions that they should avoid a confrontation with Gra Valkas, he can¡¯t help but feel agitated by the lack of decisiveness from the politicians of his party. Seeing the congressmen from both sides beginning to get physical, he snapped. With his burly hand, he slammed his wooden podium three times to get everyone¡¯s attention. ¡°ENOUGH!!!¡± His commanding, intimidating voice echoed throughout the chamber, diverting the center of attention to him and silencing the rabble. With all eyes on him, he proceeded to address his fellow politicians. ¡°Do you imbeciles see value in starting a fight in the middle of an emergency session? Do you think that airing your emotions through violence against the other Leiforian would convince them? This is the plague that seethes through the cracks in our government, festering within with each pointless word spoken and crippling the ability to respond promptly and decisively! This lack of unity, which has persisted time and time again, is what prevents Leifor from being... great!¡± The politicians from both houses and both sides looked all over the place as they scratched their heads, feeling embarrassed at their own ineptness. ¡°We are here in this chamber because the people of Leifor elected us, investing their trust and hard-earned money so that we may perform our duties in service to them and our country! We must be united in resolutely responding to this situation as it is the least we could do to serve our people!¡± Just as the president ended his speech, an aide approached him. ¡°Mr. President, this is the official response handed to us by the Gra Valkan diplomatic mission when we asked them for answers.¡± The aide handed him a piece of paper. President Axar, reading the contents of the letter, sighed. With attention still on him, he proceeded to read the letter. ¡°The Gra Valkans have given us their response.¡± After coughing and clearing his throat, Axar continued. ¡°Due to the unlawful incarceration of our envoys by the Kingdom of Paganda, the empire has decided to act to rescue and recover them after we have concluded that the Pagandans couldn¡¯t guarantee a dignified treatment of the envoys after they¡¯ve shown us that they inhumanely subjected one of our envoys to torture. The Pagandans, deliberately manufacturing this crisis and forcing our hand, then declared war on us and denied us the opportunity for peace. We deeply lament their decision to do so, as we believe it is not in the best interests of all parties involved. We hope that you consider our position on the matter with careful evaluation as one of the main powers in the Second Civilized Area.¡± After finishing reading the letter, Axar looked up to see the politicians in a discussion. They were scoffing at the Gra Valkan response, arguing that they were branding themselves as the victim and that Paganda was the offender. The letter also addressed the fact that the Gra Valkans did indeed attack Paganda and retrieve their envoys. Even if the Pagandans did incarcerate their envoys, the Gra Valkans had killed many Pagandans in the process of retrieving them. Now, the prevalent opinion in the Forbundsting was that no matter how justified the Gra Valkans were in their actions, the fact that they violated Pagandan sovereignty and killed Pagandans was a grave violation. The Leiforians then concluded that no one in Asherah would take the side of the Gra Valkans in this situation, especially after knowing what they had done. President Axar then spoke up. ¡°It is now clear that the Gra Valkans did in fact initiate the attack on Priscina and are not sorry for it. While we will not deny that the Pagandans were not without their own offenses, the Gra Valkans have proven that they are one to resort to underhanded methods instead of pursuing diplomacy. Therefore, it is in our best interests to refrain from pursuing a diplomatic course of action in handling this crisis with the Gra Valkas Empire and that we must take advantage of our position on the higher moral ground. Hence, standing united with our allies in Paganda against the unlawful conduct of Gra Valkas, we will honor the Leiforian Protectorate Pact of 1590 and follow with our own declaration of war on the Gra Valkas Empire.¡± The Forbundsting erupted with statements of politicians agreeing with the president on the matter. With only a handful of congressmen still opposed to the declaration, it was passed by the Forbundsting before it was handed over to the Gra Valkan diplomatic mission in Leiforia. Outskirts of Leiforia, 9:15 As the destroyer Rammich, Z. of the Imperial Gra Valkan Navy steamed out of the Leiforian capital, one of the diplomats to Leifor was in the communications office of the destroyer to report back to the ministry in the mainland. ¡°Did you give them our letter?¡± The voice on the other end of the telephone asked. ¡°Yes, Herr Gesta.¡± ¡°And their response?¡± ¡°They¡¯ve handed over their declaration of war on the grounds of the 1590 Protectorate Pact and have asked us to depart their territories.¡± ¡°Anything else?¡± ¡°They also handed us a declaration of war from the Irnetia Kingdom. Apparently, they were also part of the protectorate pact and are honoring it as well.¡± Gesta let out an audible groan. ¡°Three nations... We assumed that this would happen. All the better for our little show of force. Not sure about the military, but that¡¯s their problem.¡± Before Gesta could continue ranting on, he stopped himself and got back on topic. ¡°Anyway, are the Arschl?cher from the Geheimdienst with you?¡± ¡°Ah, ja, Herr Gesta.¡± ¡°Put them on the line. I want a word with them.¡± Aircraft carrier Falke, FZT., oceans far to the west of Leiforia, that same time ¡°Gro?admiral! Leifor has now officially joined the war on the Pagandan side. We have now been issued orders!¡± Staring out into the turbulent oceans was a middle-aged man with his hands behind his back. He was contemplating the reasons as to why the high command of the IGVN had them out in force in a patch of ocean dangerously close to one of the biggest powers in the Second Civilized Area. After hearing the war declaration, it was now clear to him that it might have been in anticipation of such an event. Still, this was too hasty and riddled with dubious motivations, he thought. Nevertheless, he was a staunch believer that the Gra Valkas Empire should cement their place in Asherah by proving to the rest of the world that they were not just some ¡°newcomer¡± from "outside the civilized areas." While it was indeed suspicious, he was convinced that this was still in line with their goal¨Cto establish themselves as a world power. ¡°Wunderbar. I will head over to examine the details of the orders.¡± He then followed the communications officer to review the details with his officers. Gro?admiral Caesar Roland, commanding the IGVN carrier strike group assigned to Leifor, then proceeded with opening the Leiforian front of Unternehmen Donnerschlag. Priscina, that same time ¡°Dear gods...¡± The king clutched his head as he stopped himself from crying. It has been an hour since the Gra Valkans last bombed the military installations all around the capital Priscina. After the Gra Valkans left, they were able to assess the damage caused by the air attacks. To their horror, the Gra Valkans were horrifyingly thorough with their air campaign. All of their coastal artillery batteries around the capital were wiped out. Military facilities like the military police headquarters, the army base, the naval headquarters, their military infrastructure at the port, and the airfield were all leveled. Their ships, including their prized flagship, the Tilas, now lie scattered in the shallow waters of the harbor. They have lost their primary long-range communications apparatuses since they were located within those military facilities. At least 500 Pagandan military servicemen were killed, with some civilian casualties. Their wyverns were all killed in the bombings of the airfield. Due to the loss of their facilities, which housed the majority of their weapons, they have too few to arm conscripts or volunteers, let alone their own surviving soldiers. The readiness of the Pagandan military was even more horrifying than anyone previously thought. Since some of their communications apparatuses were still intact, they were able to make contact with some of the garrisons inland and in the other cities but they too largely suffered the same attacks to varying degrees. As it was now increasingly possible that the Gra Valkans could land before Leifor could even reach out to them, Paganda falling was now set in stone. The king, his advisors, government officials, and military officers all gathered back at the royal palace. It was now clear to everyone that there was nothing they could do to change the situation. Even if it looked like everyone was deep in thought, they were all in fact just waiting for someone else to say what they themselves didn¡¯t want to say. Finally, the king himself uttered the dreaded words. ¡°We... I mean... I think it is best for all of us if we just surrender.¡± The king, deeply lamenting and regretting his decisions, didn¡¯t even look up. The others, Hearing the words transmitted through the king¡¯s forlorn tone, did not bother opposing him as they looked down in despair. His advisors, including Royal House Secretary Andres Lardaye, once gleaming with pride and determination just an hour and a half ago, were now overcome with hopelessness and grief. Resisting with what little they have was completely meaningless and would only unnecessarily put their people¡¯s lives in jeopardy. If they surrender early, they might be able to talk the Gra Valkans out of harming their people. It was ultimately a long shot, given that they were hoping that the Gra Valkans would still be reasonable and accept their surrender. At this point in time, they had little to no pride preventing them from outright begging for lenient terms. In the middle of their lamenting, an aide burst into the hall. ¡°Your Majesty! Your Excellencies! The Gra Valkan invasion force has appeared on the horizon!¡± Everyone sighed deeply. Here they come, they thought. With their decision to surrender basically finalized, the Pagandan government moved to discuss terms and to inform the people of their decision. Paganda Landing Forces of the IGVA, 9:20 ¡°There it is. Paganda...¡± Onboard the amphibious assault ship/command vessel AA-2, the commander of the landing forces for the Pagandan front sighed in relief as the landscape of the island of Paganda came to view. Having been hastily deployed for Donnerschlag, the slower Imperial Gra Valkan Army invasion force traveled ahead of the IGVN carrier strike groups so that the timing of the landings would occur closer to the timing of the air campaign. This was undeniably reckless due to the fact that the naval forces of Paganda were still wholly intact by the time the war was declared. Fortunately for them, they encountered no Pagandan naval forces as they sailed to their landing zones, having already been annihilated by the IGVNAS as soon as the war was declared. Still, the overall impulsiveness of the invasion meant that problems were bound to arise. Around 10 minutes later, the 13 amphibious landing ships were now approaching their objectives. Five of them were fast ships capable of traveling at 28 knots and carrying 200 personnel, and eight of them were slow ships that traveled at 18 knots but carried 450 personnel. The fast amphibious landing ships would arrive first, unloading their personnel, equipment, and vehicles while the slow landing ships would follow. The unloading would take an hour for each ship to allow for the following ships to unload. Expecting the reports of landing ships hitting the coast and commencing disembarkation anytime soon, the commander closely monitored the situation aboard the AA-2. Then, reports started coming in. ¡°AL-96, 99, and 100 have reported successful landings with no resistance from enemy combatants. Disembarkation has commenced.¡± ¡°AL-97 is reporting that their landing zone is an entire cliff face, and they are aborting their landing.¡± ¡°AL-98 has aborted their landing. They have reported that they have run aground on a previously undetected reef and are requesting for tugboat assistance.¡± The commander rubbed his forehead as he sighed. While vexing, this was expected of such flimsy planning, rubbish intelligence, and rushed implementations. Sighing in frustration for a moment, he returned to his duties and began reconsulting the operation map with his officers before issuing new orders. Priscina, 10:20 Despite initial complications with the landings, the brigade-sized invasion force of the IGVA was able to land without any resistance from the Pagandans. Securing their beachheads, elements of the invasion force could now advance deeper into the island. One of these was the 287th Sonder Infanterie-Abteilung, which was part of the forces that landed on a beach just west of the capital. Moving ahead of the main contingent, they encountered surrendering Pagandan civilians and the charred remains of people and military installations along the way before they were able to enter the outskirts of Priscina without hiccups. It was a bizarre scene. Far from the abandoned, desolate wreckage of the military facilities that made it clear they were in a warzone, the streets of the capital were still laden with colorful festive banners lining the buildings and street lamps. Firecrackers, stages, furniture, wine bottles, confetti, and other signs of festive merriment littered the cobblestone streets and parks that were still yet to be cleaned up. What had been a gay night marked by celebrations, cheers, color, and fun were all too abruptly overturned by the violence and speed of the Gra Valkan attack. These people may not have even knew that war had been declared by the time the Ti-422 ¡°Sonnenbitter¡± attack aircraft of the IGVNAS appeared overhead. As they dutifully carried out the operation, the men of the 287th couldn''t help but pity the Pagandan people. Citizens, soldiers, and conscripts all surrendered to them without a fight. Due to them being preoccupied with disarming the Pagandans, the rest of the IGVA force was able to catch up and enter the city. While they were disposing of the armaments of five Pagandan soldiers that surrendered to them, something caught the attention of the soldiers of the 287th. A sizable crowd had gathered down the street that they were in. Looking closely, they saw that the people within the crowd were pointing towards them. Emerging from the crowd were a group of people clad in flashy clothes and formal uniforms. When they made eye contact, the important-looking people walked towards them. The commander of the 287th, having been the one who made eye contact, turned to his men. ¡°Do any of you speak Asheran common fluently?¡± Seeing that none of them knew how the commander gulped as he decided to take the mantle of doing the talking. Having only studied a single blackboard¡¯s worth of words, he hoped that the other party could understand him and vice versa. One of the people with the fancy getup approached them with his hands in the air, indicating to the Gra Valkans that he meant no harm. Accordingly, the commander told his men to lower their guns and follow the rules of engagement. Stopping some distance from them, the man still had his hands raised into the air. The decorative symbols on his clothing gave the soldiers the impression that he was a high-ranking official or that he was important. The man tried to put on a friendly smile, but there was no hiding the reluctance on his face. He then spoke up. (For the dialogue below, FULL statements in italic is spoken in Asheran common) ¡°Salutations. I am Heinar, King of Paganda, among other titles.¡± The commander of the 287th understood the greeting and the part that he was a ¡®something¡¯ of Paganda. Taking a moment to formulate a response in his head, he then replied. ¡°Hello. Me Ludwig. Soldier of Gra Valkas. Uhh... How do you do?¡± Oberleutnant Ludwig inwardly cringed at his attempt at Asheran common before fearing that there may be miscommunication between him. As for Heinar, he inwardly sighed that the soldiers he approached did not know much Asheran common. However, he still believed that he could successfully convey his message to them. ¡°I am... leader of Paganda. I want to surre¨Cgive up. Yes! I give up! No more fight! No more fight!¡± While keeping his hands in the air, he used signs to augment his now simplified wording in hopes that the Gra Valkan soldier understood him. Fortunately for him, Ludwig recognized the words he used. He now understood that the man was the leader of Paganda¨Cthe king. Suddenly feeling the gravity of the situation after realizing that in his presence was the Pagandan sovereign, his anxieties heightened. Still, he did what he could to maintain composure. As for the last part of the sentence... ¡°They give up? What?...¡± Then, it occurred to him. ¡°Ah! Surrender? You surrender? Paganda surrender?¡± Heinar¡¯s expression loosened as he felt relieved that the Gra Valkan soldier understood him. ¡°Yes! Yes! We surrender! We surrender!¡± The king gleefully said as he nodded his head up and down. ¡°Me tell... mine leader.¡± He turned back to his men. ¡°This spie?ig here is the king, and he¡¯s surrendering. Watch him for me while I radio it in.¡± Later on, after the information that the king was surrendering went up the chain of command, the commander of the landing forces substituted for an official diplomatic representative as they began talks for Paganda''s official surrender. On that day, the Kingdom of Paganda ceased to be a sovereign nation as the Gra Valkas Empire commenced the process of absorbing the island. Chapter 15: Donnerschlag Part 2 Cent. Calendar 09/06/1639, Geheimdienst, Ragna, Gra Valkas Empire, 10:30 A bright streak of light leaking in from the window hits the white, cosmopolitan sofa and reflects from it, scattering all over the room which is decorated with plain, beige wallpapers. Countless dust particles danced in the light, accumulating on objects and furniture that were barely disturbed in the last few weeks. Hanging on the walls opposite to the windowed side were glass panels containing medals, awards, and certificates of recognition from the state and other institutions. All of them had one thing in common: they were awarded to Allen Schmidt, the person occupying the office as head of the Geheimdienst, the Gra Valkan intelligence organ. There he was on his office chair at one end of the room, leaning back on it as he held a cigar with one hand and the telephone to his ear with the other. He was back in Ragna in anticipation of the diplomatic crisis in Paganda exploding to full war, traveling to the capital all the way from his villa in Hochgarten at the other end of the empire. Just some minutes ago, he was informed that the sovereign of Paganda had surrendered and that they were currently in talks with the most senior officer of the Imperial Gra Valkan Army present. With the Leiforian front about to open up, he was currently in a call with another pro-martial conspirator regarding the upcoming fight. ¡°I am telling you, I personally don¡¯t like that we have to act so soon.¡± Inhaling the nicotine-filled smoke from the burning cigar, Schmidt immediately proceeds to exhale it to respond to the complaints from the other voice on the line. ¡°If not now, when? The others have also agreed that this is the most optimum time to do it, even if we disregard the fact that we¡¯ve been sitting around for so long doing nothing.¡± Schmidt dumped the cigar on the ashtray, killing the flames as he listened to the other voice sigh in exasperation. ¡°I agree, but... Donnerschlag relies heavily on so many variables we can¡¯t control¨Cones that we have to risk so much so that everything lines up. Our preparations, which we¡¯ve done with utmost care so that we¡¯re not outed, could only muster one mechanized division for the entirety of the Leiforian front of the operation! They can¡¯t even fully occupy the massive capital alone!¡± Unfazed by these valid concerns, Schmidt replies. ¡°These risks are without a doubt valid, but we will get over them. Our victories back in Yggdra are not for naught.¡± ¡°But this is Asherah, not Yggdra! While Leifor isn¡¯t a peer nation to us, they¡¯re still formidable! Maybe not against an entire army group, but they¡¯ll easily crush a single division!¡± ¡°Yet they¡¯re still equally subject to fear, confusion, and deception. I believe that our own imperial forces can do the job, but I¡¯ve played my own cards to seal my confidence in Donnerschlag¡¯s success.¡± The other voice replied with a measly ¡°Ah¡± at Schmidt¡¯s last statement. Knowing that he has personally put something from his own hands into the operation, his mind drifted to only one thing that Schmidt could have possibly sent. ¡°You¡¯ve sent them in?¡± Schmidt coughed loud as he said ¡°Ja¡± over the phone so that no one else could hear it. ¡°And damage control for what they''ll do?¡± Schmidt let out a snicker. ¡°When was that ever a problem? The results they deliver are nothing short of... impeccable.¡± Scenes and reports of Schmidt¡¯s ¡®cards¡¯ causing untold damage and trouble back in the Rabany continent in Yggdra come to mind. While the government publicly denied the ruckus as anti-government propaganda and fabrications, he himself has seen the true scale of what had happened. Hearing that Schmidt¡¯s boys were back in action, he shudders, which Schmidt could tell from the utter silence that prevailed for five whole seconds. ¡°...Give them my regards.¡± ¡°Of course!¡± A ¡°kachak¡± echoed from the other side of the telephone before dead silence took its place. With the conversation over, Schmidt put the telephone back on the receiver. The anxieties of the other man rubbed off on him, prompting him to take a deep breath before exhaling an equally hearty amount of air. He then takes a look at his office¨Cthe designated space for him in the building that he himself rarely uses. Bored with its unappealing, undecorated simplicity, he yearned to be back in his villa in the countryside. Just as he got lost in imagining the splendid view of the lush, green pastures of Hochgarten, his mental getaway was abruptly cut short by the sound of his office door opening. Through it came a person dressed in a white office shirt, khaki slacks, and his neck adorned with a color-coded tie that meant he belonged in the Abteilung KS-Dienst, the department dealing with cryptanalysis and language analysis. ¡°Director. There¡¯s an urgent matter that requires your presence in a meeting with the department heads.¡± Schmidt¡¯s eyes sparkled as he licked his lips at the possibility that this was something incredibly juicy. ¡°Sure... But son, could you be bothered to spoil me some details ahead of the meeting?¡± The man cleared his mouth as Schmidt looked at him with his mouth agape, savoring the last few moments of ignorance before he was drawn in by a possible new interest. ¡°Something regarding an incident in the far east in what the locals call the ¡®Third Civilized Area¡¯ that the Muish keep bringing up over and over again. Apparently, a yet-to-be-named nation toppled a large feudal kingdom with an extremely precise airstrike on the leadership.¡± Schmidt clapped his hands as mixed emotions of surprise, curiosity, and anxiety reflected on his face as a wide grin. He then stood up from his chair. ¡°Wunderbar! Sounds like a worthy topic!¡± Somewhere in Leiforia, Federal Empire of Leifor, 10:50 ¡°Alright...¡± A man dressed in dark clothing under a dark, ammo-filled, military-grade vest groaned as he landed on the moist, mossy floor in an underground sewage system. Revolting from the putrid smells of wastes and other filth, he immediately pulled up his black balaclava to cover his mouth and nose. Behind him, similarly dressed men drop onto the floor from the ladder leading up to the surface. With their six-man team all accounted for, the leading man then checked his wristwatch. Maneuvering his right arm towards the light leaking from the opening above, he sees the hands pointing to the time: 10:50. ¡°Almost time for the party. Let¡¯s make sure that the guests of honor show up.¡± The other men snickered and snorted behind their balaclavas as they pulled their Strauss MP5 submachine guns slung around their bodies. Now that they were ready, the leading man turned to the direction from where the water was flowing from, following the dark path ahead. Some ways down the path, they came across an opening in the wall to the left, presenting a well-lit path leading down to somewhere. Pulling out a crude drawing of a map of the system, the leading man looked at it and back towards the opening before he remarked. ¡°This should be the one.¡± With his MP5 at the ready, he turned left and into the opening, followed by his other teammates. Skies above Leiforia, 11:00 Meanwhile, high above the Leiforian capital, four brownish biplanes of the Leiforian Air Force flew southwest against the moderately strong winds of the late morning. These Muish-built biplanes, cruising at a modest 250km/h, were the current staples of the air wing of the Leiforian armed forces, bought as surplus from neighboring Mu after the Great War in an effort to keep their forces up to date. In light of airspace violations from the Gra Valkans a year ago, the Leiforians have upped their air patrols to maintain readiness for more daring incursions from the newcomers. Assuming that the Gra Valkas Empire is a nation with military technological advancement on par with the Muish, the Leiforians have since started to procure and develop monoplane designs, but since their numbers are still few, they¡¯ve relegated them to interception duties while the older biplanes carried out patrols. At this point in time, the four airmen on patrol were only recently notified of the war declaration, and since they didn¡¯t expect the Gra Valkans to attack any time soon, they maintained a regular state of readiness and only anticipated to find similarly small enemy patrols probing their airspace. One of these airmen flew at the rightmost edge of the wedge formation of the flight and he was the closest of the four to the ocean. He swings his head from the front to the right, where beyond the intricate mesh of wires holding together both wings he sees the majestic city of Leiforia sprawling out from the mouth of a river delta emptying into a massive lagoon, which was held back from the ocean by several massive sandbars. Other than Fort Jan Povlsen, which stood at an island in the middle of the lagoon, guarding the harbor of the capital, he made out the individual, green tile roofings of the majority of the buildings of the city, giving it its name: the ¡°Emerald of the West.¡± Setting aside the mood-destroying black smoke billowing out from the countless factories in the industrial parts of the city, it was a wholly spectacular sight. He felt a sense of awe at the captivating spectacle of Leiforia; a scene he always longed to see whenever he flew this patrol route. However, distracted as he was by this scene, his manacomm flaring to life brought him back to reality. ¡°Oi, fellas, I see some glints and silhouettes off in the distance at 2 o¡¯clock! I count six... no wait, ten! Shit, more than ten!¡± The comms flared to life with the chatter of the airmen talking about what they see off to the skies above the ocean to the west; while they had no idea who or what these silhouettes may be, standard protocol dictated that they should report this anomaly. The lead airman phoned the airbase where they were from. ¡°LL1, this is Kigge B-1. We¡¯ve spotted more than ten aircraft of unknown origin coming from the west towards the east at estimated speeds of 500km/h. We are currently 10km south of Leiforia proper. Highly likely this is not your average patrol, over.¡± ¡°Acknowledged. Maintain patrol and visual sighting of the aircraft. We are sending in the Forfolgers to intercept; ETA 25 minutes.¡± ¡°Acknowledged.¡± Carrying out their orders, the four airmen continued on their patrol southwest while they maintained watch on the approaching aircraft. Some moments later, the silhouettes now appeared to resemble actual planes, although their shape was unlike any monoplane they witnessed from Mu, which was their sole reference for possible Gra Valkan aircraft. If anything, they extremely resembled the polished, advanced-looking planes of the Imperials. To their horror, they grossly underestimated the speed of the aircraft as they grew in size and approached them at a rate faster than what they could comprehend. ¡°What the fuck? Shit, they¡¯re too fast!¡± They saw four aircraft detach from the main formation and were now heading towards them. Despite immediately realizing that they were about to be attacked, their reflexes unfortunately, failed to keep up. ¡°Break! Break! Bre-¡± Before the Leiforian biplanes could move away from their wedge formation, they were whittled down by near-invisible bullets that seemingly came out of nowhere, tearing the delicate airframes apart as if they were made of paper. In a near instant, the four airmen were eviscerated in the split second it took to shoot the biplanes out of the sky, becoming the first Leiforian casualties in the conflict. As the shredded, burning parts of the biplanes lifelessly fell out of the sky, the dark grey aircraft that shot them down promptly returned to formation. High in the windy, cloudy skies above the bustling, unsuspecting capital, an intrusive, alien formation of jet fighters sealed the fate of Leifor as they moved with unnervingly high speed to paralyze the still-grounded Leiforian air force. They were the opening act in the Gra Valkan grand scheme of cementing their status in Asherah as a power that was not to be underestimated. After a while, the formation of Imperial Gra Valkan Navy Air Service Ma-67 Jauchzers split as individual units proceeded to attack their designated targets: Leiforian aircraft parked or preparing to take off from air bases. One of the Jauchzer units lined up their noses along a row of Leiforian Forfolger monoplane fighters that were taxiing to take off from an air base north of Leifor. Their unprecedented appearance, rude and unwelcome as it was, was simply too quick. The anti-air defenses of the air base could never have hoped to be ready on time, even if they had been manned at the first sign of an attack. Without mercy for the Leiforians who they literally caught off guard, the pilot of the lead Jauchzer unceremoniously said over the radio. ¡°Blitz! Blitz! Blitz!¡± With the brevity code for guns transmitted over the comms for the rest of the unit to receive, the pilots then pressed on their triggers. The 20mm autocannons on the Jauchzers roared to life, sending a deadly rain of hot lead down on the parade of Leiforian monoplanes neatly lined up along the runway. The bulk of the rounds found their marks, completely devastating the helpless Forfolgers as sounds of metal being torn apart and ammunition exploding complemented the relentless warcry of Gra Valkan guns and jet engines. Tatatatatatatata Satisfied with the tremendously successful results of their gun run, the Jauchzers swiftly silenced their guns and pulled up back into the heavens. The jet fighters exited from the scene as quickly as they graced the Leiforians with their unwelcome presence, leaving in their wake multiple dead and runways littered with burning wrecks. All over the region, similar events took place, with the Gra Valkan war machine inflicting mounting casualties against the still, and now forever grounded Leiforian air force. After the dust had settled, almost the entirety of the fighting capabilities of Leifor¡¯s air wings evaporated as patrols were shot down and hangars, planes on standby, and other aviation facilities lay destroyed, riddled with bullet holes. Downtown Leiforia, a few minutes ago ¡°There we go...¡± Letting out a pained groan¨Ctelling signs of a man going through his midlife crisis, Sauren Axar, President of Leifor, sat down in a passenger tram traveling northwards out of downtown. Despite his burly build and years of experience fighting in the Muish front of the Great War, he was not immune to the shadow cast by age. Next to him was a beautiful woman wearing a modest, lavender dress who, together with the comfortable green color of the tram, looked as if she was lilac in full bloom in the middle of a vibrant prairie. He took glances at her lips, dashed with equally striking, glossy red lipstick¨Cprobably one imported from Mu. Judging her to be in her late twenties, Axar also assumed that she was in the upper-middle class, which were the recipients of the lion¡¯s share of an economy rising from the slumps brought by the aftermath of the Great War and Revolution. While he championed for uplifting the less fortunate from their woes, he nevertheless felt pride from seeing his hard work of managing the post-crisis Leiforian state taking shape in the most subtle ways. Still, he was reminded of one unintended ramification of the crises brought about by Leifor having lost the Great War when he saw words on the tram¡¯s railings printed in bright yellow: ¡°Imperial Kinsland Railway Company¡±¨Cthe name of a prominent Muish company. ¡°Hnngh.¡± He personally did not like it. As the unchallenged victors of the Great War on the Mu continent, Mu was able to cram every single term it desired to enact on obvious losers such as Leifor. As a consequence of these terms, Muish companies gained considerable control and influence in Leifor in exchange for helping get the rest of the continent back in shape. Despite it being 20 years since the conflict, the recently established tram system in downtown Leifor was also a byproduct of those terms. While Axar did not like it, it undeniably made his daily commute between the Forbundsting, the parliament of Leifor, and his office at the other end of downtown much easier, so he benefited from it. Suddenly, he felt a warm presence elegantly making contact with his left arm. ¡°Are you alright, mister?¡± Looking to his left, he saw the amazing, brown eyes of the beautiful woman looking straight into his own. Her irises were nothing short of majestic as their soothing earthy color implanted seeds of admiration in his heart. However, he too grew conscious, wondering why such an enchanting maiden would strike up a conversation with an old man like him. He unwittingly covered his receding hairline with his right as he mentally coped with the situation that evolved beyond his capacities. ¡°Of course! I am just tired.¡± How lame and unmanly, he thought. ¡°You looked really worried. It was as if you were having a nightmare wide awake.¡± He then remembered his thoughts from just a while ago. He must have pondered so hard that his feelings manifested on his face. On top of reminiscing on the state of the Leiforian economy, they had recently just declared war on the Gra Valkas Empire, a nation that insisted it appeared from another world and was now trying to pick fights with the big boys. His mind was filled with things to do regarding that matter, such as contacting allies, mobilizing the military, preparing the economy, and so on. Before he could get lost in laying out the itinerary, he returned to the moment¨Cback to the woman. ¡°Ah yes, indeed. The problems I deal with on a daily basis are no laughing matter.¡± ¡°Do they somehow involve housework and raising children?¡± ¡°Ah, no... But that isn¡¯t to say that those are problems on their own...¡± The woman let out a discrete ¡°teehee¡± as she meekly covered her mouth. ¡°I appreciate a gentleman that recognizes our plight.¡± She said as she looked at him with resolute eyes. ¡°Well, my wife does fancy airing out her political views on the matter. I can¡¯t help but agree in the end.¡± ¡°I do hope my husband-to-be will see it that way too.¡± Turning away from him, she looks off into the distance, her eyes that were filled with a determination just moments earlier now overflowing with forlorn distress. While Axar failed to grasp her feelings, he felt bad for her. As he reached out his hand in an attempt to help comfort her, distant, faint echoes reached his eardrum, registering in his head as explosions. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. At a snap, his war instincts, long-buried under twenty years of post-war languidness, sprang to life and took control of every inch of his body. Discerning them to have come from above, he immediately stood up despite the moving tram and maneuvered his head out to get a view of the sky. There, off in the distance, his 60-year old eyes, despite the ravages of time, we''re able to spot four distinct trails of smoke left behind by burning wrecks that were falling to the earth. Just as he was beginning to assume an attack was happening, he heard loud, countless, high-pitched shrieks echoing all over. ZOOOOOOOOOOM Once again, he ascertained them to be coming from above, and so motioned his head upwards but failed to find anything substantial besides telling vapor trails over the skies. Despite not knowing what left these and the high-pitched sounds behind, he knew deep inside that this wasn¡¯t the end. Just then, he felt a tug on his suit. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Joining him on the railings was the woman, who joined the commotion of commuters gathering on the railings, looking up at the sky and wondering what was happening. Axar turned towards her and was about to say something when he noticed her eyes widened while looking up at the sky. Following her line of sight, Axar looked around to find innumerable dark silhouettes peppering the late morning sky. Looking closely, he recognized them as aircraft, zooming past the capital from the west, but they were unlike any aircraft he had witnessed. They had long, slender airframes, wings attached to the top and angled backward, and cylinders hanging horizontally below each wing. On all of them, he made out an unfamiliar roundel of red with a superimposed black and white cross on its center. More importantly, he recognized that some of them had their bellies wide open. It wasn¡¯t long after when flashes and clouds of debris and dust erupted from beyond the tall cityscape of buildings that blocked their street-level view. Mere moments later, they were assaulted by the tremendous, ear-piercing, tremor-inducing sounds of explosions. Boom! Boom! Boom! The blasts shook everything without discrimination, rocking the tram that both he and the woman were riding in. While Axar held on firmly, the woman was caught off guard and tripped. As she fell from the tram and onto the cobblestone street, Axar¡¯s reflexes kicked in with speed deceitful of his age. With his right arm still firmly on the railings, he caught the falling woman by her back and brought her away from a rough landing and back to the tram. Satisfied with his show of manliness, he smirked as he left the woman to process what had just happened. ¡°That was close. I¡¯d hate to have lost a lilac like you in a sea of roses.¡± To this, the woman¡¯s cheeks were flush with red. With the tram now stopped, he bid farewell to the woman whose name he had not yet inquired of before helping the other people disembark. As he was helping a child get off from the tram, more explosions, smaller than the others, rocked the vicinity. This time, it occurred further down the street they were in, sending people screaming and running away from the huge dust cloud that had manifested. Axar, perusing through the scenes in his memories of his untold number of commutes down this street, recognizes where the blasts had taken place. ¡°No! That¡¯s the Imperial Telegraph building!¡± Inwardly cursing the attackers for attacking the facility of a renowned Leiforian newspaper¨Ca civilian target, he dropped off the child he was carrying before running off towards the scene of the carnage. Summoning whatever stamina he could muster, he dashed down the street, snaking past common citizens from different walks of life, all escaping the violence of the blasts. The cloud of brick and glass particulates that continues to shroud the vicinity forced him to cover his mouth and nose with the cloth of his sleeves. Once there, he encountered two men pulling an old man from the now-burning building towards the sidewalk. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. ¡°Who else is in there?!¡± ¡°Much of the staff is still inside! I have no idea how it evolved into a fire so quickly! I-I...¡± Seeing the man panic and on the verge of tears, Axar caught the man¡¯s attention again. With his big, brawny hands on the man¡¯s shoulders, he shook him with strength unusual for his age. ¡°It¡¯s alright, boy! You¡¯ve done what you can! Don¡¯t you beat yourself up over what you can¡¯t control!¡± Physically shaking the man to imbue some sense into him, Axar was satisfied with a simple nod as a reply. Looking back at the destroyed section of the building, he could peer into the dusty, smoke-filled innards. There were no doubts that some had been killed. However, there were also no doubts that some might still be alive inside. With his soldier instincts telling him to go and help, he turned back towards the man. ¡°Call for the damned constabulary! I''m going in!¡± Shaking off the shouts from the men urging him not to, Axar ran up the steps towards the entrance of the building. Pulling his shirt up to cover his mouth and nose as he entered the wide-open entrance, he emerged into the destroyed, burning lobby of the Imperial Telegraph. Immediately to the right side of his vision, he spotted an unconscious woman lying on the floor underneath some rubble. Running up to her, he crouched down to try and wake her up. ¡°Miss! Miss!¡± Seeing that she wasn¡¯t waking up, he clawed on the wreckage that had piled on her before the woman seemed clear enough to be pulled out. Putting her on his shoulders, Axar stood up, pulling her from the rubble with considerable effort. While his body ached from the newly imposed strains on it, Axar shrugged it off as he turned and ran back towards the entrance. Outside, he signaled to a constable that had just arrived to come and take the unconscious woman from him. Dropping her off, Axar then swiftly proceeded to run back into the building to search for more. After four more people were carried out to safety by the President, he once more ventured into the burning building. However, the rapid decay of its structural integrity meant that it wouldn''t be long before it failed altogether. To the horror of the people outside, the Imperial Telegraph building began to collapse with Axar still inside. Taking the still unconscious people further away from the vicinity of the building, they watched as its blazing edifice crumbled to the ground. The situation, however, gave them no time to mourn as enemy aircraft continued to fly overhead, dropping payload after payload of explosives on the seemingly helpless city. Not long after, the loud, disconcerting, and depressing wails of city-wide sirens began blaring, the unmistaken sign that the entire city was under attack. Imperial Palace, downtown Leiforia, 11:30 ¡°Go! Into the tunnels!¡± It had been roughly 30 minutes since the bombs began dropping and the emergency sirens started ringing, but even the spacious time in between then and now offered little opportunity for the members of Leifor''s imperial family to fix their appearances as they began to evacuate. A man dressed in a brown suit was urging the imperial family dressed in civilian wear into an entrance with haste. Along with a row of servants to accompany them, a squad of Imperial Guardsmen was attached to keep them safe. In between the clean, bright white of the uniforms of the guards was a young boy outfitted with imperial regalia¨CLeifor¡¯s Emperor Magno V. Before His Majesty was sent off with the rest of his family, the man approached him and the guards flanking him. ¡°Make sure His Majesty remains safe, even at the cost of your lives!¡± ¡°Of course!!!¡± The guards replied with fervorous tenacity, the result of their training that conditioned them to be the strongest among the strong. The man then turned to the boy Emperor with a composed face. Putting his hands on his shoulders, he then said. ¡°...and you. You have to remain calm. As the Emperor, you have to be the symbol of hope and resilience in this time of... calamity.¡± They then heard another explosion, which was much closer than the others. The city was very much being subjected to a tenacious attack, although they knew that it was only the beginning¨Cthey were going to fight back. The explosion reminded him of the tight sliver of time they had to get the situation back in their control. As the regent of the still young Magno V, he held in his grip the responsibilities and obligations of the Imperial household, barring the fact that their power was now reduced in the wake of the revolution decades prior. With a wave of his hand, the guards led everyone into the tunnels that led outside the imperial palace. With the closed door of the escape tunnels behind his back, the man, Deric Kalmar, Grand Duke of Selrik and regent of the Emperor, proceeded to walk down the now empty halls of the palace. For each step he took, the entire building shook from the shockwave of hundreds of ordnance hitting the capital. The glass chandeliers dangled back and forth from each blast, exacerbating Deric''s anxiety and getting him to pick up his pace. At the end of the hallway, he emerged into a grand hall where a group of people had gathered. Most of them wore suits, while the remaining wore military uniforms. Making his presence known with his loud footsteps, they walked over to him with faces of worry. ¡°Sir Deric! Are the imperial family safe?¡± ¡°We have to declare a state of emergency!¡± ¡°Who''d dare to do this?! Don''t tell me it was those Gra Valkans!¡± Taking a deep breath, Deric knew that the first thing he had to do was ascertain the situation. ¡°While we figure out the ones responsible, we must first understand what is going on!¡± He then points towards the men in military dress. ¡°You lot! Where are the chiefs of staff?!¡± With faces that screamed confusion, the men replied. ¡°The Headquarters of the Army, Navy, Air Force, that of the Central District, and many others have been subject to the bombings. The attacks came too fast, and we had no time to evacuate. We are still getting the details of who perished, but right now, they are presumed dead...¡± The situation was even bleaker than anyone had initially surmised. With their military leadership in tatters, there now lay the great difficulty of putting together an armed response to the onslaught of enemy attacks. While Deric wiped the ocean of sweat that had built up on his forehead with a piece of cloth, his eyes darted across the group of men huddled around him, scanning their faces and coming to the conclusion that someone very important was missing. Wearing a worried expression on his face, Deric asked the all-important question. ¡°Where is President Axar?¡± Their burly, outgoing, and bullish president, the de facto symbol of Leiforian progress post-Great War, was not among the faces of government officials that had gathered in the royal palace. Hearing Deric¡¯s question, the others looked around and amongst themselves, at long last catching up to the fact that their head of government and commander in chief was not with them. Despite the majority of the government officials that were currently present being from the right-wing, which were composed of those that detested the political status quo that had removed them of their powers in the earlier administration, the consensus among them was a resounding ¡°Dammit! What do we do?!¡± Before Deric could grill them any further, an immensely powerful explosion from nearby rocked the grand hall that they were standing in, causing the glass windows to shatter and ornate ceramic decorations to fall from their pedestals and crash in spectacular fashion. Recognizing the danger, Deric realized that they had to go somewhere safer. ¡°Shit! Everyone! Proceed to the underground shelters!!! Come on!¡± He then asked some of the servants to assist in leading the group of Leifor''s surviving leadership down to the emergency shelters located underneath the palace complex. Vexing as it may that the majority of their nation¡¯s leaders are missing or dead in this trying time, the survivors still had a duty to fulfill to their citizens. Off the coast of Leiforia, 13:40 ¡°20 minutes to landing.¡± A masculine voice patched behind the electronic filter of the PA system rang out within the bowels of the AL-88 amphibious landing ship¡¯s steel innards, permeating through the salty air inside before an abrupt kachak cut the noise short. Replacing the sound of the announcement was the deep ambient growl of the ship¡¯s six diesel engines that propel it at a speed of 25 knots through the rough, unforgiving seas west of the capital, Leiforia. The moderately alive ocean made its anger known, throwing up two to three meter high waves that rock the amphibious landing ships of the Imperial Gra Valkan Army back and forth, high and low, as they steam nonchalantly towards the beaches. It was a horrible day for a landing. However, the top brass wants Leiforia taken ASAP. The rumblings of those in the lower echelons of the Army and Navy are not to ruin the carefully orchestrated master plan of those above. So thought everyone, including Soldat Otto Eichel, a recruit that had just graduated from the Imperial School of Infantry. ¡°Verdammter Schei?! I think I¡¯m gonna throw up...¡± Otto remarked as he walked down a hallway fully clad in his combat fatigues, with his gear, rifle, and other weighty necessities strapped behind his back, making it easier for the rocking ship to toss his center of gravity around. With his dominant right hand free to assist him in managing his balance, he yanked his left hand upwards to block his mouth in an attempt to stop the half-digested eggs and sausages he had for breakfast from finding their way back out. Hearing his squadmate behind him rambling on, Obergefreiter (OGefr) Luther Meyer turned around, the infantry machine gun strapped to his back, making clinking noises in response to the sudden motion. ¡°Go ahead, koffer. They¡¯re starting to do it.¡± Luther then raised his arm to point to somewhere behind Otto¡¯s back. Following his superior¡¯s arm length, from the creases on his olive sleeves to his Caucasian, slightly aged hand to the tip of his finger, Otto¡¯s line of sight then darted off to the line of battle-ready soldiers behind him. There, he could see the various stages of seasickness reflecting in their faces, expressions, and behavior. Some were still in denial, their faces looking down towards the grey floor as they brushed off the uneasiness in their stomachs. Some had already reached Otto¡¯s level where the regurgitation of their breakfast had already commenced and they are trying to contain it. A select few had reached the last stage, their half-digested ingestions already littering the walls and floor of the hallway as belches resounded all across. Others like Luther, however, were completely unaffected. ¡°Lucky you.¡± ¡°Heh. It takes more experience than skill for this one.¡± ¡°Real-¡± Cutting their chatter short was the all-encompassing shout of someone from up ahead, reaching their ears and snapping them back to attention. ¡°Next up!!! All of you! Proceed to your vehicles!¡± As soon as the one shouting the commands started, the line of soldiers instantly moved forward like a well-oiled chain driving the operation forth. Leaning forward and gripping his bag straps with both of his hands in an attempt to keep his balance under control, Otto followed his superior¡¯s back towards the exit at the end of the hallway. Overcome with seasickness and nervousness from his first taste of real combat since graduation; Otto took deep breaths to preserve his cool. Each breath he took calmed his nerves, and each time he exhaled took the byproduct of carbon dioxide from his body and brought with them his jitters. Stepping out of the exit and past the point of no return, Otto was greeted by the sight of the ship¡¯s deck. Dark-colored yet well lit by bright, white lights, the deck was filled to the brim with M.Fz. 452 "Schildkr?te" infantry fighting vehicles equally spaced between one another. Populating the deck were IGVA soldiers and personnel climbing onto their Schildkr?te and those lining up preparing to do so. As the crews of the woodland camouflage vehicles climbed onto their designated hatches, the infantry squads they were meant to carry entered through the wide-open doors fixed to the rear of the Schildkr?tes. As an infantryman, Otto was trained to get accustomed to the cramped interior of armored vehicles and on how to fight alongside their infantry fighting vehicle as part of the IGVA¡¯s mobile and maneuver warfare doctrine. One of the scenarios he was trained in was that of an amphibious landing in a hotly contested zone with high degrees of enemy activity. As he remembered the various things he learned from boot camp, perusing through the specific memories of lessons and failures, he and his squadmates were approaching their designated vehicle. Walking past one of the Schildkr?tes, Otto looked up at it to see its towering 20mm autocannon fixed in max elevation, its muzzle brake reaching up high in the air. Seeing its black, slender steel barrel, he can¡¯t help but see it as the vehicle saluting them off on their mission. Otto and his squadmates finally arrived at their designated vehicle. With its rear doors wide open, they could see into the mildly lit interior their black, cushioned seats. One of the soldiers stopped short of the door before turning around to face them, revealing a man whose tired, droopy eyes tell of a somber soul that has seen better days. ¡°Alright. Get in!¡± The man, Unterfeldwebel (UFw) Engel Peters, Otto¡¯s squad leader, shouted. His sharp, somewhat annoyed tone complemented the depressed, disappointed aura emanating from his very disposition. According to what he heard from Luther, UFw Peters used to have had an adventurous character who wished to go out and maybe disobey some orders before his brushes with the draconian higher-ups during the war with Kain clipped his wings and brought him down to earth. With Luther having already entered the Schildkr?te, it was now Otto¡¯s turn to be sardine-packed into the huge, mean, metal canister. Just as he took to the handles and reached his right foot out to step in, a loud, deep boom echoed throughout the chamber. Boom The bass of the sound shook everything¨Cthe several thousand-ton steel ship, the Schildkr?te, the bright, white lamps, the rhythmic chorus of their beating hearts, and so on. The blast took everyone¡¯s attention, momentarily causing them to cease from whatever they were doing to look around for the source of the sound or to look at one another with faces that said, ¡°did you hear that?¡± Otto was one of those that went for the latter, looking at the dark eyes of OGefr Luther staring back at him with the same question. Just as their movements resumed, the loud, electronic kachak coming from the PA system replaced the earlier boom as the new center of attention. ¡°New developments; possible enemy surface fire coming from the coast. Wait one.¡± Another kachak cut the announcement, returning the soundtrack of the scene back to ambient engine rumbling, ocean water sloshing, and the hustle and bustle of the ship¡¯s deck as IGVA personnel resume their embarkation. Having entered the dimly-lit, somewhat cramped interior of the vehicle, Otto maneuvered around to get his buttocks to line up with his seat next to Luther. With his gear and rifle in hand, which he had already taken from his back, he loosened the tension in his muscles, allowing his already-positioned body to fall comfortably on the shallow cushion underneath. Now that he was set for the journey, his mind wandered to idle chatter just as his face turned left towards OGefr Luther. ¡°Hey, what do you think that was? ¡°Enemy surface fire?¡± So they still have their big guns up?.¡± Luther had his body sunk into the cushion, and his woodland camouflage helmet lowered to cover his eyes and was trying to discreetly doze off when his junior decided to kickstart a conversation he felt like answering. ¡°I guess. The Navy¡¯s flyboys should have already dealt with the Leiforians, so maybe they missed a spot, and now we¡¯re taking the shitstorm from their oopsies.¡± Without lifting his helmet, Luther replied to Otto¡¯s question with a mixed bag of helpful insight and a subtle snide remark on the Navy Air Service. ¡°But they would¡¯ve spotted a gun that can hit us from anywhere in Leiforia. Maybe it¡¯s something else?¡± ¡°Sure, kid. I¡¯m just thankful that the gods dictated their shit aim to hit another ship instead of us.¡± Just as Otto was about to rebuke them, another boom that was slightly crisper and fainter reached their eardrums, the thinner shock barely registering itself as an attention-catcher for the soldiers. Not a moment later, another one followed, followed by another, and then another. Bam bam bam bam bam ¡°Mmm. It looks like the destroyers have found the pests.¡± Luther commented as the clap-like rhythm of the 125mm guns of the destroyers escorting the landing ships firing played in the background, with only the shouting of IGVA leaders telling their men to board their vehicles serving as the main track. As the last soldier entered their vehicle, UFw Peters finally climbed in, squeezing into the efficiently designed opening that led into the interior. Groaning extensively from the delicate maneuvers his joints and muscles performed, Peters at long last felt the warm touch of the seat cushion rubbing against his rear. As he got comfortable in his seat next to the opening, the ship personnel outside swivelled the doors in towards them, closing the lid on the sardine canister. Lowering his helmet to get some shuteye himself, Peters was about to succumb to his persistent drowsiness when a familiar, coarse voice beckoned him to his left. ¡°Got something from the Oberfeldwebel on what the hell was that?¡± The man next to him asked, his voice muffled by the hands he placed over his face. The single band of green attached to the right sleeve of his olive combat fatigues tell of his rank as Unteroffizier (UFfw). His name tag, stitched across his right breast, revealed his name: Reinhard Wolff. Responding to Wolff¡¯s sudden yet not out-of-the-blue inquiry, Peters kept his helmet low over his eyes. ¡°Neither he nor the platoon leader said anything. If I had to guess, the Leiforians probably managed to sneak in some torpedoes.¡± Wolff chuckled in response, the puff of air he put out permeating past the hands that were still on his face. ¡°Heh. Damn. Reminds me of the ¡®tactical retreat¡¯ from our outposts in Rabany. The lack of coordination and the op¡¯s secrecy meant that we were on the receiving end of our own torpedoes when they thought our evacuation was an invasion force! Damned Navy tryhards. If they fucked up in Rabany, then they¡¯re sure to do it again here.¡± Peters chuckled, his white teeth finally showing themselves as his lips curled up in a grin. The memory of the Rabany evacuation tickled something in Peter that reminded him of his more rowdy past. ¡°Hah! Those Mistst¨¹ck. Shit military intelligence is another thing, but I¡¯ll be damned. Won¡¯t be surprised if a Jauchzer were to strafe us later thinking we¡¯re hostiles.¡± Peter remarked, adding to the roster of smear comments against the Navy, welcomed by laughter from Wolff, Luther, and the others in the cabin. As his superiors chatted away, Otto sank further in his seat as he leaned back on the walls of the Schildkr?te. His steel helmet colliding against the wall prevented him from leaning his head any further back. His eyes turned upwards towards the light source at the center of the vehicle that provided the dim, white light for the interior. Grasping on the cold, steel barrel of his rifle that rested upright on the floor, he could feel the little bits of frigid ocean breeze that condensed on the barrel. Thoughts of the looming battlefield scared him more than they excited him. Countless war movies, soldiers¡¯ accounts from the war with Kain, and listening to late-night broadcasts from the frontlines could not have prepared him for the personal shock that came with his first time hearing the sound of enemy fire. Colored motion pictures of infantry running across the battlefield, monotone words scribbled across empty white pages. Even the emotional voices of radio reporters reading out events that had happened in the frontlines were no match for the sheer awe of the heart-pumping blast that he had heard. He was determined to fight, but that did not completely rid his heart of his fears. I want to go home... An innocent, juvenile voice cried out in the depths of his heart, becoming one of the many voices criss crossing one another in a chaotic fashion that made up his inner, mental noise. The beaches of a suburb north of Leiforia, 14:10 It had been several minutes since the gargantuan vessel that they were in shook violently as its hull made contact with the Leiforian beach, putting Gra Valkan¡¯s military might to come onto the western shores of the Mu continent for the first time. Hearing the clamoring of personnel scrambling to unravel the processes that would get the ship to unload its mean payload of armored vehicles and the movement of steel rollers contacting numerous track links, Otto could feel the battlefield inch closer and closer. With the sharp, high-pitched screeches of whistles repeating outside, he heard the commander of the Schildkr?te crew shout out to his men. ¡°Panzer, nach vorne!¡± With the jostle of the clutch to prompt it to engage, the driver simultaneously stepped on the gas, sending fuel into the 245hp capable engine of the Schildkr?te. Then, mere moments after the commander gave the order, the vehicle jerked forward, its girthy steel hulk filled to the brim with two squads trudging along the length of the ship¡¯s hull. The mammoth of an infantry fighting vehicle traversed down the ship¡¯s deck before making contact with a slope that led up topside. The vehicle and its occupants¡¯ weight worked against the engine, but the vehicle¡¯s healthy power-to-weight ratio, which is owed to its design and its powerful engine, allowed it to nonchalantly negotiate the moderate slope. Following seconds of the engine belching out a hearty amount of black smoke and boisterous noise, the vehicle reached the summit of the slope, emerging out onto the deck. From there, the crew of the Schildkr?te, which could only see the outside from behind their army of scopes, were helped to a dose of afternoon Leiforian sun. Seeing past the blinding glare of the alien star shining through their lenses, they laid their eyes on the white beaches of Leifor that were already populated by IGVA personnel and vehicles making their way out of their ships and onto the suburbs that awaited them. Contrary to the drizzle of enemy fire earlier in the form of camouflaged Leiforian torpedo pens, which catastrophically damaged two of their landing vessels, the beaches were absolutely devoid of enemy presence. Whether it was due to the Navy Air Service¡¯s rigorous air campaign successfully neutralizing their capability to respond or the Leiforians regrouping deeper inland to meet them, only time will tell. From the deck of the landing ship extended a suspended Bridgeway that led towards the sand below, from which track marks of vehicles that came before them were traced across the breach. Some distance from the Bridgeway''s contact point with the breach was a personnel that waved to them, beckoning them to come down from the ship and onto dry land. Following his signals, the driver prompted the vehicle to move forward. As soon as the Schildkr?te dropped onto the slope, the driver let go of the gas, entrusting the work of getting the armored vehicle down the ramp to gravity. Halfway through the ramp, the driver noticed something was off. The personnel at the bottom stopped signaling and had reached out for his radio. Just as he sensed that something was wrong, he felt the entire vehicle jerked forward, bringing with it his body and those inside of the vehicle. Otto, Luther, and their squadmates at the back were rocked forward, pitting one soldier¡¯s body forcibly against the other. ¡°Ow!¡± ¡°Schei?e! Sorry!¡± ¡°Ficker! What the fuck is going on?!¡± The moving was yet to cease. The driver, seeing through his moving scope and piecing together what was happening, took back the initiative and stepped on the gas. The engine roared to life as it reacted to the surge of fuel, sending the vehicle down the ramp at record speed. The heavy Schildkr?te, traveling at such high speeds down the ramp, smashed into the loose sand like a meteor. The impact threw up sand and the vehicle, sending the occupants on a trip towards the interior¡¯s ceiling before gravity reclaimed the initiative and pulled everything back towards the surface. Slightly injured and disoriented from the jostle, the occupants groaned in pain as they clutched the various parts of their bodies to check for further injuries. At the same time, those who were less affected by the jostle and those that recovered immediately picked up the gear that scattered from the impact, fixing what could be fixed, handing them back to their owners, and taking into account what couldn¡¯t be fixed. Meanwhile, the crew of the Schildkr?te was similarly shaken up by the event. Wishing to know more about what happened, the commander, after fixing his cap and headset back to where they were, stood up. Displacing the hatch from its lock and emerging from the vehicle, the commander then turned around to get a look at the ship. After his head and torso flicked to the left to see what had happened, his eyes widened in shock at what he was witnessing. ¡°Mein Gott...¡± ¡°Schei?dreck! The ship...!!!¡± The personnel that was signalling to them earlier cried out as he ran towards the side of their infantry fighting vehicle. The high waves brought about by the rough weather conditions had made today a horrible day for an amphibious landing. Despite this fact, the top brass pushed for Unternehmen Donnerschlag, gambling with the risks of bad weather on top of challenges brought about by the hasty execution. As expected, the risks did not pay off for some¨Cthe AL-88 amphibious landing ship from which they came from was dislodged from its position by the rigorous ocean, pulling the steel behemoth together with its still unreleased cargo back to the ocean as the waves retreated. One Schildkr?te that was preparing to descend down the ramp was pushed out of position by the sheer force of the ship being jerked from its position, and it was now perilously close to falling into the sand below. ¡°No!¡± The commander called out. Unfortunately, circumstances did not listen to trivial human desires, as the rocking of the colossal vessel forcibly yanked the ramp that was still clinging to the ground. The set of clamps, bolts, wires, and other fine details were stretched past their failure points, breaking and setting the ramp free from its suspended constraints. With the primary force keeping it up having failed, the Schildkr?te filled with two squads on the ramp was thrown off, sending it tumbling on its side on the wet sand below. As the ship continued to be guided by inertia that was sending it back to the ocean, the thrown-off vehicle violently crashed down on the ground, sending disconcerting sounds of creaking. Seeing the vehicle upright on its side, the commander also noticed that they had fallen dangerously close to the upcoming waves, which he feared would tug the vehicle out to open sea if they didn''t do anything soon. ¡°No, no, no, no! We¡¯re turning around to pull them out!¡± He then turned to his driver, who had also emerged from his hatch and was watching the scene with a similarly horrified expression. ¡°I¡¯ll tell the Leutnant that we¡¯ll catch up to them. Now, get us back there!¡± ¡°Verstanden!¡± Going back inside the vehicle, they closed their hatches before proceeding with their duties. As the driver restarted the engine, he couldn¡¯t help but think that this was the first in a list of unfortunate events in the days to come as Donnerschlag unraveled their first large-scale military operation since the transfer event. With his hands firmly on the steering mechanism, he commented to himself in a volume that could only be heard in his own cozy space in front of the vehicle. ¡°Heh. What more could go wrong?¡± Chapter 16: Donnerschlag Part 3 Cent. Calendar 09/06/1639, Somewhere underneath Leiforia, 13:00 ¡°Through here!¡± After the creaking and clanking of an old, rusted gate being unlocked came the sound of it being pushed open as imperial guards flooded in to secure the path ahead for the imperial family and their servants. Walking on one of the solid, damp walkways flanking a shallow waterway, the imperial guards had their rifles at the ready while some held up lanterns that put out a warm orange light. While the occasional ray of light leaking from gaps in the ceiling above them provided some help in illuminating the pathway, the lanterns held by the guards did most of the work. Accompanying the light from above was an orchestra of sounds which, despite being a complete trainwreck of a soundtrack, painted a coherent picture: Leiforia was under attack. Each explosion, distant and close, shook the ground while the screams of people, wailing of sirens, and the occasional popping of gunfire played out in the foreground. While it was initially unnerving, their hours-long trek across the underground system sprawling underneath the metropolis had made them accustomed to the sounds. Both the imperial family and their entourage are now exhausted, but they making good progress on their exodus out of the city was a sign that things were going well for them. Even if the enemy manages to take Leiforia, the survival of the imperial family and the Emperor would be a rallying point for the people to unite and push the invaders back out to the sea. As the group pressed on with some of the imperial guardsmen at the vanguard, the dire situation above seemed to continue on endlessly. Similarly, the path that they now traveled through seemed to go on forever, with there not being any twists or turns for the past ten minutes. With darkness slightly unveiled by the glow of their lanterns awaiting them, the imperial guards continued. Then, a clink. And then another. Each clink got weaker, but it also seemed to get closer. Perturbed by this clearly distinct sound, one that clearly played in the foreground above the clatter of explosions above them, the lead guard raised his left, non-dominant hand up and back towards the rest of the group. ¡°Wait!¡± With the auditory and visual cues handed to them by their vanguard, the other guards behind him promptly stopped and raised their rifles in the general direction of the sound. Those accompanying the imperial family and the Emperor similarly stopped as they extended their entire body to try to cover for them. ¡°Give me light!¡± The lead guard said out loud with urgency rippling through his voice. One of the guards carrying a lantern stepped forth and held it further in an attempt to illuminate the path ahead. Just as the cloak of pitch-black was pushed back by the somber warmth of the lantern¡¯s light, the clinking then changed to a long sound of something light yet materially hard rolling on the floor. There, right in front of them, an object suddenly came rolling from the veil of darkness and into the light towards their feet. ¡°!!!¡± The guards immediately recognized the object despite its eccentric shape. Unfortunately, fate did not give them the luxury of time to react. BOOM! With a flash, the grenade detonated, sending a deadly wave of metal and compressed air against the vanguard of imperial guards that were standing in its way. Most of the guards in front were immediately killed when they were caught inside the fatal blast radius of the hand-tossed fragmentation grenade, and the guards immediately behind them sustained major injuries despite being shielded somewhat by their own comrades. The blast was felt immediately by everyone else, prompting the imperial family and their servants to cower and make themselves scarce and the guards to regroup against a perceived upcoming attack from the front. Distracted by the commotion at the front, while their attention diverted to their compatriots at the vanguard, the rear guard of imperial guardsmen was caught by surprise as another grenade that successfully sneaked up towards them detonated, maiming them in the process. Two distinct flashes and booms rock the underground waterway. With both of their flanks exposed and almost half of the squad of imperial guardsmen dead or fatally injured, they now sat in a woeful predicament. With the attacks coming from both behind and ahead of them and only the damp, dark, bricked walls flanking their sides, they were boxed in from all vectors. Before the remaining guards could even decide what to do next and coordinate, their unseen enemies struck. Out of the pitch-black that had now obscured their view came in a specter as dark as the background, its speed swifter than what the guards could hope to perceive. The specter bridged the gap between dark and light, the known and unknown, as it came under the somber glow of the lantern, momentarily showing to the still disorganized Leiforian guardsmen its true form: a man clad in all black, his face blanketed in a veil as dark as the night. What the guardsmen failed to realize was that the man brought with him a gift¨Cthe glittering grey steel of a combat knife. The frontmost guard swung his eyes downward as he realized his fatal mistake¨Cthe folly of ignoring the man¡¯s will to kill¨Cwhich he was only able to understand in the precious last seconds before the cold, relentless steel of the knife swung to meet his vision. With animalistic violence, the man swiveled his right arm rightwards without hesitation, plunging his combat knife deep into the eye socket of the guard he caught by surprise, the weapon¡¯s hardened, serrated blade easily sifting through the mess of flesh and blood, its unhindered blunt force delivering a fatal blow to the man¡¯s head, delivering him from this world to the next. The speed and the violence of the man¡¯s attack further disoriented the other guards, who looked on with various feelings of fear and revenge, eager to either fight back or to run from the man who had swiftly and gruesomely killed their fellow compatriot. Unfortunately for them, the man understood the pace of the fight and the fact that he alone dictated it. His mind, taking the initiative to attack, immediately shifted to his next target: a guardsman that had decided that he would fight back, wrongfully assuming that the fight revolved around him. As he intends to teach the guard a lesson of a lifetime, the man¡¯s muscles kick in. His superior training in the martial arts allowed his mind to carry out a pre-organized algorithm of movements for his body to follow. As the guard clumsily reached out for the rifle he had dropped in the initial blast, he could do little as the man¡¯s movements outpaced both his own and his ability to process information. Before he could even raise his rifle to aim, the man was in front of him, staring down at his eyes with those of a predator on the verge of victory over its prey. The guard felt the man¡¯s forceful grip on his rifle, the specter¡¯s superhuman strength reducing what little ounce of leverage he had over the situation as he felt the very rifle he was entrusted with to protect the Emperor¨Cthe hope of Leifor¨Cfall right into the hands of the enemy as his hands let go after being twisted beyond their threshold of pain. There, he learned his lifetime lesson: he was never going to win. In a split second, the rifle that had the power to change the situation was instead made accessory to the man¡¯s continued control over it as the man pointed its steely muzzle down his prey¡¯s head; the guard had learned his lesson. Hammering the lesson home, the man pulled the trigger, sending a bullet down on the guard¡¯s cranium, painlessly delivering him his death. The fight, however, was far from over. Despite the man utilizing the advantages he has been dealt with, the sheer number of opponents with rifles was more than he and his bodily abilities could take down. Looking over to the left, he sees four guards with their rifles pointed at him, their intent to take him down in full display for everyone to see. There was no more closing the distance; the bullets in the chambers of the rifles aiming at him will never be slow enough to give him ample room to get into melee. However, unbeknownst to his Leiforian foes, the man¡¯s abilities were not limited to that of martial arts, for he was a commando, a bonafide soldier. He had more tricks up his sleeve than his brute strength. From the unseen side of his right sleeve, he pulled a polished, black rifle that was shorter than the bolt-action rifles the Leiforians were accustomed to. Even with the numerical advantage the Leiforians enjoyed, both sides now had guns, and it was now ultimately down to the sheer will of either side that would dictate who emerged victoriously. Unfortunately for the Leiforians, the man showed himself to be more committed to his mission than they were. TATATATATATATATA At the squeeze of the trigger, the man¡¯s petite rifle spouted fire and smoke continuously, catching the guards by surprise. Unfortunately for them, their mental shock from the man¡¯s automatically firing rifle was replaced by physical shock as bullet after bullet tore through their unarmored, white uniforms and sank into their squishy, vulnerable flesh. Taking advantage of his rate of fire, the man pivoted in place from left to right, showering the line of guardsmen in gunfire, his ironfisted grip kept the recoiling rifle stable. The guards could never have hoped to win over this fight, as the bullets, sent down by the man¡¯s superior determination, eviscerated their flesh and hopes alike. With his magazine exhausted and his targets, riddled with gaping bullet holes to their person, collapsing to the floor, the man exchanged his empty magazine for a full one. As the depleted magazine fell onto the floor, and the clicking sounds his rifle made while being fed a new set of ammunition echoed across the damp, now quiet waterway, the man, finally free of the tension from the fight he had just narrowly claimed victory, cheered. ¡°Heh! Zugabe! Zugabe!¡± As he walked through the bodies to examine his results, admiring his own craftsmanship in the scenery of blood and bullets he had set, the guards at the other side were swiftly dealt with by another group of men similarly clad in dark clothing. The man then reunited with the five others that had come from the other side in the middle of the commotion. As they stood triumphantly over the guards that they had slain, they then laid their eyes on the group of men and women in common wear that had huddled together, whimpering in extreme fear from what had just happened. ¡°Oi, Futze! Didn¡¯t I tell you to keep this shit to a minimum?¡± One of the men from the other side called out to the man that had single-handedly taken on numerous guards¨Cthe man whose violence knows no bounds. ¡°Ja, ja. Who cares anyway. What matters is that the mission is accomplished, right?¡± ¡°And yet you almost cost us that, you Ficker! Take a look!¡± The other man pointed towards the cowering imperial family and their servants. Following the other man¡¯s finger, the man called ¡°Futze¡± looked over to them. There, he spotted two of the women lying on the floor, bleeding from multiple bullet holes, their faces getting paler and lifeless by the minute. Their companions cowered as they shook in place, too afflicted by fear of the men in black coming after them to even cry over their dying loved ones. Some of the other women, who wore black and white clothing reminiscent of those of a maid¡¯s, embraced the civilian-wearing individuals to try and keep them out of harm¡¯s way, despite their fellow maids also being the recipient of some of the hot lead that had rained all over them. Overall, it was a mess that could have been better dealt with. Still, off to one corner of his eye, he spotted a boy dressed in a regalia uniform, standing out from the rest of his companions. Flanking his body were some maids that we''re desperate to try to conceal his appearance and, by extension, his identity. ¡°Shit happens, Opa. At least that brat is still alive.¡± ¡°Futze¡± pointed towards the boy. ¡°Mhm. I¡¯ll go talk to the kid. The rest of you, round up the servants and the guards that had surrendered!¡± As the rest of his men proceeded with their orders, the man called ¡°Opa¡± walked towards the boy. For every single footstep his boots made, the maids flanking the boy further cowered as their cries grew faster and louder, their desperation to stick to their duties as the protectors of the boy accelerating their anxieties. Now that he was standing in front of the boy, ¡°Opa¡± coughed as he flicked a mental switch that allowed him to shift his language from his own to Asheran common. ¡°Get off the boy.¡± His deep, sharp voice exacerbated the maids¡¯ cries, still refusing to let go of the boy. Annoyed by this fragile yet bothersome resistance, the man raised his voice. ¡°NOW!¡± Reflexively repulsing from the man¡¯s loud, threatening yell, the maids distanced themselves from the boy as they cried out in Leiforian through their tear-smeared mouths and nostrils, ¡°I¡¯m sorry! I¡¯m sorry!¡± ¡°Opa¡± then looked down at the boy, who stood up to meet his gaze. He was still young, likely having just reached the ripe age of ten. His eyes, still red and flush with tears, presumably from grief over his companions murdered in a brutal, efficient fashion, were now filled with determined defiance. Deep inside, he felt impressed by the boy¡¯s fiery disposition, even coming to the thought that he would make a great leader. Fortunately for him, he was already a leader. Smiling behind his black balaclava, the man squatted down to the boy¡¯s height so that they could talk at eye level. ¡°Emperor Magno V, I presume? Head of state of the Federal Empire of Leifor. It truly is a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness.¡± Appearing sincere in his gesture, ¡°Opa¡± hoped to confuse the boy. To his unexpected delight, the boy hurled an insult back in Leiforian. ¡°Insolent barbarian! Do what you will and be done with it!¡± Understanding only the ¡°barbarian¡± part, he laughed in genuine amusement at the boy¡¯s feisty reply. ¡°Barbarians, huh?¡± He turned back to his men and spoke in his native tongue. ¡°Oi, Futze! Let ¡®em have it!¡± ¡°My pleasure, Opa!¡± Thoughts raced in the boy emperor¡¯s mind as to what was going to happen. Did he perhaps insult ¡°Opa¡± too much? Was it the wrong decision to insult the man? His anxieties showed in his pale expression, complemented by sweat that started to drip down from his brow. ¡°Opa¡± then turned back to him. ¡°Allow us to have an exhibition of our ¡°barbarian¡± culture to you civilized folk.¡± ¡°Opa¡± then stood up and walked out of the boy¡¯s vision. As if unfurling the curtain on a grand act, the boy was helped to a sight which he could never have imagined to see with his ten-year-old eyes. He looked on in horror as 15 men and women, a mixture of his maids and guards, lay tied next to each other in a line along the shallow waterway with their backs facing up. Unable to move due to the restraints on their hands, feet, and arms, they could only cry in desperation and horror as they heard the metal-on-metal clicking of ammunition being chambered. Standing over them was the figure of ¡°Futze¡± with the silhouette of his hand holding what seems to be a revolver raised in the air. With one bullet chambered in the cylinder, he then spun it around and cocked the firing pin. Before he could proceed, ¡°Futze¡± turned around to face the boy emperor and bowed in mocking respect. ¡°Your Highness! May you have fun with this as much as I do!¡± Having said his piece, ¡°Futze¡± swiveled back to the exposed backs of the men and women he had tied up. Commencing the game, he pointed the revolver at the back of the head of the leftmost maid. Magno V, seeing what was going to happen, wanted to scream out to stop what was about to happen, inwardly unable to stomach the gruesome act in the play that he was forced to watch. Nevertheless, he knew his words and actions had little control over the situation, with only deadly consequences awaiting him and his subjects should he lash out. With unsurprising decorum for his age, he stood silent, forcing himself to watch over the summary execution of his subjects, which he felt was the least he could do in that situation to honor them. Meanwhile, the others, seeing what was going to happen, cried out, not bound by the same obligations and consequences that had kept their emperor shut. Their pleas for mercy, delivered by painfully concocted voices that cracked due to sheer sadness, regret, and their own physical limitations brought about by relentless screaming, echoed in the dark, cold, ignorant chambers of the Leiforian underground. The imperial family joined in on the cries, but any attempts at doing anything substantial were stopped at gunpoint by the other men in black, their muzzles of their black rifles, which they had witnessed to be capable of firing nonstop, looking down emotionlessly on their tear-ridden, red eyes. ¡°Futze¡± then pulled on the trigger. To everyone¡¯s surprise, they only heard the loud click of the firing pin. Neither bullet nor bang came out. Seeing that the men were bluffing, the Leiforians sighed. However, as if evilly concocted to deliver emotional pain to them, the game continued on. ¡°Lucky. Yet not so lucky. Maybe. Moving on!¡± ¡°Futze¡± moved on to the next person, who was a guard that had surrendered. The Leiforians, finally understanding what was happening, resumed their cries, now louder and more desperate as they desperately denied the inevitability of the game¡¯s outcome. The guard struggled to get back up, but he was kept down by the weight of ¡°Futze¡± stepping on his back, his hard boot forcefully resigning the guard to his fate. Cocking the firing pin, he then pointed the revolver on the back of the guard¡¯s head. For each passing second that the revolver¡¯s cold, wet, steel barrel lay pointed against the guard¡¯s head, suspense-filled the smelly, damp air as water, blissfully ignorant of the gravity of the situation, flowed on towards its destination. BANG! Fortune did not favor the guard. A resounding bang, immediately followed by the cries of the others, still adamant on their denial as they continue to wish that their friend hadn¡¯t just been executed. With a bullet to the head, the guard did not have long before his soul departed for the afterlife. Magno V looked on as these men toyed with their lives, summarily executing his people as if it were all a game of dice. Despite looking on, seemingly unfazed by what just happened, forlorn regret over inaction and his unwavering tenacity to uphold the standards of an emperor set on him clashed inside his heart, ultimately resulting in a tear falling from his right eye. ¡°Ah. There you go. So sad. Anyway.¡± ¡°Futze¡± remarked as he pulled out another bullet from his person to put into the revolver. Once again, he only put a single bullet into the cylinder before spinning it around and cocking the firing pin once it settled. This was the game, a truly barbaric one. It was cruel to the detail, maximizing the amount of hurt that could be delivered to the spectators while minimizing the pain felt by those that participated in it as they are shot in the head. Magno V inwardly vowed to put these bastards and their dastardly inhuman games to justice, whatever ¡®justice¡¯ could mean afterward. Seeing the boy emperor on the verge of cracking, ¡°Opa¡± let him in on a secret. Whether it was by virtue of his heart being warmed or him being naturally cutthroat in his methods, this was something only the gods know. ¡°Enjoying the show, Your Highness? Fortunately for you, we will spare one of them. If you¡¯re willing, we¡¯ll give you the power to choose which one gets to live¨Ca shortcut if you will.¡± The man¡¯s offer was appealing, but it reeked with sinister undertones. The offer, Magno V felt, was designed for someone his age. Children would often take the path of least resistance as their still undeveloped instincts push them to gratify themselves by pursuing the reward that could be achieved the soonest, rather than believing in the virtue of patience that may reap better rewards. By accepting the offer, he would relieve himself of the pain of slowly watching the game progress. This, however, was only mere self-gratification. Magno V knew better than to get involved in the game, cleverly deducing that if he did nothing, the execution of 14 of his subjects could be blamed wholly on these barbarians. With the survivors as his witness, he had better chances of getting out of this situation without blame if he chose not to accept the offer of ¡°Opa¡±. As his response, he remained silent, his wordless statement-making echoes with ¡°Opa¡±. ¡°Very well, Your Highness.¡± The game progressed on despite their exchange, signified by a second, resounding bang that had echoed in the cold, dark waterway. Underneath the Imperial Palace, 18:00 ¡°FUCK!!!¡± Screaming ferociously from desperation, a man struggles to wriggle out of a difficult situation as it echoes in the hardened walls of the Imperial Palace¡¯s underground bunker. Before the echo is fading away beneath a background of sporadic gunfire and explosions ringing out from above the surface, the man, Deric Kalmar, regent to the young Emperor Magno V of Leifor, was way past his breaking point. He looked at his right hand, which was curled up into a fist, bloodied from being slammed on the table due to frustration at the development of events. He turned back his gaze to his left, where a young man whose white imperial guardsman uniform was drenched in blood, sweat, and sewage water, standing in dejection as he finished his report. It was obvious to Deric and those in the room that this guardsman had come from a hard-fought battle, which despite the honorable struggle of the man and his now-dead compatriots, they had lost. Still reeling from the devastating loss he had felt from hearing the report, Deric reiterated what the guard had reported, wishing to deny and hoping that it was false or merely a product of his hearing problems. ¡°The imperial family, together with His Majesty, has been captured...?¡± Deric¡¯s soft voice, no matter how silent it may have been, was heard by everyone in the room primarily due to the words that it conveyed. At a loss for words and afraid of the repercussions of the failure to uphold his duty, the guard simply nodded yes. Faced with the unsettling truth that the imperial family, the symbol of Leifor¡¯s pride and unity, was now under the hands of their enemy, Deric could only cover his exasperated face with trembling hands, unable to come up with any concrete responses. He leaned on the table that he had just slammed in infuriation, resting his elbows on the mess of papers and reports that vexingly painted only a partial picture of their bleak situation. The white papers, stained with the prints of countless men and women that had passed it from its origin to where it was now, tell of a Leifor seemingly incapacitated by the shock and awe of what they could only conclude to be the Gra Valkan war machine. The attacks began at 1100 hours when an initial wave of aircraft shot down their helpless air patrols and grounded aviation forces, removing any hope of wrestling back air superiority from their attackers. This was followed by a seemingly endless wave of bombers, which targeted almost every important facet of an organized response¨Ctheir military command facilities, the Forbundsting, garrisons, supply depots, communications apparatuses, and so on. The Navy, exhaustedly built up to match Muish supremacy of the waves following the Great Wave, was conveniently amassed at the harbor, a fact that the Gra Valkans exploited. Both old and new multi-gun battleships were relentlessly bombed by enemy aircraft, their anti-aircraft complement hopeless against the vastly superior foes they had not been designed to face. Even their upcoming ships, designed to go toe to toe with Muish and Imperial battleships, which had eaten the bulk of the navy¡¯s budget for years, were bombed to oblivion in their drydocks, erasing hundreds of lives and millions upon millions of taxpayer money. Their Army, hardened as it were to face an all-out assault by the Muish, fared better. Still, with their leadership literally wiped off the planet, hopes for an immediate, organized response were close to nil. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. With their communications infrastructure suffering the same fate, there was no telling what was happening outside of Leiforia and the immediate region. They only knew that the Gra Valkan air campaign was thorough in picking out their forces in and around Leiforia. Now with recent developments that tell of the Gra Valkan Army landing and the imperial family in their clutches, there is absolutely nothing they can do to salvage the situation in the capital. Deric finally looked up, releasing his frustrated face from his hands. Meeting his gaze were the equally demoralized parliament members and military officers, incomplete in number as their comrades were either dead or missing. Despite their various shortcomings in being leaders of the federal empire in peacetime, they were smart enough to know that there was only one outcome moving forward. The silence between the surviving leadership of Leifor persisted, only interrupted by the occasional shaking of the room brought about by something exploding topside. In spite of the desperate circumstances that they faced, the silence offered a comforting respite, afforded by the limbo in decision making that had come out of everyone¡¯s hesitation to face the inevitable. Tranquil as it may be, they cannot linger in this nothingness forever. ¡°...I believe it is best that we surrender as early as possible... To preserve as much as we can...¡± Breaking free from the respite, one of the parliament officials spoke up. No one challenged him, as this was what everyone was thinking. Vexing as it may be for a globally recognized power to surrender mere hours after war was declared, in these trying times, the leaders of Leifor now prioritized the preservation of what they had left in an effort to retain as much of the old status quo as possible. The Gra Valkans, long thought to be simply newcomers onto the Asheran stage, had now overturned the global axis of power, just as their bombs had disturbed the foundations of their capital. While surrendering was easy, the road to the new world order after the violence had stopped will be paved with miseries and uncertainties. With President Sauren Axar, their head of government, still nowhere to be found, Deric knew that it was up to him to lead the Leiforians. Caressing his brow in resignation to their defeat, he inwardly cursed his luck as he replied to the parliament official¡¯s statement. ¡°...I agree.¡± Downtown Leiforia, 18:20 Ta! Ta! Ta! Ta! Ta! Inside the cramped, steel hull of the M.Fz. 452 Schildkr?te infantry fighting vehicle, Soldat Otto Eichel clutched his Strauss MKb 4 assault rifle as he heard the echoes of the vehicle¡¯s 20mm autocannon firing outside. Despite knowing full well that they are currently in hostile territory, the sound of their very vehicle engaging enemies exhilarated his jitters. This is it, he thought. As the sweat, brought upon by the sweltering heat inside the Schildkr?te and his own anxiety, poured down his face, he panned his head across, seeing the equally nervous faces of his squadmates. His senior, Obergefreiter (OGefr) Luther Meyer, who sat next to him to his right, was also nervous, made obvious by the incessant stomping of his left foot, a subconscious habit for the man. Swinging his head to the left, Otto came across his team leader, Unterfeldwebel (UFw) Engel Peters, who was looking down, waiting for the right time to act, which came sooner than they realized. The shaking of the Schildkr?te stopped as the lumbering vehicle came to a halt. Sensing this through the vibrations emanating from the seat and the walls, UFw Peters promptly tightened his grip on his assault rifle and turned to his squad. ¡°Aussteigen!¡± (Disembark!) Peters¡¯ command echoed throughout the tight interior of the vehicle. Hearing this, the muscle memory of the Imperial Gra Valkan Army soldiers kicked in, inducing the men to disembark from their vehicle, a repeatable process that has been drilled into them countless times before. Otto and OGefr Luther swiftly turned their heads upwards and unlocked the infantry hatches built onto the roof of the Schildkr?te, pushing the metal lid outwards as the locks disengaged. What greeted them beyond the hatch was the dark, early evening sky, patched by the occasional cloud of black smoke lit by the raging red fires of a burning Leiforia. They wasted no time admiring the heavens as the muscles on their legs, which were now firmly grounded on their seats, pushed them to emerge from the hatch. Now outside, the IGVA soldiers were now subject to the view of the depressing cityscape of a city block devoid of human activity, save for their presence and their enemy¡¯s. Rifle and gear in hand, Otto and his squadmates jumped from the roof of the modestly-tall Schildkr?te, landing in the hard, unyielding cobblestone road below them. Barely dazed from the landing, which he had done numerous times in drills back in infantry school, Otto immediately tuned his bearings, looking around him for signs on what to do next. Just then, he heard the distinct scream of UFw Peters, whose voice he was trained to listen to with utmost attention. ¡°Roter Igel, 250m, 12 o¡¯clock! Alpha-Gruppe, fertigmache zum Sprung... Sprung auf, Marsch, Marsch!¡± (Enemy machine gun emplacement, 250 meters straight ahead! Advance and find cover!) Now given explicit commands, Otto and the rest of his squad spotted the nearest cover¨Can overrun Leiforian barricade in front of the Schildkr?te¨Cand dashed for it. Keeping his head low and holding his helmet down, Otto ran for the cover afforded by the steel barricade that the Leiforians had put up. As he made for his objective, he sneaked some glances towards another barricade that was propped up just further down the dark, lampless street in front. From time to time, the barricade would flash in rapid succession, followed by the popping sounds of a circuit gun firing and the dreadful sounds of bullets zooming past. Fortunately for Otto and his squadmates, their Schildkr?te stood out as the primary target, its thick, steel armor capable of withstanding 30mm autocannon rounds laughing at the endless rain of circuit gun bullets painlessly bouncing off of it. With the infantry taking cover in the ruined barricade that stood at the mouth of the street, the Schildkr?te was finally given the order to advance. Otto snuggled right below the shadow of the barricade with OGefr Luther as they watched their infantry fighting vehicle at the center of the cobblestone road effortlessly repelling machine gun fire as it moved forward. Standing in its way was the same barricade that Otto and his squadmates were taking cover under, but the part that it was going to cross over was devoid of friendlies. With a roar from its engine, the Schildkr?te climbed over the barricade, which was crushed by the sheer weight of the Gra Valkan combat vehicle. Otto and his squadmates crouched as the particles flew out from the steel barricade as it was compressed into a pulp, emitting ear-piercing, teeth-gnashing sounds of metals being scratched and pulverized. Then, the vehicle came to a halt. As if dissatisfied by the show of intimidation, its presence emanated towards the Leiforian soldiers who still dared oppose it. The Schildkr?te decided to give them another encore of its main act. The long barrel of the 20mm autocannon mounted on its turret turned to bare its fangs at the Leiforian circuit gun nest. With its muzzle now facing the other barricade, from where the Leiforians still doggedly fired their rifles and machine guns, the autocannon barked its song of destruction. Ta! Ta! Ta! Ta! Ta! The medium-caliber gun fired shot after shot, its tempo undisturbed in its beat and its devastation unrestrained. Spent casings flew out of the turret in perfect synchrony with the lines of red tracing from the muzzle towards the Leiforian barricade 250m down the street, erupting in flashes of orange flame and bright steel as the high explosive rounds perforated the flimsy barrier. Draining its magazine by a mere 15 rounds, the Schildkr?te ceased fire as the sounds of its autocannon firing and the dust from its target continued to settle. In the seconds that followed, tranquility reigned over the street as the Gra Valkans seemingly stood victorious over the silenced machine gun nest. However, UFw Peters knew that not all was finished. From his own side of the barricade, he issued new orders out to his men on standby. ¡°Alpha-Gruppe, Geh hinter der Schildkr?te in Deckung! Fuchs 1, Ausf¨¹hrung!¡± (All units form up behind the Schildkr?te as it advances!) Grasping their new orders with professional haste, Otto and his squadmates dashed towards the rear of the advancing Schildkr?te. They formed into two tight columns that extend from both sides of the rear of the vehicle, utilizing the hard cover provided by the Schildkr?te to shield them from possible incoming fire from the potentially still alive Leiforians over at the barricade. Otto took his position at the frontmost of the column, just behind the steel caterpillar tracks of the infantry fighting vehicle that continued to move forward. He had the hard, cold stock of his MKb 4 rested on his right shoulder with his left hand grasping the handguard to support the length of the gun. His right eye was fixated on maintaining the superposition of the two iron sights on top of the sight of the barricade just a couple of hundred meters down the street. He controlled his breathing, distributing the oxygen he inhaled to his arm muscles in keeping the gun steady, to the leg muscles that he uses to keep pace with the Schildkr?te, and the eye muscles that strained to keep his aim constantly on where their enemies might be. Otto set aside his feelings of anxiety and fear from being on an actual battlefield and replaced it with the professional instincts his training had instilled in him. Their advance was vexingly, frustratingly slow. For the last minute, the only action he had was the disciplined march they carried out towards the Leiforian position. While he wanted nothing unannounced to happen, he eagerly yearned for something to break the status quo. Fortunately for him, the silence was broken by Unteroffizier (UFfw) Reinhard Wolff, their assistant team leader, calling the attention of UFw Peters. ¡°Oberfeldwebel! From the Leutnant! Blaue Himmel! Blaue Himmel!¡± As the one handling the radio, UFfw Wolff was able to receive messages from their Leutnant, their platoon commander. The message, Blaue Himmel, was a preset statement that was notified to every element for Unternehmen Donnerschlag which meant one thing: the enemy has surrendered. When they heard the two distinct words ringing out twice in succession, Otto and his squadmates were almost tempted to let their guards down as the anxiety from the situation all but disappeared, but the possibility that the order to surrender may not have propagated down to the enemy soldier kept their guns and attention at the ready. Suddenly, the wailing siren that had been ringing out since they stepped foot in the city was abruptly stopped by a loud ¡°kachak¡±, which then gave way to the audible crackle of a man¡¯s voice. ¡°Citizens of the Great Federal Empire of Leifor. I, Deric Kalmar, regent to His Majesty, Magno V, am speaking to you from the Imperial Palace. Today, I impart to you the devastating news that¨C¡± Unfortunately for the Gra Valkan soldiers, the man spoke entirely in Leiforian, a language that could not be any more alien to them. However, they could at least infer from the man¡¯s low and deep tone that he must be informing the entire city of their government¡¯s surrender, which was backed by the Blaue Himmel they had only just received. Just as luck would have it, they saw flutters of white banners being waved above the now destroyed barricade down the street, their naturally bright cloth contrasting against the dark, early evening cityscape. Below them were the figures of men facing them with their empty hands raised into the air; their expressions all depicted emotions ranging from exhaustion, fear, and sadness. At long last, the Leiforian soldiers were surrendering. Maintaining their steady advance, Peters¡¯ squad moved with the intention of securing the surrendering Leiforians as prisoners of war as the unintelligible broadcast continued to repeat in the background. Central Intelligence Directorate, Otaheit, Mu, 22:15 The ringing of phones and other communications devices, complemented by the sound of pens being stricken across the processed fibers of papers and the tick-tack of typewriters dominated the communications sector of the Central Intelligence Directorate, the intel-gathering and processing organ of the United Realms and Dominions of Mu. The scenery of office workers wearing bland, white garb with uniform, tasteless haircuts criss-crossing one another evokes a feeling of business, professionalism, and a general impression that these men knew what they were doing. While work hours tended to only last up until 1900, recent major developments have forced them to extend their hours, with the majority of intelligence officers still present on-site as late as 2200. Some of them had been here since noon, while some that had already retired for the day had been summoned back to assist in gathering more information on a particular event that had seemingly erupted out of nowhere: the Gra Valkan invasion of Leifor. In one of the rooms in the sector divided from the rest by a mere glass panel were several of these capable minds browsing through a plethora of papers and documents scattered about rather messily on the top of a varnished, mahogany table. Inscribed on the glass door that swiveled inwards were the words, ¡°smoking room.¡± However, for the time being, the recreational space provided by the smoking room has been set aside for discussion of matters relating to national security. ¡°Argh!!! Those demons! How in the devil¡¯s wager did they manage to pull this invasion off without us knowing!¡± Wearing glasses to aid his blurry vision, one of the officers still could not comprehend the details that he was reading in a report that was given to him. He was shell-shocked by the scale of the attack and how they were not able to catch a single whiff of these plans until it had already happened. Another officer perusing through the white paper reports offered his feelings on the matter. ¡°It¡¯s that damned intelligence agreement with their Geheimdienst! They have an open window into how we do things!¡± ¡°It¡¯s definitely frustrating. While there¡¯s obviously some sentiment for Leifor among us, I don¡¯t like being the one to point out that this is also an opportunity for us.¡± Another officer spoke out as he exhaled smoke from the cigar he was biting onto. With attention firmly on him, he continued. ¡°The Gra Valkans have finally bared their fangs for us to see. If we do this right, we may get a full picture of their war machine¨Cinformation that is vital for the development of our military as the balance of power shifts west. No need to say it bluntly, but those Mirish cocksuckers are no longer the big boogeyman we used to fear.¡± Barging in on their conversation was the sound of the glass door turning inwards, its door hinges creaking at the force of the person pushing on it. The sound caught their attention, but the contour of the woman that walked in captured their gazes for good. Disrupting the uniformity of their white collared shirts and posh haircuts were the woman¡¯s polka dot dress, blots of black scattered about the alluring profile of yellow-dyed cotton. Her crimson lipstick, made more attractive by the woman biting her lip, cornered the men¡¯s gawking eyes. However, she wasn¡¯t there to impress¨Cshe was there for work, for she was also under the Central Intelligence Directorate. With the careful, attractive swing of her left arm, she brought up to eye level a piece of paper, its yellow color complimenting her dress, and it got everyone to divert their gazes to it. ¡°Urgent message from our unit in Leiforia.¡± Handing over the piece of paper to the closest man to her, the entrancing presence of the woman then left as abruptly as she had barged into their masculine abode. Once freed from the reverie, the men were able to return their sights and their brain power back to work. Without additional cues from the others, the man that had been handed the yellow piece of paper read out loud the simple two sentences inscribed in this ¡°urgent message.¡± Regent Deric Kalmar, in absence of His Excellency, President Sauren Axar, has formally announced their intention to the invading Imperial Gra Valkan Army the surrender of the federal government. More details to follow. The utter shock of the combination of words found in these sentences betrayed the sense of simplicity and brevity that might have gone into its writing, but perhaps there was no other way to dutifully transmit such a distressing fact back to the headquarters at Otaheit. In spite of the lack of details inscribed in the message, the fact alone was more than enough; yet the Muish are known not to be content with just ¡°enough.¡± ¡°What?! In less than 12 hours, the Leiforian government has announced its surrender?! Balderdash!¡± ¡°You¡¯ve got to be joking! Although even if the federal government surrendered, the states themselves might not follow... But still!¡± ¡°Dear gods...¡± Taking the yellow paper away to read for himself its contents, the other man could never adjust his glasses enough to dispel every inch of disbelief in his person. For every second he spent rereading the two simple sentences inscribed in the message, he and his companions would feel the gravity of the situation sink in. Leifor, a powerful regional power wielding significant economic and political leverage over the entirety of the continent and second only to Mu and the Holy Mirishial Empire, was forced to its knees in less than half a day by a nation that had only just appeared last year. The Muish, who¡¯s been the closest in relations to the Gra Valkans, knew that they were undeniably progressive in technology and thinking. The opening of trade with the Gra Valkans has benefitted them so much, and their way of life has improved due to the introduction of various civilian technologies, infrastructure projects, and investments. However, if the Gra Valkans were indeed as powerful as they have shown and were not as hesitant to upset the balance of power, the rivalry between them and Mu was only going to deepen. Everyone in the room understood this, but now they have to make sure that the rest of the world does. Groaning in exasperation at the coming paperwork, the man was nevertheless prompt in his duty. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure this gets up to the Director. You lot! Get every bit of detail¨Cbe it the affair of the governor¡¯s wife with the local constable or an entire division unloading from a Leiforian port¨Cas long as it¡¯s coming out of Leifor, compiled for analysis!... And maybe get logistics to divert our way a truckload of coffee beans...¡± Embassy of the Holy Mirishial Empire, Otaheit, Mu, that same time The dark, cloudy summer night yielded no space for either of the two moons as a low-pressure area swooped in to lay siege to the Muish capital. In spite of the endless cascade of rain, the city remained alight, its electrical street lighting denoting the maze of boulevards and avenues against the background of the dead, lightless cityscape. Four to five-story high buildings of brick red and plaster white flanked one of the countless cobblestone avenues of the sleepy city, a common layout for an unassuming visitor to the heart of the Realm. However, one of these buildings stood out with its grand, metallic edifices in place of traditional, Muish marble columns. The gigantic, elven heads cast from polished steel topped the edifices, their colorless eyes staring eternally down on bypassers nonchalantly walking past, blissfully unaware of their presence. Where there weren¡¯t polished steel edifices and sculptures lie, a featureless wall painted striking royal blue¨Cthe color of the Holy Mirishial Empire. Flying proudly atop a flagpole hanging above the facade of the out-of-place building was the banner of Mirish; an unusual sight, for but a mere 20 years ago, the Realm and the Imperium were at war, and even today, sentiments of discomfort linger between the peoples of the two great powers. Above the building¡¯s rather plain yet economic entrance, a departure from the proud display of power that the rest of the facade had to offer, was a metallic plaque. Engraved on it were words written in both the Muish and Imperial script: ¡°Embassy of the Holy Mirishial Empire.¡± Inside, an elven man wearing a long coat of navy blue was preparing to leave his office, a cocoon of white walls with imposing, metallic pillars standing proud at the corners. Exiting through a set of two doors decorated with relief impressions of Asheran gods, the elven man waved his hand over to a polished, grey plaque embedded into the wall next to the door. Upon sensing the elven man¡¯s mana-imbued presence in the form of his hand, the plaque¡¯s circuitry automatically chanted its recorded spell, which disengaged the artificial lighting keeping the office bright, returning it to its default state of darkness. As he finally stepped foot in the long, spacious, white corridor, his attention was caught by the sight of another elf in an azure green coat running down the corridor towards him. The elven man¡¯s face, already worn out from a long day of meetings in what he still considered to be an enemy city with those he considered to be the enemy, drooped further at the prospect of additional work coming at him. Once the other elf had reached him, still panting from his late evening jog across the embassy, he cut straight to the point. ¡°What is it?¡± Still panting, the elf in azure green looked up at him and said with eyes fading in and out from exhaustion. ¡°Ambassador! The embassy... in Leiforia... called...¡± ¡°Yes. And?¡± ¡°Leifor... Regent Deric Kalmar... surrendered...¡± Hearing the word ¡°surrender,¡± the ambassador¡¯s brow shifted upwards in confusion. As far as they were concerned, there had not been any major or minor wars involving the state of Leifor as of late. Furthermore, Mu, the only conceivable power capable of making Leifor submit, isn¡¯t in a state of war either. His confusion was compounded by his and the empire¡¯s general lack of awareness in the matter, his frustration riled up by the man¡¯s lack of significant details. ¡°Surrender? Don¡¯t play coy with me! If you wish to make your statement make sense, augment it with details!¡± At long last, the elf was able to recover his breath, and so he was able to find his words. ¡°A crisis involving Gra Valkas and Paganda has erupted into full war, and Leifor honored its suzerainty obligations! However, the Gra Valkans have invaded, and now the federal government in Leiforia has surrendered!¡± Despite his intellect as a diplomat, no amount of brainpower and sanity could have prepared him for the sheer amount of new information that was to come from this elf¡¯s statement. His confusion, brought about by the inability to keep track of the extremely quick developments that were happening as he pondered, turned to frustration from the fact that they had not seen this coming at all. In the first place, he distrusted the Gra Valkans, who have been open with their incursions into the already established framework that was left behind as a result of the Great War. A newcomer that had appeared to the west seemingly out of nowhere possessed a lot of civilian technologies and chic products that the markets of the Central World, including the empire, have started to covet. With this brazen display of inexcusable hostility towards the fragile balance of power, he cursed the Gra Valkans. He then cursed the Imperial Intelligence Bureau for failing to keep them up to date on happenings involving Leifor and Gra Valkas. His head aching from seething rage and furious impatience, he closed his eyes as he forced his voice not to be hostile. ¡°Get. Me. This. Embassy¡¯s. Intelligence. Head.¡± ¡°But ambassador! He¡¯s already retired for the night!¡± His anger gushed forth as his self-control collapsed altogether. ¡°NOW!!!¡± Freaked out by the ambassador¡¯s enraged yell, the elven embassy staff ran off in the other direction without extra statements to do as he was told to. Cent. Calendar 10/06/1639, Ragna, Gra Valkas Empire ¡°I¡¯m here to extend my formal letter of resignation.¡± Cielia said in a flat, monotonous voice as she plainly reached out her right arm to place a white, sealed envelope on the desk of the man that she was talking to. Her eyes and face echoed her utter fatigue from dealing with the crisis with Paganda, her irises, darker and more dead than usual, cried out in unison, ¡°I am tired of this Bl?dsinn.¡± ¡°B-B-But why?!¡± Leaning back in his comfortable, reclining office chair, the man, her superior Gesta, could not be any more detached from the pain that Cielia had to go through, yet his bewildered face and shocked response threatened to deceive Cielia that he was concerned for her. Unfazed by her superior¡¯s lackluster facade, Cielia responded, her expression disgusted as ever. ¡°I don¡¯t tolerate your administration of this ministry, especially when it comes to treating the empire¡¯s esteemed diplomats as mere... pawns.¡± Straightforward was part of her character, and so she played it to the letter. The sharpness of her words and tone sliced right through Gesta¡¯s facade, hitting straight home to his core. Gesta¡¯s concerned expression disappeared entirely from his aged face as he fixed his posture to lean forward, feeling attacked. ¡°And?¡± Disgusted as she may be by Gesta¡¯s now frank remark, her facial mannerisms nor bodily disposition reflected none of it. Instead, she chose to show a different emotion. ¡°Bypassing my authority to directly assign my subordinates on a questionable errand to the Kingdom of Paganda? Despite knowing full well the risks of doing so given the character of the people you chose for the mission?!¡± Following her rising tone, Cielia¡¯s gaze and facial muscles now reflected her rage. In spite of the values of diplomatic restraint instilled into her as a bonafide diplomat, she did not hold back in her words as she was emboldened by the liberation from her obligations following her resignation. ¡°As coarse as he may be, Dallas does not deserve to be subject to torture! Himmels, despite his shortcomings as a communicator, did not deserve being food-poisoned! And Ingrid...¡± She paused, almost revolting in the utter repugnance of remembering what had happened to her subordinate, who was now in a hospital dealing with mental and physical trauma brought about by sexual abuse, which she did not feel was necessary to be mentioned. While she detested the Pagandans that had done this to her, her most obvious target of animosity was the individual that had sent her in the first place. ¡°How could you remain so nonchalant about the danger that you have put your employees in!? How dare you be dismissive of their suffering!¡± Cielia no longer wished to be affiliated with a man she considered to be the pinnacle of evil. Fully content with leaving the discussion where it was, Cielia broke free of her shackles as she turned and walked away. This was to be the last time she¡¯d work in an environment that encourages toxicity and misogyny. She detested it all¨Cthe harassment, the cutthroat competition, the questionable ethics, the dead seriousness of the diplomatic arena. She longed to return to the arts, an escape into a medium that allowed her to openly deal with the subtleties and dynamics of human emotion, far removed from the game state actors played that toyed with livelihoods and people. The door was there. She was going to be free. However, a strong, unrelenting force pulled her away from the door. Rather, it was more fitting to say that the door was pulled away from her. The disappointing sensation of so close yet so far was replaced by abhorrence when Cielia realized that she could feel that strong, unrelenting force physically tugging at her left arm. Without turning back to ascertain what was this force preventing her from her exit, Cielia exhaustedly mustered the energy to say two words: ¡°Let go.¡± Her cry, reflecting her emotions which echoed her desire to be free, was ignored by Gesta, who was holding her hostage in his office by her left arm. Like a predator clamping onto its prey that was struggling for a second chance at life, Gesta pulled her in close with his masculine strength. Landing on the rough, muscular build of her superior, Cielia froze in complete fear of the man that she was just lashing out against, worried of what the now unhinged Gesta could do to her. Despite her determination to be free, she was too exhausted and weak to break away from Gesta¡¯s iron grip, and so she simply quivered in terror. Like a cheetah breathing down its meal, Gesta whispered to Cielia¡¯s trembling right ear. ¡°You are one feisty brat, Frau Oudwin.¡± Gesta exhaled down the now sensitive ear of Cielia, who was now on the verge of tears after feeling the man¡¯s warm, humid breath trickling down her most sensitive parts. ¡°Employees like you are only as good as the contracts you¡¯ve signed¨Clegally binding documents that explicitly command you to do as I say for as long as I¡¯m here.¡± A short pause. The last moment before the cheetah bites down on its meal, ending any hopes of it being ever free. ¡°Your employment here serves as insurance, my darling. Lest you want something to happen to your dear Papa...¡± Cielia¡¯s entire person twitched at the mention of her Papa, her dearest father, whose support she strives to meet ends day and night for. While she might lose the actual insurance benefits from being in the ministry by resigning, she was going to find work that had the same amount of benefits anyway. However, with the emergence of this new threat to her father, which felt all too real given Gesta¡¯s power to move people, Cielia had her hands tied. There was no way she could hope to protect her father from Gesta if she pursued the option to bail out. Faced with no other alternative, Cielia hung her head low in resignation to Gesta¡¯s will. Her expression, what was just a while ago so defiant and so cocksure of victory, had changed to that of a meek woman who¡¯s renounced her worldly commitments, an angel whose wings were forcibly clipped. ¡°Wunderbar. Good girl.¡± Chapter 16.5: Yoha no Naka Cent. Calendar 11/06/1639, Ragna, Gra Valkas Empire, 10:30 ¡°Disappointing.¡± In unison with a heart-stinging remark from a middle-aged man was the sound of papers and documents hitting the hardwood surface of the table at breakneck speed. The utter disappointment of the man reflected not only in the pruny creases of his unimpressed face but also on the similarly dismayed faces of four other men sitting next to him. Their formal suits were as sharp as their displeased gazes and were a testament to their positions in power. These men were part of the Imperial Council, the highest body of power in the Gra Valkas Empire. Not only did they occupy the most coveted seats in the government, but they were also the heads of the titanic corporations that made up the egregiously massive military-industrial complex of Gra Valkas. Further still than either of these intimidating positions, they were part of the masterminds of the reignition of militarization in the empire¨Cthe pro-martial conspirators. Standing before them were the chiefs of staff, also part of the conspiracy. Just months prior, they were tasked with one simple objective: a display of national power by means of subjugating a nearby recognized power. This culminated in the mobilization of tens of thousands of men and resources, which were to be the main dish that followed the appetizer that was the Pagandan diplomatic crisis. Dubbed Donnerschlag, the chiefs of staff envisioned it to be the grandiose spectacle that showed Asherah what the pinnacle of Gra Valkan power looks like by crushing and conquering Leifor in one day. With the blessing of the rest of the conspirators came high expectations, and when Donnerschlag under-delivered... ¡°You Spasti! You promised Leifor would fall in a single day!¡± ¡°But it did¨C¡± ¡°No! The federal government in Leiforia did! The other regions didn¡¯t heed the federal government¡¯s surrender!¡± There was little breathing room. The chiefs of staff looked at one another as they sweated bullets in front of their enraged co-conspirators. They, too, understood the horrible position that their forces were currently in. With only a single mechanized division entrenched in the capital, the bulk of Leifor¡¯s armed forces scattered across the massive country, a force in the hundreds of thousands which, while temporarily paralyzed due to the loss of their chain of command, was still mostly intact. Given the opportunity, they can easily push the meager 14,150-strong force of the 47. Panzergrenadier-Division back into the ocean. Due to the relatively small amount of manpower that they could muster in the months leading to yesterday, the primary objective of Donnerschlag was to force a nationwide capitulation by means of deception¨Cgiving the Leiforians the impression that an overwhelmingly powerful Gra Valkan invasion was underway and that there was no point in resistance. Unfortunately, while the operation succeeded in forcing the federal government to capitulate, the planners have failed to take into account that Leifor is a federal state, wherein the regions possess a strong sense of individuality and enjoy a high degree of autonomy. As such, it was reasonable for them to refuse to recognize the surrender when they were hardly touched by the Gra Valkan war machine. Everyone in the room knows what that entails for their comparatively weak hold on the Leiforian occupation. The Army Chief of Staff stepped forward, hoping to defuse the heat that was starting to come to a boiling point. Fortunately for them, the Army had prepared a contingency in the event that Donnerschlag failed to achieve satisfying results. ¡°With all due respect, I think it¡¯s too early to conclude failure.¡± The councilmen looked at him with dubious eyes, their glares ever piercing and unyielding. However, their faces relaxed a bit as hints of hope for success surfaced. ¡°As we speak, elements of the Panzerarmee Leiforia are unloading at the ports of Leiforia and at makeshift ones our engineers had built. While the carrier task forces from both Paganda and Irnetia have moved in after securing the surrender of their respective nations, the bulk of the Army Air Service is also en route to Leiforia.¡± The councilmen were still unimpressed, and one of them leaned in with a skeptical look. ¡°So? What does more men and resources on the Mu continent entail?¡± Unfazed, the Army Chief of Staff turned his back on the councilmen and walked towards the slide projector behind him. When it turned on, a light came out from the objective lens of the slide projector, casting an enlarged image of the first slide that was inserted in the slide tray onto the white wall facing the chiefs of staff and the councilmen. What was cast was a map of Leifor¡¯s remaining unsurrendered regions, known surviving Leifor Army units colored in red, and then Imperial Gra Valkan Army and Navy units colored in blue. With the attention of the councilmen firmly hooked towards the projection, the Army Chief of Staff turned to face them once more. ¡°I have here a plan to systematically subjugate the unsurrendered regions of Leifor by means of intelligence gathering, posturing, diplomatic pressure, and lastly, combat maneuvers. This is to wedge a rift in between the regional governments, sowing discord, using strongman tactics to force them to surrender, and using overwhelming airpower coupled with superior intelligence to search and destroy Leiforian forces. A complete subjugation of the entirety of Leifor can be expected in as little as a month, two if faced with drawbacks.¡± The councilmen were impressed and enticed. Striking their beards as they looked at one another with raised eyebrows and fulfilling expressions, they couldn''t help but listen more to what the Army Chief of Staff had to say. ¡°Go on...¡± ¡°Meine Herren, I present to you, Unternehmen Doppelschlag.¡± Cent. Calendar 12/06/1639, Tokyo, Japan, 6:30 With the swift conquest and subjugation of the Kingdom of Paganda and Irnetia, coupled with the decapitation of Leiforian leadership, the entirety of the Mu continent was in turmoil, reeling from the shock of the Gra Valkan attack and subsequent victories. What once was a mysterious nation to the west that warranted little attention due to its obscurity became the center of attention overnight. The extremely quick defeat of Leifor, a nation whose power is known and recognized all throughout the known world, rang alarm bells in places as far as the Holy Mirishial Empire. The violence of Gra Valkas¡¯ rise to prominence overshadowed similar developments occurring in the far east, where the exploits of a nascent nation by the name of Japan were about to earn the ire of the local power, the Parpaldian Empire. Physically far from the scenes of chaos that continue to erupt in the Rodenius continent, following the obliteration of Lourian administrative and military cohesion by Japan¡¯s Operation Zanzibar, the Japanese capital was by no means far removed from the consequences of such a daring move. The administration was under extreme heat and pressure from the rest of the government and the people for its actions in the Lourian theater. Following decades of obstinate adherence to a policy of strict peace and non-belligerence, Prime Minister Takamori single-handedly dismantled Japan¡¯s pacifist reputation in a single day with the greenlighting of a bombing of the Lourian sovereign. While the legality of the strike remains to be debated hotly throughout the nation, the resounding consensus agreed that it was a blatant belligerent action by Takamori¨Ca step that was too far out of line. Compounding the still pervading economic crash, food crisis, widespread blackouts, and so on was renewed anger by the populace against what they perceived was a warmonger leading Japan back to open militarization. On top of already routine unrest in the capital due to homelessness, food shortages, unemployment, and so on were protests centered on government buildings in Kasumigaseki in the heart of Tokyo. The worst of these protests was occurring at the Ministry of Defense, where an angry mob was trying to storm through the main gate, only to be pushed back by countless cans of tear gas and jets of cold, pressurized water from metropolitan police water cannons. Having sneaked into the compound via a designated path for government employees, Matsumoto Akira was beholden to a view of the mob repeatedly pushing against the stressed reinforced steel of the main gate, like a relentless tsunami repeatedly crashing on a dike. From where he was in the building, he could hear the resounding, rhythmic chants of protestors crying out in disenchanted unison. ¡°OKADA, RESIGN! OKADA, RESIGN!¡± A chill ran down Matsumoto¡¯s broad back. Never before was he a witness to a protest so violent. Then again, they all had never been witness to a modern Japan bombing and killing the rulers of another sovereign nation before. As much as he shared the sentiments of the protestors, his job urged him to look away, and his heart beckoned him to ignore their cries. Past the spine-chilling cries of protestors being silenced by the gushing of pressurized water, he could feel the warmth of the cup of coffee he held in his hand. He looked down on it; the plastic and cardboard that held the caffeinated drink was a sight he missed, for coffee had been strictly rationed the past two months. Only after coffee successfully (and miraculously) grew in Qua-Toynian plantations in sufficiently large quantities did they lift the rationing on coffee just last week¨Ca sign that their efforts were boring fruit. Finally, Matsumoto thought, as the smell of caffeine tickling his nose teased him to indulge in the drink. However, this cup of 473ml of aromatic, brewed coffee was not meant for him, for written on top of the plastic cover in black marker ink were the characters for ¡°Okada.¡± Putting down his belongings on the desk that denoted him as secretary, he brought with him only the cup of coffee as he walked towards the room of his superior, Okada Masako, the Minister of Defense. As he stood in front of the door, poised to knock and then enter her office, he heard the loud sound of countless blunt objects hitting the floor from beyond the wooden door. Matsumoto¡¯s fight-or-flight instincts kicked in, sidelining the established custom of knocking on the door first before entering, fearing for the safety of his superior. ¡°Minister?!¡± Swinging the door open with his free left hand, Matsumoto entered the office. The simple, elegant atmosphere of the room was even more pronounced during the morning when the rays of sunlight coming from the rising sun would give the room its somber, yellow color. Disturbing the tidiness of the office was an array of books, documents, and their respective boxes scattered about one corner. In the middle of it all was the figure of a woman sitting on the floor as if she had tripped, her modestly short stature exuding an aura of weakness, compounded by the fact that she was in a pose that emanated frailty. To anyone looking, it looks as if she had tried to reach for something from the topmost shelf of the tall bookcase, the contents of which were now scattered all across the floor. To Matsumoto, the mess had to wait, for the woman was his primary concern. ¡°Minister! Are you alright?¡± As Matsumoto kneeled down to try and ascertain if she had any injuries, he heard a faint sniff from her direction. Following this alarming sniff, the minister tried to clear her throat and answered her secretary¡¯s concerns while turning away. ¡°I-I¡¯m fine...¡± Okada turned down Matsumoto¡¯s concerns. Despite this dismissal, it was obvious to anyone that she was anything but fine, and Matsumoto refused to budge. ¡°With all due respect, Minister, I don¡¯t believe that you are¨C¡± Interrupting him mid-sentence was the loud hicc of the minister. Then, like a dam that was pushed beyond its breaking point beginning to collapse under itself, Okada¡¯s emotional floodgates failed altogether, and out came a flood of tears and wails. Her cries, although soft, were sharp enough to pierce through the hearts of anyone that heard them. She hunched over, bringing her head down to the ground in search of something solid to cry on. Utterly shocked to silence by the raw cries of his minister, whom he viewed as a strong, no-nonsense woman, Matsumoto couldn¡¯t help but feel disappointed in himself for failing to find the words to console his superior. He placed the still-warm cup of coffee down on the floor and crawled over to wrap his arms around the shoulders of the weeping Okada, bridging the gap between their age and position on the work hierarchy. For this brief moment, he was not her secretary, nor was she his superior¨Cthey were people, and as a person himself, he was giving his fellow human being what love he could muster. Boldened by this heartwarming show of support by her junior, in the midst of her crying, she sat back upright. Wiping the sea of tears that had gushed out of her now reddened eyes, Okada, in turn, mustered what strength she had to talk to Matsumoto. ¡°I¡¯m sorry you had to see this, Matsumoto-kun...¡± Matsumoto silently nodded in understanding. Knowing deep within her that he was capable of empathy, Okada did not wait for a verbal cue from him before continuing. ¡°I... I wanted to resign...¡± There was a slight pause. In place of the silence that they expected to come were the distant, yet loud chorus of human voices cheering in unison outside: the protesters outside the ministry¡¯s gates demanding for Minister Okada¡¯s resignation. ¡°B-But... We were given notice by the Prime Minister not to...¡± ¡°Why?¡± Wiping the tears and snot from her nose with a napkin to facilitate the flow of air through her nostrils, Okada answered. ¡°He said it would be a sign of weakness... That we would be giving in to the crowd when we were right in the first place...¡± Okada¡¯s whimpers changed drastically to statements filled with frustration. ¡°And he has a point! We are in the right! There is a legal basis for the decapitation strike on Louria! It¡¯s justified!¡± Matsumoto tightened his firm grip on Okada¡¯s shoulders to get her to relax on herself. ¡°But that baka of a Prime Minister! Can¡¯t he be more delicate in his fucking words?! What did he think was going to happen when he downright declared, in front of the Diet, that he is inviting everyone to come at him?! We are dealing with a population that¡¯s used to peace! It doesn¡¯t matter that we¡¯re in a new world, our people, customs, traditions, beliefs¨Cthey are all still the same! An abrupt change like the transfer will not get all of them to change in a snap!¡± Okada covered her face as if ashamed by her straightforward comments on the Prime Minister. ¡°I accepted my appointment as the minister just as China was ramping up its excursions in Senkaku and our ADIZ. I thought that an incident there or in a botched interception of an airspace intrusion was the most exciting thing I would get in this career...¡± Okada sank her face deeper into her hands as emotions swirling in her heart threatened to restart the flow of tears from her still reddened eyes. Unable to come up with words that may help alleviate the pain from her, Matsumoto could only bend his head down on Okada¡¯s small back. The warmth of Matsumoto¡¯s presence behind her was magnified by the wrapping embrace of his arms on Okada¡¯s entire body. Feeling the physical envelopment of her secretary¡¯s bigger arms, she was touched by the emotional impact of Matsumoto¡¯s concern for her. This heartwarming gesture added volatility to the feelings in her heart, aggravating her tendency to cry once more. However, she simply shed a single tear in gratitude for his consoling presence, and she placed her slender hands on Matsumoto¡¯s to show her appreciation for his efforts. ¡°Thank you, Matsumoto-kun.¡± Even as the sound of water cannons gushing through the screams and chants of protesters calling for Okada¡¯s resignation echoed throughout the room, the two simply sat there, cherishing the warmth the other provided, as time and space seemingly came to a halt. Port of Myhark, Qua-Toyne, 10:00 Detached from the chaos happening elsewhere across the world, the citizens of Qua-Toyne, Fenn, Quila, and other periphery countries move about conducting their businesses in the port city of Myhark. Despite their cultural differences and the general friction between the different races, they all agreed that money makes the world go round, as noted in their nonchalant intermingling with one another, as if the racial barriers and inevitable misunderstandings that had doomed their respective nations to a status quo of indifference had never been present. The smells of freshly mined metals and magic gems, along with the aromatic varnished wood of weapons and furniture, the putrid odors of freshly caught seafood, and the nose-tingling smell of salty air dominated the bustling port of the Qua-Toynian city. Then, as if to interject in the chaos of scents, there was a particular whiff of something captivating and curious. Its pungency had never grazed the noses of the humans, elves, dwarves, and beastmen of the port, who were sensitive to any smell that stood out, for it could mean an entirely new product that they could haggle for. This smell, an addictive punch that utterly dominates one¡¯s olfactory senses, was that of gasoline. When the people of the port turned their heads at the mere whiff of this alien smell, they were treated to the sounds of something rumbling, a symphony of clanking iron. There, they saw a peculiar carriage of sandy beige, one without a neighing horse pulling it from its helm, treading the sandy limestone with which the port of Myhark was built. The black, rubber wheels with which it used to move squealed as the carriage negotiated the ups and downs of the road, crushing whatever feeble stone was unfortunate enough to be in its path. However, the people of the port were already used to the comings and goings of such alien vehicles. Around a month ago, the people of a newly emerged nation called Japan had started deploying their techno-gizmos to this quaint, seaside city in an effort to help Qua-Toyne against the megalomaniac Lourian king. Even after they had literally crushed the Lourian menace in its path in a single day, the Japanese have made it clear that they were here to stay. While the curious sight of the horseless carriages initially attracted their attention and gazes, they were no longer fazed by their rampant patrols across the city, having since become one of the normal, day-to-day happenings in Myhark. Turning their heads back to what they were previously doing, the people of the port had resumed their businesses, ignoring the presence of the horseless carriage with which they have no relation. Then, a loud pop. The resounding screech of the brief pop tickled the eardrums of the people across the vicinity, unanimously pulling their gazes towards it. At the other end of the curious eyes of the Asheran onlookers was the horseless carriage coming to an abrupt stop in an almost pitiful state. One of its front wheels had seemingly collapsed on itself as if exhausted from its obligation of supporting such a clunky, heavy iron box. Then, the carriage¡¯s doors opened, and out came a handful of human men dressed in clothes that match the color of their vehicle as if to blend in with it. ¡°Motherfucker!¡± One of them cried out in an alien language. While the people of the port had never heard such words before, they were accustomed to the general unfamiliarity of the languages across the ¡°barbarian¡± periphery since the lingua franca with which everyone used to converse with one another was Asheran common. ¡°Goddamned squinties and their shitass 80s crap! We may not be on fucking Earth anymore, but their fucking shit is worse than fucking China! My Made in China backscratcher has seen more abuse than this fucking heap of shit, and yet it has lasted longer!¡± ¡°No need to keep secrets from us, Evan. Backscratcher = five incher buttplug, right?¡± ¡°With all due respect, Sergeant, I have concluded, based on the damages I¡¯ve seen here, that your heavy, plump buttocks are what has caused this failure. I recommend a thorough ass-whooping to prevent this from happening again.¡± The people turned their gazes away, uninterested in the fruitless bickering of the Japanese soldiers. Unbeknownst to them, these soldiers were not from the land of the rising sun as they thought, as evidenced by the star-spangled banner of red, blue, and white on their chests. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. These four men, marines under the 3rd Reconnaissance Battalion of the United States Marine Corps stationed in Camp Schwab, have been deployed, together with the rest of their battalion, to Qua-Toyne as part of a gradual lessening of Japan Self Defense Force personnel deployed overseas following the controversial Operation Zanzibar. Faced with personal shame on allowing the use of force in a seemingly blatant, belligerent manner, the National Diet of Japan was keener on letting US troops do the majority of force projection rather than their own, and are currently debating on whether the deployment of Japanese troops into Qua-Toyne is still necessary. However, they were also not eager to renege on earlier commitments to their allies, so in conjunction with withdrawing much of their own, they¡¯ve allowed the US to fill in the massive gaps, much to their dismay. The Sergeant, Simon Williams, walked towards the rear of their recently recommissioned, just-back-from-storage Humvee to procure the spare tire fitted in its trunk. Opening the creaky cover of the trunk, a sign of its age and decrepit state, Sgt. Williams beckoned over to another one of his men. ¡°Hey Doc! Give me a hand!¡± Hearing his name being called by his superior, Navy Corpsman Justin Clancy swung his black, dusted standard-issue M4 carbine over his back by its strap and ran over to the rear of the Humvee. Williams squeezed his gloved hands into one side of the spare tire while Clancy mirrored him on the other side. ¡°Three, two, one...!!!¡± At the end of Williams¡¯s timing, both men lifted the spare tire out of its snug fit in the trunk without much effort, although their soft grunting begged to differ. The spare tire was finally free, and by William¡¯s guiding hands, it was placed upright on the sandy, limestone ground of the Myhark port. With a single waving gesture from his hand, Williams ordered Clancy to bring the tire over to Corporal Evan Carson, the one that had examined the blown tire. As Clancy bent over to gather the necessary force to roll the heavy, girthy rubber spare tire, Williams turned to reach for the trunk¡¯s cover to close it. After gleefully rolling the tire over towards Carson, Clancy raised his lowered helmet, revealing a Caucasian face with his red hair riddled with sweat, which was from either from the blazing heat of the Qua-Toynian summer or from the brief workout he had just gone through. Carson, who had just finished loosening the last lug nut from the wheel with his stainless steel wrench, placed the tool aside as he wiped the endless drops of sweat flowing towards his brow with his dusty gloves. He turned his head towards the left and shouted. ¡°Yo, Sergeant! Where¡¯s the jack at?¡± Turning across the corner of the Humvee¡¯s rear after having closed the trunk, Williams responded to him, his face riddled with an expression of exasperation and disappointment. ¡°We ain¡¯t got no jack.¡± Carson, who is about to blurt out profanity due to an endless string of bad luck, looked at Williams wearing a face of disbelief. ¡°What the fuck do you mean we ain¡¯t got no jack?¡± ¡°I checked the trunk, under the seats, everywhere. We ain¡¯t got no jack, and that¡¯s that.¡± Carson covered his face with his sand-colored gloves in exhaustion, fed up with the cards that life has dealt them. ¡°Motherfucker...¡± Similarly exasperated yet still brimming with cheer, Clancy patted his fellow Marine on the shoulder in the hope of raising his spirits. ¡°Shit happens, Evan. Let¡¯s try and¨C¡± ¡°Shut the fuck up with that bullshit, Doc. Can¡¯t you see God is shitting on us? First the transfer, then this half-assed deployment on orders of those squinties. Even fucking President Woods himself championed this idea, saying, ¡°ah well shit, y¡¯all, we have to do our part in this trying time because fuck you!¡±, well fuck him! Punchable motherfucker probably sucking on the microscopic dicks of the squinties¨Cwait, no, they¡¯re pussies! Fuck me, I might as we¨C¡± Before Carson could run his mouth any longer, Williams walked up to him, squatted down next to him, and placed his arm over his man¡¯s shoulders. He then squeezed tight on Carson in an effort to physically remind him of their camaraderie as brothers, especially stronger now in this trying time. Carson stopped his ramblings, perhaps touched by his superior¡¯s show of companionship. ¡°Shit happens, Evan. I hate it too, but you know what, this is exactly why we are Marines. You remember our old Platoon Commander?¡± ¡°That guy, Mr. Competent?¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°The blonde fag that got medically-discharged from the Marines after he got shot to shit by RPGs yet still called in the fire-mission and saved our asses in Afghanistan? Unlike the mentally retarded commander of Hitman-3, Mr. Superman.¡± ¡°Yeah, that guy. Come on, buddy, if our old Lieutenant Danny Walker can do that shit, then we sure as hell could too. This shit is just a blown-up tire, not some sort of fucking ambush with RPGs and shit from braindead farmers who fuck sheep.¡± The three men laughed, fondly remembering the time they spent together in the heated intensity of combat over the years. Spurred on by his comrades¡¯ encouragement, Carson wiped off every semblance of emotional fatigue in his spirit as he stood back up. ¡°¡®Kay then. We lifting this piece of crap or what?¡± Williams and Clancy looked towards the Humvee in response to Carson¡¯s question, finding points on the vehicle¡¯s structure where it might be possible for them to lift it. The three men silently eyed one another, mentally assigning each other which part of the vehicle they¡¯d lift. Williams and Clancy ran over to the front of the Humvee, each of them taking position on both corners of the steel structure protruding from the center. The plan was that while Carson changed the tire, the two of them would be lifting the vehicle. Williams looked over to Clancy, who was already looking back at him and nodded as a sign that they were about to start. At this signal, the two men spread their legs outwards as they bent over to grab the structure. ¡°Three, two, one...!!!¡± At the end of Williams¡¯s count, the two men promptly flexed their back muscles as they attempted to raise the Humvee¡¯s front. Still, despite their impressive effort in trying to raise the vehicle, they could only raise it by a meager three centimeters, and after five straight seconds of grueling, extreme weightlifting, the two men simultaneously let go of the Humvee. Exhausted and their muscles strained, the two men looked down in dejection as they tried to catch their breath. ¡°Shit¡¯s too heavy, huh?¡± Carson commented, to which Williams and Clancy responded with tired nods. He then looked back towards the Humvee and looked up at its Mk19 automatic grenade launcher. There, behind the black silhouette of the weapon, was another Marine, who looked out off into the distance from behind his dark, shaded combat goggles, unfazed by what had been happening in the past few minutes. ¡°Yo Manato! Get yo¡¯ fat-ass down here, you lazy fucking twat!¡± In silence, devoid of any grunt or groan, Corporal Kirigaya Manato swiveled his legs up from inside the Humvee and placed them on its roof before eventually sliding onto the ground. Picking up his strapped M249 SAW machine gun and swinging its light body towards his back, Kirigaya instantly recovered from his perfect landing and joined his squadmates in front of the Humvee. ¡°Alright, you go towards the front and help the others with the lifting.¡± Carson ordered Kirigaya, who simply stared at him in silence from behind his tinted combat goggles and mottled balaclava. Without uttering a word, Kirigaya responded by raising his finger, pointing it off towards Carson¡¯s left side. ¡°Whaddya pointing at fo¨C¡± When Carson turned to his left after following Kirigaya¡¯s finger, he found the figure of a tall person standing a meter away from him. The tall statue of the person was imposing and evoked a sense of awe from the Marines, who had to look up to see the person¡¯s face. Equally, awe-evoking was the person¡¯s features: gray, sometimes black strands of fur were growing out from all over his face, and his exposed arms, neck, and shoulders were completely covered in it. The man¡¯s face still somewhat resembled that of a human, but his eyes were a departure from the familiar features of a humanoid eye and instead resembled more of a wolf¡¯s. Whenever the man¡¯s jaw parted ways, they saw two rows of sharp, canine teeth lining the innards of his mouth. According to the briefing the Marines had on this new world, Asherah, the features of this man meant he belonged to a race of humanoid individuals known as beastmen. While the Marines stared at the tall, bulky figure of the beastman standing before them, the beastman opened his mouth and started talking, much to the surprise of the four. ¡°I see you Japanese are in a pinch. Even though the stories of your exploits against Louria tell of a powerful nation, it turns out that you are but mere humans yourselves. Humbling, isn¡¯t it? I may be of help to your predicament.¡± The wolfman spoke in Asheran common, which the Marines heard as pure gibberish. While they were told to generally avoid mingling with the natives, if approached, they were ordered to be on their best behavior. However, this barrier in communication meant that they could not ascertain what the wolfman¡¯s intentions for approaching them were, and so the Marines kept their hands close to their M4 carbines in anticipation for the worst while they maintained an amicable expression on their faces. Not knowing what to do, Carson waved his hand at the wolfman. ¡°Hi! How do you do?¡± ...as he said to the wolfman in English. Williams and Clancy struggled to hold their laughter at Carson¡¯s hilarious attempt at cross-species communication. Kirigaya, meanwhile, stood next to them in silence, still seemingly unaffected by what was happening. Feeling insulted by his comrades¡¯ lack of support, he turned back to them. ¡°Whaddya want me to say? ¡°I come in peace¡±?! Wait a goddamn minute, we could radio in an interpreter, right?! Fuck! Fuck you, you gay-ass faggots!¡± Thoroughly consumed by laughter, the two men continued giggling for a few seconds before slowly coming to a stop. Williams recovered first and replied to Carson. ¡°No need. Look.¡± William pointed back to the wolfman. When the others turned back, they saw the wolfman performing gestures, probably having realized that the Marines did not understand Asheran common. With the Marines now looking at him, the wolfman pointed towards the Humvee before pointing back to himself, and then he interlocked his fingers together and spread his legs out. He then raised his interlocked hands upwards, as if to show that he was lifting something. Seeing the gestures of the wolfman, the Marines simultaneously came to the conclusion that the wolfman wanted to lift the Humvee. ¡°Ahh! I get it, I get it!¡± Carson then stepped aside, pointing gently towards the Humvee as he looked at the wolfman with an expression that said that he was welcome to do so. The wolfman nodded in response, acknowledging the message behind Carson¡¯s gestures, and walked towards the front of the vehicle. The towering figure of the beastman loomed over the sandy brown vehicle. Without waiting for any cues, the beastman grabbed the Humvee¡¯s front bumper with his right hand, and seemingly without effort, he raised the vehicle upwards. The four men looked on, their eyes and mouths wide open from awe, as the beastman nonchalantly raised the front of a nearly 5-ton vehicle with a single hand. However, they assumed that he couldn¡¯t do this forever, and so they proceeded with changing the tire. After Carson had taken the lug nuts out, he and Williams pulled the blown-out tire. After they pulled it aside, Clancy rolled in the spare tire, which Williams and Carson then pushed in, fitting it through the exposed lug bolts. As Williams and Clancy held the tire in place, Carson reattached the lug nuts in place by hand, tightening them as much as he could. Once he was done, Kirigaya gestured to the beastman, who was still unaffected in his lifting the Humvee, with a bow and his hands linked together in a sign of gratitude. Assuming that it means that their work was finished, the beastmen gently lowered the vehicle before letting go of its front bumper. Carson then tightened the lug nuts with his steel wrench, finishing the tire replacement as he made sure that the lug nuts were firmly in place. Clancy and Williams then carried the blown out tire back to the trunk of the Humvee. Their work accomplished, the Marines then looked back at the beastman with smiling faces, exhilarated from seeing a fantastical beast up close. ¡°Goddamn... What a literal beast!¡± ¡°You mean a furry?¡± ¡°God, no! This one¡¯s the real deal!¡± ¡°Yeah. I think we should thank the beastman for his help.¡± Carson searched his person as he thought of something to give to the kind wolfman. His gloved hands then happened on the brown paper wrapper of an M&Ms packet on one of his pockets. Satisfied with himself that he found something to give as thanks, he immediately pulled the packet of chocolate candy out and handed it over to the beastman. ¡°Uh-ree-gah-toh! Just as they say in Japanese!¡± Carson said as he waved the brown packet up towards the beastman. Once more, assuming that this was the ¡°Japanese¡± being grateful for his help, the beastman bowed as he reached out for the small yet curious knick-knack that the man was giving to him. ¡°I humbly accept your gesture of gratitude, Japanese soldier.¡± Just as the wolfman took the M&Ms packet, Clancy¡¯s eyes widened in shock as he realized what Carson was giving. ¡°Hey, HEY! This may be a different world, but chocolates are fucking poisonous to wolves!!! You fucking missed your biology and science classes or what? You fucking inbred, buck-toothed, zit-exploding hick!¡± Hearing Clancy¡¯s alarming remark, Williams immediately turned to Carson. Even if things were different in this world, he was not willing to risk a potential incident of them poisoning a native. ¡°Shit! Evan! Take it back!¡± Instantly realizing his fuck up, Carson speedily turned to snatch the M&Ms packet from the hands of the beastman, who was already in the process of sniffing it. Confused by the soldier¡¯s action, the beastman¡¯s smile flipped, his face turning into an obvious sign of hostility. Carson started sweating, fearing to be on the receiving end of a powerful attack from the muscular wolfman towering over him. Just as he fumbled around his person searching for an alternative object to give to the beastman as thanks, Williams¡¯ radio headset crackled to life. ¡°...Hitman-2 to Hitman 2-1 Actual. Do you read? Over.¡± Hearing his superior, 1st Lieutenant Frederick Mistral¡¯s voice over the radio, Williams promptly responded. ¡°This is Hitman 2-1 Actual. Send traffic, over.¡± ¡°...Requesting you and your team to head over to the market to help the squinties there¨CHitman 2-2 and 2-3 are too far away, over.¡± ¡°Roger that Hitman-2, Hitman 2-1 Actual, out.¡± Turning his focus back to the situation around him, Williams called out to the rest of his men as a new task awaited them. ¡°Alright! Mount up! We¡¯re moving out!¡± Just as Clancy, Williams, and Kirigaya ran over to enter the Humvee, Carson finally found something to hand over to the kind beastman. ¡°Fuck it! Guess I¡¯m not having lunch! Here! Sorry for that!¡± Producing it from his pocket, Carson handed over his beef ravioli MRE that was strapped onto his FLC vest to the beastman. Just as the wolfman took the plastic packet of the ready-to-eat meal with a curious expression, Carson darted towards the door to the driver¡¯s seat. Myhark City Hall, that same time ¡°Care to explain this?¡± The powerful, piercing voice of Princess Llanfair, sovereign of the Principality of Qua-Toyne, echoed throughout the plastered, stone walls of the room. Her long, slender fingers, tipped with sharp, blue-tinted nails, were pushing down on the clean sheet of paper placed on top of the dark, wooden surface of a crisp, shiny office table imported from Japan. Sitting across the table from Llanfair on a comfortable, cushioned office chair, also imported from Japan, was a dwarven man, looking down in shame, as Her Majesty barked down on him. He was one of the members of the High Council of Qua-Toyne, the supreme ruling body empowered by the sovereign to deal with stately matters. Afraid of meeting Llanfair¡¯s inherently razor-sharp gaze, the dwarven man continued to look down as he whimpered in response to Her Majesty¡¯s question. ¡°E-Explain w-w-what...?¡± Llanfair bent over, her face seething with the hot aura of raw annoyance, kept in check by her own patience. ¡°This document...¡± ¡°Y-Y-Yes...?¡± ¡°Why did you sign this?¡± On the clean piece of paper was a list of terms written in Asheran common with a scribble of curves inked by pen on top of an empty, horizontal line below the terms. ¡°W-W-Why not?¡± Bam! ¡°Eeek!¡± The dwarven man screamed as, for a split second, Llanfair¡¯s patience failed, momentarily releasing her pent-up fury, which manifested in her hand slamming the office table. ¡°This document! It¡¯s riddled with... with... heinous terms! Are you seriously giving the Japanese tax exemptions?! FULL rights to the structures they¡¯ve built, along with the land they¡¯re built on?! And what¡¯s this: NO tariffs on incoming Japanese products?! What in Astarte¡¯s name are you thinking?!¡± Llanfair¡¯s barking permeated throughout the entirety of the room, presumably even past the thick walls that give them what little privacy to conduct their discussion. The dwarven man sank further into his cushioned seat as he cowered in front of his monarch. ¡°B-B-But...!!! This is the least we could do for what they did! They¡¯ve also been kind in letting us get a cut from the sales they¡¯re making from their businesses here¨C¡± ¡°How much...?¡± Cutting in on the dwarven man¡¯s excuses, Llanfair then stared at him with her ever-lording eyes, her hands already swirling with wind magic from the sheer rage building up in her. The dwarven man hesitated to answer her. ¡°T...¡± ¡°What?!¡± ¡°Twenty percent...¡± BAM! ¡°Eeek!¡± No longer capable of holding her anger, Llanfair raised her left hand upwards, and using her powerful wind magic, blew open a massive, gaping hole on the wall to her left. The powerful gust of wind flew out from the palm of her left hand, pulverizing the stone and plaster on the wall that stood in its path, blowing their smithereens out into the city on the other side. Unsatisfied with this subconscious show of fury, Llanfair then grabbed the dwarven man by the collars on his cotton office shirt, also imported from Japan. ¡°YOU SOLD YOUR PEOPLE AND LAND OUT FOR A TWENTY PERCENT CUT?!¡± Fearing his ruler¡¯s powerful wind magic being directed at him, the dwarven man tried to defend himself. ¡°T-T-That twenty percent is still more than what we could make on our own! It¡¯s no doubt that they also have the power to back their terms!¡± ¡°They¡¯re extraordinarily cautious! They will not lift a finger in such cases!¡± ¡°That doesn¡¯t matter! Everyone has seen what they did to Louria! For the sake of preserving their interests, they literally toppled one of the more powerful nations in the region! In less than a day with only a handful of men, mind you! No one wants to go against them! Ask the other council members who signed this!¡± Llanfair¡¯s grip on the dwarven man¡¯s collar loosened as she once again realized how powerful the Japanese were. Despite seeing their timidness firsthand, they were undoubtedly a force to be reckoned with once they lifted their self-restraint. Furthermore, everyone has seen the results of what they had done to Louria. The long, proud dynasty of the Lourian kings was forever shattered, and what was once a formidable kingdom of 15 million was now reduced to countless independent but weak territories. In spite of their expectations that the territories would devolve into endless fighting, most of them refrained from warring with another and endured each others¡¯ existence, kept in line by the watchful eye of Japan, whose intimidating presence in Jin-Hark, now a neutral territory, made sure that no one rocked the boat. She felt the futility of fighting back and then soon, regret; regret from ever calling the Japanese to their side. Before long, Llanfair let go of the dwarven man¡¯s collar, as her rage was steadily replaced by despair. She could not hope to stand out alone against the mammoth that was Japan, looming over their heads with its undeniably powerful economic and military arms, ready to punish those that dare oppose it. However, she wasn¡¯t one to stand by and ignore her people as they are perverted by the terms written on the document. The idea of protesting the document to her ¡®confidant¡¯, Ambassador Kuribayashi, came to mind. She immediately entertained it in her desperation to fight the aggressive moves of their ¡°ally¡± and stormed out of the room with the document in hand. Murikabushi Telescope, Ishigakijima Astronomical Observatory, Okinawa, Japan, 18:30 After the sun had dipped below the long horizon to the west on an eventful day, an observatory located on the island of Ishigaki in Okinawa prefecture opened the shutters on its rotating dome, revealing the Murikabushi optical telescope inside. The rotating dome then began moving along the azimuth towards the south as the main telescope itself swiveled, arriving at a low altitude just above the horizon. Its 105cm optical mirror pointed to a curious bright-line spanning the length of the horizon and positioned just above it. One of the astronomers working at the observatory was manning one of the computers, waiting for the telescope to finish capturing images of the long, bright-line spanning the entirety of the low, southern sky. As the raw images from the telescope finished loading, his eyes widened at what he saw. ¡°No way...¡± He moved closer to the screen, adjusting his posture and moving his office chair towards the computer. Examining the images further, what he saw was no longer the single, homogenous white line he saw with his naked eye. Reflected in the images, contrasting behind the dark evening sky, were countless rocks of varying sizes, brightness, colors, and shapes. He and his colleagues, along with the rest of the astronomical community, already knew what to expect, but this direct observation was still surprising, for it was evidence of what they had hypothesized. ¡°This world, Asherah... has a ring!¡± The astronomer said out loud in a euphoric tone as if he had stumbled on his eureka moment. He continued to take pictures as he examined the ring in greater detail, gathering more data on the ring and its structure, composition, and other particulars. Cent. Calendar 13/06/1639, Esthirant, Parpaldian Empire, 2:15 ¡°Dear gods...¡± The horrified mumble of Kaios silently dispersed into the hot air that filled his office. It was already past midnight, and he was still at his workplace in the Third Foreign Affairs Department. Fortunately, he was now finished with his report on the attack on Jin-Hark that had dismantled the Lourian regime, which he would then present to His Highness, Emperor Ludius, and the others. However, there remained the problem of explaining the contents of his report, which contained information he himself found difficult to digest. Still, the information he collected, which he scrutinized with painful detail and cross-referenced with whatever data he could parse from eyewitness statements, military reports, and documents from the intelligence bureau, pointed to a conclusion he found unsavory. It wasn¡¯t palatable to either him or his superiors, but it nevertheless had to be reported. They had to know, for the empire had found itself a new competitor for regional dominance. ¡°Damn it... What¡¯s going on with this world...¡± As he clutched his head, which was aching from sleepless nights on end, he felt the warm, tickly touch of his companion¡¯s furry body rubbing against his arm. His cat, Yvonne, was gently rubbing itself on Kaios, presumably because it was hungry. Kaios looked over to Yvonne, and a grin erupted on his face as if his troubles had never existed. ¡°Aw... Come here.¡± Standing up from his cushioned, wooden stylized chair, he gently picked Yvonne up and allowed the feline to purr as it continued to rub against his cotton clothing. ¡°Let¡¯s get you something to eat.¡± Chapter 17: A Complete Picture Cent. Calendar 13/06/1639, Third Foreign Affairs Dept., Esthirant, Parpaldian Empire, 7:00 ¡°Meow.¡± The soft yet low meow of a cat populated the otherwise silent, still atmosphere of the room. The drab, boring purple of the Third Foreign Affairs Dept. Chair¡¯s office gave way to the splendid striking velvet when rays of glowing sunlight flooding in from the clear glass windows found their mark on the room¡¯s supposedly brightly colored wallpapers. Interrupting the glorious span of purple were long banners of imperial red draping from the ceiling, each one marked with the prominent golden symbols of the Parpaldian Empire. Despite the grandiose display of awe-inspiring colors, it was still early in the morning, with the department still only populated by regular night shift watchmen and maintenance workers. Dust particles danced aimlessly in the early morning sunlight, witnessed only by the ever glaring portrait of His Highness, Ludius, Emperor of Parpaldia, hung above the elaborately chiseled reliefs decorating the heavy doors of the office. And yet, the room was still asleep, with little excitement and progress. Then... ¡°Meow.¡± Another mellow meow. However, it now had a hint of annoyance. ¡°Give me a break, Yvonne...¡± Then, the groaning rumblings of a man half-asleep. After that, scratching noises. It sounded like something was being scraped against a wooden object over and over again. The noises, which, while seemingly insignificant, were the only sounds he could hear in the tranquil, soundless ambiance of the room. As such, they reached the eardrums of the man, Kaios, the department chair of the Third Foreign Affairs Dept., without distortion. He was sound asleep, although he neither snored nor groaned, besides the moments in which he climbed past the barrier between being asleep and being half-asleep. The sounds of scratching tickled his consciousness, prompting it to respond without prior consultation by opening his eyelids. Immediately after he started entertaining the stimuli coming from his sense of sight, his sense of touch wasn¡¯t far behind. He felt an itchy, thread-filled sensation all over his body, including his left cheek. He recognized what it was, and then his logic pointed to the circumstances in which he woke up. Using whatever bodily energy and mental drive he possessed at the moment, Kaios got up from the carpeted floor of his office, where he apparently fell asleep the night before. His newly opened eyes looked down on the darkened stain on the carpet from where he just was a mere second ago. He realized he had drooled in his deep slumber and instinctively reached out for his cotton napkin before using it to wipe the dried recesses of saliva from his left cheek. ¡°How unsightly for me.¡± Kaios disappointingly commented as he tried to fix his appearance. His attention then moved to the annoying, incessant scratching sounds that woke him up. Turning to his left where the sounds were emanating from, he saw a round, white ball of fur in front of the brown, wooden gates to his office. Stretching out from the ball of fur was a long, white line that twirled and twisted in the air. How adorable, Kaios thought, but another sound helped him snap from his early morning daze. ¡°MEOW!!!¡± The meow, which now had an unmistakable tone of irritation, pulled Kaios out of his mental morning bootup. While he was indeed flustered by the suddenness, Kaios¡¯ thoughts cohesively came to a sound conclusion. ¡°Ah, oh no! You must be itching to go potty! So sorry!¡± Walking speedily towards the wooden doors that towered even above him, he then gave them a slight push, creating a gap for his charming cat Yvonne to slip through. Seeing the snow-white furball slither down the corridor outside, he then turned his gaze to the right. Hanging on top of the now brilliant velvet wallpaper was a white disc with a black outline. If one can look closely, the white disc was dotted with equally spaced points all around its circumference, with a set of long needles protruding from the middle spinning in a clockwise fashion. The simplistic wall clock, imported from the Realm of Mu, was much more compact and economical than the huge, furniture-sized clocks created by Parpaldian watchsmiths. However, both Parpaldian and Muish clocks served the same, single purpose: telling the time. As Kaios made out the position of the black needles juxtaposed from one another and contrasting with the white background of the clock, he arrived at an unsavory result: It was 7:18 in the morning. His mind then raced through his itinerary for the day and immediately came upon his first appointment: a meeting with His Highness, the Emperor at 7:30. Kaios¡¯ thoughts and emotions then swung towards grumbling and complaints, wondering why the Emperor had set such an early appointment. Before he could begin ripping out hair from his middle-aged scalp, he busied himself with gathering the documents for his report. ¡°Will they believe this? Damn it; even I couldn¡¯t... But the evidence seems sound... Gods...¡± With only 10 minutes to do personal hygiene, fix his reports, and then go to the Imperial Palace, Kaios made haste. Imperial Palace, 7:30 As Kaios nonchalantly entered the room, pushing through the heavy, gilded bronze doors, he was greeted by the sight of a big, elliptical mahogany-colored table with all of the seats around its circumference already occupied save for one. At the far end of this elliptical table sat the unmoving silhouette of Emperor Ludius, his late-thirties expression equally unimpressed by Kaios¡¯ on-time arrival. Immediately in the seat next to him was the gorgeous facade of heavy makeup that was Remille¡¯s face, her silver hair glistening in the sunlight protruding from behind. Clutching his report in hand and slight anxiety in his heart, he promptly made way for the sole remaining open seat somewhere near the elliptical table¡¯s shorter axis. Just as he was about to feel the flat, sturdy face of the ornately built wooden chair, he was interrupted by the Emperor¡¯s bone-chilling voice shattering the heavy silence. ¡°Stop.¡± Acknowledging the command given to him, Kaios stood still. ¡°It''s already the appointed time; you might as well begin.¡± He inwardly lamented waking up late as he perused through the opening statements being presented in his mind. He then picked one of them, and his mouth began to convert it into speech. ¡°Good morning. I will now be presenting my report on the Lourian Kingdom¡¯s demise.¡± Procuring one of the bigger scrolls he brought, he unfurled it and placed it down at the center of the table. It was a map of Rodenius and southern Philades, where the Parpaldian Empire dominates the Third Civilized Region. The map was positioned in such a way that Emperor Ludius gets to see it from the correct perspective. Kaios then resumed speaking. ¡°At noon of the 5th of Sevrune (Month 6), 1639 on the Central Calendar, the armies of the kingdom of Louria began their invasion of the Principality of Qua-Toyne after months of planning. For this initial invasion, we have provided the Lourians with aid in the form of siege mortars for artillery. However, roughly six minutes later, our command detachment in Jin-Hark has confirmed that they have lost communications with the mortar unit close to the Qua-Toyne border.¡± Kaios then pulled out a bright red ink marker, imported from Mu, and used it to draw symbols on the map corresponding to developments. He drew a simple, military convention symbol for artillery close to the Qua-Toyne border near the town of Gim before crossing it out. ¡°For the next two hours, task force commander Marcus and his subordinates would be trying to reach the mortar unit near the border. At around 2:30 PM, an explosion rocked the capital, Jin-Hark. While it is fortunate for us that none of our people were hurt in this explosion, the explosion was confirmed to have occurred at the royal castle, demolishing it almost completely. Sometime later, it was confirmed that King Hark Louria XXXIV had perished in the royal castle when they found his burnt regalia near what remained of the baths, which he frequented.¡± Kaios once more used his red marker to cross out the crown symbol in Jin-Hark. ¡°Just before 3 pm, the various lords under Lourian command independently sued for peace from Qua-Toyne, while some marched on the capital. Our reports from the task force ended that night when they snuck out of Jin-Hark. They have returned to Parpaldia via steamship due to the remaining leaders¡¯ mistrust of them. As it currently stands, the kingdom of Louria is no more, broken into the individual territories that were swallowed under the Lourian dynasty.¡± Kaios drew a long line starting from Jin-Hark, pausing briefly on the infamous island of Sios, before stopping at the imperial capital, Esthirant. As he momentarily paused to catch his breath, he examined the reactions of those present in the meeting. With the exception of the foreign affairs auditor Remille, most of them, including the Emperor, were fraught with bewilderment and disappointment. It was understandable; their investment into Louria¡¯s hegemonic expansionism played a part in their plan for domination of the Altaran strait. Expectations were high for the Lourian king and his armies against the principality of Qua-Toyne. However, the unexpected death of the Lourian king reversed their gains, disintegrating their ambitions at the south side of the strait. It was only natural then for them to start finding someone to blame, and when considering the unusual circumstances that Hark perished in... ¡°It¡¯s those damned Altarans! They¡¯ve caught wind of our plans and have actually done it!¡± Second Foreign Affairs Dept. Chair Rius could not contain his rage. The Altaras Kingdom, a powerful maritime nation situated in the middle of the strait named after them, controls the lucrative inter-civilization trade routes that cross between the Central World, Philades, and Rodenius. It is from this control that they have gotten ludicrously rich and influential, enough to bottleneck the regional power that was Parpaldia from extending their dominance over the entire Third Civilized Region. It is due to this massive, gaping insecurity in its hegemonic reach that Parpaldia has long considered Altaras to be the bane to its existence, aggravated by it being situated right next to their power base, Esthirant. As such, it was then natural for Parpaldians like Rius to see the Altarans'' hand in their failure in Louria. ¡°Your Highness! I think this is within justification to launch an inva¨Cahem, implement more stringent diplomatic strangleholds on those bastards!¡± Rius cried out, the anger in his voice echoed by the walls of the room and sentiments of the other Parpaldian officials. All attention looked to the Emperor, who closed his eyes in restraint as he sighed deeply. ¡°I agree with your sentiment. I, too, want the Altaran menace removed, but our plans have been long in the making, and we have contingencies in the event that something like this happens. We must at least be consistent with our public image and the foreign policy we have adopted.¡± Opening his eyes, they darted first to Kaios, who looked back at him with a look that was telling him he had more to say. ¡°Excuse me, but I believe Sir Kaios has more to say about his report. Continue.¡± Kaios coughed before resuming his report. ¡°I will now be delving into the circumstances behind the explosion at the royal castle in Jin-Hark.¡± He reached out for his leather bag, procuring from it a bundle of parchment. He laid it out on the table above the map that was already placed there. ¡°These are the witness reports from that day, gathered by both the military and intelligence bureau.¡± Kaios turned his face to Ianos, the intelligence bureau director, sitting diagonally across from him. He nodded in gratitude for the information he provided, which Ianos returned with a slight smile and a nod. ¡°Some of these witness reports were written by our own personnel from the task force. There are, of course, discrepancies in the details in these reports, but they are all related to the time at which they reported them to have occurred. All of them tell a similar thing: before and after the explosion, they recalled hearing distinct, high-pitched shrills and roarings emanating from the sky. According to commander Marcus himself and several of his subordinates, the noises peaked in volume and intensity immediately after the explosion before gradually disappearing.¡± The Parpaldians¡¯ eyes widened as they listened to Kaios and read the witness reports. They were heavily leaning on denying the credibility of these witness reports, blaming the eerie experiences they reported on the explosion¡¯s aftereffects. However, they also knew that these were military personnel, the most acclimated to the effects of explosions, and so are more capable of distinguishing which is which. Their reports also almost match those from non-military personnel, which may give the possibility that what they''re saying is true. ¡°There are two witness reports of high interest.¡± Kaios singled out two pieces of parchment from the bundle and presented them one by one. ¡°This one is from Patagene, a veteran Lourian commander whom the task force trained with. This one is from the vice-commander of the task force. They both detailed an extra part in their witness reports: they spotted unidentified silhouettes in the sky immediately after the explosion, moving around at high speeds and almost blending into the backdrop due to their blue color. If these witness reports are to be believed, then the explosion was caused by something that was in the sky at the time.¡± The other officials set aside their dismissive tendencies to ponder on what had happened. An explosion coming from the sky was imaginable since military-purpose wyverns can send down explosive flames mid flight. However, no wyvern in existence, including their stronger breeds of wyverns, could sufficiently produce a blast powerful enough to demolish a castle, especially in a fashion in which no one could have seen them coming. Additionally, no wyvern breed currently discovered is capable of blending into the blue backdrop of the sky. ¡°I can¡¯t imagine that the explosion could have come from any type of wyvern. Our military personnel would have reported the presence of hostile wyverns.¡± Elto, First Foreign Affairs Dept. Chairman laid her thoughts out loud. ¡°Dammit! Maybe the Altarans procured their hands on one of those ¡®aircraft¡¯ the Muish and the Imperials possess!¡± Adamant in finding someone to blame, Rius kept finding reasons to connect the dots. ¡°I beg to differ, Sir Rius.¡± The chief of staff grumbled in his seat as he found an opening to part with his thoughts on the matter. ¡°I¡¯ve seen the models of aircraft that the Muish and even Leiforian militaries employ. While they indeed fit the bill, since they are capable of carrying bombs that can produce the level of destruction necessary to level a stone castle, I think it¡¯s fair to say that they are not the ones behind this.¡± ¡°And how is that?¡± ¡°Other than that, they produce a completely different manner of sound to the ones described in these reports. I¡¯ll let Ma¡¯am Elto explain the rest.¡± The chief of staff then gave the chair to Elto. ¡°I agree with the chief of staff. As of right now, Mu and the Imperials have both enacted their own laws forbidding the sale of aircraft and aviation-related technologies to any country. Provisions have been made for Leifor and us, but I¡¯d say that they¡¯ve been especially keen on keeping the technologies close to their person. This then leaves the ones who have access to these aircraft to just Leifor, Mu, and the Holy Mirishial Empire. We can rule out their involvement in the explosion at Jin-Hark.¡± Elto then pulled up her hand and showed three fingers before going through the three nations she mentioned. ¡°Mu has explicitly announced their defense doctrine to be centered in and around their continent, and they have historically been allergic to deploying military forces to our backyard primarily because of distance. The Imperials are more liberal with their deployment tendencies, but they have a doctrine of keeping their air forces strictly for the defense of their borders. Historically, they only deployed their air forces abroad during the Great War 20 years ago. Lastly, Leifor¡¯s only diplomatic contact with the Third Civilized Region is us, and they have adopted a neutral stance in any issues concerning this side of the world. Also, historically, they have never deployed their forces this far east.¡± It was a sound explanation from Elto regarding the other powers¡¯ innocence in the incident at Jin-Hark. However, there still lay the question of what or who could have caused the explosion at the royal castle. The Parpaldians were eager to hear more, concerned with the existence of an unknown entity with the capability of blowing up castles out of nowhere. They wanted to lift the veil on this mysterious entity. Attention shifted back to Kaios. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°With that in mind, it is unlikely for Altaras to be involved in the incident.¡± He tidied up the parchments spread out all over the table and set them off to one side. ¡°As to what or who may have caused this, I have procured some information that points to a certain nation.¡± He paused for a moment. There, he saw the curious stares of everyone around the table, including the golden-brown irises of the Emperor that pierced through his person, like a leopard that had already planned the plethora of ways its prey would be killed. ¡°First off, we will return to the conflict between Louria and Qua-Toyne. Due to the flight of our task force, which was our de facto diplomatic channel with Louria, after the attack in Jin-Hark, we were not able to send any representatives to the peace negotiations. Now, given that our information on Qua-Toyne¡¯s national power is true, it is certainly impossible for them to be the ones behind the explosion at the royal castle. However...¡± Kaios returned to his leather bag and pulled out a worn ledger, its pressed cover already torn in some places. ¡°This is commander Marcus¡¯s daily log, detailing certain events during their deployment in Louria. One part of noteworthy interest is the entry on the 10th of Mev (Month 5).¡± Sifting his fingers through the dry pages of the ledger, he then stopped at the page marked with the date he mentioned. He coughed before proceeding to read the entry out loud. ¡°At around 10 in the morning, I received a notification from Val, who was posted on reconnoiter duty at the port. According to him, a mysterious ship flying a flag he had never seen before had steamed into port. When he said that the ship was massive enough to be seen from where our headquarters were, I decided to take a look at it myself from the balcony of our quaint yet luxurious-for-the-barbarians quarters. - - - From where I stood, the ship was indeed a massive vessel. It was extensively horizon gray, with a noticeable lack of sail propulsion, although it had a mast of sorts, similar in structure and appearance to the masts on Imperial, Muish, and Leiforian ships. It had a single cannon at the front, but it is encased in what appears to be a turret, a surprisingly advanced design that complements its other minimalistic aspects. Although the doctrine for why such a ship exists eludes me, it¡¯s nonetheless an advanced, probably even futuristic design. As for where it came from, the only clue lay in its equally mysterious flag: multiple rays of bright red emanating from a single red disc on the hoist side of the white banner. I¡¯ve had Val take a photograph of it and will send it with haste to the military and intelligence bureau for analysis.¡± The faces of the Parpaldian officials echo a resounding consensus of perplexion and confusion at what they heard. Thoughts started flying around their heads as to what entity was behind the mysterious ship as their minds struggled to visualize the description offered by Marcus¡¯s entry. Fortunately for them, Kaios had also pulled out the photograph that Marcus and his task force took of the mysterious ship. ¡°Once again, this is courtesy of the intelligence bureau.¡± Displayed in the photograph¡¯s monochromic crispness is a long, girthy ship floating above the surface of the water. Also captured in the photographs were various sail ships, from caravels, galleys, fishing boats, and so on, helping give scale to the comparatively massive ship juxtaposed next to them. The Parpaldians gawked at its contour and features, every single blurry detail a fascinating chore for their minds to unravel. Even Kaios and Ianos, who¡¯ve both already seen the picture countless times, shared their sentiments. It was an undeniably alien vessel; too clean, too boxy, too many unknown parts that they could not even find equivalences for in the ships of other, more modern powers. Everyone in the room who was looking at the picture was starting to feel convinced that the entity that produced such a magnificent-looking vessel was the one that was behind the actions in Jin-Hark and Gim. Their gazes then shifted to the noticeable flag that flew from the ship¡¯s mast¨Ctheir only clue as to who this mystifying entity may be. Impatience built up within the Emperor, his facial muscles twitching at the all-encompassing veil that still covered this entity¡¯s identity. ¡°Madam Elto, Sir Rius. Do you recognize this flag?¡± His voice, peppered with hints of ire, propagated through the area, immediately catching the attention of those he called out to. ¡°I¡¯m afraid not, Your Highness. None of the other powers nor their navies fly this flag.¡± Elto gave her collected reply. Rius, on the other hand, hesitated, his eyes darting from here to there as he fiddled with his fingers nervously. After a few seconds of continuing silence, Ludius did not have second thoughts on letting some of his impatience show. ¡°Now, Sir Rius.¡± Rius straightened his back as a reflex to Ludius¡¯s deep, intimidating bellow as he proceeded with his answer. ¡°I recognize the flag. My department is currently doing an investigation into a dispute between the Faire-Miroiter Group and the kingdom of Riem, in coordination with Riem authorities. The dispute got violent at one point, leading to a clash between both parties. As the investigation into who¡¯s to blame continues, I¡¯ve done some studying on what had happened. Apparently, the glassware company had been driven to the sidelines by another glassmaker that was making better glassware at highly competitive prices due to more lenient trade agreements with the glass maker¡¯s nation.¡± The Emperor¡¯s eyes widened as his body subtly leaned forward, his body language pointing to an itching eagerness to know who to blame their recent misfortunes on. The other officials were as squirmy and impatient but also wary, for a nation that can also outdo them in something as simple as glassware was definitely not one to be trifled with. Rius continued with his answer. ¡°According to local sources, as well as those from our embassy in Riem, this nation formed diplomatic relations with Riem as far back as Apfrolde (Month 4), and vessels from this nation frequent their port at Hilkiga. The gigantic, steel merchant vessels are at times escorted by armed vessels, which also fit the description of this ship.¡± Rius dropped his right index finger on the black and white photograph of the mysterious ship photographed in Jin-Hark. There was a pause as Rius and the rest of the Parpaldian officials looked to the Emperor, who was staring down on the monochrome picture, for his response. Clutching his hands together, he controlled the slight quivering in his muscles, masterfully keeping composed in front of his subjects, who still looked to him as the cornerstone of Parpaldia¡¯s preeminence. He knew his own power, its limits, and by extension, the power and limits of the glorious empire he controls. Consequently, he also knows how Parpaldia fits into the greater world around it, in spite of his and his people¡¯s desire of changing their geopolitical status quo. It is here that he has learned that the world he knows of will continue to change, consequently making his knowledge obsolete, his plans must, his desires irrelevant. He fears having to adjust once more, but it is part of the inevitability that he just realized. His hesitation is now replaced with resolve, and he goes on to change with the world. ¡°Who are they? Tell me their name.¡± Equally resigned to the inevitability was Rius, who flatly said in turn. ¡°Japan, Your Highness. They¡¯re a nation called Japan.¡± Confusion. The other Parpaldian officials, Kaios included, swiveled their heads to face one another. Their puzzled gazes met with equally puzzled expressions as the Parpaldians continued to digest the information. ¡°Japan? I¡¯ve never heard of that name before.¡± ¡°Where could they have come from?¡± ¡°This is getting ridiculous...¡± As the room continued to be filled with clamor, Emperor Ludius raised his voice to control the discussion. ¡°Enough, enough! Before this gets out of hand, allow me to say that we finally have a name for the nation that may have been responsible for our failed venture in Louria.¡± Ludius then turned his face towards Ianos. ¡°Sir Ianos. I order you to find more information on this nation, Japan and find out their role in Jin-Hark. We need to know who this new player we¡¯re up against is.¡± Ianos wore a worried expression as he turned to Kaios, who looked back at him with a face that mirrored his. As the other officials started to question their lack of response to the Emperor, Ianos once more faced Ludius. ¡°Your Highness, we at the intelligence bureau have already compiled and scrutinized information on this nation, Japan. I asked for Kaios¡¯ help in reporting this, and it was a coincidence that he was scheduled to report to you on the Jin-Hark incident.¡± A light smile popped up on the Emperor¡¯s face. ¡°Really? Why did you not tell us in the first place? While we still have time, we can discuss the issue here.¡± Ianos took a deep breath before proceeding, his concerns aggravated by the Emperor¡¯s apparent relief. ¡°With all due respect, Your Highness, what I¡¯m about to say may sound ridiculous, but we¡¯ve already double-checked everywhere... Given the intelligence we¡¯ve gone through regarding their estimated national power, capabilities, and scope, this new nation, Japan, is powerful.¡± ¡°And what¡¯s your basis? It sounds like a rushed conclusion to me!¡± One of the officials barked in response. ¡°Also, a powerful nation that we did not know of beforehand? What, did they just appear out of nowhere?¡± Another one joined in on airing their skepticisms. ¡°Unfortunately, I myself find it hard to believe, but yes. Intel points to them being situated to the ocean far east.¡± The officials looked at one another in perplexion. While there had indeed been legends and theories as to what lay across the vast ocean to their east, including a supercontinent with a highly-advanced race of unknown peoples, they weren¡¯t expecting them to manifest into reality at any point in time. Joining them in their disbelief was Emperor Ludius, whose composure had partly given way to his impatience. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Sir Ianos. I¡¯m already hard-pressed to believe Kaios¡¯ report, but I just find it really difficult to believe you here. Actually, never mind. I also find your report equally as dubious, Sir Kaios.¡± Ludius shifted attention back to Kaios as he scratched his head in open frustration, his composure continuing to fade. As the other officials started following in airing their bewilderments against Ianos and Kaios, a different yet equally piercing voice stopped them in their tracks. ¡°Now, now, Ludius.¡± The officials turned to the source of the seemingly meek voice, the woman next to the Emperor, Remille. Their hairs stood at the end at vexation when they heard their Emperor, the pinnacle and backbone of the greatest empire, get addressed by his personal name. Remille¡¯s pale, white hand reached out for the Emperor, breaching His Highness¡¯s sacred personal space before finding a spot on his shoulder. With a gentle expression written on her face, she rubbed Ludius¡¯s shoulder, to which the Emperor reacted with unsightly tolerance of this protocol-breaching behavior. ¡°Calm yourself and give them a chance. I personally think they are honest in their intentions. They are, after all, dealing with the intricacies of the empire¡¯s distribution of power across the region.¡± Rubbing his face with his hands in a bid to rebuild his composure, Ludius then whimpered ¡°okay¡± in response, a disappointing scene for the other officials to have witnessed. As Kaios looked in dismay at his Emperor being treated like a child having a tantrum, he saw Remille¡¯s smooth, beautiful face turn his way, nodding in apparent affirmation. Before he could physically express his distaste for the woman¡¯s not-less-than-obvious pampering for the Emperor, he proceeded with helping Ianos in his report. ¡°Ianos and I agree with your sentiments regarding the nation of Japan. However, I plead with you to listen to us with an open mind, for we believe that this nation is of extremely deep concern.¡± The other officials scratched their heads, struggling to find the willingness to open their minds to what Kaios and Ianos had to say. Once more, Kaios reached for his leather bag, but this time he procured a sizable, cylindrical container that appeared to be made out of cloth. Opening the container¡¯s top, he then turned it upside down, resulting in its mysterious contents being emptied out onto the table. Dozens of bizarre, shiny, egg-like objects fell out of the container. The officials, unable to make out what it is they were looking at, leaned in to take a closer look, but at a more detailed inspection, the objects got even weirder. Each object was differently colored, but all of them were in bright, dazzling hues, some of which were saffron, lavender, lily, which were expensive dyes. When some of the officials gathered the courage to touch the baffling objects, they were perplexed by the material with which it was made off. It was horrendously light, but it was hard enough not to be molded by a hand, and yet it did not absorb the sweat forming from their hands, which quivered at the alienness of the object. Furthermore, on one side of the object was a clear, reflective surface, something like glass, but its texture and evenness were anything but. Below the mirror-like surface were several black knobs, which were made out of the only material they recognized. ¡°Are these small knobs... rubber?! What in the world is this?!¡± They were puzzled, horrified even, by the minuscule size of the rubber knobs. Adding to their anxieties was the uniformity of the knobs; they were almost identical to one another. As the other officials, including the Emperor and Remille, examined the egg-shaped objects with child-like interest, Ianos continued on Kaios¡¯ behalf. ¡°These things were confiscated from a merchant in Esthirant that did not have the appropriate licenses to conduct trade. We at the intelligence bureau fiddled around with them, breaking them up to see what they¡¯re made out of, but even with help from the experts over at the Imperial Academy of Sciences, the parts we found inside were too advanced and... out of this world. It was basically near impossible to study, let alone reverse-engineer.¡± ¡°Indeed. Now, I invite you to begin interacting with it by pressing the knobs.¡± The Parpaldians were even more befuddled. What did Kaios mean by ¡°interacting¡± with the objects? As they began to think that these objects were more than mere curious, inert novelties, one of the officials put pressure on one of the knobs, finding out that the knobs easily sunk into the unknown material of the object¡¯s hull. Then... Beep! ¡°Eeek!¡± Mired with anxiety and fear, the official reflexively jerked back at the unexpected, high-pitched sound produced seemingly in reaction to his pressing the knob. Just as he was about to lash out at Kaios, he caught sight of something unusual, something which made him even more curious. There, on the clear, reflective surface on the egg-shaped object, was a drawing in black. ¡°Huh? This wasn¡¯t here befo¨C¡± Then, the drawing moved. The black squares that formed the drawing that had appeared on the clear surface began fluctuating. ¡°Is that...¡± ¡°...an egg? It¡¯s moving?!¡± ¡°What magic...!!!¡± Soon, the other officials began pressing the knobs to replicate the occurrence. After several dozen high-pitched beeps, gasps followed suit. Just like the first one, the other objects¡¯ clear surfaces magically spawned a drawing of an egg that was moving. The Parpaldians froze, unable to take their eyes off the pixelated dancing egg on their Tamagotchis¡¯ screens. Their minds struggled to explain the phenomenon that was happening before their very eyes as the egg continued to dance in seeming mockery at their inability to comprehend its existence. Not exempt from the bewilderment, Emperor Ludius looked on in shock and confusion at the picture of the egg dancing in front of his gaze. His hands that held the light egg-shaped object began to sweat profusely, a byproduct of his anxieties brought about by his inability to understand. Briefly indulging in the scenery of his flabbergasted co-officials, Kaios then proceeded to deliver his closing remarks. ¡°Ladies and gentlemen, these bizarre, alien objects are toys from the nation of Japan. Products of such sophistication, complexity, and intricacy, exported as if they were but mere gravel.¡± Hearing this, the other officials broke away from their trance and looked at Kaios with similar astonishment, their disbelief aplenty that something so magically sophisticated was but a mere toy. However, this time, they were more inclined to believe him, their skepticisms seemingly silenced and humbled by the outlandish ¡°toy¡± that they held in their hands. Kaios then turned to the Emperor, who had now put down his Tamagotchi and looked at it with worrisome eyes. ¡°Your Highness, I really believe there is merit in the intelligence bureau¡¯s conclusion. Armed vessels seemingly on par with the other great powers, minor products with astonishing, even alien quality and bizarreness being sold all across our periphery threatening to sideline our own exports, and above all: a strong will capable of deciding to eliminate another nation¡¯s leadership.¡± Ludius and the other officials shuddered to various degrees upon hearing the last part of the statement. While still not definitive and proven, one can imagine the power they possessed, capable of ground-shaking explosions while remaining virtually invisible, as the method with which they carried it out was still unknown. An image popped up in their minds: that of the Imperial Palace, its glorious, shining facade signifying the grandeur of Parpaldia might, helplessly destroyed by an invisible enemy. Ludius then raised his hand, a sign for Kaios to cease with his statements. He fumbled around for the right words to what he wanted to say, but he gave up after failing to arrive at a satisfying syntax. He decided to say what he thought out loud as raw as he could. ¡°I¡¯m... I¡¯m deeply concerned with the power that this nation, Japan, wields, especially if we are to go by your reports¡¯ conclusions. However, I cannot allow Parpaldia to make another miscalculation in its decisions, especially not after Louria and Altaras, both costly affairs that are continuing to haunt us. What you presented us has now convinced me to take Japan seriously, but I still think that this information is not enough. I need their statistics, their products, their concrete military capabilities, geographical particulars, demographics, and so on.¡± The other officials nodded in agreement, now more convinced than they were a while ago that they were dealing with something that requires to be addressed urgently. ¡°This is my command to all of you present here: paint me a complete picture of this Japan! It is imperative that we do so, for if a nation of equal strength to that of the Realm of Mu or the Holy Mirishial Empire is indeed right on our doorstep, then we have a massive problem on our hands.¡± Ludius¡¯ stern face, reflecting the gravity behind his statement, sent chills down their spines. This was the expression he makes when he is doubly serious about a certain prospect. Given an order directly by the Emperor himself, the officials felt a sense of duty befalling them, pushing them to be firm and resolute in carrying out their obligations. After the Emperor had adjourned the meeting and dismissed them, Remille looked down on the saffron pink Tamagotchi placed in front of her. Her desensitized eyes, despite their dazzling aquamarine color, could not be any darker, just as equally tainted thoughts circled in her mind. Then, the dancing egg on the screen of her Tamagotchi broke its shell, discarding them in a flood of black pixels as it revealed a newly born being with square eyes and a line for a mouth. ¡°Japan... Interesting...¡± A bone-chilling slyness seeped out of the womanly voice that came out of her plump, green lipstick-smeared lips. She picked up the Tamagotchi before letting out a faint, somewhat forlorn smile, a divergence from the deep, panging pain that gripped her heart. ¡°I love interesting developments...¡± Chapter 18: Vodka and Soju Cent. Calendar 19/04/1639, Kurilsk, Iturup, Kuril Islands, 6:45 The mask of dawn had already receded from the skies above as the sun to the east soaked the entirety of the heavens in somber blues and warm oranges. The sharp slopes of the slender, mountainous island housed familiar flora of far north species, with the dropping temperatures of September hailing the signs of approaching winter. It was 2021, and there was little to speak of in this far corner of the world, where blood spilled long ago refuses to disappear, frozen solid in the persistent frigidity of these Kuril islands, the lonely island chain separating the Sea of Okhotsk from the greater Pacific. ¡°Goddammit.¡± Things suddenly weren¡¯t so great, thought Sveta, short for Svetlana. It had been a harrowing three hours. At approximately 3:25 in the morning, they lost communications with their command in Sakhalin and other military outposts throughout the eastern military district. After the local authorities declared an emergency and power was transferred to the highest military authority still present, they moved to secure every man, equipment, and supplies to prepare for the worst-case scenario. It was now 6:45 in the morning. The sun was already up in the cloudless sky, bearing down its naked light on them with intense luminosity. With her quivering hands on the cold steel of her AK-74M, she followed her senior officer down the concrete harbor of the town of Kurilsk. At one end of the harbor was a white ship, at the bow of which was an open ramp lowered down. Below the ship¡¯s imposing figure stood countless men in mottled green, wearing battle-ready gear and holding very real weapons. The patches on their arm indicated the unit they belonged to and under which flag they served: the 18th Machine Gun Artillery Division of the Russian Armed Forces. Some of them were running up the ramp in a column into the white ship, while a fraction of them stayed behind. From Sveta¡¯s perspective, she saw them in a heated conversation with people whose lower stature allowed them to be blocked in sight by the taller Russian soldiers. Getting closer to the ship, she started to make out the contents of their shouting. ¡°Stand back. We don¡¯t want to harm you!¡± ¡°You can¡¯t just illegally hold us! This is unforgivable!¡± Recognizable words from her mother tongue crisscrossed with a language she also knew very well: Japanese. Their softer and coarser tone gave her an idea as to who they were dealing with, corroborated by the Japanese persons¡¯ wrinkly skin and shining white hair. The senior officer she was following then turned around to face her, his alert yet visibly fatigued eyes looking straight down on her. ¡°The suspects we¡¯ve encountered so far are just civilians, mostly elderly and children in high school. What we need is the ship¡¯s crew, the highest probable to be Japanese special forces. I need you to talk to them, understand what it is they¡¯re saying, and report back.¡± Swiftly twisting her right arm up to her forehead, encountering stiff resistance from her especially tight VKBO uniform, she saluted her officer before walking into the ship. ¡°Yes, sir!¡± Making her way up the ramp, she found herself in the well-lit interior of the ship, a Japanese ferry whose name is scribbled over her bow: the Chishima Maru. After their forces in the area geared up for a possible attack, they learned from the local authorities that a Japanese ferry from Hokkaido was scheduled to arrive at Kurilsk, born from an agreement between Japan and Russia to allow a limited number of Japanese civilians to visit the islands, mostly for tending to family graves. With their command in Sakhalin and Moscow still unreachable, they assumed that a Japanese invasion of the islands was imminent, and the incoming ferry was flagged as a possible special forces insertion operation. Sveta climbed up the steep staircase that reached up to the bridge. With her stock-folded AK slung to her back, she huffed as she took each step on the steel steps, softly groaning under her balaclava from the tight fit of her body armor and multi-layered uniform. As she put both of her boots down on the last step, she then found herself standing in the sunlight leaking from the array of windows around the ferry¡¯s bridge. Lined up along the navigation controls were a row of visibly annoyed adult Japanese men, their hands tied behind their backs. Standing guard over them, their fingers readily close to the triggers of their AKs, were two of her comrades. She kept her eye on the closest man to her, who returned the favor with an irritated glare of his own. Sveta approached her two fellow soldiers and reached out her right hand. ¡°Did you find anything on them?¡± ¡°Nothing of note. We had them open the ship¡¯s logbook. You can go check it for yourself.¡± The soldier replied promptly without taking his eyes off of the Japanese crew. Turning away from the gaze of the Japanese men, she walked towards the computer containing the ferry¡¯s logbook, inserting a storage device into one of its ports to begin transferring data. Without taking her eyes off of the dimly lit screen, she switched her tongue to communicate with the crewmen. ¡°You¡¯d make it easier on yourselves if you come clean now. There¡¯s little room for discussion once we get out of this ferry.¡± For a moment, the Japanese crew was shocked to hear well-versed Japanese coming from the Russian woman, armed with killer looks and a deadly assault rifle. The man closest to her, the one who has been giving off a pissy aura, entertained her intimidating remark. ¡°Cut the formalities, bitch. We¡¯re innocent, see! If you really wanted to get down, we might as well do it in the bunks!¡± The other Japanese crewmen snickered, earning them a shout from the soldiers who only understood their mocking tone. Without detaching her eyes from the monitor, she monotonously retorted. ¡°Yeah? With what are you gonna do me exactly? Mine is longer than your toothpick, old man.¡± The obnoxious crew member was silent, almost as if Sveta had hit it home, a point which his other crewmates exploited by turning their laughter towards him. After some clicks on the mouse, she swiftly unplugged the storage device from the computer before walking towards her comrades on guard. ¡°I downloaded the data, but I took a look at it, and there are no noteworthy activities that stood out.¡± ¡°Huh. It looks like we¡¯ll have to go bad cop on these idiots.¡± Just then, Sveta¡¯s radio crackled to life as the electronically reproduced voice of her superior rang out. ¡°The entire ferry has been searched, and there are no signs of Japanese special forces on board. What did you get from the crew?¡± ¡°They¡¯re insisting that they did not do anything. I also procured a copy of the ship¡¯s logbook. What do we do with them?¡± ¡°We¡¯ll have to make sure that there aren¡¯t any surprises. Take them to the holding facility.¡± ¡°Roger.¡± Having heard the conversation, the other soldiers with Sveta acted before her, beckoning the Japanese crewmen of the Chishima Maru to leave the bridge with forceful nudges. The skies south of the Habomai islands, 7:10 ¡°Lazur, you are about to make a visual with the contact.¡± The familiar voice of ground control entered his ear canal through the headset in his flight helmet. ¡°Copy.¡± Captain Andrei Smirnov, known to his friends as ¡°Alyosha¡±, replied flatly yet sharply. He maintained his bodily posture in the cockpit of his Sukhoi Su-35, which is mirrored in the level of flight that the fighter aircraft maintained. The sun was now a tad higher up from the horizon, casting its warm, yellow light down on his airframe and illuminating the ominous, bright red star emblems painted all over his fighter. After the Russian Armed Forces in the southern Kurils had been put on high alert following the severance of communications with the rest of Russia, their divisional command assumed that a combined Japanese and American assault on the islands was imminent. However, what currently faced them was a lone Japanese plane flying into their airspace from Hokkaido, an unusual action for the Japanese to take if they intend on taking the Kurils. Alyosha was consequently scrambled to verify the plane while armed with air-to-air missiles if push came to shove and backed by the entire surface-to-air contingent on the islands. As he flew through the skies just south of the Habomai cluster of islands, he couldn¡¯t help but feel uneasy. At his modest altitude, he was able to see the entirety of his sphere of the world from the comforts of his glass cockpit, and yet what he was witnessing was unlike the sceneries he was used to. The sun still rose from the east, but it was in a weird position, almost as if they were closer to the tropics. The vast ring that his ancestors used to think was the ends of the earth was now further out than he remembered. ¡°This is unsettling...¡± Looking forward, he saw the massive island of Hokkaido unfurl to the southwest, a sight which used to be limited to just the peninsula jutting out towards the Habomai cluster, signs that his concerns were not without merit. Then, he saw a gleaming object moving against the greens and browns of the Hokkaido scenery. Looking closely, it now resembled a tube with wings, all of which had a distinctive, glaring red disc painted on them. It was the Japanese plane. ¡°This is Lazur. Confirmed visual on the contact. It¡¯s a Japanese P-3 scout plane.¡± Gripping the flight controls of his fighter, he then proceeded to perform a bank. As his Su-35 swung around towards the rear of the Japanese Lockheed P-3 Orion maritime patrol plane, Alyosha moderated his airspeed to try and match that of the turboprop engine aircraft. Appearing from behind the P-3, he emerged towards its left side, maintaining appropriate distance from it while making sure he was visible to the Japanese pilots. Alyosha then proceeded to talk to them in English. ¡°Japanese military aircraft. This is Russian military aircraft. You are trespassing on restricted Russian airspace. Turn your aircraft now or I will shoot you down.¡± Alyosha made sure to put stress and emphasis on ¡°Russian¡± as a not-so-subtle hint that the Southern Kurils were bonafide Russian Federation territory. After ending his transmission, he rolled his fighter slightly towards the left, showing his missile-armed underbelly to the Japanese in a gesture to show that he was armed. Returning to his level flight, he looked out towards the P-3 cockpit, barely catching sight of the two pilots looking back at him. He couldn¡¯t make out their faces accurately, but he felt in his gut that they were surprised to see him. His radio was then filled with English, a reply from the Japanese plane. ¡°Acknowledged Russian military aircraft. We are now turning to 270.¡± As he received the reply, he watched the Japanese plane rolling over to the right, turning their aircraft away from their previous course as directed. Acknowledging their compliance, Alyosha then proceeded to escort them out of their airspace. 18th Machine Gun Artillery Div. Field HQ, 7:40 The sound of hardened boots stomping on the loose dirt followed the figure of a Russian Army colonel, still in his multi-layered combat fatigues and gear, entering a camouflaged tent. The colonel joined an array of other officers and aides in the presence of their highest ranking commander, Major General Alexei Yegorov, whose near static figure the colonel found standing in the middle of the group. All of their eyes were temporarily on him as he entered, but Maj. Gen. Yegorov¡¯s hoarse voice prompted them to turn their attention back to him. ¡°Ah, good. We can begin.¡± Yegorov clapped his hands together as he turned his weary, wrinkled face towards his men. A seasoned commander in the Russian Army, Yegorov knew how to make good on what resources he had been given, impressing those who could be impressed in the top brass when he returned with deliciously favorable results. However, he was not without enemies, especially in politics, who disagreed with his unmalleable rigidity. Equally disgusted with how things were being conducted for the past 20 years, he accepted his distant posting in the Far East with little regret. However, his experience in the multiple fronts Russia had opened since the turn of the millennium could not have prepared him for what he initially feared was a combined American and Japanese attack on their Pacific holdings. The grayed, dead eyes with which he saw countless deaths, most needless and unnecessary, were now filled with a single emotion: confusion. It had been more than four hours since they lost contact with Sakhalin. If the feared invasion was indeed coming, then they should have perished long ago under the hail of Japanese and American cruise missiles leveling their positions. But none of that came to be. Instead, what they got was a suspicious ferry coming to port and a single scout aircraft straying into their airspace yet complying in a level-headed manner. Yegorov wondered what his enemy¡¯s course of action was. Were these attempts to lower their guard? Were they lacking in coordination, thereby sending in their forces in a lackluster and half-assed manner? Was it wise to keep overthinking? With almost five hours of action-less idling, his forces in unsustainable high alert, and their allies in the other parts of the eastern district still unreachable, Yegorov was considering his options. For that, he wanted his officers present to borrow their input for this unexpected situation. Before he could say anything, the telephone rang. Yegorov picked it up and put it to his right ear. ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°Major General, sir! We are receiving a broadcast directly from the Japanese government, and they are requesting dialogue with our civil and military authorities! They also said that they¡¯re in contact with the embassy in Tokyo...¡± This changes things, thought Yegorov. It was still very unusual for the Japanese government to extend a request for dialogue, especially in their situation wherein they still couldn¡¯t contact any of their own people. However, he needed the situation resolved soon since the islands were effectively under a siege-like condition without the rest of their nation. If he could get a hold of their diplomats in the capital Tokyo, they may know what is going on. Setting aside his anxieties, Yegorov decided to answer the call. ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll be down there.¡± Putting the phone back on its receiver, he then turned to his officers as his facial muscles relaxed from the looser tension. ¡°The Japanese are reaching out to us for dialogue... Let¡¯s see what they have to say to us.¡± Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Tokyo, 9:45 It was now midmorning. The sun was halfway towards its highest point, although the seemingly peaceful environment betrayed what was happening on the ground. Mass communications with the rest of the world were still down. Planes were still grounded, and ships were still not allowed to leave. The Tokyo Stock Exchange was closed mere minutes into opening due to the drastic changes. Whatever was left of the internet exploded with conspiracy theories owing to independent sleuths discovering that facets of the environment are eerily out of place. The entirety of the nation was in unrest as it held its breath for the upcoming emergency press conference by the Japanese prime minister slated for 10:30 AM. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. Meanwhile, the anxieties were felt the most by people of non-Japanese nationality, who suddenly found themselves unable to contact the outside world and are now stuck indefinitely in the country. ¡°Ngh...¡± Ambassador of the Republic of Korea to Japan, Park Sung Yong, could not hide his impatience as he clenched his fists on the table of a waiting room in the Foreign Affairs building. His impatience was born from frustration over the Japanese government¡¯s lack of transparency regarding the mass communications blackout. Ever since the unrest started to pick up earlier that morning, the Korean embassy in Tokyo began to be hounded by Korean nationals demanding answers from their government representatives. Unfortunately for them, the embassy too cannot reach their people back in Seoul. While Park has heard of similar stories happening with the other countries and their embassies, theirs was a very unique challenge. Not only are there more than 241,000 ROK nationals currently in Japan, but apparently, it also seems that contact has been confirmed with one of their sovereign territories: the Liancourt rocks, known to them as Dokdo. ¡°Damn it...¡± His concerns were also running wild as he found himself powerless to restrain them. He remembers where he was earlier this morning, just before sunrise. - - - Flashback - - - Just as some of their fellow Koreans began to show up at the doorstep to the grounds of the embassy, he was still back in his home, waking up to his staff calling him to come quickly. Before he could leave, his house telephone rang. Expecting it to be his staff, Park picked the phone up and answered it. However, the voice that came from the other end was different; older, more hoarse, and above all, accented. ¡°Good morning, Mr. Ambassador. Mind if we have a chat first?¡± The accent was one Park knew all too well and one he regarded with hostility. However, his curiosity got the better of his wariness and knowledge of standard operating protocol, so he obliged. ¡°Who is this?¡± The person on the other end of the call spoke in a North Korean accent. ¡°Let¡¯s settle with ¡°Hong,¡± shall we?¡± ¡°Out with it, or I¡¯m ending this call.¡± ¡°Good. I will share with you some information on the events that are unfolding as we speak.¡± Park was eager to leave, but he felt drawn into what ¡°Hong¡± had to say. ¡°The mainland is gone. What communication we had with them is completely severed. That is the same for everyone; the Chinese, the Americans, the Russians, and so on.¡± He was inclined not to believe whatever ¡°Hong¡± was saying, but remembering what his embassy staff had told him about losing contact with the rest of Korea, and there was substance to his words. Still, these pieces of information are coming from a source he couldn¡¯t trust. ¡°All that remains is Dokdo, along with some of our people on it.¡± Park¡¯s heart skipped a beat. ¡°If the Japanese were to realize that our great nation has vanished, what do you think will happen to our people? To Dokdo? This situation is nothing but a prelude to the revelation that their perverse designs on all of us are still very much alive.¡± Sweat started flowing in drops all around Park¡¯s body. As a career politician himself, he knew how to use words to his advantage, but he was tempted to believe in the words of this person, a fellow Korean he was raised to treat with suspicion. His silence served as his message of consideration to ¡°Hong¡±, unable to bring himself to deny his still unproven statements. ¡°Hong¡± picked up on this and ended the conversation on an open note. ¡°We stand united in the face of these circumstances, Mr. Ambassador. We are ready to commit ourselves if necessary.¡± Then, ¡°Hong¡± listed out a string of numbers, which Park took note of using a pen and a piece of wrapper lying nearby. After saying the last number, the call was abruptly cut, replaced with the repetitive beeping of the telephone. - - - Flashback End - - - Opening his sweat-riddled eyelids, Park found himself in the moderated atmosphere of the waiting room. Remembering the vivid, colorful, striking words of ¡°Hong¡±, he thinks of their veracity. Looking in hindsight, his words were indeed substantial, as it has now become more apparent that the Korean peninsula had disappeared. He then wonders if the Japanese government being mum about the situation means that they too are aware of it. Memories of Japanese ultranationalist protests popped into his mind. He fondly remembers the anti-Korean slogans being shouted out in open hostility to a crowd of civilians that were not the least bothered; a showcase of their indifference and silent affirmation to the sentiment. Now, he fears that these sentiments will resurface again, especially that their great nation was nowhere to be found. In one way or another, the words of ¡°Hong¡± made him less inclined to be open to his Japanese counterparts, with whom he¡¯ll soon meet. He took note of his indirect suggestion of cooperation, filing it in the back of his mind for safekeeping as he decided to tackle the Dokdo question. Then, the door to the waiting room opened, and in came a ministry staff member in office dress. ¡°Ambassador Park. Our representative is now ready to see you.¡± Replying with a slight nod, Park stood up from the chair he had been anxiously waiting in. With the destinies of more than 241,000 people weighing down on his shoulders, he followed the ministry staff out of the waiting room and onto their uncertain future. Cent. Calendar 13/06/1639, somewhere in Iturup, Kuril Islands, 9:10 It was now almost two whole months since their unexpected transfer into the new world, a bigger Earth-like planet which the natives call Asherah. They last saw their world back in September of 2021, but according to the calendar that the natives followed, it was now the middle of the year, roughly around mid-June, of the year 1639. ¡°It¡¯s so fucking hot...¡± Groaned Captain Andrei ¡°Alyosha¡± Smirnov as he lay on the supposedly frigid sands of an unnamed beach. To conserve what little supplies they were being sent by the Japanese, the state of readiness of their military forces had been toned down. It was almost as if the Japanese were actively trying to make sure that they didn''t remain a threat, although everyone knew that it was only a matter of time until their unmaintained equipment falls apart entirely. As such, Alyosha was able to catch some time off away from his duties to attempt to appreciate the massive ¡°fuck you¡± given to him and his people by God. Other than the grainy sensation of the Iturup sands, he also felt in his right hand a hard, cylindrical object. He clutched on it and raised his arm up, holding the object directly in his line of sight. It was a bottle of vodka that he had stashed away from even before the transfer for safekeeping. ¡°You gonna crack that open, Alyosha?¡± Lying in the sands next to him was a fellow captain, whose bagged eyes betrayed the tone of interest in his voice. Just like him, Alyosha¡¯s eyes were circled with dark bags, a result of insomnia from grief after losing contact with his family back in Yakutsk. At this point, two months after the transfer event, it was all but pointless to hope that he would ever get to see them again. He wanted to cry, but the rationing of important supplies such as water meant that he was too dehydrated to shed more than a couple of tears. His sensation and train of thought returned to the present, with the sands behind his back and the bottle of vodka in hand. ¡°Yeah, why the fuck not.¡± Popping open the cap with his left hand, he shoved the bottle¡¯s lips onto his own, as the bottle¡¯s nearly 50% alcohol content painfully rinsed his dry throat. It hurts, but not as much as the thought of him never getting to see his family again. Continuing to let the vodka flow down his throat unbarred, his fellow captain watched in envy. ¡°Oi, save me at least half of that, you asshole!¡± His still parched lips clamped shut as he handed the bottle over to his fellow aviator, the stinging alcoholic liquid flowing down his cheeks and throat. While his friend indulged in the burning sensation offered by the vodka as it flowed down his gullet, his memories drifted away from the sensitive echoes of his sister and parents welcoming him home to more recent recollections. He recalls their panic when they heard the Japanese military mobilized for an operation in one of Asherah¡¯s kingdoms, invoking a sense of dread from the thought of a remilitarizing Japan. ¡°Still can¡¯t believe that the Japanese actually deployed their forces in a ¡°special defensive posture,¡± or whatever they called it.¡± Alyosha randomly blurted out his thoughts, which his friend happily entertained with a snicker. ¡°Hah! And then we laughed at the news when their pacifist cucks decided enough was enough just because of a single airstrike and went begging the Americans for help. Despicable, if you ask me.¡± He and Alyosha knew some friends who served during earlier operations in other parts of the world. With the heaping amount of stories, both exciting and ugly, that they brought back with them, it was a depressing part of life to constantly experience being in combat. Personally, Alyosha viewed the Japanese attempt at embracing peace to be an active act of indifference to the horrors that others experience, especially after they restarted dipping their hands back into the business of war-making. Still, it made sense for Alyosha and his fellow countrymen since it meant that the Japanese were also unwilling to risk an armed takeover of their islands, which they viewed with a desire for revenge since their defeat in the Great Patriotic War. He¡¯d rather shut up about Japan¡¯s oxymoronic attitude if it means that the Kurils are staved off from prying, vengeful eyes. However, their ruin likely won¡¯t come in the form of Japanese and American infantrymen storming their beaches, but in the form of their deterrent, their long-range cruise missiles, and armor elements, collapsing from lack of maintenance. With no supply of spare parts coming from the now long gone mainland, their vehicles will be reduced to rust in no time. Before long, they will have nothing to deter Japan from forcefully taking the islands. It was a scary thought. ¡°What the fuck do we do... We can¡¯t just fade into obscurity and be annexed by those Japanese dogs.¡± ¡°We¡¯re fucked. That¡¯s that. We might as well just enjoy what little time we have left.¡± Alyosha and his friend basked in the scorching sunlight, content with their status quo. Their fears of a more-than-certain future remain but so are slivers of hope that their future will not turn for the worse. Awara City, Fukui prefecture, Japan, 10:30 ¡°Did anyone follow us?¡± A group of three Korean girls in their late teens looked behind them as they walked down a back route, inconspicuous paper bags in hand. ¡°No, we seem to be fine.¡± One of them wore their long, still silky black hair in a ponytail directly over their head. Her irises, embedded in her squinted eyes, showed a hint of coloration different from the typical brown, but just like her fellow compatriots, they were riddled with broken hearts, unfulfilled dreams, and terrible experiences. She was Min Yumi, a high school student from Busan, visiting the Liancourt rocks, known to her people as Dokdo when the transfer event happened. Having taken a multi-day trip to Ulleung-do and Dokdo, Min and several other people woke up to a bleak reality after they were notified by the resident police and South Korean military personnel that they could no longer contact Ulleung-do or the mainland. After the Korean provisional government in nearby Japan silently brokered an agreement with the Japanese government for an emergency joint resource exploration of the islands, they were allowed to be taken into Japan as refugees. After being shipped to the mainland, she and several other young foreign nationals were voluntarily taken in by orphanages. Ever since then, she has had to participate in a nationwide effort to keep Japan afloat, a harrowing and spirit-breaking endeavor for her and fellow Koreans. In the two months since, she had made two friends, Ari and Eun, who were both on vacation in Japan when the transfer happened. ¡°Oi, Ari, open the bags.¡± Yumi commanded her friend as they all sat around in a circle near a concrete barrier. Since they¡¯ve gotten to know each other, having come from the same disenchanting circumstances of never being able to return home, Yumi¡¯s condescending tone meant no hostility towards them. Impatiently tearing the paper bags open, Ari produced a pack of cigarettes and three green-tinted bottles of soju, a popular Korean alcoholic. As Ari held out the cigarettes towards the other two, Eun commented as she took a single roll of tobacco from the carton. ¡°Bitch, why¡¯d you get three? I thought I told you I don¡¯t drink.¡± Ari swung her hair towards the back of her neck before lighting her cigarette with a match. Taking in as much nicotine-filled smoke as she could from her first puff, she then exhaled before proceeding to entertain Eun¡¯s comment. ¡°My bad. I¡¯m just in a really shitty mood today.¡± Yumi chuckled, although it was devoid of any gay emotions. ¡°Aren¡¯t you every day?¡± ¡°Shut the fuck up. I had to listen to that fucker Yanagida rant on about how we¡¯re only aliens. Fuck him; I wish he¡¯d just go explode.¡± Sitting down on the cold concrete floor of the back route, Yumi proceeded to open one of the soju bottles as she inhaled the last puffs from her rapidly decaying cig. ¡°Mood. Fuck Yanagida. In fact, fuck all of them. How dare they say we can¡¯t go back.¡± Tossing off to the side the cigarette butt, she then grabbed the now open soju bottle and plunged its lips straight to hers. The sweet 20% alcoholic content of the bottle flowed down her throat, like a raging flood bursting from a longstanding dam that just gave way. Satisfied with the throbbing reaction her body gave, she closed her lips shut and put the bottle back down as she exclaimed in pained glee. ¡°Fuck! This shit¡¯s stale as fuck!¡± Throwing aside her now depleted cigarette, Eun joined Yumi, proceeding to open her own bottle. ¡°If we could just steal a boat and go west... Maybe we can get better shit, don¡¯cha think?¡± She giggled as she discarded the plastic cap of the bottle before indulging herself in its contents. Yumi looked down in contemplation. Eun¡¯s suggestion may have been a joke made in the spur of the moment, but it was a prospect too good to ignore. Despite her outward acceptance of the miserable hand life had dealt her and her friends, deep inside, she ached to go home. She missed her parents, her friends, her neighborhood in Busan, her school, her room, her pet dog, and the rolling green hills that succeeded the concrete gray foreground; all of which she always took for granted. She missed her home and the land of her birth. Sniff. The soft sound of her nasal tract getting blocked by tears was loud enough to pierce the hearts of her friends. Before long, they too were caught up in tears, the unstoppable flow of regret, nostalgia, and sentimentalities overtaking their built-up instincts not to cry. Yumi clenched her slender fist, as if to crush the glass bottle she held in her hand. ¡°F-F-Fuck... I wanna go home...¡± ¡°Shut up, girl! We swore never to bring that up...¡± ¡°God, you got me crying too. Fuck you bitches! I¡¯ll fucking...¡± They desperately tried to stop their tears and their cries from leaking out. As it turns out, no amount of nicotine and alcohol could ever substitute for the joys they had taken for granted. It was almost as if the gods had punished them for their sins. Yumi wiped the tears off her now stick cheeks with her clothes as she struggled to clear her respiratory tracts. In their moment of weakness and grief, she felt a hostile presence perverting her and her friends¡¯ designated safe space. Clearing her eyes of tears, she looked up to see the tall silhouette of a man standing in the middle of the backway. She immediately recognized his face, one which she attributes with raw hostility. ¡°What are you sluts doing here?!¡± The man asked them in a taunting tone carried by an intimidating low voice. He was their dreaded overseer, Yanagida. The girls immediately stood up to face him, making scarce their cigarettes and bottles of soju. Yumi was the first to confront him, speaking in straight Japanese. ¡°What¡¯s it to you, asshole? It¡¯s our break time, right?¡± ¡°Breaktime? If I recall correctly, the instruction was for our people to receive breaks and... as far as anyone is concerned, you are not our people, yes?¡± The girls stood guard as Yanagida nonchalantly brandished his bare knuckles, scarred and bloodied from past fights. To them, he was a textbook example of a Japanese man, a violent brute that¡¯s extremely xenophobic towards other East Asians. To the West, he would fall under the category of people loosely labeled as ¡°ultranationalists¡±. ¡°I knew you sluts were up to no good. Stealing a boat? Plotting the murder of one of us¨Cme, out of all people?! You aliens are nothing but illegal scum!¡± As Yanagida continued to hurl excessively hostile statements, Eun took one of the soju bottles by its neck before smashing it against the concrete barrier next to her. The bottom of the bottle shattered into countless shards, with the neck remaining intact and turning into a sharp, bladed weapon. Having been the recipient of abuses from people like Yanagida before, she was no longer willing to remain meek and helpless. ¡°I¡¯m not gonna receive any more shit from men like you!¡± Just as an enraged Eun was about to lunge her newly created knife at Yanagida, a loud voice evoking a sense of absolute authority rang out through the vicinity, forcing the two to come to a halt. ¡°Stop!¡± At the end of the backway behind Yanagida was a woman whose old age is apparent in her bent back and glistening white hair. Her sharp eyes and no-nonsense facial expression reinforced her strong tone, silencing even the hotheaded Yanagida. The girls recognize her as Yamada, one of the bigheads in the orphanage and one of their allies against harassment and poor treatment. Almost immediately after Yamada¡¯s command, they and Yanagida brought their battle-ready arms down, effectively de-escalating the situation. ¡°I knew this would happen...¡± Yamada stroked her forehead in disappointment as she sighed deeply. Approaching a confused Yanagida, she looked up to his face and made clear her disapproval of his actions. ¡°I cannot tolerate this anymore, Yanagida-san. You¡¯ll have to come to my office.¡± ¡°But these girls are actively plotting illeg¨C¡± Slap! Before Yanagida could put up an excuse, a single, dry, slapping sound echoed throughout the vicinity. Yamada was more than willing to show to him that she meant business. ¡°Enough! They¡¯re just children, Yanagida-san. They want to go home as much as you want them out of here, but their home no longer exists. Now, before I actually get pissed, go to my office!¡± A sulked, defeated Yanagida acquiesced to her command, snubbing the three girls before turning around to walk out of the backway. As soon as he was gone, Yamada then turned to the girls, who were now on the verge of crying again, this time in disbelief in them winning against another bad Japanese man. She extended her arm out to them, beckoning them to come to her while speaking in their native tongue. ¡°Come, girls.¡± Seemingly ashamed of what they had done and expecting a punishment, the three girls walked towards her with their heads hanging low. Contrary to their assumptions, Yamada gave her tightest embrace to them, bringing them in close in an effort to shower them with as much affection as she could. ¡°It¡¯s all right... You did well to come this far...¡± The girls, having heard their first reassuring statements in what felt like an eternity, couldn¡¯t hold back their sobs and tears. Despite a gloomy, uncertain future in a hostile society, they found solace in having allies and friends who empathize with them. Chapter 19: You are Cordially Invited Cent. Calendar 21/06/1639, north of Jin-Hark, 10:00 ¡°What a hot day...¡± Third Foreign Affairs Dept. Representative Raita, for now the Parpaldian Empire¡¯s representative as a whole, commented in exasperation while endlessly waving a scarlet fan that matched the color of her extravagant gown. It was indeed a hot day, for it was the middle of summer, and out in the open seas, the only shades that she could reliably take comfort behind are the occasional cloud and the rigging of the Parpaldian Navy vessel she was on. With her side and arm leaning on the wooden taffrails, she looked out across the gleaming, dark blue waters. Beyond the pitiful, simpler sail ships that dotted the harbor of the city of Jin-Hark were the sandy clay buildings that made up the austere and modest skyline of the former Lourian capital. ¡°Now we really are in the sticks...¡± Biting her glaring, red lipstick-glossed lips, Raita basked in the mild winds provided by her fan as she looked down on the uninteresting city of a peripheral nation. Perhaps there was little salvation to these ¡°barbarians,¡± even with their generous financial and military support, she thought. As her eyes followed the contour of the mild Jin-Hark skyline, they inevitably ended up on the multi-tiered, multi-layered fortification that stuck out of the endless rows of minor buildings. Reaching the apex of the fortification, the top of the hill, she expected to find an impressive fortification, akin to that of the great castles of old, a universally-understood symbol of power and autocratic rule. However, in place of an intimidating stronghold, all that she saw were the pathetic ruins of something that once was, it¡¯s still standing vestiges doomed to scavenging looters and the sands of time. ¡°So that is what they¡¯re capable of...¡± Raita felt a slight unease well up all over her body, her fingers shaking ever so slightly. Almost two weeks ago, the entire course of the periphery and the Third Civilized Area changed dramatically with the utter destruction of the royal castle at Jin-Hark. Not only did it signal the abrupt end to the Lourian dynasty and its hopes of a united Rodenius, but it heralded the enigmatic entrance of something more sinister¨Ca threat to the long-established hegemony that Parpaldia enjoys. Like many in the department, Raita was quick to assume that it was the Altarans, but she too was soon convinced that a new power was at play. Backed by reports of peripheral nations and some Third Civilized Area players welcoming the new power, the imperial crown had mobilized the complex, bureaucratic gears of the empire to turn its attention to this newcomer. This was why Raita was here. After having decided with unanimity that this new country was to be treated with leveled respect, the imperial government sent her to invite them to the Proclamation Day celebrations to be held in the capital, Esthirant; a momentous occasion celebrating the empire¡¯s founding and reserved for the great powers. ¡°Now, what was their name again?¡± ¡°Japan, madam.¡± The deep, manly voice of Imperial Army officer Marcus rang out from Raita¡¯s other side as he walked towards the taffrails to bask in the view of the city. ¡°Ah, of course. How could I have forgotten the name of the nation that¡¯s about to steal Parpaldia¡¯s thunder?¡± Revolting at the idea of their broken hegemony, she scoffed with plenty of disdain. Marcus¡¯s expression, however, begged to differ. ¡°I was the one leading the task force during the war here. I remember how the royal castle just blew up and the near fantastical ¡°aircraft¡± that they employed to do so. With all due respect, madam, they are not one we could afford to look down on.¡± ¡°I agree, sir. Those that threaten our hold to power are ones that wield considerable might themselves, and even if we have not seen them yet, Japan should not be an exception. Yet I can¡¯t help but feel the need to look down on these... usurpers. Perhaps that¡¯s just the imperial supremacist in me.¡± Raita looked around her, from the impressive and complex rigging of their ship to the tireless and prompt sailors of the mighty Imperial Navy. From modest sail ships to impressive first-rate ships of the line to the highly capable iron-hulled, mana gem-powered warships that she stood on, the Parpaldian Empire has come far in deepening and expanding its stake on the Asheran stage. Backed and supported with arms and assurances from the other great powers, they were supposed to be the premier power in this side of the world. Raita believed in their inevitable destiny to be the true hegemon of the Third Civilized Region and that if anybody wanted to snatch that away from them, they would first have to fight their dignified navy at sea and then their indomitable army on land. Jin-Hark, 10:30 Ever since hostilities ceased with Japan and Qua-Toyne following the signing of the Treaty of Gim, Jin-Hark has more or less continued its everyday happenings. Having been the seat of the hegemonic Lourian dynasty for generations, the town of Jin-Hark was the recipient of most of the benefits reaped by their expansionism, becoming an anchor of power that kept the feudal kingdom together. While the roots of terminal decay had long been sown before Japan¡¯s appearance, it was their decapitation strike on the Lourian beast that dealt the final blow that led to its disintegration. However, since most of the feuding lords and dukes were witnesses to Japan¡¯s capability and willingness to erase those it deemed threatening, an unspoken rule was born among them not to upset the new balance of power that Japan had erected in Jin-Hark, now a neutral territory controlled by an independent governing body. As such, while power plays continued underneath the surface, things have remained largely amicable between the parties, and this is reflected in the ¡°business-as-usual¡± atmosphere at the harbor of Jin-Hark. The smell of salty seawater and markets brimming with seafood and spices dominated the olfactory senses of anyone that found themselves in this sector. The occasional industrial goods of knick-knacks, furniture, weaponry, and other artisan products were also present. Due to the still lingering racial divides promulgated by the Lourian kings, much of the people doing business here were humans, and what amount of demi-humans that were present either wore robes that concealed their identity or were sailors waiting back in their ships. The incessant chatter of traders, merchants, buyers, and other people with prospective interests provided the harbor with the unmistakable ambiance of commerce. The sound of waves crashing against the docks and seagulls singing from above made it ever so clear that they were close to the ocean. Then, like a thunderclap¨Calways so unexpected¨Cthere was the well-modulated yell of a man coming from out of nowhere. ¡°MARCH!¡± Hearing this sharp order, the many individuals present along the docks immediately had their attention darted away from their business to the source of the yell. With their chatter almost immediately stopping, the air was populated with a different noise: the synchronous beats of rubber boots stomping on the hard ground. In the middle of the docks, two columns of equally spaced human men had formed up. They wore pronounced, matching uniforms dyed in striking crimson and were armed with identical, bayoneted, advanced-looking rifles. If their affiliation wasn¡¯t obvious yet to the onlooker, two of the men marching second-in-front of their respective columns erected golden flagpoles. One of the flags bore a distinct symbol that seemed to represent their unit, while the other one that flew in the wind was one that everyone recognized: the banner of Parpaldia, dyed in imperial red and gold. Having been given the order to march, the line of imperial soldiers advanced forward. The men in front brandished fife and drums, and they played to the tune of a typical army march that dictated the tempo, and therefore speed, of the soldiers¡¯ paces. The snares crackled from hits by the drumsticks as the bass drummers pounded away in every measure. ¡°The Parpaldian army? Here? What¡¯s going on?!¡± ¡°Were they not informed of Jin-Hark¡¯s neutrality? That Japan might retaliate!¡± ¡°Not another war! I¡¯m already breaking even trying to make ends meet!¡± Traders, merchants, and the occupants of the city looked on as the disciplined column of crimson made their way through the harbor at every pounding beat of their drums. Those from the peripheral nations, ¡°uncivilized barbarians¡± to the Parpaldians, felt their strength ebb away from their legs as they nearly fainted at the intimidating sight of a regional power¡¯s soldiers marching through their mediocre streets. Awe and fear clashed to be the dominant emotion in their hearts as they either marveled or shriveled at the idea that the established power, Parpaldia, marches to meet the dreadful newcomer, Japan. ¡°Huh? The Parpaldians are here?¡± ¡°My my. This is going to get interesting.¡± ¡°It¡¯s about damn time those imperialists in Esthirant noticed what¡¯s happening in their front yard.¡± Citizens from nations across the Third Civilized Region, considered as ¡°enlightened barbarians¡± by the Parpaldians, scoffed in mixed reception to the sight of what they considered an ¡°expansionist bully.¡± They were well aware of the Parpaldian encroachment on Rodenian affairs but found their delay in response to the appearance of Japan comical. If anything, they were eager to capitalize on the effects of an upcoming diplomatic and economic clash between the two nations. ¡°Hm? Is that...?¡± One of the citizens recognized a more conspicuous figure walking in front of the columns. Taking a closer look, they saw that it was a woman clad in an extravagant gown of scarlet and diplomatically modest in her posture. She held her chin high, a gesture of pride and might as if to contradict the gentle strides in her pacing. Despite the strong sunlight coming from lower-latitude, late morning sun, she maintained her stance with unwavering dignity. ¡°They sent her? So that means the Parpaldians are aware of who they¡¯re dealing with then?¡± They recognized her as Raita, a moderately high positioned diplomat in the Third Foreign Affairs Department. A typical representative of the empire during high-level meetings with periphery nations and sometimes even Third Civilized Area nations, she¡¯s known for having a diplomatic etiquette backed by a strong belief in imperial ambition. ¡°Best we keep a close eye on what¡¯s going to happen.¡± They were not alone in their curiosity; much of the city had started to follow the Parpaldian march when word spread of their arrival. A curtain of anxiety hung over Jin-Hark as they anticipated Japan¡¯s response to this blatant show of force. Japanese diplomatic mission building ¡°Tanaka, sir, I believe you shou¨C¡± ¡°I know, I¡¯ve heard.¡± Tanaka brushed aside his aides¡¯ comments as he walked towards the exit. After word spread of the Parpaldian army¡¯s arrival in Jin-Hark, the Japanese diplomatic mission in the city erupted into a frenzy. Foreign Affairs staff rushed to contact their respective counterparts with the various duchies and minor states, confirming if they had invited an external force to the neutral territory while others hurriedly contacted home for further assistance should things get hot. As the one responsible for diplomatic relations in Jin-Hark, diplomat Tanaka Noboru rushed to meet the Parpaldians face-to-face, hoping to tell them politely to leave. At the exit, Tanaka was stopped by the guards at the doors. ¡°Sir Tanaka! You mustn¡¯t!¡± One of the guards brought his hands up to physically block Tanaka from reaching for the door. ¡°Why shouldn¡¯t I?¡± The other guard looked at him with a worried expression, drops of sweat flowing from every pore on his face. ¡°They are outside...¡± ¡°Who?¡± Just then, from beyond the door, the explicit yell of a man could be distinctly heard. ¡°HALT!¡± Following this order, the sound of several dozen hard leather boots stomping on the ground in unison rang out. At that point, Tanaka was well aware of where the Parpaldians were and had an idea as to their intentions. Looking at the guards with a serious yet reassuring face, he spoke in a soft tone. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°I¡¯ll be alright. Now, if you¡¯ll excuse me.¡± Gently pushing the guard¡¯s hands aside, Tanaka reached out for the shining handles of the doors. Unlocking them through a swift flick of the wrists, he pushes the heavy wooden doors outwards, revealing the dusty scenery of the Jin-Hark streets. Beyond the solid barricades manned by armed civilian guards were the figures of crimson-uniformed soldiers in formation, their well-polished rifles resting on their shoulders. The row of soldiers faced their building with empty expressions as if robotic and servant to whatever orders were thrown at them. In front of this neat display of martial discipline were four figures: an officer with his issued saber in hand, two soldiers brandishing the Parpaldian flag and their unit¡¯s flag, and a woman whose gown matched the colors of the parade. Tanaka stepped forth, out of the building and onto the city. He continued towards the barricade, maintaining in his posture and disposition the image of a man of diplomacy afforded by his elegant suit. Onlookers stared at him, his snappy movements reinforcing their impression of a no-nonsense Japan. On the other hand, the woman in flashy scarlet stepped forward to meet him, her own proud disposition a clear match for the serious image exuded by Tanaka. The two diplomats stopped their advances just shy of the barricade that separated them from getting closer. Both parties stood imposingly still, their poker face expressions an empty wall for the other to gaze unto. Their eyes moved ever so subtly in inspecting the others¡¯ appearance and character, sowing the seeds of what will eventually become mutual respect between the two countries. Even though there was little tension to speak of in between the two, third-party onlookers were witnessing a different scene altogether: a silent showdown between the region¡¯s established power and a nascent newcomer. Having grown dissatisfied with the silence, Tanaka did not hesitate in breaking the silence. Already well-versed in Asheran common due to his constant meetings with the local lords, he spoke with confidence. ¡°Greetings from the nation of Japan. I am Tanaka, and I am bestowed with the authority and responsibility to represent my nation and its government. Pardon me, but to whom exactly am I speaking to?¡± Internally, Raita was fuming that her high-level Japanese counterpart did not know who she was. This man...!!! Still, she, too, did not know who he was. It was only fair after all, and Raita convinced herself as she calmed down. If the imperial government¡¯s assumption that they were a powerful nation were to be believed, then it is only natural to assume that the Japanese have also done their research on them. Opening her mouth, she presented herself with less pompousness than one would expect from an imperial diplomat. ¡°You may call me madam Raita, sir Tanaka. If it is not yet clear from the show of power we have brought and the imperial red and gold that are staring at you in the face, then it cannot be helped. I represent the glorious empire of Parpaldia, the only recognized power of the Third Civilized Region!¡± She raised her right hand towards the Parpaldian flag to her right, a visual cue for officer Marcus behind her to order his men. ¡°PRESENT ARMS!¡± In a terrifying display of rigorous discipline, the Parpaldian soldiers promptly took their rifles and ceremoniously held them upright in front of their faces. The swift motions of the imperial soldiers were followed by goosebump-inducing synchronicity, their movements as sharp as the bayonets fixed onto their rifles. The Parpaldian flag was held high, the magnificent imperial crest fluttering proudly in the wind. This subtle show of martial intimidation had onlookers feeling even more inferior, but their intended recipient wasn¡¯t them. The Japanese side maintained their firm and august appearance, unfazed by the Parpaldian movement to an almost insulting degree. Still wearing his poker face, Tanaka responded to Raita. ¡°Well met, madam Raita of the empire of Parpaldia. Now, may I inquire as to why you are here?¡± Tanaka stopped short of mentioning the neutrality clause in the Treaty of Gim, which disallows any armed force from stepping foot on neutral Jin-Hark. He was also well aware of the clause¡¯s ambiguity in not clarifying whether armed forces of non-signatories such as Parpaldia are counted, which allows room for interpretation. Still, it was also in Parpaldia¡¯s character to actively participate in intense saber-rattling, so it was hard to tell whether or not they were aware of the clause at all when bringing their army to bear. ¡°I am here on behalf of His Majesty, Emperor Ludius, to cordially invite your country as a guest at the Proclamation Day celebrations in Esthirant. This also doubles as a formal meeting between our two nations.¡± One of her servants walked up to Tanaka and extended his hands outwards, at the end of which was a fashionably designed envelope of red with gold outlines. Upon hearing Raita¡¯s statement, the crowd of onlookers erupted into hushes amongst themselves, unable to contain their surprise at the unexpected outcome of the standoff. ¡°The Parpaldians are inviting them to Proclamation Day?! Aren¡¯t the invitations reserved for only the great powers?¡± ¡°This is an interesting development. I can¡¯t wait to see how the Japanese diplomat will react!¡± ¡°What an unusual stance for them to take. I wonder what exactly it is they¡¯re thinking...¡± As Tanaka formally accepted the invitation on behalf of Japan, the page was turned onto a new chapter for the entirety of the region. Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Tokyo, Japan, 17:30 Foreign Affairs minister Agano Kenzo, leaning back on his leathery, reclining office chair, waited for prime minister Takamori to pick up the phone. With the handset against his right ear, he listened in on every ringing beep, his heartbeat seemingly in sync. Toot... Toot... Toot... His eyes darted towards his desktop monitor. On it was an email, the text of which was too small to read from Agano¡¯s reclined position, but he already knew what it contained. Just before lunch earlier that day, their personnel stationed in the diplomatic mission in Jin-Hark was abruptly visited by a contingent of the Parpaldian military, which turned out to be escorting a diplomat, who handed over an invitation to one of their celebrations in the capital on top of a formal meeting to establish relations. Agano spent several minutes brooding over the email, which included the contents of the invitation. The Foreign Affairs ministry was still stuck over which method to best approach the Parpaldians without unnecessary diplomatic escalations from unforeseen consequences. They reckoned that the means with which they established contact with other nations was too straightforward, which proved non-problematic due to the humble nature of their counterparts, but this was not something they could expect from Parpaldia. What happened was that it was their counterparts who approached them instead, and while it certainly made their jobs easier, preparing for the meeting was an entirely different can of worms altogether. ¡°Hmmm...¡± A hearty sigh fitting for a heavy heart he¡¯s bearing right now. Just then, the ringing beeps abruptly stopped as the electronic voice of the prime minister echoed through the speaker. ¡°Yes?¡± Reflexively fixing his posture at the sound of his voice, Agano responded. ¡°Prime minister! Forgive me for this unexpected call, but we have just received word from our diplomats in Jin-Hark.¡± ¡°What? The Lourians decided to throw a fit? Heh, it might be an impetus for the Diet to reconsider what they¡¯re currently doing...¡± Takamori took the opportunity to throw shade at his critics at the Diet, who was now pushing for greater limits to his powers after their controversial stunt with Operation Zanzibar. ¡°No, prime minister. The Parpaldians have contacted us, inviting us to their ¡°Proclamation Day¡± celebrations, on top of a formal meeting to establish diplomatic and trade relations.¡± ¡°Oh? Hm. We¡¯ll have to go over the particulars of this event and what their plans are. Did they allow for a diplomatic channel through which we could contact them for clarifications and adjustments?¡± ¡°Yes. The diplomat they¡¯ve sent over, a certain madam Raita, has mentioned that she will stay in Jin-Hark as an intermediary for their government in Esthirant.¡± ¡°Good. Let¡¯s settle on tomorrow for the meeting.¡± ¡°Of course.¡± Putting the handset back on the receiver to end the call, Agano exhaled another hearty sigh. He couldn¡¯t stop rubbing his forehead, probably a subconscious way of letting out anxiety, as he pondered his ever-increasing workload. His thoughts went elsewhere, followed by his attention, then his body as he swiveled his chair to look outside. Beyond the safety of the glass window was the still turbulent city of Tokyo, a shining example of what happens to a globalized metropolis on critical life support. Even from his relatively distant office, he could make out the wailing sirens coming from various parts of the city and the ambiance that has become commonplace since their transfer. While there were indeed credible risks in dealing with the hegemonic Parpaldians, they also offered equally credible opportunities for them as an industrial power with a sizable population that was willing to establish commerce with them. They may be the sustainable solution to their still-continuing economic woes. ¡°Gods... This better work.¡± Cent. Calendar 15/07/1639, north of Jin-Hark, 9:00 With the month of Sivsly, the seventh lunar cycle on the solar Imperial Central Calendar, halfway past, the summer heat felt as if it was at its climax. Even at 9 in the morning, the blazing heat coming from the oblique-angled sun was already intense, made worse by the little cloud cover that existed. Sailors made for cover under the shadows of their ship¡¯s rigging and masts as they lay anchored along the ever-busy harbor of Jin-Hark. The spectacle of the arid, desert-like landscape and palette of the Lourian territory was slightly distorted by the hot air radiating out of the solid ground, exacerbating the searing, scorching sensation felt by everyone. ¡°Why the hell are we even here...¡± ¡°We were supposed to wait for a ship or something. I don¡¯t know...¡± Two Parpaldian navy sailors were chatting away with one another as they washed the wooden decks of their ship, the ironclad Ludaine. Disgruntled with their posts, they silently groaned as they tried to sweep the deck with their mops, desperate to get the surfaces clean before the washing agents evaporated in the intense Rodenian heat. ¡°Ah, now I remember! We¡¯re here to escort the delegation of that new nation... Japan, was it? Whatever. I don¡¯t really get why the government is going all out for a newcomer like them.¡± ¡°Right? But hey, at least we are getting paid for this... shit. Although, honestly, I don¡¯t really see why they¡¯d give a fuck over some nation that¡¯s likely another barbarian outfit.¡± The two swung their heads, looking for signs of their superiors coming to check on them and sending them to sanitary ops below deck as punishment for their ¡°anti-government sentiments.¡± ¡°Hmph. Imagine my surprise when I heard we were going to be sent to Rodenius to come to escort a delegation from a peripheral nation... Hah! They¡¯re sending one of the navy¡¯s flashiest new ships to escort a barbarian delegation?!¡± They couldn¡¯t contain their laughter, even as they toiled away on the decks. ¡°Look at this beast of a warship! A hull built completely out of quality steel... Even though it still has sails, the propulsion is now more dependent on a mana gem-powered engine... Above all of that, it is indigenously built!¡± One of them exclaimed with gleaming pride, an extension of their high self-regard by being a sailor of the dignified imperial navy. In spite of his remarks on the Ludaine being indigenously built, the technologies behind most of the ship¡¯s construction were either imported from Mu or the Holy Mirishial Empire, or partially bestowed by the latter in their bid to strengthen ties with Parpaldia. This included the technologies behind the construction of better quality steel, the mana circuitry that allows for the operation of the engine, and better fire control methodologies for their new guns. This was not to discount the effort of Parpaldian shipbuilders and home-based industrial prowess, however, as these were mostly supplements to knowledge that the Parpaldians independently came up with; a product of their countless mistakes and indomitable perseverance. ¡°I still get goosebumps from being on this kinda ship! Those barbarian wooden-hulled ones are but ants to this beauty of Parpaldian power!¡± The two felt a sense of national pride ebbing from their hearts, which subconsciously drove their bodies to pour more effort into scrubbing the deck. As they continued with their mundane task, they caught a glance of their fellow sailors running across the deck towards the starboard side, where they amassed into a crowd. They looked at one another with curious expressions. ¡°What do you think¡¯s happening?¡± ¡°Let¡¯s go check it out!¡± Just as they were about to ditch their sanitary tools, the low, loud sound of a blaring foghorn reached their eardrums. HONK!!! The blast of modulated air vibrations left an indescribable impression on those who heard it, including the two Parpaldian sailors, who now hurriedly joined their comrades in looking for the source. Standing on the edge of the Ludaine¡¯s taffrails, they looked out across the ocean to their right, which was populated by numerous sail vessels from peripheral nations. In the midst of them, all was a small caravel that was hurriedly changing direction to avoid collision with an extremely conspicuous white vessel. The Parpaldian sailors examined it, the more they were baffled. ¡°Is that... a ship?!¡± Narrowly avoiding collision with the caravel, the white vessel was, in turn, turning starboard, unintentionally showing to the Parpaldian onlookers how long it actually was. Unlike the Ludaine, the white vessel was completely devoid of sails and instead had a single funnel painted sea blue that was spitting out near-transparent smoke in comparison to the heavy black smoke produced by the Ludaine¡¯s two funnels. Despite this, it was moving at a speed that bafflingly challenged theirs. At first glance, the white vessel didn¡¯t seem to have armaments, but eagle-eyed individuals recognized small turrets on the ship¡¯s forecastle, which seemed to be armed with minuscule guns. As the vessel turned ever slightly to starboard, the sailors were able to catch sight of a text scribbled across its side just above the waterline, written in a script that was alien to them. ¡°Who are these people?!¡± The sailors were chatting amongst themselves regarding the nationality of the peculiar, somewhat futuristic vessel that had appeared. Then, they heard the familiar yell of their captain coming from behind them. ¡°Alright, lads, back to your stations! It appears that the Japanese delegation has arrived!¡± The sailors all simultaneously turned their heads towards their captains, their eyes almost popping out of their sockets as their lips mouthed a silent ¡°whaaaat???¡± ¡°Those are the ones we¡¯ve been waiting for? What in the¨C?!¡± ¡°Are we really dealing with a peripheral, barbarian nation?!¡± ¡°I feel like we¡¯re being tricked!¡± Most of the sailors found it excruciatingly difficult to wrap their heads around the situation. Returning to their posts just as they were ordered to, they continued to try and make sense of what was happening, subconsciously in denial of what they witnessed. In spite of their lingering disbelief, they went on to execute their duties as sailors of the imperial navy. Having arrived outside the harbor of Jin-Hark, the Shikishima patrol vessel of the Japan Coast Guard, ferrying the Japanese delegation to Parpaldia, began communicating with the Ludaine to commence the long journey north towards the imperial capital, Esthirant. Chapter 19.5: Darkening Skies Cent. Calendar 01/07/1639, Royal Castle, Le Brias, Altaras, 14:20 Escorted by a squad of the elite Altaras Guard Corps, the Japanese delegation, led by diplomat Fujinuma, arrived at the throne room of the Altaran royal castle. Walking on the lavishly decorated, shining marble floor, the Japanese suits made their way down the long hall, lined on both sides with towering glass windows from which the blistering afternoon sunlight flooded in. Looking up, they found the hall¡¯s ceiling painted in pitch black, which was then dotted all over by shining gemstones of elegant purples and flashing greens. The awestruck diplomats could only stare with obvious admiration, resisting the urge to pull out their smartphones to take pictures, to at least maintain their professional outlook. At the helm of the delegation, Fujinuma walked in front, following the backs of the green uniformed guardsmen marching in frighteningly sharp discipline. Beyond the towering headgear of the palace guards, she caught sight of the scene at the end of the throne room. There, beneath a massive hanging banner of the Altaran coat of arms, were two massive thrones of glittering gold. The one to the right was empty, but the one to the left was occupied by a man dressed in a silver-white uniform underneath a cloak of flashy red. The proud expression he wore on his face juxtaposed with his graying hair and beard, his wrinkly fingers decorated with rings of what looked to be solid gold. Arriving at the foot of the steps that led up to the thrones, the guards parted their formation, coming to a stop at both flanks of the hall and letting the Japanese diplomats move forward. Making eye contact with the old man sitting on the throne, Fujinuma then bowed deeply, followed by the others. ¡°Our sincerest thanks for hosting us, your highness.¡± The man¡¯s lips slightly curved upwards, reflecting his impression of the diplomats¡¯ respect to him, for he was none other than King Taara XIV, the ruling monarch of the kingdom of Altaras. Taara raised his hands in acceptance of the diplomats¡¯ gratitude. ¡°Naturally, for I and the kingdom only want what¡¯s best for all! My heart is touched by your kind response to our hospitality. Now, to whom am I speaking to?¡± Rising from her bow, Fujinuma promptly introduced herself. ¡°I am Fujinuma, your highness. We came here to represent the nation of Japan.¡± Taara¡¯s eyes widened at her statement, which piqued his interest. Leaning in forward, the king gave his maximum attention to the diplomats. ¡°Japan?! My, my. You are the nation I¡¯ve been dying to meet!¡± The king¡¯s slightly wrinkled face brightened up with a smile as he clapped his hands. ¡°You have been the talk of the merchants, who¡¯ve been telling tales of either mighty grandeur, economic revolution, or regional instability when mentioning your country! Such controversial topics are only but warranted from those that wiped out the Lourian dynasty in a flash!¡± Fujinuma and the diplomats started sweating, their eyes darting from place to place as they swallowed their saliva. They all had varying opinions on Operation Zanzibar, but they were unanimous in dreading the effects their operation had on the region. For the Altaran king to be aware of this, they feared that his perception and impression of Japan had already been warped beyond salvation. Fujinuma opened her mouth to attempt to correct the king, but... ¡°Brilliant! Hahaha! I was about to put your nation on our list of enemies for stealing away the trade we enjoyed from our Rodenian and Philadean partners. Mind you, we lost warehouse¡¯s worth of coins from them, reducing the traffic that comes here! But now, I¡¯m willing to forget that!¡± Standing up from his throne, Taara clapped fervently for the Japanese diplomats, his smile as genuine as the authenticity of the gold rings on his fingers. ¡°You folks blew away Parpaldian designs on cross-strait hegemony back decades, and now I feel like we could breathe again!¡± The Japanese diplomats tried their best to uphold beaming faces of their own, but deep down they lamented their government¡¯s prior decisions. They still fear that the strike in Jin-Hark has set unrealistic expectations from other nations, which Japan, a nation of peace, now has to struggle to maintain in order to safeguard its interests. Fujinuma looked back at the king, maintaining her fabricated smile. ¡°We are... humbled by your praises, your highness! But as the visitors to your magnificent domain, I think it is only right that we are the ones to offer something instead!¡± Nodding to her companions, they swiftly unpacked the diplomatic gifts they had brought. After realizing what Fujinuma meant, Taara turned to his guards and ordered a table to be brought. After they carried in a table from another room, they placed it in front of the Japanese delegation. The king then turned to his right, where three girls in innocent cyan dresses stood. ¡°Semira, Alila, Lumies!¡± Hearing their individual names being called, the three Altaran princesses then set out to join their father at the bottom of the steps to receive the diplomatic gifts. With no male heir, the succession to Taara XIV lay with the eldest of the sisters, the 27-year old Semira. However, fearing a Parpaldian invasion in their lifetimes, it is tradition for those in the line of succession to undergo education in economics and politics, as well as to receive military training, learning how to command and fight. Due to that, the younger princesses, Alila and Lumies, are also capable of statesmanship and military command. While this tradition isn¡¯t free of faults, with the numerous occurrences of conflicts, with and without arms, between royal siblings in the past, it has nonetheless produced ruthless kings and queens that kept the Parpaldian expansionist menace at bay for generations. ¡°Now, let us see what the up and coming power of the region has to offer to us!¡± Taara rubbed his hands in excitement. At Fujinuma¡¯s hand cue, the diplomats laid on the table the gifts they brought. ¡°Hmm.¡± Taara and his daughters examined the first one, which was laid closest to Fujinuma. It was a diamond necklace wrapped around a black bust, which exemplified the shine and beauty of the jewelry. The lace itself seems to be made out of small diamonds, the precision of cuts and the minuscule size of which wowed Taara and his daughters. However, their ogling was limited, for as part of the ruling family of the region¡¯s richest and most powerful countries, a diamond necklace was but a common sight. Moving to the right, the Altaran royals laid their eyes on a peculiar knick-knack. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± It looked like a glass sphere mounted on a glass pedestal, but the mystifying aspect was not its materials but what the glass sphere seemed to contain. ¡°Is that... a world?!¡± The glass sphere contained the greens and blues of what looked like a mini Asherah, but none of the continents and oceans matched any of the maps Taara and his daughters had seen. Looking closely, they realized that the mini world was moving, the landmasses shifting towards the right. Mesmerized by this phenomenon, Taara picked up the glass sphere. ¡°How is it moving?!¡± He examined the pedestal, but it contained neither machinery nor mana circuit. Before he could even be surprised by this, he saw that the mini world inside the glass sphere continued to rotate, even in his hands. ¡°What sorcery!¡± However, before he could question Fujinuma and the others about the mind-boggling phenomenon, his eyes caught sight of something far more interesting. ¡°Oh? What¡¯s this?!¡± Gently putting the glass sphere back on the pedestal, the king moved to the next item to the right. Unlike the glass sphere, it was something he knew all too well; but unlike the diamond necklace, it was something that pulled on his curiosity and desires. ¡°Is this what I think it is?¡± ¡°Yes, your highness. It¡¯s not loaded, so you may examine it as much as you wish.¡± It was a bolt action rifle, a Howa 1500 to be exact. Having already trained with rifles, Taara knew where to put his hands and fingers. Taking it from its case, the first thing that astonished him was its weight. Despite its size, the gun was lighter than he had anticipated, leading him to question the gray-colored materials with which it was made out of. Holding it up, he pushed the stock against his shoulder and looked through the cylindrical object mounted on where the iron sights were supposed to be. ¡°A telescopic sight?! And it has crosshairs inside?!¡± Aiming at one of the gilded pillars next to one of the hall¡¯s towering windows, Taara found himself giddy at the magnified spectacle of the relief details. Holding the gun at arm''s length away, he engrossed himself in its details, taking note at the metallic finishes and quality of the hard yet lightweight material that made up a significant portion of the stock. He compared it with the standard-issue guns they bought from Mu and the Holy Mirishial Empire, and while it was similar in design, it was clearly better than those examples. Oh, if only he could fire it. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Developing an affinity for the rifle, Taara couldn¡¯t bring himself to put it back in its case. Looking back at Fujinuma, he asked a question, the answers to which he could not wait to hear. ¡°I¡¯m guessing that these rifles are for sale?¡± The diplomat looked back at him with a pleasant smile, nodding respectfully at the king. ¡°That can be arranged, your highness, but only if we establish diplomatic relations and agree on trade.¡± ¡°Ah, of course! Where are my manners!¡± Finally putting the rifle back in its case, he clapped his hands in victory. ¡°Let¡¯s go and discuss terms! I am telling you now; you will not want for more with us, for the kingdom does not disappoint!¡± Cent. Calendar 02/07/1639, near the city of Sanders, Gra Valkas-occupied Leifor, 7:50 As the sun loomed just above the tall hills to the east, a slight fog engulfed the flatlands of the great Leiforian plain. Visibility was only partly good, and low-hanging clouds occasionally obscured the light coming from the mid-morning sun. Still, no amount of iffy weather was going to stop the rampage of the Gra Valkan war machine. Atop a lone hill that jutted out from the flatlands were a series of trenches dug along the circumference of the summit, covered from direct observation by the greens and browns of camouflage nets and tents. Soldiers of the Imperial Gra Valkan Army (IGVA) ran along the trenches, MKb4 assault rifles in hand and olive drab helmets on their heads. Coursing through the drab uniforms was a modestly tall man in a trench coat with a notebook in one hand and a pair of binoculars in the other. Walking through the meter deep trench, he occasionally glanced outwards to look at the sight developing in the plains far from the hill. ¡°Myrus!¡± Hearing his name get called out, the man hurried to the source. Emerging out to a relatively wider section of the trench, he looked towards the only person that populated the space, who was also wearing a trench coat. He was positioned on a section of the trench wall that was purposefully higher than the rest, allowing for a greater view of the plains below. ¡°Come!¡± The man beckoned to him with his right hand, as his left was holding a pair of binoculars. ¡°Is it starting?¡± Myrus asked as he hurried to the other man¡¯s side. Putting his elbows on the edge of the trench wall, he looked through his pair of binoculars. ¡°Not yet.¡± ¡°For goodness¡¯s sake, Lassan, you¡¯ve got to stop hyping things up when there¡¯s nothing to be hyped about! I¡¯m already getting the jitters from excitement!¡± Earning another rebuke from Myrus, Lassan snickered, himself suffering from the nerves due to anticipation. Ever since the Gra Valkans started solidifying their gains in the capital of Leiforia after Operation Donnerschlag, their allies to the east, the United Realms and Dominions of Mu, rushed to get eyes and ears into neighboring Leifor, the majority of which still remained independent and resisting. Stunned by the speed and success of the Gra Valkan attack, the Muish wanted to understand more about their military and tactics, which the Gra Valkans had always been reluctant to shed light on. It is then to their surprise and delight that the empire approved their request to observe them in action against the remaining Leiforian conventional forces. Dubbed Doppelschlag, the operation has seen imperial diplomats strong-arming the resisting Leiforian governors of the unconquered regions while the military flew thousands of reconnaissance missions to map out Leiforian bases, supply camps, defense lines, communications nexuses, and so on. The result of the diplomatic maneuvering had some regions surrender without a fight, but there were others that remained adamant against capitulation. One of these was the region of Caden. As Muish military officers themselves, Myrus and Lassan were sent as observers to witness the Gra Valkan assault on the Caden region. Despite having been given an ultimatum to surrender by 08:00, Caden¡¯s governor has so far remained mum, and with the deadline fast approaching, the two Muish officers couldn¡¯t contain their excitement in finally getting to watch the Gra Valkan army in action. ¡°Do you see the city?¡± ¡°Yeah, although it¡¯s a bit foggy.¡± Close to the horizon to the north sat the sprawling city of Sanders, an industrial settlement with over 100,000 inhabitants. As Myrus drew his binoculars downwards from the city, he caught sight of conspicuous trenches, concrete pillboxes, artillery pieces, and some old-fashioned trucks moving to and from these positions. Situated at a distance not far from Sanders, these military positions were part of one of Leifor¡¯s heavily fortified defensive lines, which were originally meant to combat a Muish invasion coming from the east. Examining their strength, Myrus himself started to sweat at the sight of the numerous force multipliers being brought to bear against the incoming Gra Valkan attack. ¡°Oi, oi... That is some serious firepower! Considering our tactics, even our ground forces will not have a good time!¡± Myrus blurted out as he examined a particular pillbox, which housed an anti-tank gun that could knock out their primary tanks in service. ¡°Seems like the same dated equipment to me. And as far as I¡¯m concerned, the Gra Valkans were able to punch through Leiforia with ease. If they were able to do that, then they must have something that can beat even this defensive line.¡± Myrus drew his binoculars further downwards. Closer to their hill was a dense tree line, and behind its thick foliage were the gathering IGVA forces. Examining one of the units, Myrus came across a peculiar-looking armored vehicle; the conspicuous gun and turret led him to the conclusion that it was a tank. Painted in a mottled camouflage scheme, it was modestly wide, although it wasn¡¯t particularly tall. Its suspension was covered by skirts, and its engine deck was slightly taller than the rest of the hull towards the front. The turret was mounted off center, biased towards the front, and its gun was long and of a bigger caliber than Muish tanks. ¡°What a tank! I wonder what its performance is, as the gun alone seems to be capable of long-range engagements. Damn... A far-reaching gun should be a priority for our future armored vehicles, as our current tanks will certainly end up as flaming wrecks against these things!¡± ¡°Definitely... I can already smell the sweet, sweet budget pouring into the army...¡± ¡°Wait, bollocks! What time is it?!¡± Pulling back the trench coat sleeve covering his wristwatch, Myrus looked at the time. ¡°Heavens! The ultimatum is about to expire! Some six seconds!¡± Together, Lassan and Myrus counted down till the expiration. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Zero; it was now 8 o¡¯clock. ¡°There! Ultimatum¡¯s out of the window!¡± Tucking his wristwatch back underneath the sleeve of his trench coat, Myrus returned to his binoculars. Lassan, too, picked his binoculars up from the trench wall. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s see what these Valkies have in¨C¡± Boom! ¡°!!!¡± Around 30 seconds after the deadline, the shockwave from the first explosion finally reached them. Despite being accustomed to explosions as military officers, Myrus and Lassan were still rocked by the blasts. ¡°Already?! How in the world¨C¡± Boom! Boom! Boom! The sound and shockwaves of successive explosions of great power reached them. Picking up their binoculars, they pointed them towards the Leiforian defensive line. To their surprise and horror, humongous clouds of dirt and smoke have already erupted from the earth where the fortified positions used to be. Craters, fires, twisted and burnt scrap metal, and bodies littered the line. Soldiers fortunate to have survived the initial explosions either ran for cover or ran away from the lines. Myrus trained his binoculars at one particular anti-aircraft cannon, which was slowly being aimed by its crew towards the sky. Then, it was obscured by an eruption of fire and soil. After it had settled, the anti-aircraft cannon or its crew was nowhere to be found. Taking his eyes off the binoculars, Myrus adjusted his spectacles as he looked at the wider scene. ¡°By the gods...¡± Explosions continued sprouting up all across the line, replacing concrete structures, trenches, artillery pieces, vehicles, and soldiers with enormous craters. At first, Lassan and Myrus assumed that the Gra Valkans were firing long range artillery from somewhere else, but the accuracy and cleanliness of the strikes made them doubt this. Then, Myrus remembered the scene of the anti-aircraft cannon crew trying to point it up to the sky. ¡°They have planes in the air?!¡± The two officers turned their heads to the cloudy sky, sticking them out of the trench to get a better view. Up above them, they saw several formations of planes flying towards the city of Sanders. Possessing no propellers, only a hot air-spewing exhaust at the rear, the planes proceeded to drop black lumps from their bellies onto the already on-fire defensive line. ¡°Are those... jets?!¡± The sight and design of the fast-moving aircraft evoked Myrus¡¯s memories of Mu¡¯s future fighter programs. In contrast to their piston-engine aircraft currently in service, their prototype planes¡¯ futuristic appearance was born out of design considerations yielded by an experimental technology: jet engines. Taking inspiration from the propeller-less aircraft in service with the Holy Mirishial Empire, the Muish were hoping to develop their own in a bid to one-up the Imperials in their arms race. Now that Myrus and Lassan have witnessed military jet aircraft being employed in a successful action, they felt that they now had more of an impetus to hasten the development of their future air force. ¡°Quick, Lassan! Take some pictures! I will go and jot down notes!¡± ¡°Loud and clear! Gosh, what frightening times, these are! An advanced expansionist is setting up next door... Might as well take clues from how they fight!¡± As Lassan photographed the IGVA jet bombers in action, Myrus started writing down what they witnessed. ¡°Muish jets... Damn you, Valkies... but my thanks, too! I will finally get to see my jets! I can already imagine the faces of the R&D boys back home!¡± Imagining a Muish air force dominated by jets, Myrus couldn¡¯t help but feel excited. Below them, the armored columns of the Imperial Gra Valkas Army sprang into action, engaging enemies on the move and moving to secure positions, further providing Myrus and Lassan clues on the overall concept of maneuver warfare. Cent. Calendar 03/07/1639, Kimotsuki, Kagoshima prefecture, Japan, 17:50 A quiet peninsula basks in the reds and purples of the setting sun, its trees swaying slightly in the weak wind blowing from the east. Waves of moderate height continually batter the long, white sandy beaches, perfect for surfing. This small peninsula jutting out off the southern end of the island of Kyushu was no isolated place, but it was still situated some distance away from the nearest major city. It was sunset, and there were no clouds in sight. There was barely any wind, and the atmospheric conditions were mild. The circumstances were perfect for a rocket launch. Standing tall on the launchpad of the Uchinoura Space Center was a 26m tall Epsilon rocket, its white body glowing red under the rays of the setting sun. The space vehicle stood firm, primed for launch into low Asherah orbit. Underneath it, extensive volumes of water are shot out of pumps, a system designed to reduce damage to the pad and the rocket from the vibrations generated by the launch. The countdown was already nearing zero. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Zero. The earth trembled and shook as great plumes of smoke and dust erupted out of the launchpad. Ever so slightly, the gigantic rocket rose from the ground in a shower of fire and gas. With the now ignited solid fuel boosters propelling it upwards, the rocket zoomed into the darkening skies. Carrying several small imaging satellites that had been scheduled for launch when the transfer happened, the rocket grew smaller and smaller as it continued to fly upwards. Chapter 20: Proclamation Day Cent. Calendar 15/07/1639, Altaras Strait, 14:00 ¡°Ugh, I¡¯m about to get sick...¡± Standing next to the railings of the Shikishima patrol vessel rocking back and forth while traversing the Altaras Strait, diplomat Tanaka Noboru put his hands on his belly as he attempted to reign in his stomach from pushing his lunch back through his throat. Despite having spent the entire day on the ship, he was still unaccustomed to the turbulent tendencies of sea travel. ¡°Want me to get you a bag?¡± Next to him was one of his aides, who unlike Tanaka was unfazed by the rolling and pitching movements of the ship. He looked at his aide¡¯s smug face with disdain, regarding it as a mockery of his suffering. ¡°Nah, I¡¯m good.¡± Eager to change the subject to forget about his unruly gut, he looked out to the sea towards another ship traveling alongside them. ¡°Never thought I¡¯d see an old steamship like that ever again.¡± ¡°You said it. It¡¯s as if we had time traveled, huh?¡± Chugging alongside their vessel was a steamship that resembled one from the late 19th century. It wasn¡¯t a complete steamship yet, as it still had rigged masts from which its sails provided propulsion, but the two funnels at its midship were an indication of its capability to move at its own power. Smashing headlong into the waves, the ship¡¯s black, steel hull looked menacing to them, a frightening appearance that was backed by the cannons jutting out of equally spaced openings in its hull. ¡°They really wanna put us on edge huh? As far as I know, they could close the lids on those so they could tuck away the cannons. But naw, they had to go out of their way to get them out and point them right at us.¡± Tanaka scoffed, his cutting remarks fading away into the foreground of noise created by the billowing waves. Having their cannons out was a gesture of mistrust on the part of the Parpaldians, but they were intelligent enough to at least have some restraint. So far, in their voyage from Jin-Hark to Esthirant, the Parpaldians have been on their best behavior, maintaining a safe distance from the Shikishima and not pulling off dangerous maneuvers. ¡°I think it¡¯s only fair that they do that. They don¡¯t really know us, and with the high chance that they¡¯ve heard of what we did to Louria, they know that we¡¯re not somebody to mess around with.¡± His aide replied to him as he blew his runny nose on a sheet of tissue paper. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s unfair? They have their mistrust on full display, while ours are beyond their sight. What having better tech does to us, I guess?¡± Tanaka remembers their arrangement with the Ministry of Defense. While Foreign Affairs handled the discussions with the Parpaldians on their accommodations and itinerary during the Proclamation Day celebrations, the Ministry of Defense was called upon for the security of the delegation. Due to the numerous reports and accounts from surrounding nations on Parpaldian hostility in general, the Japanese government had long known to keep their eyes wide open for Parpaldian movements. It is for this reason that while on paper, the Japanese government sent the Shikishima, a civilian Coast Guard vessel to ferry the delegation to the imperial capital Esthirant, it was also shadowed by several Maritime Self Defense Force vessels for in the event the situation turns hot. Constantly under the watchful eye of the SDF¡¯s beyond-visual-range protection, the Shikishima traveled without having to even flash its own guns at the Parpaldian escort. Should the Parpaldian ship attack anyway, the Coast Guard vessel could outrun it, slipping out of its armaments¡¯ range before more could be done. In addition, coming with them was an attache of Self Defense Force officers for their personal protection during their excursion in the Parpaldian mainland. ¡°For the sake of their national integrity, I do hope they don¡¯t do that.¡± Tanaka leaned over to the railings, almost on the edge of hurling his half-digested curry overboard. ¡°It¡¯s not like we¡¯ll be able to touch them either... The SDF is just not equipped for a fight with them.¡± His aide replied to him, his eyes marked with hopeless resignation. Due to its laughably small scale and doctrine meant for regional, defense-focused power projection, the Self Defense Forces were ill-prepared to take the fight to Parpaldia. This is unlikely to get better in the near future, as forever lost supply chains and an economy barely on life support meant that Japan¡¯s weapons, especially the more sophisticated ones, are at a premium and, as of the moment, irreplaceable. A defense of the islands was still definitely possible, but there was little hope for the Japanese in getting a gargantuan continental power like Parpaldia, whose army and navy likely number in the millions of personnel, to heel. The government, while still distrustful of Parpaldia, knows this, and has thus prepared a plan of appeasement, so long as they don¡¯t directly cross Japanese interests or violate Japanese sovereignty. This also plays into the plan of using Parpaldia to help get the economy back on track, making use of Parpaldia¡¯s opportune domestic markets and developed industrial base (at least in comparison with the rest of the region). Having heard of this course of action, Tanaka and some of the diplomats felt that they were making a deal with the devil¨Can act that would eventually bite them back in the ass. ¡°Have we really got no choice but to appease these bastards?¡± ¡°As long as they don¡¯t fuck with us directly, but that¡¯s, unfortunately, the case...¡± Tanaka was more likely to throw up now, pushed to the brink by his gross disagreement with his superiors¡¯ choices. ¡°It¡¯s too much to hope that they¡¯re not gonna do anything funny. I mean, look at what they were doing in Louria.¡± ¡°Yeah. Unfortunately, we¡¯re running out of time, money, and patience. I don¡¯t agree with the shitheads back in the Diet, but I agree that we have little choice. Parpaldia¡¯s got the cash, production capabilities, and workers.¡± ¡°Hic!¡± At long last, the gates where the foodstuffs disappear into, give way, letting loose their acidic, half-digested contents back into the world in an unwelcome fashion. Hearing Tanaka hurl, his aide reached out to him with a set of tissue paper. ¡°Thanks...¡± Wiping the residue from his mouth, Tanaka proceeded to return to his upright position. ¡°I... sometimes hate how capitalism and globalization did this to us.¡± The two men continued to look at the Parpaldian warship Ludaine, noting the small sprites of men running about and proceeding with their duties to keep the vessel steaming. It was already well past noon, almost six hours since they left the harbor of Jin-Hark, and yet it felt as if they were yet to leave the vicinity of the Rodenius continent. Having just thrown up his lunch, Tanaka¡¯s impatience started to fill the gaps left behind in his gut. ¡°Jeez, we¡¯re sailing at their speed since they¡¯re the slower vessel, right? How long did they say it was going to take us to get to Esthirant?¡± ¡°A bit more than three days.¡± ¡°Three days?!¡± As a person that was easily susceptible to seasickness, Tanaka lamented the length of the journey ahead of them. Watching the Ludaine rocking back and forth along the moderately high waves, he felt as if he was going to puke once more. Cent. Calendar 18/07/1639, Esthirant, Parpaldian Empire, 8:55 ¡°Finally...¡± Following an exasperated sigh, Tanaka emerged from the Shikishima. Holding onto the railings, he was greeted by the sight of a much calmer ocean, and then the sounds of seagulls squawking about as they circled above. Some distance away from their ship was the port side of the steamship Ludaine, its sails tied away as it steamed steadily along on its own power. Beyond it were vessels of different sizes, hull materials, propulsion, and flags flown, populating the crowded ocean on this unusually chilly morning. ¡°So this is the imperial capital...¡± ¡°Seems so.¡± His aide appeared next to his side, holding a mug of brewed coffee that was still warm from the coffee machine. Looking to their right towards the bow of their ship, they saw the towering hills of the southern Philadean coastline some kilometers out, kept at bay from reaching the heavens by a timid layer of clouds. Just below these were the countless buildings sprawling from the coast all the way to the feet of the hills¨Cthe majestic capital of the Parpaldian Empire, Esthirant. They were mostly colored in browns, reds, and grayish yellows, but the gloomy weather made the skyline feel drab. Apart from the countless smokestacks that populated the sprawling city like weeds, belching columns upon columns of thick, black smoke into the skies, there was a particular landmark that stood out from the rest. Looming above the already tall metropolitan buildings of the city was a tower with a spire on top. One of its faces looked directly towards Tanaka¡¯s direction, and staring back at him was the yellow glowing disc of a clock face. ¡°That clock tower reminds me of Big Ben...¡± ¡°This one is taller though...¡± They watched as the familiar, pointed hands of the clock tick into a position that made them perpendicular to each other, after which a deep sound echoed throughout the massive city, followed by another. Bong... Bong... Bong... The dreadful image of the regional power¡¯s primary power base, coupled with the deep sounds of the echoing bell chime, sent shivers down the spines of the Japanese delegation. Esthirant was by no means a comparison to any of the great cities back on Earth, but it was still the capital of one of the region¡¯s most influential economic and military powers. Topping it all off was the concern that Parpaldia could be an openly hostile nation. ¡°I really hate being the representative... At least it doesn¡¯t mean that I¡¯ll get assigned here.¡± Tanaka laughed nervously, hoping he hadn¡¯t jinxed himself. ¡°Jin-Hark was a shithole, but I¡¯d argue Tokyo¡¯s the shittiest of them all. I don¡¯t wanna go back to rations, curfews, and hot nights because they don¡¯t allow air conditioning.¡± The image of the impressive Tokyo skyline concealing the erupting chaos in the streets and the starving citizens in the parks appeared in their minds. Despite the easing of some of the near authoritarian constraints on their lives brought about by increasing trade, Tokyo remains heavily policed. The volume of trade Japan has with Fenn, Gahara, Quila, Qua-Toyne, Louria, and other periphery nations is just too small to make much of a difference. One hope for a better future was trade with industrial Parpaldia, an option that was extremely unpalatable for the government to consider, as the expansionist empire was said to have no quells with performing actions that would have been considered crimes against humanity back on Earth. To Tanaka, it still feels extremely ironic that to restore their peaceful state, they must become friends with a genocidal warmonger. ¡°Could things get any more ironic?¡± He shouted out his rants across the great expanse of ocean, knowing that his Japanese won¡¯t be picked up by the Asherans in the ships next to theirs. With his aide nonchalantly sipping his brewed coffee and Tanaka on the verge of getting seasick, a piercing, electronic sound hounded their ears, followed by a voice. ¡°Kachak!¨CSir Tanaka? Please proceed to the hangar at once. I repeat¨C¡± ¡°Ah. I guess we¡¯re going now.¡± Picking up his sluggish, still sleepy body, Tanaka languidly set out back into the ship, followed by his aide. - - - ¡°The Empire¡¯s Daily! Get your copy of the Empire¡¯s Daily!¡± A boy in ragtag clothes smeared with rainwater and dirt all over screamed to the top of his lungs as he waved a roll of a freshly printed newspaper as high as his stubby arms could reach. ¡°You¡¯ll want to see the headlines! ¡°Emerging Nation Joining Awaited Proclamation Day Celebrations¡±!¡± His shouts fell on deaf ears, yet nevertheless, he persevered. A slight drizzle was settling in again, wetting the cobblestone avenues of downtown metropolitan Esthirant. The shouts of the newspaper boy were drowned by the countless footsteps of hardened soles from passersby, mostly middle-class Parpaldians under their chic, Muish-imported umbrellas and locally manufactured wool coats. As these people populated the narrow sidewalks next to the towering buildings fashioned with all sorts of business signs, lines upon lines of black horse-drawn carriages ran along the wet streets. ¡°Come on, get your copy of the¨C¡± Out of nowhere, the boy started to hear a noise persist in the background of the sounds of the busy city avenue. It was a soft sound that was like that of an industrial engine, the noise of which was made by the constant revolution of an object. Before long, it got louder and clearer, but the more it did, the more the boy did not recognize it. It did sound like an engine, but it sounded more refined and smooth. ¡°What in the world...¡± Ceasing his newspaper distribution duties, he started looking around for the source of the noise which was rapidly increasing in volume. It wasn¡¯t long before the adults took notice, stopping amid their mid-morning commute to look around for the source of the unsettling flapping noise. Soon, even the ear-piercing whistles of constables were drowned out. ¡°What the hell is that noise?!¡± ¡°Where¡¯s it coming from?!¡± Then, the flapping noise reached its peak. Above them, a large, white object painted with blues, reds, and blacks in places graced the skies. ¡°What¡¯s that?!¡± Taken aback by the sudden appearance of an object they could not describe, panic and fear started to seep into the hearts of passersby. The object had elongated objects moving in a circular motion above it, which appears to be what¡¯s producing the flapping sound. ¡°Wait! Are those Imperial Guards?!¡± Flying on either side of the alien flying object were something that the Parpaldians recognized: the brown-scaled flying reptiles that were their military¡¯s wyvern lords. The long banner of gold flying above a pole fastened to the rear of the dragon knights¡¯ saddles indicated that they belonged to the air unit of the Imperial Guards, the elite force assigned to the protection of the Emperor. The span of their fully unfurled wings seemingly dwarfed the white object that they flew next to. Since these elite dragon flyers were not assailing the alien white object, many of the passersby consequently regarded it as a vehicle carrying dignitaries for the upcoming Proclamation Day celebrations. ¡°What the hell is that thing?! I¡¯ve never seen anything like it!¡± ¡°Since it¡¯s being escorted by the imperial guards, maybe they¡¯re a delegation!¡± ¡°But I don¡¯t recall the Imperials or Muish possessing such a weird aircraft...¡± Forgetting their daily commute, the awestruck passersby started conversing about the nationality of the delegations that had brought such a fascinating vehicle. With the white aircraft and its wyvern lord escorts disappearing behind the soaring buildings, the people were about to resume their lives when... Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. ¡°Breaking! Breaking! ¡°Emerging Nation Joining Awaited Proclamation Day Celebrations¡±! ¡°Newcomer Behind Perplexing Jin-Hark Attack Invited¡±! Find out more by getting your copy of the Empire¡¯s Daily!¡± The boy resumed his newspaper distribution attempts, shouting to the best that his lungs could afford while flailing his newspaper-holding hands high in the air. This time, however, attention descended on him. ¡°Hey! Gimme a copy kid!¡± ¡°Here¡¯s a shilling for your trouble!¡± ¡°Two! One for me and my lady!¡± Curious to learn more about the newcomer nation that was going to appear in the Proclamation Day celebrations, the passersby quickly gathered around the newspaper boy trying to procure their own copies. Cent. Calendar 19/07/1639, Ball Palace, 18:00 ¡°Uh. Tanaka-san... Your bowtie needs to be fastened...¡± ¡°Ah, shit. Thanks.¡± As pointed out by his aide, Tanaka tightened the glossy black bowtie fastened below his neck, adjusting it as discreetly as he could. ¡°How does it look?¡± ¡°Better.¡± Even though he had fixed his bowtie, he was still a bit anxious, unsure if he had looked over a wardrobe malfunction that could turn into a diplomatic embarrassment waiting to happen. Sweat greased his palms and the wrinkles in between his fingers. A surge of cold air seeped its way through the slim openings in his suit, but whether or not they were from his nervousness or the ballroom¡¯s air conditioning, he could only guess. Tanaka and several other diplomats, forming the Japanese delegation, stood together at one side of the glorious ballroom they were in. Enormous glass chandeliers hung from the ceiling, the incandescent bulbs mounted on them giving the already golden-colored walls of the grand hall a heavy tint of yellow. Tall windows spanning from just above the ground to several meters up to before the ceiling reveal the somber darkness of twilight outside. ¡°If only we came here with people we knew...¡± ¡°Let¡¯s hope we¡¯ll get out of here with more friends than when we came.¡± Tanaka and his aide shared their common anxieties about the ball that was about to take place. The grand ballroom was filled with men, women, and children wearing extravagant clothing and decorations that echo the nobility and aristocracy of the upper echelons of society in either Paris or Vienna. They carried with them an undeniable air of preeminence, whether in their confident presentation to each other or in the way they held their sparkling, champagne glasses. Despite being born from wealthy Japanese families themselves, Tanaka and the rest of the delegation couldn¡¯t help but feel incredibly small in comparison to the chic and grandeur of the Parpaldian nobility. Just as Tanaka was going through a video titled ¡°Fancy Etiquettes and Manners for Dummies¡± he watched beforehand in his mind, the echoes of blaring trumpets reached his eardrums. ¡°It¡¯s starting!¡± Looking far to their right, upon the elevated platform at the end of a grand staircase, were two imperial guardsmen, wearing their notable crimson uniforms and tall headgear, holding up shining brass trumpets. Their cheeks were flushed with red as they blew forcefully into windpipe instruments. After executing their entrance symphony, the guardsmen set aside their trumpets and one of them spoke up with a well-projected voice. ¡°Presenting His Majesty, Ludius, Emperor of Parpaldia!!!¡± The guardsmen quickly turned to face away from the crowd and saluted towards a yet unseen Ludius. Hot on the heels of other guardsmen all along the grand staircase blaring their trumpets in hair-raising harmony, the man of the hour, the Emperor of Parpaldia, emerged onto the top of the steps. A relatively young man in his late 30s, Ludius¡¯s smiling face and pompous image were made all the more shimmering by the white ceremonial uniform he wore. With a crimson slash running diagonally through his person, the Parpaldian emperor waved his gloved right hand high in the air, his left arm preoccupied with the hold of the much more extravagant figure of a woman standing to his left. Wearing a ball gown of interwoven white and gold threads, which glittered immensely in the warm light of the ballroom, Empress Ilyana, wife to Ludius and the mother of their daughter, projected a smile that dazzled as much as the crystal glasses of the chandeliers above. ¡°Remind me that we¡¯re not back in England...¡± ¡°I¡¯m almost tempted to believe we are...¡± Awed beyond comprehension were Tanaka and his aide, so much so that they could only imagine that they were back on Earth in the company of its most well-known royal family. After the trumpeters had blown their last note and the echoes of it dissipating into the spacious ballroom, the emperor opened his mouth, and out came a surprisingly well-projected voice. ¡°Proud citizens of the empire! Esteemed guests from faraway lands! Allow me to bestow upon all of you me and my dear Ilyana¡¯s gratitude for coming to celebrate one of the grandest celebrations around: the anniversary of the proclamation of the Parpaldian Empire!¡± A healthy applause from the countless pairs of palms present filled the ballroom. Despite not knowing that it was the custom, the Japanese delegation joined in. ¡°I tell you: I cannot help but be here with a joyous heart, seeing the amount of citizens and dignitaries from all across that had come to join in honoring the glorious history of Parpaldia!¡± Hearing this, Tanaka inwardly scoffed, mildly disgusted by Ludius¡¯s comments. Ah, yes. The honorable history of conquest and expansion, I presume. ¡°Our founding emperor was said to have remarked, ¡°the legacy of Parpaldia lies not with its towering cities, magnificent monuments, nor exhilarating conquests, but instead with the indomitable spirit with which its people continue to strive for glory¡±. In the spirit of these words, we the people of Parpaldia will not yield to regress brought upon by both natural things such as time, and by those who attempt to usurp and undermine our claim to glory!¡± The loudest of claps emanated from the Parpaldian nobility and officials present, while foreign dignitaries such as the Japanese delegation clapped with less vigor. ¡°Proclamation Day is not only to celebrate the legacy of Parpaldian preeminence, but also its illustrious future!¡± Lowering his raised arms, Ludius was opting to end his remarks. ¡°Celebrate away! This ball is dedicated to the joy felt by our citizens in the wake of the empire¡¯s proclamation hundreds of years ago! Eat, dance, go! Be merry!¡± Immediately after, musicians off to one corner of the ballroom began playing a track of music, encouraging a mood that gets those inside to dance. The exciting piece played on 3/4 time served as the backdrop to a ballroom that was rapidly getting livelier, with gentlemen starting to invite ladies to dance in the middle of the floor. Not long after, a steadily increasing number of pairs took to liquid movements all across the room as they stepped and swayed and twirled to the symphony of violins. ¡°Wanna dance?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure they tolerate same-sex partners yet...¡± ¡°That was a joke...¡± ¡°What?¡± Wishfully ignoring the awkwardness brought about by his joke, Tanaka looked at the scene unfolding before him with a mix of anxiety and wonder. Having never been to such a high society ball before, his expectations of them come from a variety of manga, anime, fanfiction, and visual novels of fantasy or medieval setting love stories and isekai works. Just like those works of fiction, he knew that the ball had an engaging backdrop to it, and the one that he was in was no exception. Japan¡¯s relationship with Parpaldia and how it would turn out rests on how they interact with one another in this critical time. Being the top representative and entrusted with the burden of responsibility, Tanaka can¡¯t help but be anxious. Eyeing the opulent appearance and disposition of Emperor Ludius as he descended the carpeted staircase, his line of sight landed on an equally conspicuous figure that was walking towards his majesty. Clad in a long coat of shining silver with dark blue stripes running the length of his coattails, the man had flowing locks of gold, kept in place by his exceptionally pointy ears. Tanaka already had an idea for the identity of this man, and they were further reinforced when Ludius interacted with him through a simple, firm handshake. If anything, it was the emperor who appeared to be bowing slightly. ¡°Probably a representative of the Holy Mirishial Empire, Asherah¡¯s top dog.¡± His aide, also examining the interaction, whispered to him. ¡°Let¡¯s stick to the semi-official term ¡°Imperial¡± when addressing them. Although by geographic definition, we¡¯re considered ¡°of the peripheral¡± or simply ¡°barbarians¡±, I doubt that they¡¯d give us the time of the day.¡± Just as Tanaka wracked his head for ideas on how to approach them, he felt the undeniable presence of a person standing next to him, coupled with the sensation of a condescending stare bearing down on his person. Turning to face this presence, he almost couldn¡¯t contain his shock at the identity of the person with which he stood eye to eye. The man standing before him was none other than his majesty, Ludius, himself. In comparison to his image from afar, he was much more human-looking up close. The tufts of facial hair jutting out of his handsomely modest jawline, the amazingly detailed threads of his well-prepared white uniform, the sparkle of curiosity emanating from the recesses of his large pupils. Tanaka made efforts to straighten his back as best as he could, but the Parpaldian emperor was simply taller than him by almost half a ruler. After a moment of ogling at the lifelikeness of the emperor, Tanaka proceeded to bow at a depth that translated to a level of respect that was worthy of Ludius. The rest of the Japanese delegation followed suit. ¡°O dignified Emperor of Parpaldia! I, Tanaka Noboru of the state of Japan, greet you in good health!¡± In his most respectable choice of words, Tanaka greeted the emperor. ¡°Greetings. Your manners, way of speech, and how you present yourself are befitting of someone who knows how to respect a fellow great power.¡± So far so good, thought Tanaka. At the very least, they were able to project a good first impression on the Parpaldian leadership. ¡°At long last, our two nations finally get to meet. Who would have known that a nation as powerful as yours lies but an arm¡¯s length from us? We admire your... handiwork¨Cin Jin-Hark. It was quite the breathtaker.¡± Ludius projected a smile on his face, although Tanaka was not sure whether or not he was genuinely complimenting their ¡°handiwork¡±. Although he knew the official government statement regarding what happened there, Tanaka felt it appropriate that he worded it in a way that he thinks would benefit them in the long run, even though the meaning may be completely different. ¡°We were simply safeguarding our nation¡¯s security and interests, which the Lourians were happy to disregard. What happened to them were merely the consequences of their actions, which we believe they thought they could ignore. Regrettable, isn¡¯t it? Thinking that one could get away with their actions without having to face their consequences?¡± Putting on a grin, Tanaka was more than satisfied with what he said, which came off as a warning packaged as a life lesson. While his companions cringed at what he said, glancing at him with impatient glares at what he said, Ludius did not shy away from showing how impressed he was by Tanaka¡¯s nonchalant statement. He still regretted having to face a strong neighbor in their backyard whose sphere of influence is undoubtedly coming to blows with theirs, but he still found it respectable that they were able to talk to him from an equal standing. ¡°A noteworthy lesson for all, I agree.¡± Given that he¡¯s the emperor, there were a lot of foreign dignitaries, local aristocrats, top-hatted industrialists, and military commanders who were gathered around his person. With varying expressions of conceit, respect, surprise, and suspicion, they watched the tense exchange between the smug diplomat of the newcomer nation and the head of the metaphorical dragon that was the empire. In the face of this more or less unwelcome barrage of stares, the Japanese delegation held their ground. ¡°Well, I hope you enjoy the ball; this one is the biggest around and the only one of its kind this far east. I personally recommend the boiled crustacean soup that¡¯s mixed with the finest butter sourced from our possessions up north. It¡¯s a local Esthirant delicacy.¡± Wishing to move on to other dignitaries, Ludius made one last remark to Tanaka, who simply bowed his head slightly in a gesture of acceptance. - - - ¡°Holy shit. His majesty has good taste!¡± Considering Ludius¡¯s suggestion, Tanaka and the rest of the delegation made their way to the grand buffet at one end of the ballroom. A long table filled with exquisite-looking foodstuffs, from the variety of colored fruits imported as far south as the island of Nahanath to the golden roasted pig raised from imperial pig pens in the empire¡¯s northern colonial territories, was prepared for the occasion. As some of the attendees took to the floor to sing and dance, the Japanese, knowing none of the people present, helped themselves to the massive banquet. ¡°Good god, Tanaka-san! At least remember your damned manners!¡± His aides watched in horror as Tanaka, with his bare fingers, grabbed parts of the whole crustacean to put on his plate. It was an etiquette disaster, one that may reinforce the beliefs of Parpaldians who look down on them as barbarians. As if it wasn¡¯t horrifying enough, Tanaka stuffed his mouth full with the butter glazed crustacean, his more-than-fulfilled expression an insult to his aides looking at him with contempt. ¡°My fucking... Wipe that smile and butter off your face, dammit!¡± They hurriedly handed him a piece of clean white cloth. After Tanaka had wiped the bits of seafood and oil off his fingers and mouth, he suddenly felt the presence of another magnanimous person approaching his personal space. Sensing that it was coming from behind him, he subtly fixed his appearance, swallowing the juicy crustacean he was chewing and reverting his smug expression to one of nonchalance before facing this person. ¡°Pardon my intrusion...¡± Turning around to meet eyes with this person, he heard him respectfully say in Asheran common. ¡°Ah, and you are...¡± Standing before him was the dignitary of the Holy Mirishial Empire, whose flowing golden locks and smooth, nearly feminine face, evoked a sense of pure elven supremacy. In stark contrast to the forest-dwelling elves of Qua-Toyne in Rodenius, these elves did not shy away from showing how predominant their civilization is, in which the majestic greens and browns of their old-growth trees are replaced with the domineering skyline of silver spires and imposing grand edifices. Whereas the Qua-Toynian elves worshiped Astarte, the goddess of fertility and good harvest, and thus have built their society around agriculture, the Mirishials were born from the followers of the god Mirish, the deity that signifies power and mana. Tanaka felt his back almost giving way at the sheer intimidation of the Mirishial elf¡¯s projection. Even after he already faced off with the formidable leaders of Qua-Toyne, Louria, Fenn, and even Parpaldia, this Imperial dignitary was on a completely different level. And he¡¯s not even their emperor! ¡°You may call me Revalor, dignified representative of His Highness, Mirishial VIII, to the Parpaldian Empire. Nice to meet you, Sir...?¡± Despite his awe-inspiring appearance, Revalor, ambassador of the empire to Parpaldia, was uncannily humble. Breathing in and puffing his chest out, Tanaka extended his hand in greeting. ¡°Tanaka Noboru of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the country of Japan!¡± The extended hand turned out to be a universally common sign of goodwill, Tanaka learned as Revalor extended his for a handshake. But it was also a universal test of willpower and strength, with the two diplomats inferring from the firmness of the other¡¯s grip how dignified they are. Revalor then started their conversation. ¡°The Parpaldian Proclamation Day celebrations are highly valued in the Third Civilized Region, with many nations scrambling to secure invitations from the imperial court to get on the good side of their great power, lest they get identified as nations of unworthy attention, which usually meant that they were on the Parpaldian hit list.¡± Procuring a glass of white wine from a passing uniformed servant, he continued as he took a sip. ¡°The fighting for the invitation is rigorous, since many in the region are equally susceptible to Parpaldian strong-arming and are wishing to be spared from it. One such exception is Altaras, who the Parpaldians already inherently hate due to their conflicting interest in securing the Altaras Strait, a major trade nexus that connects Philades and Rodenius to our empire and that of Mu¡¯s. So I wager you could imagine my surprise when the imperial court went out of their way to invite a nation from the so-called ¡°uncivilized¡± periphery.¡± The Japanese delegation was well aware of who Revalor was pertaining to, but none of them, not even Tanaka, knew how to adequately respond to the elf¡¯s bright smile. ¡°After some investigation by me and my staff at the embassy, we learned that this ¡°barbarian¡± nation was also the one that leveled the royal castle at Jin-Hark through... suspiciously mysterious means.¡± Hearing this, the Japanese diplomats simultaneously started sweating bullets. The kind smile of the Imperial diplomat now looked like a condescending expression of disagreement with what they did. They have assessed before that the likelihood of the Imperials having interests in Louria was almost nil, but now it feels as if they were wrong. Just as a sweating Tanaka was about to offer roundabout explanations, a gleeful Revalor took his hands and shook them vigorously. ¡°I personally can¡¯t thank you enough!¡± Tanaka and his aides, confused by the unexpected shift in tone, could only look at Revalor with faces that asked ¡°but what for?¡± ¡°To tell you the truth, we have been at a loss at how to reign in the Parpaldians in their moves to secure the strait. By getting Louria to their side, they were aiming to control both sides of the Altaras Strait, and since we have interests in Altaras itself and we don¡¯t want the Parpaldians getting too powerful¨Cto maintain the status quo, if you will¨Cwe were about to resort to... drastic measures. With your intervention in the Louria¨CQua-Toyne conflict, you¡¯ve done the work for us in setting the Parpaldians back.¡± Scratching his head as he forced a smile, Tanaka responded. ¡°You¡¯re... welcome. Although let me remind you that we are only defending our own interests in Rodenius and that we¡¯re not aware of Parpaldian involvement in Louria.¡± That was a lie. Still, it was a lie that Japan could afford to tell in order to present themselves as having merely defended Qua-Toyne, and by extension themselves, from attack. ¡°Ah yes. I am impressed with how you conduct yourself, Sir Tanaka of Japan. However, the empire is currently preoccupied with massive developments in the western side of the world, so I¡¯m afraid that our two countries may not be able to form diplomatic relations in the foreseeable future.¡± Revalor then perused through his shiny, silver robes with his left hand. After some time, he then took his hand out, which was now holding a small white card, which he handed to Tanaka. ¡°This is the contact details and address of the Imperial embassy in Esthirant. In the meantime, while our respective nations are busy with other affairs, you can reach out to us or me personally. When the empire is finally ready to devote resources to cementing a diplomatic relationship with Japan, I will vouch for you.¡± The Japanese diplomats looked at one another. The most powerful country on the Asheran stage had approached them thanks to their operation in Jin-Hark. It was an unforeseen consequence, one which was very welcome. Vexing as it may that they couldn¡¯t form diplomatic and economic ties in the near future due to circumstances beyond their control, they were still content with Revalor¡¯s verbal promise that they eventually will. After receiving his calling card with both hands, Tanaka and Revalor once more shook hands before going their separate ways to enjoy the party. Cent. Calendar 20/07/1639, Imperial Palace, 10:00 After a long night of merriment and exhausting partying, the parties involved dispersed with the anticipation of a long and eventful tomorrow. For Tanaka and the Japanese delegation, this included their first round of talks with Parpaldian diplomats on formalizing their diplomatic and economic relationship. After being transported to the imperial palace by carriage from their hotel, they were then led through its grandiose interior of golden mirrors and velvet purple carpets. They then emerged into a meeting room, the resplendent features of which were no less inferior to the rest of the palace. Greeting them inside were several men in various uniforms, the most classy of which was a man in a crimson red coat and stainless white vest. ¡°Welcome! We¡¯ve gotten to meet, at long last!¡± The man approached the delegation with shining eyes, a well-trimmed beard, and an extended hand, which Tanaka shook in good faith. ¡°I am Kaios, chair of the foreign affairs department that will be handling the Parpaldian side of relations with your nation.¡± Burning the image of Kaios¡¯s face and the sound of his name into memory, Tanaka then introduced himself. With the introductions of everyone out of the way, they then proceeded to the meeting table where they took their respective seats on their designated sides. As the white flag of Japan and the crimson red banner of Parpaldia fluttered gently next to each other before the table, the meeting to discuss the relationship between the two nations was now underway. Chapter 21: Parpaldian Excellence Central Calendar 20/07/1639, Imperial Palace, Esthirant, Parpaldian Empire, 12:30 As the festivities of Proclamation Day were in full swing all across the imperial capital Esthirant, a tense atmosphere hung over one particular meeting room in the imperial palace situated on one of the hills to the city¡¯s north. Here, in the midst of gilded mirrors and shining, golden fixtures were two rows of men with their own unique mindsets and interests facing off against one another in an uneasy yet controlled banter¨Ca process of back and forth better known as a meeting. Despite their mutual interest in constructing a diplomatic relationship between their two countries, they¡¯ve come to realize that there was more than one topic on which they¡¯ve reached an impasse. Unyielding and determined to have their way, both parties remained rigid with many of the things they¡¯ve talked about; ominous signs that the relationship that they were building was about to have multiple plausible points of failure all across the spectrum. ¡°Before we move on for lunch, I¡¯d very much like to revisit one point we¡¯ve touched on before.¡± On one hand were the pish-posh suit and vest-wearing diplomats and officials of the Parpaldian Empire, the established regional power of the Third Civilization Region, which encompassed the majority of the Philades continent and its outlying islands. At their helm was a man named Kaios, department chair of the Parpaldian Third Foreign Affairs Department, whose flashy coat dyed with magnificent imperial red signified that he was not shy of his inclusion in the higher echelons of Esthirant society. ¡°Mmm. Let¡¯s.¡± On the other hand were the diplomats of the country of Japan, whose elegant black suits and matching navy blue ties exuded an impression of highly optimized simplicity. Having undeniably inscribed its name onto the annals of Asheran history in its opening act of geopolitical maneuvering, their growing regional influence meant that it was well on its way to challenge the Parpaldian behemoth on the Philadean stage. Leading their troupe of diplomats was the daring Tanaka Noboru, whose distinguished efforts in Fenn and post-war Louria convinced the bigwigs back in Kasumigaseki that he was the right man to send to Parpaldia, a top-level decision that still irks him to this very moment. Even though the flags of the two nations stood proudly together, both off to one corner and all along the long table they used, they were by no means friends; although if anything, that was the goal that they were working towards. ¡°Regarding the bilateral recognition of the demarcation of our spheres of influence...¡± As the words flowed out of Kaios¡¯s composed lips, the official sitting next to him pulled out a rolled-up map made out of the finest local printed paper. ¡°Oh?¡± An unintentional response from Tanaka, whose unimpressed expression held back the majority of what he could have said. Demarcating spheres of influence? At this kind of meeting? First I¡¯ve heard of it... The Parpaldian official handed the map to an aide standing behind him, who then proceeded to walk towards a moveable board at one end of their long table. After unfurling the map, the aide then attached its corners to the board. The map depicted the southern half of Philades, the Altaras Strait, and Rodenius, along with their outlying islands. Border demarcations were present and so were the names of nations while most geographical features were not, indicating that this was a geopolitical map. There were, however, two colors of note that dominated the colorless map. The first one was lemon yellow, which colored the Parpaldian Empire, the Altaras and Sios islands, Awan, and the rest of the Philadean continent. The other was wine red, which colored Japan, the islands of Fenn and Gahara, and the entirety of Rodenius. As the Japanese side took their time examining the map, the Parpaldians explained their proposal. ¡°What you see is our comprehensive suggestion for how our spheres of influence would look like. As regional powers, we think that it is in our best interest to demarcate our spheres of influence to lessen the risk of unwanted conflicts from our interests overlapping with one another.¡± The Japanese diplomats all had one common expression amongst themselves: confusion. This was the first time that they had to deal with something like this. Moreover, the idea of two nations carving up the entire region for themselves without consulting the locals exuded colonialist, if not imperialist connotations. Even if they were to find it in themselves to accept this proposal, their government will most definitely not. Tanaka was the first to offer his not-so-subtle impressions. ¡°This proposal is untenable. Japan is not in the business of unilateral demarcation of who gets to be ¡®under our boot¡¯. We simply want more trade partners and friends, and in line with our belief of self-determination, we believe that if countries from ¡®your¡¯ sphere of influence want to conduct business with us, they are free to do so.¡± A momentary silence engulfed the room. The row of faces along the Parpaldian side all expressed one feeling: confusion. Terms like ¡°self-determination¡± did not only sound alien, but to those who are more aware of their local political or ideological spheres, they sound somewhat like the more radical voices emanating from pro-independence movements and those fighting for workers¡¯ rights. For such terminologies to come from the appointed representative of the other regional power sounded alarm bells in their minds. Another Japanese diplomat followed up on Tanaka¡¯s remarks. ¡°Also, if we are to believe the legend you went by in this map, then that means that you do not recognize Altaran nor Siosan sovereignty; they¡¯re clearly demarcated as a part of Parpaldian territory. We¡¯ve already established relations with both countries and have come to recognize their independence and sovereignty, hence why we find this proposal disagreeable.¡± ¡°I think it¡¯s best if we come out and say that we would only agree to making an agreement regarding the demarcation of the sovereign territory of only our two nations. Our refusal to agree on the proposal regarding the carving up the Third Civilized Region between our nations is final.¡± The Parpaldians looked at one another with expressions that highlighted their impatient desire to break out into a fit. Even this point had turned into an impasse, and with them putting their foot down there was little point in discussing further, at least for now. Such were diplomatic meetings, after all. Massaging his forehead with his thumb, Kaios replied to the Japanese. ¡°We understand your position and we will be revisiting this topic with your statements in mind. For now, let¡¯s go have lunch, shall we?¡± Famished and with his diplomatic facade on the brink of collapse, Tanaka could not be any more elated to hear these words. ¡°Let¡¯s!¡± - - - In another room separate from where they held their discussions, the imperial palace¡¯s army of maids, servants, chefs, and helpers prepared a sizeable banquet for the Parpaldian and Japanese diplomats, the scope and extravagance of which felt like a smaller version of the one from the ball last night. This room not only sparkled from its mirror-like golden walls and exquisite glass chandeliers, but its cleanliness and spotlessness wowed even the Japanese, making them want to take off their shoes out of sheer respect. There was only a single line that led to the banquet and a single long table which the Parpaldians and the Japanese shared. Having been reminded by his aides the night before and along the hallway before lunch to not make a repeat of his actions the previous night, Tanaka restrained himself and his hunger to uphold his manners. After procuring a plate for himself, filling it up with safe-looking mashed potato, cooked beans, and some asparagus, he then went on his way to take his seat along the table. Positioning himself at one end of his team, who had huddled together, he placed his food-laden plate in between the different sized silverware, unfurled a clean napkin to be placed on his lap, and then clapped his hands to thank the gods for the food that he¡¯s about to receive. ¡°Itadakimasu...¡± As soon as he uttered the last sound, the floodgates holding back his real self, weakened by hunger, collapsed entirely. He picked up what silverware he could get his hands on without even considering their intended usage and dug in. Scooping up a mixture of all the kinds of foods on his plate, he then maneuvered the spoon towards his mouth. Mmm... Food... However, before his mind could even drift into a state of heaven-on-earth delirium at the welcome presence of food in his mouth, his earthly senses forced his consciousness back, their receptors triggered by unwanted stimulation. At first, this came in the form of a violation of his personal space, which he unilaterally considers to be at least a meter all around his person, then it came in the form of the eye-catching red of a coat. The owner of this coat, Kaios, the head Parpaldian diplomatic representative to them as of the moment, had taken his seat directly next to him. He unfurled a clean piece of cloth on his lap without any unnecessary flair before his hands swiftly and efficiently took the relevant pieces of silverware to use for his meal. Tanaka went on to ignore the man¡¯s presence, wanting to mind his own business and not start something unwarranted, but as it turns out this was not what the other party had in mind. ¡°So far enjoying your time in Esthirant, Sir Tanaka?¡± Without even turning his gaze away from the oil-dipped bread he was maneuvering into his mouth, Kaios initiated small talk with Tanaka. Unbeknownst to the latter, the former was trying to get more information regarding Japan, but as a diplomat, it was within reasonable possibility for the latter to consider. Just as he helped himself to another scoop, Tanaka decided to bite. ¡°It definitely has its charms, although I¡¯d rather have a city without all the thick industrial smoke and soot.¡± Kaios swallowed the bread that he had been chewing. Considering everything they knew and witnessed up to that point, it was not out of the ordinary for the Japanese to be aware of the downsides of industrialization. ¡°Hahaha! You¡¯d fit right in with the environmentalists and the aristocrats here. I¡¯m also more of a countryside person myself, but I agree that industry is vital to a nation¡¯s success.¡± As Kaios finished his appetizer, Tanaka pondered on his next words. While he personally disagreed with the capitalist intentions of their diplomatic mission, he couldn¡¯t argue with the fact that their economy was in the gutter. He already knew that this was some sort of unofficial gauge on the Parpaldian part regarding Japan¡¯s national power, but their priority of propping up the economy meant that they needed to be on amicable terms with industrial Parpaldia. If his remarks here could spark some demand and interest on the Parpaldian side, then he would have fulfilled a big part of his mission. ¡°I was born in the city and I lived in the city, yet I never had to deal with the problem of washing myself free of black soot. In all the decades that we¡¯ve been an industrialized nation, we¡¯ve had plenty of developments that make it possible to live within a city and enjoy some semblance of clean air.¡± Hearing this, Kaios glanced his way with raised eyebrows. ¡°¡®Industrialized city¡¯ and ¡®clean air¡¯ in the same sentence? Blasphemy.¡± Finally earning the man¡¯s direct attention, Tanaka got his chance to nip it in the bud. ¡°Don¡¯t believe me? Let me show you.¡± Reaching for his trusty iPhone 12, the last smartphone he may be able to get his hands on for a very long time, he pulled it out of his pocket and moved it over to Kaios. To him, what Tanaka held looked nothing more than a very slim, metallic tablet with a reflective black surface, but he was at least intuitive enough to guess based on the clean finish of the product that it was the outcome of sophisticated manufacturing processes. Before he could even think of another sentence to describe the smartphone, Tanaka turned it on, its empty black surface instantaneously turning into a sea of bright, vivid colors. ¡°What is this thing?¡± Assuming that it was a more advanced, sophisticated model of the tamagotchi toys they seized weeks ago, Kaios can¡¯t help but be flabbergasted at the many implications of the technological marvel the Japanese diplomat held in his hands. Not only did it display a crisp, detailed image of a painting, but the blobs of colors were moving. He knew that there had to be some magic behind this phenomenon, but being unable to reach a conclusion, he was satisfied with ¡°I¡¯m seeing illusions.¡± To his surprise again, when Tanaka¡¯s thumb swiped on the black screen, the image on the display reacted, turning into another image of a dozen or so boxes with different peculiarities and scribbles. The Japanese diplomat touched one of these boxes, causing the image displayed to change once more, outpacing Kaios¡¯s mental capacity to follow and grasp what was happening. Finally, Tanaka stopped his interactions with the metallic slab, showing to him a colorful image of grays, greens, and blues. ¡°This is what Tokyo, our capital, looks like. Well, on a good day, at least...¡± Fitted onto a metal slab that was barely larger than the diplomat¡¯s hand was the image of a sprawling metropolis with buildings completely blanketing every single inch of earth. Off to the distance, towering slender spikes soared above the skyline, their glass windows glistening in the yellow afternoon sun that was not present in the picture. Unsure of whether or not what he was seeing was a real photograph of the Japanese capital, Kaios could only stare in bleak uncertainty. This is who we¡¯re dealing with? Gods, what grievous crime has the empire committed to deserve such absurd trials?! Returning to the topic at hand, he could only comment on the azure skies present above the Japanese capital in the picture while maintaining his diplomatic composure. ¡°Blue and without smoke?! I¡¯m tempted to dismiss this as a farce, Sir Tanaka...¡± ¡°With the right decisions, this could be possible for Esthirant too...¡± Tanaka and Kaios stared at one another with a mutual understanding of where their conversation was headed. Their words carried the weight of the interests of both of their nations, and with enough luck, they can come up with something which both parties find favorable. Kaios replied. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. ¡°That would indeed be nice, but there needs to be a driving force behind these decisions, no?¡± ¡°Which is why in exchange for ideas which you obviously find nice, I think that we should explore deals for raw resources¨Cthe tangible stuff one finds beneath their feet. That should set the motion for more exciting things.¡± ¡°A nation does not merely get off of resource extraction, especially not Parpaldia. Lately, we have been relying more on the import-export relations with the greater world and there exists a lot of foreign investment coming from the Central World.¡± ¡°That¡¯s also something we can agree on.¡± Kaios nodded, internally ecstatic about Japanese willingness for trade. While on the topic, he wanted to make some clarifications that may be sensitive, but they¡¯re very much a valid concern. ¡°And what of the export of more sensitive technologies, like that of certain industrial products and methods, as well as components and parts of military nature...¡± He was dancing around the topic, but this was something within the expectations of Tanaka and to an extent the Japanese government. ¡°Export control is something that has always been present, but now that we have to deal with an array of trade partners with wildly differing levels of ¡®development index¡¯, we¡¯ve recently set up the Committee for Asheran Export Control, which has the authority to dictate what can be exported to a specific country. So far, they¡¯ve only finished outlining the list of allowable exports to a select few nations, mostly those in Rodenius.¡± While the concept of export control isn¡¯t strange, as Parpaldia itself employs export control in its goods, Kaios was more or less disheartened upon hearing a part of the bureaucracy surrounding Japan¡¯s export control. It was to be expected, after all, as even the Imperials and Muish closely monitor exports to them, although Parpaldia has been hard at work getting some of these loosened or lifted altogether. ¡°They¡¯re currently reviewing Parpaldia in anticipation of the commencement of trade between our two countries, so maybe you¡¯ll know by then.¡± ¡°I look forward to that. In the meantime, let¡¯s work hard on sealing the bonds between our two countries.¡± With the two men offering each other reassuring yet uncertain smiles, they were about to return to their meals when Kaios¡¯s eyes caught sight of something that immediately reeled in his attention. ¡°Is that¨C?!¡± He pointed towards Tanaka¡¯s iPhone with eyes that appeared they were about to burst from their sockets. Displayed on the screen was the striking, crystal clear image of a Norwegian Forest breed of cat with its fluffy fur of grays and whites giving emphasis to the ogling eyes facing the screen. Ah, thought Tanaka, as he realized he may have accidentally swiped on his gallery of photos. ¡°Ah¨CUh... My apologies, Sir Kaios. It was just my house cat¨C¡± Kaios stared back at him with determined eyes filled with burning passion. ¡°Nonsense! If we are to become good friends, then you must exhaust every single detail about every single feline in your possession!¡± The Parpaldian head diplomat, a man whose rugged appearance evokes impressions of wisdom and fortitude, declared out loud such things without even a hint of restraint and shame. While he was weirded out, both by the disposition Kaios displayed and by the fact that Asherah also has cats, Tanaka can¡¯t help but chuckle at the back of his mind. Heh. Cat person spotted. As Tanaka pulled up more pictures of his house cat back in Japan, Kaios joined in by showing him folded photographs of his precious Yvonne. Proclamation Square, 15:30 With the hot mid-afternoon sun that was hiding behind the low, thick clouds that hung above the imperial capital occasionally peaked out of its cover, sending divine-like rays down onto the Asheran surface. The air in Esthirant was somewhat humid, with that and the faint, lingering scent of rain serving as a reminder that it hadn¡¯t been long since there was a downpour in the city. While the rest of the metropolis went on business as usual, thousands of Parpaldian citizens and foreign visitors and dignitaries gathered on both sides of a certain boulevard near the southwestern end of the city close to the harbor. This boulevard ran parallel to the coastline, and with buildings being prohibited from being built all along its southern side, there existed many scenic spots all along the sidewalk that offered an undisturbed, panoramic view of the Esthirant harbor. On one particular point along this boulevard was a wide, open public square that extended for around 10,000 square meters. Erected at the center of this square was a great stone obelisk flanked by the life-sized marble statues of two Parpaldian line infantrymen. This monument, dubbed the ¡°Spirit of Parpaldian Excellence¡±, served as a reminder to the rest of the world that this square was where the Parpaldian Empire was proclaimed, thus the square had been known since then as the Proclamation Square. Directly behind this monument was a great palace that served as the site of the Imperial Art Gallery, its imposing facade held up by equally spaced white columns. ¡°Right this way, sirs!¡± A staff member of the Parpaldian Foreign Affairs ministry guided the black suits of the Japanese delegation towards their designated place. Behind the thousands of people that were jostling close to the barriers placed all along the boulevard side of Proclamation Square was an erected wooden platform where important foreign dignitaries sat below the Parpaldian Emperor and his government, who were designated to sit on a special platform that towered above the rest. Arriving at their designated seats in the midst of the other foreign bigwigs present, the Japanese delegation and their service uniform-wearing GSDF attache proceeded to sit down. ¡°This view isn¡¯t that bad.¡± Tanaka remarked as he savored his unobstructed view of the paved boulevard. ¡°Yeah, but I really hate this humidity... I¡¯m already sweating!¡± His aide complained as he wiped off the sweat that had gathered on his collars. ¡°But you¡¯ll like this, right? It¡¯s a military parade! With late 19th century arms and equipment at that!¡± Tanaka tried to cheer him up, but deep down he too was fed up with the intolerable humidity. The full-blown military parade displaying the excellence and discipline of the Parpaldian Army served as the climax of Proclamation Day celebrations. Not only do its citizens get to get a glimpse of the might of the Parpaldian military since they almost never see them in action, given that the bulk of Parpaldia¡¯s military expansion happens thousands of kilometers up north, but the parade also serves as a way of intimidating the rest of its neighboring countries¨Ca taste of the premier strength at Parpaldia¡¯s fingertips. On the other hand, meanwhile, this was also a window for other powers to gauge Parpaldian strength, allowing them to gain an idea of what they were capable of to better plan their moves. While this was indeed the intention in the Proclamation Day celebrations that came before, the Japanese delegation couldn¡¯t help but think that them being invited to see the parade was a subtle message to them about Parpaldia¡¯s militarist tendencies. ¡°This is them flexing at us.¡± Tanaka concluded with confidence. ¡°I think the message was quite clear when they brought a military force to neutral Jin-Hark to invite us.¡± His aide added, to which Tanaka agreed. They then heard the loud sound of a voice coming from several loudspeakers, after which they saw the crowd of people beneath them turning around to face them, their fingers pointing towards something that was behind them. The Japanese delegation turned their faces towards their rear where they saw the imposing figure of Emperor Ludius standing on the elevated platform above them, speaking in front of multiple microphone-looking devices. ¡°Good afternoon to the foreign dignitaries present and to the dear citizens of the empire! It joys my heart to see the masses out for this all-too-important event!¡± Pausing to cough behind his fist, Ludius then continued. ¡°In the spirit of the imperial proclamation that cemented our still burgeoning excellence on this world, I will give the spotlight of the celebrations to our formidable military, whose indomitable thirst for greatness and brilliance is second only to you, my dear citizens! Without the military and without you, the empire would not be where it currently is! Glory to the empire!¡± Raising his right fist as if to punch the air above him, Ludius¡¯s galvanizing words were backed with equally galvanizing actions. Just as expected, the rest of the crowd followed his example, raising their right fists high into the air and shouting after the emperor. ¡°GLORY TO THE EMPIRE!!!¡± Almost immediately after, an army band off to one side began playing a march piece, setting the mood to one of an upbeat, almost festive one. With the military parade having commenced, Tanaka and the rest of the Japanese delegation got comfortable. ¡°You military otaku out there better shut up. I know each and every one of you, you hear?¡± Tanaka left this one last remark to the rest of his delegation, but this was also directed to those amongst the GSDF attache. They stayed mum, silently acknowledging the diplomat¡¯s order as they glued their eyes on the still empty boulevard. After around three minutes filled with the march piece, they started hearing the loud thump-thump of dozens of leather boots stomping against the wet pavement. ¡°They¡¯re here!¡± Emerging behind the tall building on the boulevard corner that was blocking their view were uniformed soldiers marching in unison with one another. Led on by five drummers beating in sync with the marching piece played by the band, a total of 16 crimson-uniformed men formed one line, and their formation consisted of around 25 of these lines. Upon coming into view, every man on each line would turn their face towards the emperor before saluting. From the perspective of one of the members of the Japanese delegation, a closet military otaku, he was already breaking down what information he could derive from the parade. The first unit that came into view was that of light infantry, characteristic of their loose clothing, smaller packed gear carried, and less conspicuous headgear, the coloring of which matched the rest of their crimson uniform. With their right arm raised to salute the emperor, they carried their main weapon on their left side with the left hand supporting the stock and the barrel resting on their left shoulder. The weapon they carried appeared to be that of a bolt-action, breech-loading type, although its trigger appears to be of a different mechanism in that it¡¯s connected to a curious plate engraving near the chamber. Its appearance mirrored that of a mid-to-late 19th century rifle like the Chassepot. The succeeding formations were also light infantry units, although the flag that the flag bearer brandished was different for each formation, likely an indication of the respective units they served in. After the light infantry formations had passed, the next ones that showed up announced their presence with the distinctive clacking of horseshoes on pavement. Arranged into lines of 12 horses, the formation of cavalrymen riding their unadorned horses had most of their decorative points allotted towards the riders themselves, which was made clear in the stylish appearance of their headgear and uniform. The first cavalry units that appeared were part of the lancers, characterized by the steel blade-tipped staves they held, which were decorated with red and gold banners. Also armed with short sabers and pistols, these men functioned as the fast, ground-based shock troops of imperial armies. Following the distinctive posh of the lancers were the shining display of cuirassiers, which also fulfilled the role of shock troops. They¡¯re distinct from their fellow cavalrymen in that they wore shiny steel cuirasses for their body armor, allowing them to tank more damage and get up-close and personal during melee. These knightley men are armed with long sabers and carabines which make for good effect when being employed in shock tactics. After two more formations of heavy cuirassiers and lancers followed another unit that went by horse, but it was already clear that they were not a cavalry unit. Each of the horses in the formation that appeared was dragging a mobile field cannon that appeared to be capable of firing a round of moderate lethality, likely equivalent to a mid to late 19th century 12-pounder. Examining the cannons further, the Japanese diplomat/military otaku found no mechanisms that allowed for breech-loading, which led him to believe that it was a muzzle-loader cannon. Judging from the relative period of the weapons he had seen so far, it might also have been capable of firing a variety of ammunition, including some relatively advanced shell types. Marching alongside their horse-dragged cannons were the cannoneers, which were similarly dressed to the light infantry units in that they wore simplistic clothing with limited decorations. Immediately after the field artillery unit came a unit of horsemen dragging something completely different. Upon further scrutiny, the Japanese were surprised to see that they were wheeled machine gun-like weapons. Equipped with a distinctive trigger at the back and ammunition fed through a belt, the bulky weapon was without a doubt a machine gun, although it has similar machinery-like plate engraving all over its firing mechanism similar to the Chassepot-like rifle from earlier, indicating that it might operate differently from a regular machine gun. Unlike the previous formations, this unit wasn¡¯t fully equipped with this advanced automatic weapon, as some elements were pulling more rudimentary multi-barreled weapons, which appeared to be operated via a manually cranked lever. These were similar in appearance to the mid to late 19th century French mitrailleuse guns, although the Japanese were unsure of how the Parpaldians employed these and the more advanced machine guns in battle. What came next were infantry units, but the importance and prominence of these were more pronounced in their uniforms, which were characterized by tall black caps with decorative gold cap badges and laurels, splendid leather shoulder belts, red vests, and clean white breeches. They carried a heavier pack of provisions and supplies in comparison to the earlier light infantry and their Chassepot-like rifles were armed with long bayonets. Their movements were much sharper, echoing their ironclad discipline, and most of them were around 180cm tall. These units were the cr¨¨me de la cr¨¨me of the Parpaldian ground force, the regular infantry. Forming the anvil or unmoving pillar of the Parpaldian Army, they¡¯re the cornerstone of every major offensive and defensive maneuver. Just behind the regular infantry followed the elite Imperial Guard, which functions as the emperor¡¯s personal bodyguard at home and while on campaign. Characterized by their taller black headgear topped with red and gold tufts, longer coats, white bands on both arms, and ornamented sabers, these elite troops were also consequently given more attention when it comes to arms. Armed primarily with foreign surplus bolt-action rifles of differing origins, these infantry units of the Imperial Guard were likely used as reserve shock troops, providing even greater levels of firepower than their light infantry counterparts when committed. Upon taking a closer look at the construction and make of the rifles that they carried, most of the Japanese military otaku arrived at the conclusion that they resembled the more advanced magazine bolt-action rifles prevalent during the turn of the 20th century, which included the likes of the Arisaka Type 30, the Carcano, the Mosin-Nagant, and other weapons of their contemporary. This realization gave them more confidence that the greater powers beyond their region, such as Mirishial, Mu, Leifor, and so on, were selling arms to Parpaldia, but this also made them think about what factors and advantages the Parpaldians have to warrant economic and military attention from the other powers. Himself an otaku (somewhat) in these sorts of things, Tanaka also couldn¡¯t help but wonder what interests the other powers have in Parpaldia. After all, information like that could help in a likely confrontation with the empire, but it could also prove economically beneficial to Japanese interests. ¡°Hmm...¡± Then, they heard a loud groan emanate from behind the corner of the square. It was too loud to be a human groan, but it also evoked fear and a sense of impending danger in everyone at the square. Contrary to expectations, however, were the louder screams of joy coming from the Parpaldian citizens next to the boulevard. Following the groan were several loud thumps, the sound and shock of which were similar to boulders plummeting off a cliff and hitting the earth beneath. ¡°Look!¡± Emerging from behind the building that was blocking their view of the boulevard was a gigantic turtle beak, and then large tortoise-like limbs stomping onto the hardened pavement below. Revealing itself to the cheering crowd of Parpaldian bystanders and aghast foreign dignitaries was one of Parpaldia¡¯s signature force multipliers, the land dragon. Mounted by a squad of pilots and infantrymen shielded by the thick, rigged scales on the back of the beast''s shell, the land dragon continued its slow, menacing march through the boulevard, its intimidating eyes and sharp beak facing forward. Despite its appearance being closer to that of an armored tortoise, it has been traditionally and erroneously referred to as a dragon due to one thing that it was capable of doing: breathing out a jet of high-temperature flames capable of incinerating flesh and bone. This fact wasn¡¯t lost on the Japanese, as continuing diplomatic and cultural exchanges with several periphery and Philadean nations have given them accounts on the horrifying efficacy of Parpaldian land dragons. While the characteristics of the land dragon¡¯s armored skin and shell and its mobility remain to be seen, the danger of its flamethrower-like attack, whether exaggerated or not, is apparent enough. The imposing figures of the land dragons, all of which were taller than a single-story house, continued in single file, blocking the spectators¡¯ panoramic view of the Esthirant harbor. After ten individuals, several more units of the regular infantry followed, before more cavalry units appeared. ¡°I think we¡¯ve seen what¡¯s there to see...¡± Tanaka¡¯s aide grumbled as he witnessed the 16th infantry battalion he had seen pass by. ¡°Yeah. Still though, those Parpaldians down there have been as lively as when we started. Could this be the ¡®spirit of Parpaldian excellence¡¯?¡± In spite of the shittiness of Tanaka¡¯s joke, some of his companions around him who overheard it giggled under their gloves. Continuing to remain patient for the duration of the military parade, the Japanese delegation savored the experience of getting to witness a mid to late 19th century display of military power. The Mille, 20:00 After the military parade and the festivities that followed had ceased, the Japanese delegation returned to their designated hotel, a five-star hotel complex (by Parpaldian standards) known as The Mille, which was nestled comfortably among the hills to the west of Esthirant. In addition to the long day of meetings, the parade, and gatherings that had them meet Emperor Ludius again, the trip from the city to the hotel via carriage was an extremely long and uncomfortable one. Since their hunger trumped over their fatigue, they collectively decided to head first to the five-star restaurant embedded in the hotel. Utilizing the diplomatic passes given to them by the imperial household, the Japanese delegation was able to order whatever meals they desired. In Tanaka¡¯s case, he wanted to try the white wine-dashed pasta, which was mixed in with shrimp and mussels fished off the rich waters of Sios. After a tuxedo-wearing servant had served him the dish he ordered, he first went to savor the smells emanating from the freshly cooked seafood. The aroma of wine mixed with the sea-like fragrance of the shrimp and mussels tickled the olfactory nerves in Tanaka¡¯s nose. ¡°To think that this is free... Maybe I should be stationed here after all.¡± Reacting to this one-off remark was his aide. ¡°Didn¡¯t you just say that you didn¡¯t want to jinx that?¡± Already armed with a fork and ready to dig in, he ignored his aide¡¯s retort and went for the kill, but then... ¡°My... Excuse me, good gentlemen.¡± Stopping his fork midair and looking up, Tanaka saw a navy blue-colored trench coat-wearing figure standing next to their round table looking at them. The thick mustache on the man¡¯s face obscured his mouth while his fedora did the same for his eyes. Seeing this suspicious-looking individual next to their diplomats, the GSDF attache immediately ran to their table. ¡°Would you mind if I have a word with you?¡± The man took off his fedora, revealing the face of a middle-aged man with big, jade-colored eyes and a snub nose. His hair was well-trimmed and well-groomed with a style that was reminiscent of that of a 1950s American salaryman. However, what earned Tanaka¡¯s attention was the pin on one of the flaps on the man¡¯s trench coat, which depicted a cerulean blue flag, topped with a golden toothed gear imposed on a white rhombus that had four golden ribbons stretching to the four corners. He remembered passing by a major embassy close to Proclamation Square that was flying that same flag. With the GSDF attache having arrived and were now asking the man to leave, Tanaka raised his hand towards them. ¡°Wait.¡± The attache, understanding his command, stopped trying to get the man to leave. He then turned to look at the man. ¡°Identify yourself first and which nation you represent.¡± An impressed expression appeared on the man¡¯s face as he gripped the flaps of his trench coat. ¡°Good eye, Mr. Diplomat. You can call me Mugei, and I represent the United Realms and Dominions of mighty Mu as ambassador to Parpaldia.¡± Hearing this, the Japanese diplomats looked at one another with widened eyes. Another high level diplomat from one of the premier powers of Asherah had approached them. While it was certainly a bit rude that he decided to approach them during their time off, they nonetheless decided to accommodate the man that represented prestigious Mu. ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you, Mugei. May we inquire as to what is the nature of your... unscheduled appointment?¡± Tanaka asked him with a flat expression, enduring the stomach pangs he was experiencing, which was exacerbated by the stimulating smell of his dinner. ¡°Oh, it¡¯s a long story... Let¡¯s begin with your bombing of Castle Louria in Jin-Hark.¡± Ah shit, collectively thought the Japanese diplomats. As the Muish ambassador took his seat at their table, the seeds of a relationship between Japan and Mu were sown. Chapter 22: My Reasons WARNING: Self-harm, mutilation, sexual depictions, upsetting themes. As celebrations wrap up in the imperial capital Esthirant on the last day of Proclamation Day, the citizens of the empire return to their abode for the night. The imperial family was no stranger. Long after the sun had set and establishments vacated, certain machinations in the empire continued to run its course. One of them was not a machine¨Crather a woman¨Cwhose own designs for Parpaldia had taken an exciting turn. The following story will be told in her perspective. Cent. Calendar 20/07/1639, Imperial Palace, Esthirant, Parpaldia, 21:30 The moon¡¯s smile was unfair. High up in the heavens far outside the folly reach and desires of humankind, its bright, unhindered smile relentlessly shined down on us inferiors. We continue to deceive each other, upend what¡¯s been built, and destroy everything that serves to build us up. As such, for as long as mankind continues to practice and embrace its inferiority, it will remain inferior, and the moon will also continue to mock us with its perpetual grin. It will always mock us, for we will always be nothing more than glorified apes with glorified sticks mired in glorified squabbles. On the night when the moon smiled down on me¨Cthis ordinary, fleeting Sivsly night¨CI am once more subject to the auspices of man¡¯s petty desires. Beaten, humiliated, and made inferior. In a world of men and monsters, my kind will always be subject to the sidelines, belittled and crushed under the perceived supremacy of one over the other. I laid bare on the divine comforts of a well-made mattress, carrying with me the shame and discomfort I felt from the cold air tickling every pore on my exposed body. The blankets on which I lay were the only fabrics that I felt on my sensitive skin. Leather binds and the itchy fibers of rope keep an authoritarian grip over the freedom with which I could move my limbs; every tuck from my resistive spirit met with a painful reprimand from the coarseness of the binds. Laid bare like a dead pig for the slaughter and humiliated beyond my humanity, it felt as if I was even more reduced, for I couldn¡¯t even utter words, just simple sounds. ¡°Ngh...¡± ¡°Ahh...¡± Just as I watched the moon look at me with its mocking smile from beyond the glass window, my eyes turned towards the beast of a man before me, his lording figure towering in between my legs. His large, manly hands, which reeked of sweat and lust, were left to their own devices as they were made to roam the sprawling hills and valleys of my hips and chest. His playful forelimbs danced around my nipples, hardened and stimulated beyond my control, before they made their move, squeezing them so hard that they hurt me more than they gave me bliss. Tears either of joy or pain¨CI don¡¯t really care anymore¨Cblurred my perspective of the man, but for some reason, it felt as if his eyes had turned my way. Finally, I thought as my heart skipped a beat. I felt a surge of gratification that gripped my chest more than when his manhood would violently stabbed against my womb. Did he finally notice me¨C Slap! He took his big, manly hands away from my breasts and had them descend upon my left cheek. On top of the stinging pain on the skin, the slap was so forceful that it almost felt like my jaw was going to be dislocated. ¡°Don¡¯t you even dare look at me, woman!¡± His loud, scary, ear-piercing voice rang all around. I wanted to hide, to crawl away, to run... But he put his entire weight on my body, his hands on my chest, and his irritating binds on my limbs. I can¡¯t run. I felt my jaw jitter as if to rehearse its movements for when I speak. I wanted to say something, but the words never left my good-for-nothing brain, let alone my useless tongue. But that was not my wish, nor was it my intention. I did not want to stop him and his relentless purge of every esper of dissatisfaction from the rigid yet lubricated linings of my birth canal. It was so enchanting. I turned my left cheek, completely red from the panging sting of his strong slap, towards the bedclothes, hiding it like an adolescent hides their impure tattoos from the ever perceptive¨Cand disappointed¨Ceyes of their parents. Oh, my dear Ludius, I would never talk to you with such disdain. After all, you gave me this new birthmark of mine; like how you gave me that other one on my lower back, my right hip, my left shoulder blade, and so many more. I will treasure them, no matter how much they still sting to this day, for eternity. Yes! Treat me like an animal¨Cfor I am one! Condition me to your liking, my beloved Ludius, for I will welcome your seed with open arms and open legs! Ah... The moon is smiling down on me. I pay no mind; I will forever be in this damned world like a pig damned to eternity in the mud pits. I don¡¯t care. I will not care. I am Ludius¡¯s... - - - ¡°Here.¡± His exasperated yet ever-enchanting voice reached my ears, tickling them and my soul as the nightclothes he disinterestedly tossed my way reached my aching, tired, semen and sweat-splattered body. How thoughtless and crude, I thought, but that¡¯s exactly what piques my interest and libido with him. Just like how he pours his heart and all into toying with my body, I will give my utmost to staying by his side forever. This man is someone I will never¨C ¡°...Ilyana will be returning from her gala soon. It¡¯s best if you scurry.¡± What???????? My mind, my body¨Ceverything¨Cfroze. As if to kill the mood between us, whether by intention or not is beyond me, he mentions the name of that bitch: the usurper Ilyana. Even mentioning her name in my thoughts sent chills down my body. That whore charmed my Ludius, forced him to marry her for the sake of the line of succession, and wrangled him dry day and night, the succubus! She may be the empress, but I am his one and only! I am¨C ¡°Remille. Go.¡± He reiterated, unyielding in his resolve to get me out of the way. His unwavering tone made clear that he was no longer going to entertain me any longer, whether it be my charms or my cries for more time. He didn¡¯t even look back at me. Fine. If that was how things were going to progress tonight, then fine. Dejected and closed like the entrance to my womb, my heart once more solidified in its attempt to nullify the pain from his words. No tears came forth from my eyes as I put on the stainless white gown he gave me. The silky fabric was soft to the touch, but it gave me neither comfort nor solace. I stood up, though my legs were weak from the insane amount of abuse he had given me tonight, both physically and emotionally. The floor was cold, almost as hard and frigid as my heart, and I couldn¡¯t stop myself from making my footsteps as loud as possible¨Cprobably out of spite or some childish feelings of resentment. I faced the double wooden doors, the grand entrance to his abode, and didn¡¯t look back but neither did he for that matter. I felt neither his love nor his stare on my back. I wanted to cry, but the tears just didn¡¯t materialize. With one last surge of resolve to leave, I swung the doors open. Greeting me on the other side was a woman in a black and red gown, which complemented her dazzlingly red lips. The warm orange lights of the hallway exemplified the violence of the colors of her dress rather than tame them, making it seem as if the woman¡¯s similarly violent feelings had materialized. Innocent chestnut hair and dark eyes that make me feel as if I¡¯m staring into the abyss... This woman was none other than the empress, Ilyana. Heh. I still despise the woman. Despite delivering their daughter, who was heavier than normal at the time, she still managed to maintain such a stunningly slim figure. Was she just that gifted or is she actually some kind of demonic beast? Moments passed but no interactions sparked in between us. I only realized now that her dark eyes did not reciprocate my stares, instead looking down on my plain white bedgown. Instead of violence, all I could get from her eyes were feelings of despondency and melancholy, as if she was still on the middle ground between resignation and denial. Then, her mouth opened, and out came a devilishly sexy and mature voice, which still betrays the fact that she was nearly a decade my (and Ludius¡¯s) junior. ¡°Are you finished?¡± Her eyes, still looking down and refusing to look at mine, were non-confrontational. The way she asked the question made it seem as if she wasn¡¯t curious nor was my potential answer welcome. Why ask? Was it for the sake of filling the void in between us? In any case, her appearance of despondency and inferiority tickled my frozen heart, but not because I felt pity. If anything, the tickling was violent and it translated into something which I can only describe as some comical feeling of contempt. Yes, I thought in response to her question, but I wasn¡¯t going to give her the respite nor the closure from my answer. She was not getting anything from me. Not even my attention. I turned towards the hallway and proceeded to make myself scarce, disregarding not only her futile attempt at conversation but her entire existence. I wanted her to disappear and I can, but doing so would endanger dear Ludius, so this was the best that I could do in these circumstances. My mind was now clear; I now remember why I was doing this. Seeing that bitch dejected and downtrodden does make me smile, but that was beside the point. She was just a single figure in the mess of hundreds and thousands of usurpers, traitors, and greedy bastards that plagued the empire¡¯s upper echelons. I thought I was going to lose sight of it, but Ludius¡¯s own heartlessness made sure that I¡¯d keep sight of what mattered. Central Calendar Year 1607 (32 years ago) For as far back as I could remember, the empire had always been the kind of cutthroat environment a little girl like me was never supposed to have grown up in. I was indeed just a little girl and they were at least kind enough to set up a facade in which I could create fond memories I could look back on. In hindsight, things had already been horrible from the start, but from my perspective back then, it was as good as it got. My birth mother had passed away after giving birth to me, but there was one person in the imperial family that I could call mother. Her name was Lorraine. Having been by my side for as long as I could remember, I vividly recall her strictness, imposing her harsh tutorship on me as I grew up. I could no longer perfectly remember the things she had taught me as those had passed on to become the habits and standards I subconsciously uphold to this day, but there was one thing that she kept on telling me. Her usual heartless image would melt away into one devoid of emotion whenever those words left her mouth. ¡°There are no good people in this world, Remille, only people with their own interests at heart.¡± At the time, these cryptic words were mostly lost to me. At best, I¡¯d agree with it, interpreting it that people do what they want, like when my cousins all want to hog the family pony for themselves with disregard for those who also want to ride it. But then something happened. When I was 5 years old, my father died. Apparently while on campaign. Word reached me through Lorraine, and at first, I was in denial. My father was kind-hearted, often giving me an assortment of flowers and toys whenever he came back from military campaigns in the north. During the few times he was away on campaign, he would sneak into my bed when I was asleep so that I¡¯d be greeted with his warm, loving hug when I woke up. I still remember the broad hands that wrapped over my entire head whenever he caressed them. When he went away on a campaign, he would always make sure that I¡¯d be there to send him off. ¡°When I come back, let¡¯s head to the villa at Duro: our very own castle!¡± Those were his last words to me. He wanted to take me away from the hustle and bustle of Esthirant to the relative countryside near Duro, which at the time wasn¡¯t as industrial as it is now. When I recalled his tall, black-suited back walking away from me, it was as if I was watching him carry out his own funeral procession. I should have ran after him, stopped him, and begged him to stay. I cried the entire week after Lorraine had told me, locking myself in my bedroom and even missing his funeral. I was left alone with my own thoughts, wondering why he died. Perhaps it was only acceptable; he was a military commander and the barbaric nations to the north were unruly and violent. But then I remembered Lorraine¡¯s words. There are no good people in this world, Remille, only people with their own interests at heart. My father was brother to the heir-apparent. This meant that he was naturally a target for any bad men wanting to secure the throne. The throne was like the family pony my cousins wanted to hog, and everyone, maybe even my father, was fighting for it. To me at the time, this made sense, especially in my emotionally unstable state. It wasn¡¯t enough for me to blame some faraway barbarian for my father¡¯s death, so Lorraine¡¯s words helped me pin the blame on more sinister forces: the rest of my family. After all, nothing seemed more evil than backstabbing family members. From that point forward, I felt like I could only trust in Lorraine, for all this time she was trying to tell me that the imperial family was out for blood and that my father was in the way. It felt as if she was my only ally in an ocean of family and staff members that wanted my father gone. Naturally, if they were aiming for my father, it was only reasonable to say that they were also after me too. The night after they buried my father, I crawled out of my room and into Lorraine¡¯s. I still remember how tear-ridden my face had become, how my silvery hair had become disheveled. My unwelcome appearance was more than enough grounds for Lorraine to whip me with her usual disciplinary action, but I can¡¯t help it. My father was gone. I wanted the presence of my ally. I wanted the warmth of my mother. Scared of both her wrath and the sinister designs the family had on me, I still approached her, my desire for warmth overcoming any and all fears. Despite my distasteful appearance, she moved not from her study, nor did she raise her hand. I closed in, and before I knew it, my stubby hands wrapped around her body. The moment I felt the fabric of her dress and the warmth of her abdomen, the gates holding back my tears opened. I could recall the sincere distress and despair that hung over me as I bawled my eyes dry. ¡°Momma!!!¡± I never met my mother, so I never got to call her anything. However, if I was going to have a mom, then it had to be Lorraine. I didn¡¯t know what I should call my mom if I were to have one, but I instinctively cried out what felt right. I recalled her staying silent, only caressing my head as I cried loud and hard. Even if she hadn¡¯t said anything, I continued to hug her tightly and for that night, it felt as if I did have a mother. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Looking back, it was one of the times I genuinely felt sad. However, it was probably the last time I¡¯d be feeling any sort of affection from anyone. That too, was probably the last time I would feel sad, for after that, there was nothing but sadness. Central Calendar Year 1614 (25 years ago) After that night, Lorraine returned to her usual distant and overbearing self, continuing her discipline-filled tutelage of me. She never explicitly showed the same affection as she did that night ever since, instead choosing to remain as some sort of caretaker now that father was gone. At first, I felt dejected since I really did think that she was going to be my mother. But then her being distant slowly made sense, or at least I tried to make sense of it by telling myself that she was upholding her own wants of survival, since if she were to heavily associate herself with me, she may get targeted herself. To my benefit, she at least taught me basic self-defense, knowledge of which I held onto tightly for fear of my eventual demise from some assassins sent by the other family members. Soon, the things that made some sense to me turned into an undeniable dogma for me. To me, it¡¯s not that they may be out to get me, they were. I learned to steel myself and my heart around my family members during gatherings and official business in which I was involved. I put on the highest pedestal the words that Lorraine kept on repeating to me, treating them as if they were the dogma everything revolves around. People were out to fulfill their interests, and if doing so meant getting rid of someone, like what they did with my father, then they would do that by whatever means necessary. Those cynical words resonated with my 12-year-old self, and so I acclimated to the isolationism that comes with putting walls in between me and everyone. To that end, it mattered little to none when my own peers shunned me for my wanting to be alone. It was for the better that I¡¯d maintain distance with every single person; these were my own interests. The only one I couldn¡¯t bear to distance myself away from was Lorraine. Even though she never showed any sort of affection, whether directly or indirectly, I still considered her my only ally. She had been there from the start, teaching me the things necessary to survive in such a dog-eat-dog environment, and above all, she opened my eyes to the cynical reality of the world. There were some doubts inside my heart since I also believed that her mantra also applied to her, but my own reservations for her persistently reigned supreme. However, something would soon test this to the limits. On one particular day, Lorraine summoned me to her room. It was nothing out of the ordinary; she always summons me to her room for mundane reasons such as notifying me of any developments or entrusting me with errands. When I entered her room, I remember the unsure atmosphere that greeted me. The air was unnervingly heavy as if the mood had long been sour from the beginning. Lorraine was standing next to her study facing the door as if she was expecting me. Her expression was as unexplainable as usual, but there was one small, subtle feeling that seeped out of the cracks of such a facade. It irked me at the time because it was something I never expected from her, but in hindsight, I can now be confident in this conclusion. For some reason, it looked as if she was feeling regret. As soon as I closed the door behind me, I felt the presence of another person in the room. Following my senses, I turned my head towards the bed where I found a woman clad in sanitary-looking clothing. Next to her and the bed was another bed, but smaller, crude, and had leather straps where a person¡¯s limbs were expected to be. Upon spotting that eerie setup, my mind immediately went into overdrive, imagining scenarios and coming up with reasons as to the connection between Lorraine summoning her and the presence of the other woman. I remember my hair standing on end when Lorraine finally opened her mouth. ¡°Remille, dear...¡± I remember her expression back then. She looked like she was at a loss for words, a state of mind I¡¯d never seen from the sharp and cold Lorraine. That alone was enough to even unsettle me, but I held firm to my trust in her. Little did I know then that was the wrong choice. But then, what other choice did I have? ¡°What is it, mot¨Cmadam?¡± True to my heart, I almost slipped up on what to call her. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll understand what I have to say, so I won¡¯t mince words.¡± I remember my heart skipping a beat at these words. Was it that hard to accept? What was it? ¡°Many people want you, the last of the closest relatives to the heir-apparent, dead. In a compromise made with them, I¡¯ve had them allow you to live, but...¡± What???????? What was I hearing? Did she just conspire with those that want me dead? But then she covered for my behalf, so now the consequences are lighter, right? Why would she do this? Lorraine? Lorraine??? I recall the anguish that swirled in my heart at what I heard. I did not want to believe it since I know Lorraine was capable of lying, but somehow it felt genuine. Her cynical words, words which I¡¯ve come to live by, never before felt so real. Was Lorraine benefitting from this? Was this her interest all along? I couldn¡¯t accept what I was thinking or hearing, but for some reason, I played along. ¡°You will have to be the last of your line.¡± Saying such a devastating line with a flat, unemotional, unwavering face, she pointed towards the bed with leather restraints. I knew that this was an order and I knew what she meant. I was scared beyond doubt. I wanted to get out. I wanted to disassociate from reality. None of these were possible, but what lay ahead was beyond reasonable for me. Still, my body moved forward. I still wonder to this day what made me move. Was it my brainwashed self denying that my mother figure had conspired with those that wanted me dead? Did I perhaps accept my fate? All I had were questions, but the gods have deemed that silence was the only mercy possible. Was I really that damned? I voluntarily laid myself flat on the table. The wooden board on which my back lay was cold and damp. My body had resigned itself as it didn¡¯t resist the woman restraining all of my four limbs. Whether or not Lorraine was there by my side was lost to me and so were my wishes for her to be there. What happened afterward were sensations I could never forget. The end of the table was split into two and pulled apart, and with my feet fastened onto each end, my legs were also opened. My dress was pulled back, revealing my bare legs and underwear. For the first time, I had felt what it was like to be violated¨Ca sensation I¡¯ll keep remembering up to the grave. The woman cut the fabric to my underwear, allowing me to feel the cold, unforgiving air caressing my womanhood. I could no longer recall whether I had cried on that bed. All that remained were vague sensations of cold objects toying with my innards through my birth canal. In a single day, I was violated, had felt pleasure for the first time, and lost the ability to bear children. My dreams of a son and daughter, beautiful children that I would cherish as my father did to me... All gone. The pain I felt was immense. I couldn¡¯t stand up, so some servants helped me to my quarters. The blood that flowed from my nether regions was endless, but it at least was a sign to my enemies that I was no longer capable of bearing a child. I recall sobbing in anguish and sorrow that night. ¡°Father... God... Anyone... Take me away from this place... Rescue me from the evils that plague this world!!! Please!!! Please...¡± I had never felt so betrayed before. An ally, my mother figure was not. I cried to sleep that night, my heart carrying with it that overwhelming sense of isolation and loneliness. I could never forget all the emotions that came from then, for the repercussions of that time still haunt me to this day. Central Calendar Year 1618 (21 years ago) Everything since that day had been more or less the same mundane task of trying to keep myself from standing out too much. At 16, with them no longer treating me as some special kid or as a threat, I was pretty much reduced to some minor relative that no one in the imperial family wanted to be associated with. My father and mother, both were having possessed major positions in government, and the family was long gone. My de facto caretaker, Lorraine, had always been in a similar ¡°offshoot¡± type of position, always left to deal with the things the family doesn¡¯t want to bother with, like the logistics and financing of the imperial palace, which at the time was a much simpler manor on the hillside. If anything, she was treated more as a member of the caretaking staff than a fully-fledged member of the family. Like her, I hardly left the palace on my own accord. It was a stifling house arrest type of situation. They, at the very least, didn¡¯t allow me to perform maintenance duties or household chores, citing that it was unbecoming of a member of the imperial family. They, at the very least, recognized that I was family. But semantics never bothered me, so the lack of virtual substance to their reasoning wasn¡¯t at all surprising. At 16, I had more or less embraced my future of inheriting Lorraine¡¯s position to be the manager of the palace. There was little in the way of hope, for I¡¯ve also fully embraced the words she had left me. However, as the gods would have it, even such a measly and uninspiring future was too much for me. It was an unassuming Seplenith (Month 9) day of the year 1618 on the Central Calendar. Word has it that a localized conflict somewhere far to the west had erupted into an intercontinental war between the Muish and Mirisihial¨Cor Imperial¨Cspheres. That wasn¡¯t any of my concern, as Parpaldia had unceremoniously declared itself party to none of the belligerents, with its unsurprisingly increasing volume of trade with the nations on the Central continent begging to differ. What truly mattered to me that one autumn day was a different kind of news. ¡°Madam Lorraine has passed?¡± ¡°Yes, madam...¡± None of my family members were kind enough to let me in on the news, for it was a servant that broke the news to me. Worse still was the fact that she had passed the other day. The last time I had ever seen Lorraine was when I saw her enter her quarters after dinner the day she passed. I remember questioning the entire event, as I couldn¡¯t put my finger on how she died given that she still looked like a healthy and capable 50-year-old. I no longer cared for her as I did before, having seared her conspiring with those that wanted me dead into my heart, but I could not do away with my curiosity about the circumstances surrounding her death. Before I could check further, however, I was summoned by then empress Eleanor, the matriarch of the household. Escorted by imperial guards to her quarters on the other end of the palace, the wing I¡¯ve traditionally refrained from venturing into since my father¡¯s death, I found myself in the resplendent velvets of the four-walled room the emperor, and the empress call their abode. It was entirely different from the one I¡¯d find myself in every day in the present, as emperors and empresses would customize their quarters to their liking. After fulfilling their task, the imperial guards were dismissed by a mere hand gesture from Eleanor, and soon, we were the only two left in the room. Sitting on a cushioned bench in front of the grandiose bed that occupied the center of the room, I remember the former empress¡¯s eerily accepting pose and figure. She always appeared like the type to be heartwarming to anyone she came across, but at that point, that disposition felt nothing more than a ruse. I felt a dark presence that emanated from deep beyond her kind eyes, and I held dear to the truths behind Lorraine¡¯s words. There must be a self-driven reason behind her summoning of me, a low-level offshoot of the family. ¡°Are you well, my dear?¡± I remember these words and her ultra-soft tone extremely well. I remember vividly how I internally seethed at these words. Lorraine¡¯s passing mattered little to me at that point, so beyond the suspicious circumstances, I was not bothered, but empress Eleanor¡¯s obviously fake words of concern were dead oblivious from miles away. It was so blatant that even a deaf man could tell it apart from genuine concern. I hated it so much. However, for the sake of my own interests, I played along. ¡°Fine, auntie.¡± I had almost forgotten that she was my aunt, and the name that I used to call her when I was little was on the verge of being eradicated from memory. ¡°Well, I hate to break it to you, but our dear Lorraine has passed on. I¡¯m sorry.¡± Empty words deserve empty reactions. I bent my head down, pretending to feel distraught over the news I had ¡°just received¡±. Whether or not she saw through this ruse, I didn¡¯t care. Just like she didn¡¯t care for me at all in the first place. ¡°Here is her last will. She left it with us, and I think you deserve to lay your eyes on it as well.¡± She extended a folded piece of paper to me, which I flatly took from her disgusting, probably bloodied hands. My eyes couldn¡¯t help but widen in disbelief at what they were seeing when I unfolded it. I could no longer recall what the will contained; much of it hardly mattered to me both at the time and at present. However, I remember the impressions I had when reading through it, and while her fate was the least of my concerns, I could never forget the fear I felt as I perused through the sentences she last wrote. It was as if I was reading a farewell note; a suicide letter. Since she hardly owned possessions, she mostly left personal remarks concerning her own feelings; whether genuine or not is forever lost to me. Was she coerced into this? Did she really just die, or was that even a lie? With endless rows of questions with no hope of answers, I stopped thinking entirely and took the will at face value. However, the shocker came at the end. In what appeared to be a later addition, as it was detached from the rest of the body that contained the will, she explicitly laid out what to do with me, her de facto dependent. I remember seething in rage and confusion at the handwriting, wishing that what I had read were just handwritten errors. However, it was all too genuine¨Cperhaps even thought out well. I remember trying to control the shaking of my hands and the tearing up of my eyes because as much as I thought there was nothing more to be done between my relationship with Lorraine after that day back in 1614, she somehow managed to even doom me from beyond the grave. It no longer mattered whether or not she was coerced to add such an excruciatingly enraging term into her will. She was going to fuck over my life and my future. She had conspired with the evil guys to ruin my body. She was in league with those that had my father killed. She was supposed to be my mother. I hate her. ¡°As mentioned by the will of your de facto caretaker, which you are obliged to follow, you will have to forfeit your position in the imperial family, your relations with anyone in it, and even your name in the registry. Pack your things; as willed by her, you will be handed over to the Petunias of Esthirant establishment for your care and other necessities. I¡¯m sorry.¡± I remember not being able to stop the shaking or the tears. At the very least, I put the will between my face and Eleanor¡¯s, so that I could at least have some semblance of privacy. I will need to cherish it, for it will be the last time I¡¯ll feel the comforts of being able to have personal space. Petunias of Esthirant was a prominent brothel in Esthirant¡¯s famed red-light district. In essence, Lorraine, possibly on her own accord or forced by the rest of the imperial family, forfeited me and had me sent to a fucking brothel. Robbed of a quiet, childless future living out the days as a glorified servant in the imperial palace, everyone had conspired against me again, deciding that I was too much of a loose end to have around. Beneath all the mourning I inwardly made for the futures I will never receive, a dark kind of fury festered within the shattered recesses of my heart. Is this really how evil the world is? Is this the extent that humans go through to further their interests? Did they really just ruin a girl¡¯s life¨Cpast, present, and future¨Cfor the sake of their own gains? I will never forgive these ingrates, these apes! At that point in time, I wanted to seek some sort of retribution for all the pain these desire-fulfilling monsters brought upon me. Hammering the final nail on the coffin that were my hopes were three words written on the will as Lorraine¡¯s parting gift. Of all the betrayals and bad times she had bequeathed on me, nothing felt as agonizingly cruel as these three words she left me: ¡°I am sorry.¡± Central Calendar Year 1630 (9 years ago) Twelve long years had passed since the imperial family effectively kicked me out of both the palace and their lives. As per Lorraine¡¯s will, my family name was changed to one of commoner origin, and I was discreetly handed over to the headmasters at Petunias of Esthirant. I explicitly remember the downtrodden faces of the servants that escorted me, for it was the only semblance of pity and sadness someone else had felt for me. Still, too little too late for any of that. Facing this unknown with an invigorated spirit that was driven by all sorts of rage, I kept my cool and my desires for revenge even as the headmasters physically ¡°checked¡± and ¡°conditioned¡± me for the hospitable work environment. As a 16 year old that was fresh in the industry and was more or less inexperienced, coupled with my dastardly devilish good looks and inability to get pregnant, saying that I was hounded by every single, horny, sweaty bachelor that visited the establishment falls short of even being an understatement. A huge chunk wasn¡¯t even bachelors as married men from their 30s to their 60s frequented my alley. I was aware of the undignified deeds going on in the red light district, but this was simply another extreme end of the words Lorraine had instilled into my head long ago. ¡°There are no good people in this world, Remille, only people with their own interests at heart.¡± Their hearts carried nothing but lust, fulfilling their self-interests through countless variations of pleasuring themselves on me. In all that time, I learned to bury my heart even deeper into the recesses of my soul, turning myself more and more into a living sex toy. Since the rest of the girls also kept their distance from me due to petty reasons like the envy of getting paid more and having better looks, I found some semblance of comfort in the fact that people willingly left me alone when I wasn¡¯t working. Returning back to my 28-year-old self, a woman whose good looks were the only thing that¡¯s left of what she once was, I had long forfeited any hope of even getting my revenge. At that point, Lorraine was nothing more than a mish-mash of bones six feet under; empress Eleanor had met her end from an injury she suffered when she fell off a chair (heh, good for her) two years ago, the reigning emperor was on his deathbed, and the rest of the old guard in the family, which were likely the ones that plotted me and my father¡¯s demise, was also in the twilight of their years. The headmasters of the brothel were also not keen on letting a profitable ¡°petunia¡± like me go and I had no allies outside, so there was simply no way out. At that point, I had long resigned myself to the hand the gods had dealt me. ¡°Your three-fifty paso bills, sweetheart.¡± ¡°...¡± At the very least, there was this one customer that frequently singled me out. A bachelor that appeared to be around my age, he was mostly unassuming and had this somewhat timid flair to him. At first, he was unsure of what to do with me¨Cskeptical even¨Cdespite having paid good money to spend the hour with me. I assumed nothing of it initially, following protocol to lure him in and ensure he gets a good time. Every time he returned, he would gradually build more confidence, and by the 7th time, he managed to pin me down, although sloppily. What always struck me as odd with him was how he consistently paid an extra 150 pasos. Customers, especially regulars, never paid extra due to the already exorbitant fees necessary to spend time with me. This man, however, was suspiciously consistent. Perhaps he was some rich boy. Since it became uncomfortable and suspicious for me, I did try to refuse the tip one time, but he insisted with alarming assertiveness, almost as if he hadn¡¯t been timid in the first place. Then, I got curious about his background. The establishment values the anonymity of its clients, so they¡¯re encouraged to register themselves under fake names. Even when I resorted to hearsay and rumors, none of the other girls that were within my capacity to talk to recognized the man. With no other satisfying options, I opted to confront the man in spite of regulations forbidding clients and girls from getting overfamiliar, which apparently included introducing themselves via real names (I worked under the fake name Clarisse). One night, he came back again. Like always, he paid for my time and entered my room the same way he always does. Suspicious of even this irregular consistent behavior, I kept my guard up. As soon as he sat down on the soft bed, I pounced on him, pinning his body onto the mattress with my arms, backed with the weight of my entire person. I looked directly into his still unassuming eyes, wholly aware that it was just another facade. ¡°Tell me your name. If you don¡¯t cooperate, I will have your life ruined. I have already called out eight men, all in high positions in government and in businesses.¡± I have laid out what cards I can play that should get him to cooperate while trying to prudently hold back other cards that could be of use but are currently unnecessary. I remember assuming that I had the upper hand in the situation and that he would be acquiescing to my demands not long after. But then, I caught a glimpse of a spark from beyond the darkness in his eyes. It was only for a moment, but it was enough to tell me that there was something more to this man. Then, before I could even process the moment, he broke out of my pinning action, grabbed my arms, and reversed our places. In less than a second, I was now the one on the bed with their arms and body pinned. At first, I tried to struggle, but my attention was captured¨Cand then held¨Cby sheer blankness in the eyes that stared at me. Considering that I was now in a disadvantageous position and that he failed to uphold my demands, I should have played my cards and screamed. However, neither my mouth nor my lungs moved. His sharp, red eyes captivated my attention, so much so that I couldn¡¯t even find the will to move. Then, the man grinned before he spoke. ¡°Found you.¡± I remember the confusion from this seemingly misplaced sense of familiarity. I don¡¯t remember meeting the man before at any point in my life. It was this confusion that further paralyzed me from acting to retrieve the advantageous position. As if to capitalize on this, he continued. ¡°Fufu. Our lives have not done wonders for both of us, huh? Humor me on this one: we buried Boots beneath the old tree near the south fence.¡± Just as I was beginning to find his tone and manner of speech familiar, he went on to drop a bomb right onto the grave where my heart was buried. Deep within the recesses of my soul, beneath all the layers of lies and facades that I¡¯ve propped up over the years, were the memories of my childhood. Even after my father died, despite the most mundane days since, I did enjoy some semblance of youth together with some of my generations in the imperial family. One of these treasured memories was the time I spent with a kitten named Boots, which came from its discolored feet that made it look as if it was wearing boots. I found her abandoned in one of the workshops near the sprawling gardens behind the palace. For a week, I cared for her in secret, but I was later found out by one of my cousins, who was the son of the then heir-apparent, who was now the reigning emperor. Together, we secretly cared for Boots, forging a three-way relationship. One day, however, when we went back to her, we found her lifeless in the mouth of a garden snake that had just killed her. My cousin managed to gallantly hack the snake to death using one of the hammers in the workshop, but Boots was gone. It was the tragic end to one of my only good memories. We secretly buried her body at the foot of the trunks of an old, massive tree at the southern fence to the palace. While there was little tying us together ever since then, I nevertheless continued to consider my cousin as a playmate, someone with whom I spent one of the happiest weeks in my life. Our irreconcilable destinies forced us apart during the turbulent years of my adolescence as he took on the role of heir-apparent when his father became emperor as I was reduced to recesses of the family tree. Having unearthed something so heavy and so emotional to me, I couldn¡¯t help but shed a tear on that bed as I fumbled on trying to say his name. ¡°L-L-Ludius...?!¡± Being wrecked with so many conflicting emotions was truly a bewitching matter. On the one hand, I was happy to see him so grown up, but I was also skeptical of him having rented me out more than a dozen times. We were direct cousins and the thought of having sex with him all these months sickened me to the core. I was also distraught by my vulnerable past, having been excavated from beneath all the facades I¡¯d rather hide behind; I felt even more naked than I currently was. I was not in the best state of mind at that time, and in hindsight, I think this was the beginning of his stranglehold on me. What I once thought was a sliver of hope for another shot at a better future would turn out to be something more sinister. At the time, I never knew. There was simply no way I could have known. What I only knew then was that a friend was there in front of me in spite of the horrible circumstances. ¡°I¡¯ve been looking for you, Remille.¡± Even today, I have trouble with this particular memory, primarily because of the unforgettable chills that ran down my spine when his manly voice called out my name. In short, I, the witch, was bewitched by the sorcerer. The spells he would cast on me, whether figurative or real, would stay with me for as long as I live. That is because the future that damned, charming voice sent me careening towards would eventually doom me to an irreconcilable fate. Terribly unaware of this at the time, I let my emotions get the better of me. I broke from his grip and embraced him. What an idiot I was. Chapter 23: My Resolution WARNING: Self-harm, mutilation, sexual depictions, upsetting themes. Central Calendar 1630 (9 years ago) When people remember the things they did in the past, they often are overcome by a single, powerful emotion¨Cembarrassment. These memories of past acts or events, which could either be monumental in one¡¯s life, such as graduating from university, or as mundane and ordinary, like stammering when greeting your neighbor ¡°good morning¡±, stick around with us, and it is the immense feeling of embarrassment or cringe that helps them linger for even longer. Every person is bound to have experienced this kind of mental and emotional torture. For me, I get this feeling every time I remember or am reminded of the year 1630. It was a very important year in my life, one which I considered to be a pivotal turning point, although it will not be the last. This was due to one person¨CLudius. Ever since that first night when I realized that one of the weird regulars who hired me was him, things have never been the same. He still continued to make do on his punctual schedule when it came to hiring me, and he still offered me 150 pasos in extra fees after our time, but it just was never the same experience as before. On top of the inherent feeling of doing something malign and forbidden whenever we sexually pleasure ourselves off of one another despite being cousins, my heart was assaulted by all sorts of emotions. Most of these were feelings I¡¯ve never explicitly felt for anyone before, and some I¡¯ve not felt in decades. In a sea of strangers and equally numerous potential enemies, I felt comfort in knowing that I know someone. I felt assured by the fact that he was consistent in his schedule to see me and entertain my feelings and thoughts, almost as if he had become a shoulder to cry on. Different from the real, concrete feelings I feel in my abdomen when he feels it up with his manly effects, these so-called ¡°butterflies¡± in my stomach were excessively powerful. Before long, they got to my head and by extension, my perception of the man. Today, I cringe at this looking back; oh, the vices of hindsight! However, at the time, it almost felt as if I really did have a chance at genuine satisfaction with my life, the happiness I could reliably seek out to give my life a sense of direction. My current circumstances in the Petunias of Esthirant were nothing but a dead end, and with the near unreachable position of the management, there was little I could do to force my way out of this life, let alone pursue legitimate means of freeing myself. The only thing I had built in the 12 years I had been offering my body and services was a wide-ranging rumor network that encompassed the girls from different establishments in Esthirant¡¯s red-light district. This, somehow and at least, allowed me to maintain sufficiently informed on what was going on in the rest of the empire. ¡°Here.¡± He handed me three clean, almost untouched 50 paso bills after we calmed down from our session, just like always. Unlike before, however, I could feel my cheeks turn hot red and, for reasons different from the high I got from his relentless pounding. I became conscious of the places where my eyes landed, and soon I found myself darting my line of sight all over. Remembering these little things makes my skin crawl from the cringe, the pain given by the embarrassment on a similar level to hearing the screeching of nails on a chalkboard. ¡°T-Thanks...¡± I should know better, yet my body still elected to fucking stutter. What the hell, me? In an almost comical example of a 180, he who used to be so shy was now cool and I who used to be composed was now jittery. As I saw the signs of him preparing for his departure, I mustered up the courage to ask him about something that had been gnawing at the back of my mind. I hated that I had to muster up the capacity and energy to do something so menial, so mundane... Was it seriously down to something as simple as my feelings? Or is there something even more sinister to the reasons behind this? For once, I was at a loss, and I couldn¡¯t help but gnash my teeth at something that was so close yet unbelievably far out of reach. It felt as if I was going to lose on something big if I didn¡¯t do anything. As my heart started to beat faster, I took the leap of faith into the unknown. ¡°Ludius...¡± My hand took off faster than my words, clinging onto his unassuming, sweaty white shirt before my tongue even managed to articulate my thoughts. ¡°Yes?¡± I hesitated. My doubts, reservations, rationale, and those words that the bitch Lorraine told me all those years ago acted like dams in my mind that firmly held the outflow of thoughts from the dark recesses of my desires. I had an inkling of that gut feeling that asking him about this was going to be a mistake. By doing so, I will be extending my weak, exposed wrists to the chains of attachment to which I will be a slave too. Even now I wonder why it came to that point; I could never be content with the explanation that I was simply looking for a way out. Ludius could provide that opportunity, but he wasn¡¯t the only avenue at that crossroads. In any case, the dams collapsed, and my rationale relented. ¡°Why are you doing this?¡± The regrets followed suit with their relentless assault on my sanity. The intensity of what felt like an inferno engulfing my entire person made me want to shrivel and disappear on the spot. What the hell was I saying? Then there¡¯s Ludius. That damned grin of his was punchable looking back, but at the time, it felt like I had finally happened on a genuine fountain of water in the desert after happening on countless mirages. ¡°To tell you the truth, I have been interested in you since before.¡± I remember the confusion that moment had brought on me. His words were nothing less than shell-shocking. What was he saying? Why are such comforting words coming out of his mouth? Why am I falling victim to such flattery? Why was he being so kind?! ¡°The way you carried yourself despite your father¡¯s death and everyone¡¯s sickening attitude towards you.¡± No. Stop. This is anything but genuine! He¡¯s trying to get into my head by validating my sufferings and hitting where it hurts! This was a crystal clear case of manipulation! And yet why¨Cwhy was I smiling at those words?! ¡°You¡¯ve more than proven your worth standing your ground against abuse.¡± That¡¯s not true. If that were the case, I¡¯d be the one pinning you down instead! ¡°I want you...¡± His words felt like snakes that slithered across my entire soul, wrapping their coarse, scaly bodies all around me to secure their unwelcome grip. They violated my entire person, destroyed my sanity, and poked open holes in my capacity to reason. However, back then, in my relative innocence and ignorance, still clinging to hope of a better future, my mind fell for his illusions that such simpering was for my own sake. ¡°...to be by my side.¡± Like a skilled marksman, he shot his words through the smallest of the chinks in my armor, bypassing layers of defenses and inflicting a mortal wound on my sanity. I was a fool, and that moment was the epitome of my stupidity. I felt my heart skip a beat at this. It was nothing short of a proposal. He wanted me. ME! A dirtied prostitute with nothing to her name and robbed of the ability to produce heirs. As the next in line to the throne of mighty Parpaldia, him going after me was nothing short of political and social suicide. Everything was stacked against him should he go down this path. Still, for some reason that still eludes me to this day, I believed that that future was possible. ¡°Then what is it that I can do for you?¡± My mind broke, and my heart was firmly in his hands. His words and actions up to this moment had accumulated along the layers of walls I¡¯ve built up around my soul like years worth of snow on an aging rooftop. It didn¡¯t take long before everything collapsed entirely, leaving my exposed, weak self to external exploitation. For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, Lorraine¡¯s cynical words started to sound moot. ¡°Follow me; I will set you free.¡± Central Calendar 1631 (8 years ago) Click goes the lock on my case as I engage it, signaling the completion of my preparation to set out. I still do not know my destination, but what¡¯s sure is that I will no longer be staying at the Petunias. After a lengthy closed doors negotiation with Ludius, the management finally relented (likely after being convinced with a huge sum of pasos) on my release. Wearing the only outgoing clothes I had, which was a plain pink dress with floral patterns, I indulged myself in the feeling of victory and the long-awaited sense of freedom that I got from taking one last look around the room where I had spent the last 13 years in. ¡°I will not miss this place.¡± I solemnly declared so with the heavy atmosphere that received my words as my witness. Regardless of what I feel about it today, it was nevertheless a moment that represented my departure from a life I disdained with all my person. Selling my body unwillingly and conducting subtle and minute movements for the sake of keeping my head above the water were no laughing matters. The management was perverted and greedy; their lust for women¡¯s skin and moans was only equaled by their lust for coin. The other girls were perfect sources of rumors and information on clientele and outside information, but they were just as hostile and distant from me as the men that fucked me every hour. I longed for freedom from that hellhole. Fortunately, freedom the gods gave. But at what cost? Even back then, I had reservations about walking into the arms of Ludius, no matter how much my heart dragged my body by its feet. I could never take the words that pledged myself to him, for I knew that the consequences were against me. I did not know what to expect from following him. Was I jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire? Carrying all these anxieties in my heart, I picked up my case and walked toward the door. Every morning I would walk out that door with the expectation that a new client was awaiting me. For once, I could confidently open the door without fear of a drunkard lunging his smelly self onto my body. I could finally open the door with the hope that something greater lay beyond it. The door, both physical and proverbial, had been opened. I was free. Waiting for me outside were the beards and balding heads of the management, their obvious, pretentious airs hiding the perverse inclinations that lay beneath. With the intent of rubbing my victory into their faces, I smugly smiled as I walked past them, ignoring their silent wishes for one last sex goodbye. My prevailing victory over the evils of this world. I never thought I¡¯d see such a day. Past the reception was the final door to the outside world¨Cthe entrance. There, Ludius stood facing me, appearing as if he too were triumphant in something. It didn¡¯t really strike me then, but looking back and remembering the smugness of his grin, it all made sense. Then, like some mad dog left behind by his master for days, I jumped on him with my arms innocently extended outwards. Above the masculine scent his high-quality clothes gave off, there was a particular sense of comfort in the warmth of being with the person I... ...love? Was he really the shining knight on a white steed in my story? If so, does that mean that I, the princess and the protagonist, have to fall in love? But he¡¯s my cousin, is he not? In the last year we have been together, he neither wavered nor went back on what he said, executing them down to the letter. He said he would come back for me, and he did. He said he would free me, and he did. In a sea of evil and wretchedness, he was the sole island of decency, and I was lucky enough to have found myself where I was. Finally... I feel like I could face that bitch Lorraine and tell her, ¡°you¡¯re wrong!¡± We emerged out of the Petunias, hopefully for the last time in this life¨Cno, in any lifetime. The hustle and bustle of street workers and prostitutes greeted us outside, but I¡¯d rather indulge in the symbolism of what I had just done than spend time concerning myself with that. I stood tall, but Ludius stood taller physically¨Cand in hindsight, figuratively. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders, leaned in close, and asked me upfront. ¡°What do you want to do now?¡± A reasonable question and one I¡¯m prepared to answer. I did my best not to hold back since I could feel that a string of victories was at hand. ¡°I want a good life for myself.¡± ¡°Okay. However, what I did for you was not cheap. I have and will help you fulfill your ambitions, but in doing so, I¡¯ve set back my own.¡± I could have walked away from this at this point. Should it have been out of kindness, I could have used the opportunity to control and manipulate him to get the life that I wanted. After all, he was willing to put in a good amount of time, effort, and resources to free me from the brothel. Provided I thread this with delicacy, I can use him. However, I opted not to, at least me at the time. I saw him for his kindness and consistency. He is a good man, and so I will not let the goodness of his heart be in vain. Lorraine¡¯s words could not have felt any farther when it came to him. ¡°I will offer my help, Ludius. It is only natural to do so if one were to go by the equivalent exchange.¡± Then, for the first time ever, I saw that smile appear on Ludius¡¯s face. In all the times we have been together, even back when we were kids, he had never shown such a smile. It was one of extreme elatedness, almost like that one would make if they heard their debts have been forgiven by debtors. It was a lovely smile, but it was a smile that stirs the innards of my guts for all sorts of different reasons today. No longer do I see it as a smile of happiness, and it was all because of¨C ¡°That¡¯s great to hear! And here I thought you were going to bail on me. The truth is... I have a problem.¡± - - - ¡°Ah, good morning, ma¡¯am!¡± Two housemaids greeted me as I walked down the familiar decorated halls of the imperial palace, my old home. Since freeing me all those months ago, Ludius wanted to bring me back to the palace, now a much bigger complex that was worthy of its name, but first, I hesitated. Why would I return to that hellhole? It was even more emotionally exhausting to be anywhere close to that place than it was to be in the Petunias. Furthermore, the dog-eat-dog nature of the imperial family would not allow me to return, much less welcome me at the doorstep for any reason besides surrendering myself to be executed. After all, they were the ones that got rid of me in the first place. However, Ludius brought up some points. First, much of the old guard, who were the ones who despised me in the first place, were already gone or were posted somewhere else, far from Esthirant. Most of our generation had come to take their place, and they were generally sympathetic to what had happened to me. Second, I looked different from who I was when I left. Third, he wanted me somewhere physically close to him so as to simplify things. An additional point he brought up was that I need not return to the imperial family, which I find highly agreeable. In order to butter up my social status and achieve the future that I wish for while paying back my debt to Ludius, I decided to take his offer and subsequently took the position of chief of palace operations (made possible by Ludius¡¯s influence as the heir). I walked down the hallways reminiscing about the pain I had felt for almost half of my life. Like me before, those memories never left the palace, contained by the bright white walls and imposing columns like some sort of elegant prison. No renovation and expansion will free the pain I felt and continue to feel. If anything, this procession of mine was so that I could at least give myself the push necessary to make sure that such pain would never happen again. I entered the work chambers, where I processed most of the paperwork regarding the operations within the palace. It isn¡¯t the slightest bit roomy, but it was a far cry better than my station back in Petunias. I then happened across a brown parcel perched atop the mess of papers on my desk. ¡°Ah. Finally.¡± I remembered. Back when Ludius first freed me, he had one thing to ask of me. ¡°A certain senator, also the leader of an influential party, has blocked the bill that authorizes harsher economic sanctions on Altaras. We couldn¡¯t get rid of him directly since that would give the Altarans all sorts of unwanted reasons to stick it to us. However, I¡¯m sure you could figure out a way that implicates no one in particular...¡± For the first time in a long time, someone had entrusted to me something this important. Furthermore, it was an opportunity to prove my worth to Ludius; that I could also be an important asset in fulfilling his imperial ambitions. Fortunately for him, I had not been idle in the decade I¡¯ve spent at Petunias. ¡°Let¡¯s see, then.¡± This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. - - - Armed with bountiful knowledge of this senator and the communication skills I¡¯ve learned and honed all these years, I went to the local temple in downtown Esthirant. A fervent believer in the old gods, or so he proclaims, he would frequent the local temple once a week, practicing his religious beliefs. Entering the grand, arched entrance, I found myself embedded in a crowd of religious patrons chanting verses in response to the verses shouted by the priest near the altar. While the thick crowd provided the perfect cover for the senator to make himself scarce in, the parcel contained clues as to where within the temple he¡¯d be and what he wore for the day. Utilizing my memory of the pictures and details written in the letter included, including my sharp eyes and my relatively petite body, I navigated through the crowd like a serpent in search of its prey. Soon enough, as soon as I positioned myself where it was mentioned he would be, I caught a glimpse of the senator¡¯s broad back wearing a glossy, velvet suit¨Cjust as described. He wore a similarly colored bowler hat on his head, almost like a cherry that topped off an eye-catching cake. I discreetly maneuvered towards his side so as to make it seem I¡¯ve always been beside him. Then, as the religious crowd chanted, I spoke to him. ¡°My, my. Aren¡¯t you a fine man? You do know the gods ask for simplicity since they don¡¯t want mere mortals surpassing them in appearance?¡± In response, he gruntled so loud that it nearly overcame the volume of his comparatively soft speech. ¡°There is simplicity in this outfit, and you blasted harlot. Unlike your sinful tendencies, I am a man for the divine!¡± He steered the topic of the conversation toward where I wanted him. Perfect. I kept my voice low and chose the timing to speak so as to try and keep our conversation private. ¡°Ara~ A man for the divine! Are you sure you¡¯d want to call yourself that when you have an appointment in the Chargny district after this?¡± I saw his entire body shake and twitch at my statement. ¡°I-I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about...¡± Bullseye. Chargny was the formal name for Esthirant¡¯s red-light district. Letting this piece of information out to get him to take me seriously was a gamble, but fortunately for me, it paid off. While it was true that he had latched onto my bait, he was far from being within my grasp. It was now time to reel him in. ¡°Maybe not, but I¡¯m sure Eric, Rafael, Raul¨C¡± I started listing the names of those he will have an appointment with inside the red light district. Sure enough, the man snapped and grabbed my hand. His palm sweated bullets as his manner of speech lost all the bravado it once had just mere moments ago. ¡°S-Stop! Fuck! What do you want, you harlot?!¡± My ears detected a desire to negotiate behind the crystal clear signs of desperation in his voice. Still, as a woman who wants totality, his distress was not enough. ¡°What do I want? Resign from your post.¡± ¡°That¡¯s... non-negotiable.¡± ¡°Oh? I¡¯m sure your wife¡¯s intention to divorce and take custody of your daughter is also non-negotiable once they get their¨C¡± ¡°Y-You...!¡± Ah, this feeling of domineering was just pure euphoria. It was genuinely hilarious to see him try to get out of the trap I¡¯ve set. Looking back, I believe that never before have I truly personified the cynical words told to me by Lorraine all those years ago until this very moment. I have interests, and I will force him to make them real. ¡°I have friends in high places, woman! These blackmails will not go¨C¡± ¡°So what? You don¡¯t have ¡®friends.¡¯ How do you think I was able to get so much dirt on you?¡± I threw a bluff; I assumed he¡¯d have associates in all sorts of high places, probably even within the imperial court, but the information I got from him all came from my own sources within the empire. Soon enough, his less than stellar grit and composition proved too useless to be assets to him, causing him to stay silent in bitter defeat, unable to even call my bluff. His flimsy personality made me wonder just how he even became a senator. ¡°I-I... I cannot...¡± Cornered like a helpless animal, he whimpered underneath his breath. I expected him to put up more of a fight, but it appears he has already considered acquiescing. ¡°T-There¡¯s too many powerful people behind me... I will lose either way!¡± I then gripped his hand and looked him in the eye. All my life, I¡¯ve always lost, no matter what choice I made. Every option available was unsatisfactory and unpalatable. Whatever consequences await this man should he follow my interests do not concern me whatsoever, but some semblance of sympathy in my heart got me the urge to at least give him the push to man up and make a decision. ¡°Then choose your poison. But I assure you; I will get what I want.¡± - - - Around a week later, I was back in the city to meet with an associate of mine. It was already clear¨Cand public¨Cwhat that senator back in the temple had decided to do. Taking the window seat on the second floor of a chic and fashionable Muish cafe in downtown Esthirant, I rewarded myself with a slice of the highly sought-after moon berry shortcake, a sweet pastry from the other side of the world. Valued at 400 pasos a slice, it was extremely expensive, and it was going to get even more pricey due to the recently passed economic sanctions against the trade hub that was Altaras. As I ferried a forkful of shortcake to the innards of my mouth, I talked to the ¡®man¡¯ sitting in front of me. ¡°Did you burn everything?¡± ¡°Of course. No way in hell am I going to get implicated for blackmailing an imperial senator.¡± Delicious; both the taste of baked moon berry goodness and the masculine femininity of the ¡®man¡¯¡¯s voice. I then motioned my hand and my eyes towards the headlines of a newspaper on the table. ¡°Blackmail? Fufu, no one was blackmailed. It says so in the article you wrote here: ¡®Opposition Senator Bellamy Resigns In Light of Chargny Scandal¡¯.¡± As I read out the headline, I watched ¡®him¡¯ turn away as ¡®his¡¯ cheeks reddened. ¡°W-Whatever! I did what you asked of me! Now can you consider my debt paid?¡± ¡°Aww. That would be sad, though, wouldn¡¯t it, Clark?¡± At the mention of his ¡®name,¡¯ he hung his head low, his shining eyes seemingly on the verge of tears. ¡°What¡¯s wrong? Wasn¡¯t that part of the deal? Once it¡¯s paid, I can no longer call you ¡®Claire.¡¯¡± The truth was that this ¡®man¡¯ was actually a woman in disguise. Working as an editor and writer in one of Esthirant¡¯s biggest newspapers, she had taken on the persona and appearance of a man to satiate her desire for the female body. It was through her pursuit of this desire that we met back in Petunias. Realizing that we could fulfill the wants of the other, I struck a deal with her. While she only wanted to fulfill the deal for one time since she did not want to end up getting addicted to me, I would always ¡®convince¡¯ her to keep renewing our promise to one another, just like what I did after this job from Ludius. ¡°B-But I have to live with the life I¡¯ve lived...¡± ¡°You don¡¯t have to be so hard on yourself, Claire...¡± ¡°...¡± And just like that, I¡¯ve managed to secure my favored contact in Esthirant¡¯s mass communications apparatus. More so than the ecstasy from teasing her, I was thrilled at being able to be of use to my Ludius. I had done what he had wished for, and that was more than enough for me. - - - That night, Ludius bequeathed upon me the reward he had promised should I carry out what he asked me to do. He discreetly led me to the candle-lit bed in his quarters, where he would indulge me in the greatest of all rewards. At that point, I could no longer contain the joy that I was feeling within the bounds of my mind and body, gushing out in the form of sensual moans and bodily juices. As he pounded away to oblivion, I embraced his manly, muscular body and held it as close to my heart as possible. Never before have I felt so secure, so safe, so... happy. It almost felt as if I didn¡¯t deserve such feelings of luxury. I have suffered for so long. Why did my life have to turn around? And why so abruptly? Wasn¡¯t I an unwanted loose end to be discarded? Even then, I carried those feelings deep in my heart. However, for some odd, unimaginable reason, the gates to my heart, their hinges and chains and locks long rusted and decaying from decades of neglect and lack of use, opened. ¡°Am I a bad person, Ludius? Do you really want this sorry excuse of a person? Why are you being so kind? Did you perhaps mistake me for someone else? You know that I can¡¯t bear you children, right? Are you¨C¡± Tears of long pent-up sadness flowed out of my tear-starved eyes as my heart laid bare the loneliness I¡¯ve felt all these years. Still, Ludius was not having any of it as he forcefully shut down every single doubt and insecurity that came out of my mouth using his own. I could still remember the softness of his lips forcefully pressed against my own so as to stop the raging uneasiness gushing out. Our lips have met countless times before, but this was the first time that it seemed to be ¡®otherwise¡¯ from mere sexual tendencies. After a while, I calmed down, and so he parted his lips from mine. ¡°I picked you, Remille; there is no mistaking that. I wanted you as an ally to be by my side.¡± His words, ever so reassuring, resonated across every recess and crevice in my heart. This time, though, felt different. Despite me opening up my heart, exposing every bit of insecurity, loneliness, and ugliness that resided within, Ludius still accepted it wholly. I didn¡¯t have to throw away any part of myself just to be ¡®right¡¯ for him. This feeling of ¡®finding where one belongs¡¯ is something that has eternally eluded my grasp. Not even my constantly absent father made up for it with his proclamations of a bright future. He certainly never carried them out. Still, as if every star had aligned itself for my sake, things turned out to be well. I had become a snake, the very type of person that would have resembled the ones that ruined my life, but it was a cost I found necessary to pay to enable me to experience this sort of life. Rather than a warning, Lorraine¡¯s words now served as a guidebook to maintaining this relatively happy life of mine. This secluded spot of comfort was enabled by Ludius, and I could never be thankful enough for his intervention in my fate. Even as I took the role of a snake to carry out the things that allowed me to express my gratitude to him, there was no mistaking that he now held a special place in my heart. Oh, if only some things never happened. Central Calendar 1632 (7 years ago) In the year since he first accepted me, I¡¯ve handled more dirty things on behalf of Ludius and his camp. As a reactionary imperialist, he aims to bolster Parpaldia¡¯s standing in the region in all sectors while maintaining the conservative status quo domestically. The ailing situation of the reigning emperor, his father, and a reactionary himself, has bedridden him, allowing Ludius to take the reins of facilitating the empire early. He employs many snakes in his service, primarily me and my network, to keep the opposition and his own personal opponents at bay. Whether it be the powerful industrial tycoons, the military brass, or the lowly protesters that sometimes gather at Proclamation Square, I would always have a hand in making sure that they don¡¯t go too far against Ludius. ¡°Madam! His highness, the Crown Prince, is summoning you.¡± One of my staff came running to me with this piece of news. It wasn¡¯t unexpected; Ludius would summon me to meet him outside of appointments. I dismissed the staff member and prepared myself to see him. Fixing my hair and checking my makeup in the mirror, I was very particular about how I looked in front of him. Whether or not it¡¯s because I¡¯m conscious of his perception of me, I still wanted to look my best whenever I was in his presence. He, after all, was my lover. Standing in front of the decorated, gilded double doors that led to his quarters, I patted down my black and crimson net dress to remove any unsightly gunk. Using my hands, I checked on the condition of my netted stockings and suspenders. If things were to go just like usual, the newly released black lingerie underwear from the well-renowned series of that famous Mirishial brand that I¡¯m currently wearing would be sure to take him by surprise. With everything set, I knocked on the heavy wooden doors. ¡°Come in!¡± A voice¨Chis handsome, manly voice¨Creplied from the other side. I then opened the doors, finding Ludius seated on his bed. ¡°Excuse me, your highness. May I inquire as to why I have been summoned?¡± I bowed in respect as per protocol. ¡°It¡¯s okay, Remille. You need not uphold protocol when we¡¯re alone.¡± Closing the doors behind me, I went towards Ludius¡¯s side just as he directed me to. Sitting down on the usual, comfortable, springy mattress, I looked at his determined eyes with my own. However, where I intended to get down to ¡®business,¡¯ his determination was meant for something else. Oh, if only I could have seen it coming. ¡°I need to inform you because you deserve to be the first to know.¡± I remember mouthing off, ¡°I¡¯m all ears,¡± all seductively in response. I could never have been prepared for what he was about to say. Not even with the benefit of hindsight could I bear to look back without sorrow. ¡°I am now betrothed.¡± What???????? My heart, my hands, my voice, my mind¨Ceverything had stopped. Time also seemed to have come to a standstill, perhaps to be merciful to my mind, which struggled to piece together, let alone comprehend the words that had come out of Ludius¡¯s mouth and into my pitiful ears. His words, carried by that ever handsome voice of his, were crystal clear and painfully definite. They neither carried doubt or hesitation, as expected of a man like him. Still, my heart was eager to deny it like some baseless slander against it. ¡°T-T-T-That¡¯s g-great...¡± Unlike him, my words got caught in my still frozen mouth, too pathetic to even articulate such a simple, hollow, emotionless remark. However, Ludius was a perfectionist; if he wanted to be violent, he would make sure that the violence he inflicted will be complete. ¡°I will be marrying Ilyana Ropascieau.¡± The name rang a bell; her family had been within the circle of the imperial family for a long time. The House of Ropascieau ruled over a duchy that had sworn allegiance to the empire, with its lineage of dukes having served as excellent commanders in its campaigns and conquests. Still, all the substantial information that I have on her and her family only meant that what Ludius was telling me was likely very genuine. Oh, I hated myself for even doubting him, but now a prevailing sense of pain and sorrow started to take hold of my perspective of things. I tried to maintain what cool I still had, but the emotions were just too powerful. I did not want to blame him, but I also did not want to believe what I was hearing. Conflicted on what to feel, I foolishly believed that there was more to it. Perhaps, I thought, I could ¡®understand¡¯ why he was getting married. ¡°Why...¡± ¡°Why? Why do you need to ask? It¡¯s for the sake of the empire.¡± Of course, it was. I already knew why. It¡¯s imperative for Ludius, the crown prince, to be able to produce an heir that would continue the Parpaldian line of succession and the tradition of imperial exceptionalism. Ilyana, the daughter of a duke, was a sensible candidate for the empress. Young, beautiful, well-educated, well-regarded, likely a virgin, and capable of childbirth, she ticked all the boxes for a suitable and worthy Parpaldian empress. Unlike me, an old, worn out, glorified cum rag whose ties to the imperial family have long been severed and without any titles nor property to speak of. It made sense. Still, I couldn¡¯t stop the emotions swelling up within my heart. Already raptured by what Ludius said, it felt as if they were going to rip it apart all over again. Before I knew it, the tears started running out of my eyes, ruining my makeup and composure. Why?! I don¡¯t care if it was a sensible decision! Why go for a bitch like her when I am here?! The agony had forced my eyes to look at Ludius with different lenses. At that point, he no longer appeared to be the kind man that had given me a life free from the shackles of my oppressors. ¡°But you said you wanted me by your side!¡± What was I saying? Was I really that afflicted by the torment of the flurry of emotions that came from what he said? ¡°Hah... I wanted you as an ally, Remille. I thought you were smarter than that.¡± Fuck. Not only did he want me for my capabilities, but now he¡¯s actually insulting me? In hindsight, what he said wasn¡¯t very far from the truth, but back then, I heard it differently. That was because he was starting to sound like the very people I¡¯ve come to despise: the same ones that have used and abandoned me all these years. His irksome words and galling composure hit me like a coach, and my body reacted reflexively by slapping his face. Slap! Liberating as it was¨CI have never been the type to go physical¨CI knew that this freak episode of emotional outburst was not going to be tolerated by someone like Ludius. Sure enough, he retaliated. His widened eyes, bursting at the seams with cold rage, stared down my angered eyes as he pinned my arms and body on the bed with his strong hands. I did feel fear, but my anger and sadness overpowered what fear-driven mechanisms were acting out. ¡°Disappointing. I thought you¡¯d understand.¡± ¡°And I thought you love¨Clooked back my way...!¡± ¡°I did, but only so far as to make sure you¡¯re on my good side.¡± Oh no. What have I gotten myself into? Gods, I¡¯m such a fool. I¡¯ve built up my defenses and prepared myself to live off the earth just to never be involved with evil, self-fulfilling people to the point that I was beyond convincing. Why did I allow myself to get swayed by this man? I trusted him too much. I¡¯m so stupid. There are no good people in this world, Remille, only people with their own interests at heart. Lorraine¡¯s words echoed in my mind. Considering everything, they made so much sense, almost like a divine prophecy unfolding before my eyes. She was right all along. The man who I assumed to be my friend and someone I should trust turned out to be driven by his own interests. He turned out to be self-seeking with the drive to even cross the great divide between mere hedonists and grand schemers, a necessity to be able to have the stomach to use people. ¡°You will continue to be on my good side, right?¡± He glared right at me just as he said that. There was only one correct answer, and so I nodded. - - - The high ceiling of the grand temple at the imperial palace allowed for a spectacularly open space inside, making it appear as if the lavishly painted stone ceiling reached out all the way to the sky. It was nearing noon, and the air inside was hot, but it was also filled with the scent of high expectations and heavy hearts. The temple was packed to the brim with Parpaldian citizens, ranging from very important industrialists to the average man and woman, but there were also numerous foreign dignitaries present. At the center of the temple, where the altar was located, stood Esthirant¡¯s highest priest. Standing together with him were two people, a man, and a woman. The man wore the best and most spectacular crimson coat and gold sash anyone could have made, and the woman wore the most elegant and cleanest of all white dresses. The two looked at one another with sparkling eyes and gentle smiles, almost as if they were actually lovestruck with each other. They held each other¡¯s hands with what appeared to be the tightest of grips. How did I know what was going on? I was standing in the crowd, together with the rest of the major staff of the imperial palace. Having agreed to be on the good side of the man, I had suppressed my most violent emotions. I did not want to rock the boat, nor did I want to earn the ire of the man and his powerful allies. In all that time I laid low, following orders to the letter and carrying out his will, I thought that my emotions would repress themselves, retreating back into the deep recesses that still survive in my heart. However, they instead festered and grew, their target of hate and retribution expanding from the man to his allies to the entire cutthroat system that plagued Parpaldia. My desire for violence, first realized in that slap, continued to grow even more intense and powerful. I wanted to kill someone. I wanted to blow up an entire building. I wanted chaos. I realized then that Lorraine¡¯s words were not enough; they were only a warning. The world was cruel and there only existed people with a drive to fulfill their desires. However, the story was incomplete. It was a never-ending cycle of dog-eat-dog violence. I came to the conclusion that since every warning must follow up with an advisory statement, I, therefore, needed to complete Lorraine¡¯s insufficient words. There must be a solution to the ills that plagued the Parpaldian imperial apparatus. ¡°Do you, Ludius Gallaire, take this woman as your wife...¡± No longer will I¨Cor anyone¨Csuffer the ignoble tendencies of the greedy. ¡°I do.¡± No more will a hopeful daughter of a household have to cut out her own vessel of childbirth to uphold the ¡°greater good.¡± ¡°Do you, Ilyana Ropascieau, take this man as your husband...¡± No longer will a heartless snake comfort their abhorrent asses on the Parpaldian throne... ¡°I do.¡± ...for there will no longer be any empire to speak of. ¡°...I hereby pronounce that they are man and wife!¡± The resounding clamor of applause filled the air inside the grand temple as the marriage between Crown Prince Ludius and Ilyana Ropascieau was made official. I looked on with lifeless eyes as Ludius¡¯s lips, once so precious and dear to me, gently pressed against hers. No longer was I as afflicted by something so trivial. If anything, it no longer mattered to me. He, together with the foul, vile, nefarious system that made it possible for people to do the things they did to me, will be broken. Just as their marriage was made official by their vows to one another, I, too, vow that I will do everything to break the system. Whatever. It. Takes. Chapter 24: My Revelation Cent. Calendar 06/06/1639 (over a month ago) ¡°Excuse me, your majesty. May I inquire as to why you have summoned me?¡± I bowed as low as I could as I entered the dimly lit throne room. Sitting all alone on his throne at the other end of the long hall was Ludius, already five years into his position as Emperor of Parpaldia yet still unable to get used to the spacious area afforded to his buttocks by the throne. While true physically, it also was true in a metaphorical sense. His father, the previous emperor, was a brilliant military man, leading the formidable ground forces to a string of victories against the Northern Alliance and commencing the modernization of the navy. The continued expansion of Parpaldian territory and influence, as well as a looming flashpoint with the nascent Altarans, weighed heavily on his shoulders. Since becoming emperor, he has taken to finding time to seclude himself in the throne room to gather his thoughts. I assume that this was why he was here, but him summoning me while he was here was a first. ¡°Come.¡± He said in his even deeper voice than before as his fingers beckoned on me to come closer. Walking the entire length of the spacious throne room, I reached the highest step just next to the imperial throne. Then, without looking my way, he whispered something to me. ¡°Have you noticed anything off with one of our diplomatic channels?¡± What a vague question. However, I would be lying if I said I wasn¡¯t the least bit unsettled by it. Sure, it encompassed a broad range of possible answers, but a lot of those were answers I cannot¨Cby any means¨Cmouth off to this man. After becoming emperor, he now had the power and authority to appoint ministers and the like. To keep my usefulness as his close ally, he appointed me as the head minister for all foreign affairs departments (there were three). The appointment of a nobody like me ruffled a lot of feathers, particularly among the natural and seasoned critics of the imperial regime and of Ludius himself. We made sure that there weren¡¯t any actual challengers ballsy enough to do something substantial, and after some time, the issue was buried. The appointment gave me power and scope, unlike anything I¡¯ve been given before. Not only was my position naturally close to the military, since Parpaldia¡¯s expansion was made possible through a careful blend of diplomacy and warmongering, but I also had access to the many nations that Parpaldia had relations with, especially those that possessed less than favorable perceptions of the empire. This is where I got to work on upholding the vows I made. After making a lot of friends in the military, ranging from lowly ship captains to the army commanders in the north, I went on multiple state visits to foreign nations, signing economic treaties, discussing agreements, and acting as an envoy for Parpaldia¡¯s interests. On the underside, I was also making personal contact with some of the higher-ups of said nations to get a clearer picture of their circumstances. As of this moment, my best option in upending the man and his government is creating a national embarrassment so devastating that even Ludius¡¯s own allies would turn against his regime. To do that, there are currently two realistic routes: a catastrophic war with Altaras, a rapidly modernizing regional power that¡¯s currently at odds with the empire. Another is the loss of the northern frontier and their valuable mana stone mines, either to widespread rebellion or an invasion from the Northern Alliance. Due to a developing famine among the nations of the Northern Alliance, particularly the kingdom of Riem, which has been spreading to our northernmost colonial outposts, the empire has seen extensive participation in giving aid and maintaining order. Any sort of push on my part to plunge the region into the chaos that can be attributed to Ludius¡¯s regime is currently difficult. That leaves Altaras, which has seen modernization aid in recent years from the two premier powers, the Mirishials and the Muish. While we all agreed that this was a blatantly clear effort on their part to check our power and keep the Third Civilized Region in line, our threats to cut off trade and economic cooperation have so far intimidated them from making concrete declarations with Altaras. I digress; modernization means that a war with the Altarans is bound to extract a high toll on us. A catastrophe here, combined with the hostile stance of the Ludius regime, would mean that the citizens would pin the blame for the failure on the imperial government. With that in mind, I had kept tabs on activity in Altaras, particularly the capital Le Brias. If the ¡°diplomatic channels¡± he was asking about were related to that, then I must come up with a way to dance around the topic. ¡°Anything off? Are you perhaps looking for something on the Altarans, your majesty?¡± I returned a question to him in a bid to steer the topic someplace else. ¡°Yes, I am. Because...¡± He then looked towards me, his aged, watery eyes riddled with confusion and questions. It was as if he was at a loss on what to do regarding something. ¡°Ugh... Do you remember the envoys the Lourians sent?¡± ¡°Yes, your majesty.¡± Ah, the Lourians. In a bid to maintain the expanse of his kingdom¡¯s domain, which encompassed many lordships and dukedoms that did not like one another or the centralized authoritarian rule of the Lourian kings, their king, Hark Louria XXXIV, began a campaign of ¡®continental unification¡¯ some years ago. To justify such an audacious objective, he branded his unification a crusade against what he called ¡®sub-humans¡¯¨Celves, beastmen, and dwarves¨Cwhich predominantly made up the other two independent nations that shared Rodenius, Qua-Toyne, and Quila. To further legitimize his campaign, he cozied up to us, asking for material and diplomatic support. Thinking that we could use his friendliness to create a military and economic alliance on the Rodenius continent to surround the entirety of Altaras in the strait, we readily agreed with his terms in exchange for opening ¡®economic and security opportunities¡¯ for us in Louria. ¡°They went back.¡± ¡°What?¡± Wait, what? What reason would they have to leave suddenly? Even if their little war against Qua-Toyne had already started, even if things didn¡¯t go so well, they would not have any reason to go back to Louria. If they were really recalled, then for what probable reason? Well, either way, he wasn¡¯t asking about anything related to what I was plotting. ¡°Apologies, your majesty, but neither I nor department chair Kaios have received word from Louria or our contacts from Louria about them recalling their envoys.¡± Hearing this, he pondered for a bit, caressing the modest beard sprouting from his chin. ¡°Hmm. That is indeed odd. What reason could be big enough to justify suddenly recalling their envoys without any statement or announcement.¡± Then, by sheer coincidence, an answer came to us. A messenger, likely from the Army Headquarters judging by his uniform, barged into the throne room out of breath. Without even catching his breath, he bowed toward Ludius. ¡°E-Excuse my... rudeness...! I... have an urgent message... addressed to your majesty... from the chief of staff...¡± The military? If I recall, they did send a task force to assist in the Lourian war effort. Could this and that be related? Ludius beckoned him to give the physical letter to him. Unraveling it and reading it, he couldn¡¯t contain his shock, which was apparent even from my perspective. ¡°Jin-Hark was attacked at the onset of the invasion?! Castle Hark was destroyed?! Hark Louria is dead?!¡± As much as I was also surprised by the unexpected development in Louria, I tried to keep much of it to myself. There were too many questions about how something like this could have been done, and then there was the matter of the authenticity of these events. However, taking into account the fact that the Lourian envoys were suddenly recalled just recently, the message sounded credible and genuine. ¡°What of our personnel in Rodenius?¡± ¡°The letter says our contingent in Jin-Hark was able to evacuate. As for those assisting at the frontline, it says that they¡¯re currently figuring out what¡¯s happened to them.¡± Ludius hunched over and massaged his forehead. His groaning and stature made it apparent that he was not in the best of moods. After a while, he lifted his head up and pointed toward the messenger. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. ¡°You! Tell the chief of staff and his subordinates to come to the imperial palace for an emergency meeting!¡± ¡°Of course, your majesty!¡± Once the messenger ran off, Ludius then raised his voice and called for one of his aides, who came in running. ¡°Summon department chair Kaios this instant! He should be nearby, yes?¡± ¡°At once, your majesty!¡± With all of the summons taken care of, Ludius and I are once more alone together. Still, on the topic of figuring out what had happened, it appears that he has already accepted that it had happened and had moved on to who did it. ¡°If it¡¯s those Altarans... Such unforgivable behavior will not be tolerated!¡± I, too, am intrigued by the entire development. I still find it unbelievable for the capital to be attacked out of nowhere if the Lourians had just started their invasion. No force is quick enough to be within the position to attack the capital, assuming they came from outside Louria. Should they have already been inside, the amount of firepower needed to level a castle as large as Castle Hark would have stood out too much. Then there was the possibility of sabotage. Hark¡¯s campaign was noticeably unpopular, especially with the nobles. Still, even if it were to have had help from the Altarans, who both have the resources and the willingness to partake in the act, it still seemed excessively far-fetched. There had to be more to the story. Ah well. Either way, whatever is uncovered in this development, I will adjust my plans accordingly. Not even the impending collapse of a massive, unstable kingdom like Louria will stop me from carrying out what these bastards deserve. Cent. Calendar 19/07/1639 (yesterday) Nothing better could describe the ball that takes place during Proclamation Day celebrations. Enchanting music, ballroom dancing, lively chatter, and a buffet full of all sorts of sins. As a member of high society through my position, I am obliged to partake in the festivities, both to have fun and to mingle with the other members of Parpaldia¡¯s aristocratic elite, plus some foreign dignitaries here and there. Indeed, my main focus tonight was the latter, specifically the diplomatic delegation from a certain country. Several weeks ago, an investigation into the events that transpired on the Rodenian continent during the Lourian invasion of Qua-Toyne revealed that a yet unheard of belligerent had taken part in the conflict on the side of the latter. Their motives for joining on the Qua-Toynian side remain unclear, but it appears that they¡¯ve only recently ¡®appeared¡¯. According to those they talked to, representatives from the nation suddenly appeared at their ports accompanied by Fennese translators. Digging deeper, it would appear that the nation in question was exporting goods of ¡°terrifyingly high quality,¡± with some commenting that ¡°they almost feel like they¡¯re from Mu.¡± Fortunately for us, one of the merchants that were arrested in Esthirant was carrying unlicensed cargo, which happened to be exported from the nation in question. Unfortunately, when we examined the cargo, things only got weirder. Small, colorful, egg-like capsules that had moving pictures and functions that allowed for interacting with the moving pictures. To everyone present at that meeting, we all agreed that this was far beyond the technological capabilities currently present anywhere. Not even the crystal video boxes sold by Mu, which they call televisions, allowed for such a level of interactivity. When they were opened up to be examined, the best researchers only found intricate metal engravings that resembled Mirishial-grade mana circuits but were much smaller, sophisticated, and elaborate. Beyond the obvious technological capabilities demonstrated by the export product, there were sufficiently credible testimonies from our contacts in Rodenius that the nation was the one responsible for the attack on Jin-Hark. And above even that, there was striking unanimity in witness testimonies about how they carried it out: ¡°Something was flying in the sky when the castle exploded!¡± ¡°It was so fast and so far up! It produced a very loud zooming sound that echoed for leagues and leagues!¡± ¡°I squinted my eyes to try and see it, but it was too fast. It looked almost like a blue arrowhead that occasionally disappeared into the sky.¡± If these were to be believed, then the nation in question had military air assets that can, with a level of impunity never seen before, attack an enemy capital and decapitate the enemy leadership from out of nowhere. It sounded like the perfect plot. If not for the witnesses and the fact that they identified themselves by fighting as a known belligerent in the conflict, they could have theoretically remained anonymous in the attack. Louria, helpless as it is in its capability to fight in the air, was easily defeated in what was probably the shortest war in known history. If the capabilities mentioned in the testimonies were to be believed, then not even our best wyvern overlords or our laughably minuscule amount of biplane fighter aircraft could defend the imperial capital from such an attack. Ludius and his government, should they all be in one place... poof. Gone. It was perfect. ¡°Japan...¡± I gleefully muttered the name of this nation in question. If they were capable of replicating what they did in Jin-Hark and were willing to do it, then this option would bring about more satisfying results than a war with either Altaras or the Northern Alliance could ever provide. Still, I wanted to at least hear it from their own mouths in their own words. Fortunately for me, as part of our ¡°show-off¡± strategy in forging diplomatic relations with them, they were invited as honorary guests to the Proclamation Day celebrations. If they honored this invitation, then their diplomatic representatives should be present at this ball. Sieving my way through the crowds, dancing lightly around people¡¯s feet and dresses so as to not disturb them, I caught sight of a group of suited men huddled together off to one side of the ballroom. They were comparatively short, their eyes a bit squinted, and the manner in which they were acting gave me an impression that they were like a fish out of water. Then, I saw the flag pins they wore on the lapel of their suits, recognizing them as the simplistic design of the Japanese flag. I had found my prey. Like a snake slithering ever so quietly towards an unsuspecting mouse, I discreetly made my way towards the one that carried himself with the most flair and outwardness. Then, I snapped at my prey with my jaws. ¡°Greetings!¡± I gave my best smile and greeted them with the kindest tone I could offer. ¡°Gfm¨C!!!¡± The man coughed as he recoiled away from me in surprise. As it turns out, he was in the middle of chewing away on a buttered crustacean. Heh, is this behavior characteristic of Japanese men? How cute... ¡°Apologies for my unsightly behavior, Ms...?¡± He spoke with the most rigid Asheran common I¡¯ve ever heard, although it¡¯s to be expected given their ¡®unique¡¯ situation. ¡°You may call me Remille, darling. Chief Minister of Foreign Affairs to everyone, but maybe something different to you...¡± For this first impression, I am hoping to catch him off guard with my behavior so that he may be a bit loose with his mouth. ¡°C-Charmed to meet you, Ms. Remille. I¡¯m Tanaka Noboru of the Yapa¨Cer, I mean Japanese Ministry of Foreign Affairs.¡± That worked terribly well. This might be easier than I thought. ¡°Ah yes, Japan. What an interesting country you have~¡± ¡°It could be in a better state, but that¡¯s just my personal opinion. I hope we can find more things that we¡¯re interested in with each other, Ms. Remille.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but are we talking about our two magnificent countries? Or perhaps¨C¡± ¡°Our countries, of course! Do excuse me, but I am curious about what you find interesting about Japan. Perhaps there is something about it that we can talk about for the sake of future agreements, no?¡± ¡°Ah, hahaha! What I find interesting about you is how clean and efficient you wrapped up the war in Louria with your big attack on Jin-Hark!¡± ¡°Ah. Er, well... I appreciate that you admire that about us, but we hope that you don¡¯t misunderstand. We only wanted the conflict to be as brief as possible, and...¡± Hehehehe. Bullseye. Not only did their diplomat confirm that it was them who did it, but I¡¯m even getting the official statement from their government! As my inner self hopped around in glee, I did the best I could to not let any of it show on my face. ¡°I understand, Mr. Tanaka. It would be really bad if things got to that point in between our relations, don¡¯t you think?¡± ¡°Hahaha... I sincerely hope it never has to come to that. Right now, our interests with Parpaldia lie in the realms of economy and regional stability. I understand that the counterpart assigned to us will not be you, but I do hope we will get along from this point forward.¡± His words had a hint of uncertainty and caution. What he said, his tone, and the non-voiced factors in his speech all told a story of them wanting to steer away from a confrontation. While it confused and frustrated me, I could understand their desire for economic cooperation. No country, past or present or future, does not desire economic activity. I had a hunch that there was little point in prying further and that my plans would not immediately bear fruit; I had already accepted that this would be a long-term game. With that in mind, I left them with the warmest remark for a bright future that I could leave before making myself scarce. Cent. Calendar 20/07/1639 (earlier) The afternoon of the next day. For once, the weather had been surprisingly cooperative with our itinerary, allowing the highly awaited military parade through Proclamation Square to proceed. A display of Parpaldian excellence and martial prowess, the military parade has traditionally been an event that brings the citizens together to be reminded of the might and awe of the empire¡¯s centerpiece institution. To foreign dignitaries invited, the event serves as a window into the capabilities of Parpaldia¡¯s formidable ground army since novel weapons recently introduced to service are usually included, although there aren¡¯t any new ones this year as far as I heard. I was also present at the event, seated together with the ministers just below the platform where the imperial family was positioned. I sank in my seat as formation after formation of tough-looking imperial regulars stamped their boots in disciplined unison. I wasn¡¯t really that interested in the military anyway. As soon as my consciousness was about to lose the fight against upholding respect and personal image, I felt a great force collide against my body as a small human jumped onto my lap. ¡°Auntie! Look! Look! The dwagons are here!¡± Still young yet already beautiful with her big, sparkling eyes and gentle red cheeks, this little 6-year-old girl, Luna, was the byproduct of the marriage between Emperor Ludius and Empress Ilyana and the heir presumptive to the Parpaldian throne. ¡°Dragons, Luna. And stop calling me auntie! I¡¯m not your aunt!¡± Technically, I was. Although no one has suspected me of being the Remille that had ¡®ran away¡¯ from the family all the way back in 1618. I had been playing the part of a commoner for so long that I''d already convinced myself that I had never really been part of the imperial family at least until this brat started calling me aunt. ¡°But Papa says you¡¯re my aunt.¡± She said in an off-hand manner as if she was talking about something normal. She then looked into my eyes with her own, putting on a display of her genuine innocence for me to see. What she said chipped away at my heart, beckoning on long-buried sentiments that Ludius still harbors feelings for me. I almost asked her, ¡°Did he really?¡±, but my resolute conviction, as well as the anger and pain from everything that had happened up to this point, repressed these emotions back into the depths of my heart. No longer will I fall victim to the evils of others. Still, looking at her, I somehow found some semblance of my younger, more innocent self, even if our physical attributes were entirely different. For this single moment, I felt like wanting to prevent all the torture and agony I had gone through from happening to her; to save her from the sinister machinations that had dirtied, defiled, and violated me. After all, she was still a young girl. She does not deserve to be part of the greater suffering that my actions will inflict. Perhaps if I... No. There is no going back. Not even for precious Luna. ¡°I¡¯m sorry...¡± I whispered. To think that I was conceited enough to assume that apologizing would save her from suffering, but in the end, it was all just self-gratification. Lorraine¡¯s words still prove true. ¡°What was that, auntie?¡± ¡°Nothing, dear. And stop calling me auntie!¡± Just as the mighty land dragons of Parpaldia¡¯s war machine march ever so steady to their destination, I, too, will be unwavering in my advance. Chapter 24.5: With Thundering Motors Cent. Calendar 05/08/1639, outside Sanders, Leifor, 19:50 The sun had long set beneath the horizon to the west, but flashes of light erupting all over continued to interrupt the reign of darkness. A daunting light show of bright red tracers, muzzle flashes from high caliber guns, and hellfire erupting from entire city blocks being leveled by bombs and artillery rounds coming down from above could be seen from a distance. As gruesome and terrifying as it looked, the fighting was fortunately far from Sanders, a major industrial city that had been formerly on the frontlines barely a month ago. Now, it was a city without life¨Cits people forced behind the shutters and doors of their houses by fear¨Cas the artillery and air wing of the Imperial Gra Valkan Army (IGVA) consistently pushed the frontline further and further away, leaving in their wake a demolished Leiforian resistance. Somewhere nearby, a camouflaged command installation of the occupying forces stood. Here, commanders of the 86th Panzergrenadier Division, one of the five mechanized infantry divisions deployed in Leifor, had gathered¨Cfar from the eyes and ears of their enemies¨Cto discuss something important, for winds blowing down from the Malmund mountains far to the northeast carry unsavory news from the still-unconquered parts of the country. ¡°As you were.¡± Generalleutnant Bertram Stroman, having entered the brightly lit meeting room to an array of officers in their fatigues who stood up to salute him, ordered them back to their seats. Before taking his own seat, he unscrolled a rolled-up map and placed it down on the table for all to see. His eyes looked heavy¨Cperhaps even greater than the weight of the canvas he unfurled. ¡°I¡¯ll get straight down to business.¡± The map was a geographical rendition of the expansive extent of the Federal Empire of Leifor. Drawn on it were the approximate frontlines as of today, the 5th of Aureit (Month 8), disposition of Gra Valkan (in blue) and Leiforian (in red) forces, and most important of all were the filled arrows pointing from their frontlines towards Leiforian positions. Near the top edge of the map were the characters for ¡°Unternehmen Rammbock.¡± The more the officers looked at it, the more their eyes matched the weight shown by Bertram¡¯s. Sensing the weight of the atmosphere in the room, he tried to level things by saying that it was beyond his control. ¡°Yes, yes, I know. There are already complications, but this is already approved for the 12th; our hands are tied.¡± The map was none other than a general overview of Unternehmen Rammbock, a major pre-emptive offensive centered on a pincer on the remnants of an Army Group based around the city of Havro. One of the officers scratched their head and sighed. ¡°I guess this is what the silence from command has led up to.¡± Bertram and the rest nodded in silent yet frustrated agreement. It has been two months since war broke out between Leifor, its protectorates Paganda and Irnetia, and Gra Valkas. Despite securing the capitulations of the two island kingdoms mere hours into the campaign, an anticipated sweeping victory in Leifor slipped out of their hands; even though the imperial family and the federal government in the capital issued their surrender, the rest of the country didn¡¯t. Through a mix of disrupted lines of communication, general confusion, and nationalistic fervor, the Leiforians refused¨Cor didn¡¯t even know of¨Cthe surrender. The Gra Valkans have finally bit off more than they could chew; thus, a full-scale invasion of the country awaited them. Logistical problems persist due to the unprecedented escalation of the scale of the conflict, but as luck would have it, the Leiforians mobilized slower, permitting the landing IGVA to secure their gains and supply lines and use their superior warfighting capabilities to steamroll any resistance. Be that as it may, even now the mobilized remnants of the Leiforians far outnumber the Gra Valkans 20 to 1; they may have total air supremacy and their artillery far more precise and deadly, but their daunting inferiority in number meant that every barrel and airframe was operating 24/7. This was also due to the limited scale at which the imperial government in Ragna advertised the war to be: a small conflict to gain land and fame among the dog-eat-dog-minded powers of Asherah. The end to the generational, 40-year war with Kain brought them an unprecedented peace¨Cone which the war-weary Gra Valkans were ready to experiment with and accept. With that in mind, the backfiring of the hasty decision of greenlighting Unternehmen Donnerschlag to grab Leifor in its entirety would be disastrous should it be made public. To maintain popular apathy¨Cfor there was no longer any popular support to the war¨Cthe government opted to keep the military presence in Leifor limited, in addition to censoring the death toll and other numbers and labeling their deployment as simply for ¡°snuffing out guerillas¡± and ¡°securing POWs.¡± As a consequence, there were only 13 divisions from two army corps and two air forces (around 760 aircraft)¨Ca comparatively small deployment for a big land war. Against the estimated 26 or so Leiforian Army divisions still found to be active in the northeast alone, it would be disastrous should the enemy mount a massed, organized push against their frontlines. ¡°That should mean then that...¡± One of the officers openly mouthed out, the anxiety subtly apparent from the wavering tone of his voice. ¡°Yes. There¡¯s no doubt about that GD report now.¡± Bertram responded to him, referring to a report made by the Geheimdienst (GD), their government¡¯s intelligence organization. Several days ago, the GD released a certain report to the military regarding the movements of the Leiforian Army. Through extensive use of signals intelligence, rumors, and human intelligence from apprehended Leiforian civilians suspected of military espionage, as well as aerial reconnaissance provided by the Army Air Service, they report that their findings point to a surviving Leiforian general by the name of Jonas Jakobsen rapidly reorganizing surviving elements and mobilizing men and equipment at an unprecedented scale near the city of Havro. Implicit mentions of a coming counteroffensive in known and suspected Leiforian radio and manacomm channels add credence to a feared big, strategic movement all across the frontlines. The report then concludes with high confidence that a major counteroffensive is imminent and puts the possible date to approximately early next month¨Cthe start of autumn. The report unnerved the Gra Valkan commanders. With the government already pressing them to secure the capitulation of the last regional governor and end all major actions early next month, they were already planning a culminating offensive by the end of Aureit (Month 8). However, with the Leiforians managing to adapt and organize at a speed and scale higher than they anticipated, the offensive was redrawn and pushed closer in time to next week. ¡°My bad for dawdling, but if there aren¡¯t any more impressions, I¡¯ll get down to the crux of this offensive.¡± Securing the affirmative nods of his officers, Bertram brought out a couple more maps that were more specific in terms of detail and their primary objectives.
Dubbed Rammbock for Battering Ram, the three-day long offensive¡¯s main objectives were to overrun and destroy the still organizing Leiforian forces and take the northeast regional capital Havro. The operation would utilize elements from all their combat-capable divisions, with five coming from their northern front (III Army Corps) and eight coming from their primary southern front (II Army Corps), which would form the primary pincer against Havro. The operation would open with bombing runs from the two air services and long-range strikes from the attached artillery brigades. They would be aiming at known enemy camps, supply depots, communications nodes, armor, heavy artillery, anti-aircraft gun emplacements, and so on. After those are neutralized, they would then be concentrating their efforts on the heavily fortified mountain defense line known as the Helsingsand Line, a defensive network of reinforced concrete bunkers, heavy artillery in armored turrets, and other defensive emplacements lining the border with Mu. Two of these special defensive positions¨Ctriple 301mm long-range guns mounted in rotating battleship turrets¨Care located near Havro and are capable of providing potent artillery support; as such, they would be subjected to constant bombing and artillery strikes to keep their big guns from firing. While that is happening, the tank, mechanized infantry, infantry divisions, and engineering and support units would move in. ¡°This is where we come in.¡± As the air and artillery war unfolds, ground forces would stream in and break their present frontlines, destroying surviving Leiforian units as they pressed on. For each day, the elements of both the northern and southern pincer would advance a certain distance, securing designated objectives on which their robust engineering units would be constructing forward operating bases. It is from these bases that they continue the push to Havro come the following morning, granted the units are replenished and still capable of combat. With the Leiforians having nonexistent air power, their farthest-reaching batteries on the defense line silenced or preoccupied with their airstrikes, very limited nighttime fighting capabilities, and comparatively outdated artillery, they¡¯re confident that they will not put up much of a resistance against their push. ¡°With the level of destruction raining on them, we should be expecting pockets of disorganized attempts at resistance at best. It¡¯s already known that they¡¯re capable of hiding their shit quite well¨Cso much so that air recon missed three to four battalions back in the Sanders campaign¨Cso those pockets may still be heavily armed. Expect heavy tanks, anti-tank guns, mortars, bunkers, machine gun nests, gun carriers, and so on.¡± Bertram glanced upward for a moment to check his officers¡¯ responses before continuing. ¡°Alright. Now onto the front in Maniger...¡± He then pointed to a Leiforian-held city in the middle of the Leifor far to the east of Sanders labeled ¡®Maniger¡¯. It was completely encapsulated by a blue line demarcating the frontline there with icons denoting Gra Valkan artillery batteries all over it. Cent. Calendar 08/08/1639, Army Base Havro, Havro, Leifor, 14:30 ¡°Excuse me! Coming through!¡± A messenger boy hastily slips through the throng of people coming and going through the cramped interior of this underground corridor, almost letting go of a letter he was merely holding by the edge. His khaki coat was unbuttoned¨Cperhaps because it didn¡¯t come with any¨Cand his face, hands, and cap were dirty with soot and mud. He thought himself unbecoming because of the detestable state of his getup, for he was currently in perhaps the most important military command installation in all of Leifor. But apparently, no one seemed to care¨Ceveryone was preoccupied with trying not to lose their sanity, for their beloved nation was at the stake of being obscured in the history books. Just a little over two months ago, the predominant boogeyman haunting the city folk of Havro was their neighbor to the east, the expansionist power that was Mu. Having swallowed the northeastern edges of Leiforian territory in recent memory, everyone was most scared of the sound of royal Muish guns and bombers conducting exercises across the border. As such, their big guns, tanks, artillery, and infantry divisions all faced east to welcome the eventual incursion of the Muish into their lands, with the west being little more than boring farmland and forests. It all changed, however, when the Gra Valkans, an ¡°empire¡± they thought docile and subject to Mu¡¯s whim, invaded from the ocean to the west and overwhelmed everything they put up. In as little as a month, they were in Sanders, the closest major city to the south. But then, the military, despite having been broken and battered, assured them that ¡°autumn was coming¡±¨Cthe season nationalist writers associate with hard times... for the enemy. However... After navigating his way through the maze-like bunker, the messenger boy reached the end of a corridor which had a single heavy-duty steel door that was guarded by a soldier. If it wasn¡¯t already apparent from his disheveled appearance, the soldier had an attitude. ¡°What¡¯s your business here, boy?¡± He barked, his deep voice echoing in the brick-lined corridors, which was followed by the flick of the safety on his rifle being disengaged. ¡°Important business!¡± The boy, remembering his informant¡¯s words¨C¡°hold up the envelope¡¯s seal, and you¡¯re good to go¡±¨Cdid as he was told and stood his ground against the soldier. Seeing the bright red seal firmly stamped onto the letter the boy held, the soldier became flustered and quickly put away his rifle. He then stood off to the side and opened the heavy-duty steel door via a rotating mechanism on the wall. As the big, girthy door steadily swiveled out of the way, the boy didn¡¯t wait for it to be fully open and ran through as soon as the gap was spacious enough for him to slip. Emerging onto the other side, he traversed the hallway until he arrived at the only lit room towards the end. Without even knocking on the door, he swung it open and entered the room, earning the stares of multiple military men of high rank (as noted by their rank insignia) who were in the middle of a heated discussion. The bald one in the middle of the bunch was the first to raise his voice. ¡°What are you doing here?!¡± The hostility in his tone was not lost on the boy, who subconsciously flinched. However, another military man stood up from his seat and held back the brash bald man. ¡°Wait.¡± He then reached his hand out to the boy as if he was expecting him to hand something over. The boy, without uttering a word, simply handed over the letter to the kind man. ¡°You may go.¡± The man then relieved the boy of his task and sent him off, which he promptly did and disappeared back into the hallway, leaving behind the military men who were stumped as to what the letter was for. ¡°Is that what I think it is?¡± The bald man pointed to the letter, to which the kind man simply sighed as if in expectation that it didn¡¯t contain good news. ¡°Moment of truth.¡± Breaking the seal, the man opened the letter. Despite being muddied and stained with drops of blood and sweat, the writing was still legible. It was addressed to him, Ungforstander Jonas Jakobsen. Its contents, sadly, contained nothing but bad news, but the fact that he was able to read it was already a boon to them, for it was a matter of life or death. Sighing heavily, he put the letter away and looked at his officers, who were all impatient to hear what it had to say. ¡°Well, I guess it was inevitable. The Gra Valkans appeared to have caught on; we¡¯ve got confirmation from our sources in Sanders, Pisbo, and every town in between that they¡¯re doing the same things as before they took Sanders. Gentlemen, it looks like an offensive on Havro is imminent.¡± The already heavy air within the closed space of the underground meeting room managed to get even heavier. His officers all showed their dread, fear, anxiety, and agitation as they either pounded the table with their fists or placed their hands over their faces. It was something that they knew was going to happen, given the almost godly capability of the Gra Valkans to conduct intelligence gathering, but they never expected them to catch on so fast. As to what exactly the Gra Valkans caught a whiff of... ¡°Ungforstander! What of Operation Efter?rsv?gen? Our preparations will not be ready until the start of next month at the earliest!¡± Jakobsen sank back in his seat, placed his hand over his forehead, and began mulling over things. Operation Efter?rsv?gen, which meant Autumn Awakening, was their planned counteroffensive at the break of autumn. With their overwhelming numerical superiority and homeland advantage, an Army Corps-sized unit (at least on paper, not counting what they¡¯ve lost to bombings and artillery strikes) would be descending from the city of Havro like an avalanche onto both the southern and northern fronts. The operation¡¯s primary objectives included pushing back the northern Gra Valkan front, the weakest and most tenuous of the two, but most important of all was to rouse the waning fighting spirit of the Leiforian nation. The architect of this operation, Jakobsen¨Cthe sole remaining high-ranking general of the Leiforian Army¨Choped to wage a propaganda campaign from Havro as Efter?rsv?gen was underway and brand it as the resurgent Leiforian nation fighting back against the oppressive invaders. As a grounded nationalist himself, he knew of the strong national identity his countrymen possessed and wished to utilize that to whittle away at the Gra Valkan hold on their country. Unfortunately for him and his men, the complication of reforming his Army Group North from the maimed remnants of infantry divisions while under the constant threat of airstrikes had been proving to be a difficult task. Now that the enemy knows that they¡¯re planning a counteroffensive, everything is at risk of falling apart. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. Nevertheless, Jakobsen knows that not all is lost yet. ¡°We can still turn this to our advantage.¡± Standing up and pointing to the map, the aura of determination emanating from him emboldened the disheartened officers in the room. ¡°Based on the extremely fast pace the Gra Valkans have been moving the entirety of this war, we should be expecting their preemptive offensive to commence in under two weeks. Their target would obviously be Havro, but it¡¯s also possible that they¡¯ve diverted elements of their forces to other flanks to push in all directions. Now, let me be clear: it is simply impossible that we will be able to get our forces ready for Efter?rsv?gen before they launch their offensive. Fortunately, we can still achieve our objective by showing that we are holding against the Gra Valkans¡¯ attack: we¡¯ll show to our fellow countrymen and soldiers that resistance isn¡¯t futile and that they could join us in doing so. Not only that, but this would simplify things for us; since we¡¯re now on the defensive, we should be able to have our units dig in and camouflage themselves for the inevitable.¡± Jakobsen pointed to several lines on the map which showed the depth of their defenses and the disposition of their units along said defenses and began issuing orders. His officers immediately jotted them down for dissemination afterward. ¡°With that out of the way, we will now have to bring out our trump cards.¡± He pulled out a folded map from the stack of maps and papers underneath the table, unfolded it, and laid it flat on top. The map was that of Havro¡¯s defenses, including a series of dots and shapes around a solid line that ran in a zigzag fashion through the mountainous forests to the city¡¯s northwest. ¡°Using my powers as the acting commander in chief of the Leiforian Army, I will assume command of the defenses, fortifications, manpower, and firepower of the Helsingsand Line.¡± The Helsingsand Line was the name given to the series of heavily fortified defenses, bunkers, and batteries built by the Leiforian government along their long border with Mu out of fears of an invasion following the systematic encroachment of Muish land grabbing prior to and immediately after the Great War. The defenses, coupled with the generally mountainous and difficult terrain that they were built in, were hoped to be able to channel the invading Royal Muish Army into chokepoints, if not stop them altogether. With the Gra Valkans invading from the west, the Helsingsand Line has been mostly useless¨Cup until now, at least. ¡°Fortunately for us, two of the superheavy batteries are positioned to the north and east of the city. These should have the range and punch to challenge even the notorious Gra Valkan artillery, which proved countless times to be untouchable by our own. They will have to be activated for operation within two weeks. I assume that will be possible?¡± He turned towards one of his officers responsible for the Helsingsand Line in their administrative district. ¡°Yes, sir.¡± ¡°Excellent. Once they¡¯re up, have them point southwest.¡± ¡°Of course.¡± ¡°Now...¡± His fingers hovered over several dots scattered randomly across the forest to the east of the city just before the Helsingsand Line. ¡°How long until we get these ready?¡± The officer he was talking to saw him pointing specifically to the dots on the forest, causing his eyes to momentarily drop to the ground in hesitation. After a while, he managed to find the words he was looking for. ¡°Around the same time as the other superheavy batteries, sir.¡± For the first time since their meeting started, a smile¨Calthough slight and subtle¨Cappeared on Jakobsen¡¯s face. ¡°Perfect.¡± With much of what he had in mind communicated with his officers, he formally adjourned the meeting. As they chatted amongst themselves over coordination regarding unit movements, Jakobsen leaned back on his chair and continued to mull over the storm that loomed on the horizon. His trump cards were the Helsingsand Line¡¯s superheavy batteries, heavily armored battleship turrets with powerful artillery, and their ultimate weapon: seven gigantic cannons mounted on railway cars. Housed inside densely camouflaged tunnels, which were the dots in the forest he pointed to, these pieces were more than capable of outranging even the dreaded artillery pieces of the Gra Valkans. These were developed and created with the utmost secrecy; the Leiforian military believed that these were key to stopping a Muish armored assault coming from the northeast. These were so obscure and secret that he only found out their existence after he had evacuated to Havro last month and realized he was the highest ranking officer left in all of Leifor. This, compared with the fact that the tunnels and rail lines are all densely camouflaged and that there exist numerous false tunnels, it is likely that the Gra Valkans also don¡¯t know of their existence. However, the most important role that these trump cards would play isn¡¯t their long-reaching punch but rather their value as targets; by presenting their enemy with these valuable assets that present the greatest threat, Jakobsen hopes to push the Gra Valkans to divert resources¨Cespecially their artillery and attack aircraft¨Caway from supporting their offensive. And yet even then... ¡°Who in the world are these people?¡± Handing them defeat after defeat in what he could only describe as an absurdly fast war, the Gra Valkan military was unlike anything he¡¯s ever seen. Their emphasis on speed wasn¡¯t strange since both the Muish and the Imperials employ armored breakthrough forces, but the Gra Valkans were taking things multiple steps further. Almost every single infantry force that they employed came with small tanks that provided lethal fire support. Their armored forces always pushed with a level of ferocity and speed that¨Cin common sense¨Cwould have stretched their lines of communication, and yet they always still appear to be well supplied and coordinated. Their air force was absolutely phenomenal, always knowing where to land their hits and making sure that the destruction they delivered was absolute¨Cif they couldn¡¯t, they¡¯d completely level an entire sector of the map. The high-pitched shrill that their otherworldly engines would make have given the Leiforians the habit of ducking under hard cover whenever they would be heard. Then, there were the stories of their fabled rotorcraft capable of taking off and landing vertically. These massive beasts were capable of transporting both men and machines, with some eyewitnesses claiming that they¡¯d even seen some carrying tanks through the air. Having come across numerous reports of enemy armor and infantry appearing from sectors of the map where they¡¯ve never been spotted before, Jakobsen and his officers were driven to believe that these were made possible by those rotorcraft. ¡°Ah well... ¡®The better the enemy, the better the fight will be,¡¯ or so they said.¡± Chuckling as he gave off a hearty sigh, Jakobsen was determined to see this fight to the end; if Leifor was doomed to lose, then it would go down gloriously. Cent. Calendar 12/08/1639, all across Leifor, 6:35 As the skies above the Malmund mountains to the east started to glow wine red from the sun crawling up from behind them, the song of chickens and birds heralding the morning followed the rustling of the trees swaying from the cool, late summer winds. The thin tops of tall pine trees and towering industrial plant smokestacks dotted the landscape of eastern Leifor, but they were soon joined by the thousands of artillery barrels slowly rising to face the indigo sky. All across the country, the muzzles of these towed and self-propelled guns were being primed for combat, destined to destroy and set ablaze countless hectares of Leiforian territory just to smite their enemies. The clock continued to tick¨Cwell until it was overshadowed by the concert of gunfire. Boom! Boom! Boom! The glow of thousands of muzzle flashes welcomed the first rays of the sun descending from the mountains, all while their thundering echoes whiplashed across the still air. As the clock continued to tick, so did the guns; already, there were tens of thousands of explosives flying up into the air, headed towards the unsuspecting Leiforian regular or militiaman. Joining them were formations of hundreds of winged beasts¨Cthe indomitable tactical bombers and strike aircraft of the Imperial Gra Valkan Army Air Service (IGVAAS)¨Ctheir bellies and wings lined to the brim with ordnance that could level the capital Leiforia a thousand times over. Before long, even the rhythmic beat of artillery fire was eclipsed by the deafening roar of their jet engines. ¡°Thirty seconds to target.¡± On board one of the Ks-223 Stacheliges Dach (nicknamed the Haussier by its flight crews) tactical bombers headlining the aerial ¡®battering ram,¡¯ the pilot maintained his heading and speed as their targets fast approached. One of the other crew members, his navigator, maintained control over the loaded internal bay. Through his tiny observation window, he could only see the endless green of forests below them. Be that as it may, if their pre-planned flight route was correct and he was to drop the bombs as timed, then they¡¯re sure to be on target. ¡°Fifteen seconds.¡± For the majority of their sorties in this operation, due to the relatively low threat from the anti-aircraft fire they faced¨Ceither because most were already destroyed or were too far behind in capability to present a threat to their planes¨Cthey were going to perform level bombing runs. As the countdown passed the ten-second mark, the navigator activated the switch that opened the bomb bay doors. Wirrrrrrr! He felt the airframe shake and groan, but the machinery¨Cenabled by the efforts of the maintenance crew that continuously keeps this beast capable of flying¨Cproved to him that it was still in the fight. ¡°Five seconds.¡± Their extremities felt like tensing up, but their professional training and plentiful experience were enough to keep them from doing so. Everyone counted down in their heads in sync with the audible countdown. Three. Two. One. It was still an unceasing ocean of green beyond the observation window, but the navigator trusted the numbers. Without hesitation or feeling, his fingers flicked. Upon doing so, he felt a noticeable change in the weight of the airframe around him as 12 high explosive 500lb bombs were jettisoned from the internal bomb bay of the Haussier, embarking on a planned freefall on a seemingly empty part of the forest. Then, seconds later... Boom! Boom! Boom! The shockwaves from the blasts of the bombs going off were able to reach even the Haussier that was already turning back, assailing them in thunderclaps that were audible even with their comm sets on. However, these were nothing more than a preamble for what came next. KABLAM!!! A gigantic fireball erupted from the forest, ballooning to a height comparable to ten-story buildings and easily dwarfing the conifers surrounding it. The explosion was the result of a direct hit by one of their bombs on artillery munitions dump hidden in the middle of a forest by the Leiforian Army: a pretty good indication that they were right on target. ¡°Hohoho! That¡¯s just perfect!¡± ¡°That¡¯s an ammo dump for sure!¡± ¡°Heh! At this rate, we¡¯ll run out of space to mark our kills!¡± The three crew members each made their thrilled reactions to the explosion known. ¡°This is Abelisch F. All targets are hit; returning to base.¡± As their flight commander radioed back to base about their expected success, the tactical bombers were all on their way back. With their first sortie of Rammbock out of the way, the aviators prepared themselves for more as this was not going to be the last. - - - Meanwhile, back at the artillery formations, a shout echoes throughout the vicinity and through their comms. Despite it being part of a protocol for the gunners, it never ceases to impart a complex sense of relief and dread. ¡°Splash!¡± Elsewhere, kilometers from where they were deployed, gigantic explosions erupted from a grove on a hill overlooking a village, the plumage dwarfing the adult conifers they felled. The shockwaves from the blasts reached the village, breaking windows and glassware. ¡°We¡¯re under attack!¡± ¡°Get inside! Now!¡± Men and women of varying ages, tending to their livestock and preparing for breakfast, quickly went under the nearest cover they could find. Some went into their houses, some into their barns, some into their basements. Before they knew it, however, the barrage ceased. Up on the hill where the explosions took place, craters littered with burnt steel and all sorts of maimed remains were all that was left. As shell-shocked yet curious individuals emerged from their hiding places to find their homes mostly free of damage from the shelling, the wails of an air raid siren whirring to a life filled the air. WooooOOOO!!! ¡°Look!¡± A cry from some stranger beckoned on everyone to turn their gazes upward: formations of dozens of fast flying aircraft decorated with foreign, non-Leiforian, identifiers streaked across the orange morning sky, leaving in their wake the bellow of their engines and onlooking civilians fearing for their future. - - - Several kilometers north of Havro, a hill protruding slightly from the conifer forest around it had a striking feature: a gigantic steel turret sporting three long 301mm guns on a concrete platform. Modeled after the main batteries of the Leiforian Navy battleship Havruen, this superheavy battery¨Cone of countless batteries encompassing the Helsingsand Line¨Coverlooked both a ravine through which a river flowed to the north and the sprawling city of Havro to the south. As the sun peeked out of the tall Malmund mountains to the east, a situation was brewing inside the underground complex found underneath the hill. ¡°Oi! Lookouts say we¡¯ve got more than 50 enemy aircraft converging on us!¡± An artilleryman came running into the barracks, spooking his comrades who were still lying asleep on their bunks. ¡°Just us? Well, shi¨C¡± Before one of his comrades could complete his expletive, the alarms went off inside the barracks, sending the still sleepy soldiers onto their feet. An officer barged into the room and shouted, adding to the cacophony of sounds irritating their ears. ¡°Get to your combat stations now! The Gra Valkans are attacking!¡± Before long, personnel from multiple barracks were running towards their positions all across the artillery complex. Just as they arrived at their posts, they began hearing the sound of gunfire beyond the wailing sirens inside the complex. Outside, camouflaged anti-aircraft gun emplacements¨Calready pointed up at the sky¨Cunleashed their volleys at the encroaching bombers. Unfortunately for them, the numerous tactical bombers and attack aircraft proved to be as effective in their targeting capabilities as they were in harmlessly speeding past the poorly aimed shots of the Leiforian defenses; autocannon rounds fired from the ground attack aircraft ripped through the thin veil of camouflage nets and foliage around the emplacements, maiming and slaughtering any soul unfortunate enough not to be behind hard cover. Meanwhile, the bomb bay doors of the Gra Valkan tactical bombers soullessly flung open, allowing the aircraft to shower the heavily armored battery with a deadly payload of bombs. ¡°Incoming! Brace!!!¡± One of the more eagle-eyed anti-aircraft crews screamed, his voice being picked up by the intercoms at his emplacement and transmitted all throughout the complex. Hearing this, the personnel inside the complex repeated the lines to their fellow comrades. ¡°Brace!!!¡± Just as everyone scrambled to either duck beneath or hold onto something, the ground beneath and around them started to shake. Explosions rocked the concrete and steel of and around the formidable turret, sending shockwaves so powerful they¡¯d likely register as a minor earthquake in nearby Havro. Screaming and shouting from the various personnel across the complex filled the air, worsening an already tenuous situation. Soon after the ground had calmed down, the Leiforians realized that the Gra Valkan attackers had pulled away and promptly began assessing damages. ¡°There are fires in Sectors 5 and 8!¡± ¡°We¡¯ve got 12 men in critical condition!¡± ¡°There are craters and surface damage on the battery armor, but all systems are operational!¡± After listening to these reports, the commanding officer of the complex was about to give orders when another report came. ¡°Sir! Another wave of enemy aircraft has been spotted converging on our position!¡± The officer¡¯s eyes were bloodshot and his fists were bleeding from the forceful grip of his fingers. It was hardly 7 in the morning, and he already had enough. ¡°Already?!¡± Just then, the sirens once more blared out, sending everyone scrambling to carry out damage control and anti-aircraft duties. As the second wave of Gra Valkan aircraft descended on the superheavy battery, the Leiforians readied themselves for a long day ahead of them. - - - ¡°Unbelievable.¡± Looking through the periscope of his hatch, the commander of a Gra Valkan M.Fz. 466 R?cheln main battle tank let his thoughts slip out of his mouth. The loud whirring of the engine behind them and their acoustic protection made sure that the others in the tank with him didn¡¯t hear him, which was something. Kilometers ahead of their platoon was a deserted hamlet of over six homes nestled in a slight depression in the prairie and surrounded by farmland. What earned his shock, however, were the craters, scattered pieces of twisted, burning metal, and hastily dug trenches littered with dead soldiers on both sides of the country road that led into the hamlet. The thick, black smoke from the fires was dyed orange by the light from the rising sun as it joined tens of thousands of other plumes polluting the sky all across northeastern Leifor. ¡°It¡¯s just like the towns and villages we secured along the way. Alright! Onto the dirt; we¡¯re bypassing this one to the left¨Cjust as planned!¡± As ordered by their platoon commander on the radio, the four R?chelns drove off the semi-paved country road and onto the prairie, the soil of which was wet due to a localized shower that occurred before sunrise. The tank platoon, forming an echelon formation, plowed through the wet fields while still managing to attain a comfortable 30km/h. In spite of its bulky appearance and weight of 53 tons¨Cridiculous for a tank that can go up to 60km/h, at least by Asheran standards¨Cthe R?cheln just refused to slouch, even on uncooperative terrain. Regardless, the uneven ground they ran on ensured the crew of a slouch-less experience. The tank commander continued to keep watch for anomalies, his eyes shifting from left to right as he scanned treelines, ditches, and any other shadowy place for hidden unpleasantries waiting to happen. Then, from the corner of his eyes, he saw several bolts of light spreading into a cone that unraveled in their direction. Before long, the bolts dug into the ground around and close to their tanks, kicking up mud and dirt as the sounds of other bolts zooming above them reached their ears. ¡°Enemy fire from the direction of the hamlet!¡± Upon hearing this over their platoon comms, the tank commander strained his eyes on the hamlet. It didn¡¯t take long for him to spot the source of the bolts: a light rapidly flashing on and off from under the shade of a slight protrusion on the slope. It appeared to be a well-camouflaged machine gun bunker that the artillery strikes missed. With the static target having unraveled itself to the platoon, it was their turn to fire back. ¡°Anton 2! Take it out!¡± Hearing his callsign being called out, he swiftly moved into action. Activating a switch, he was now able to broadcast to his crew. ¡°Gunner, HESH, bunker!¡± Almost instantly after he gave the order, the gunner responded, his monotonous voice matching the speed at which they were acquiring their target. ¡°Target identified; 800.¡± The turret started swinging to the right as the long 110mm L/50 rifled main gun pointed its muzzle towards the enemy bunker. The loader, meanwhile, took the high explosive squash head round from the ready rack, and with a little effort, he rammed it into the gun, the breach closing just as he yanked his right arm out of the way. He then toggled a switch that told the rest of the crew that the gun was ready to fire. ¡°Gun loaded!¡± With the gun still on target, owing to the help of vertical and horizontal stabilizers, they were now ready to send their reply. ¡°Fire!¡± Boom! A single, ear-splitting boom reverberated across the Leiforian countryside as the gun on one of the R?chelns spit out a ball of burning propellant and residual smoke. Before a moment could even pass, the HESH round easily negotiated the 800m distance and detonated its nasty payload against the reinforced concrete walls of the bunker. What followed was an ostentatious display of overwhelming firepower: a bunker throwing out its burning contents in a massive blast that was achieved in mere seconds with little error. ¡°Phew. Nothing could have survived that.¡± ¡°Indeed. Great work.¡± Giving his crew verbal pats on the shoulder, the tank commander then switched to platoon comms. After having visually scoured their surroundings for any more signs of defiance and coming up empty-handed, they declared the area free of enemy presence. ¡°Looks like that was all of them. Alright! Onto the next objective!¡± The four tanks then continued their way circumventing the hamlet, bypassing the still-burning remnants of their defeated foes. With their thundering engines and robust logistics apparatus, the elements of the 8th Panzer Division¨Cpart of the southern pincer against Havro¨Cwere relentless in their speedy advance across the increasingly hilly Leiforian northeast. With the Gra Valkan battering ram well in transit, there existed only a small window of time in which it could be determined whether or not the Leiforians would get their autumn awakening. Chapter 24.6: Into the Ranks of the Enemy Cent. Calendar 13/08/1639, west of Havro, 9:00 On this unassuming day in the middle of Aureit (Month 8), a battering ram was well on its way to prying open the gates of obstinate resistance. It was the second day of Unternehmen Rammbock, a Gra Valkan offensive against the last organized bulwark of the Leiforian military. Here, several dozens of kilometers to the west of the major city of Havro, a column of fast-moving armored vehicles bearing mottled black, green, and brown camouflage patterns moved against a strong gust of wind that blew across the hilly terrain of eastern Leifor. They were a company from one of the mechanized infantry battalions of the 86th Panzergrenadier Division, one of the thirteen divisions tightening the noose around Havro. Traveling on a winding, semi-paved road that took them through hills both shaved of trees and covered in them, the ride was just about as bumpy for the men inside. "Goddammit. My ears are starting to pop." Otto Eichel, one of the grunts sitting inside one of the M.Fz. 452 Schildkr?te infantry fighting vehicles, aired out his complaints in front of his teammates. The one sitting next to him, the more seasoned Luther Mayer, picked his ears with his pinky in agreement. "Don''t be so special, koffer. We all are." Ignoring his direct senior''s dismissal, Otto went straight to ask their assistant team leader, Reinhard Wolff, who was sitting in front of them on the opposite row of seats. His sagging eye sockets and blank stare would dissuade anybody from talking to him, but not their team''s resident greenie. "Hey, Unteroffizier! What did they say about the altitude in this place again?" Despite his unyielding stare, Reinhard was at least kind enough to entertain the young lad''s innocent question without tossing in a quip. "1,200m. Flat." "Say what?!" Otto let out a scream in disbelief, his wide-open eyes an indicator of his genuine surprise. "Gods. Why are we even here..." Seeing his junior sink in his seat, Luther wanted to find out what was the matter, even if it likely meant that he was going to go on a rant about something again. "Where are you getting at?" "I mean, why are we even out here on these godforsaken mountains fighting kids and old men with guns who''d turn tail and run at first sight of a fucking Schildkr?te? Didn''t they say back before we landed on Leiforia that the fighting''s gonna end once we take the city? It''s been two fucking months since then! Then they said the same thing when we led the charge against Sanders. ''Oh! The Leiforians will have lost the will to fight by then! They will surrender!'' And where are we now? Like, now they''re saying we need to take Havro. Man, what the fuck is a ''Havro''? Is it delicious? Can I eat it? What''s the point of us having this ''Havro''?" Otto sank back in his seat as he took a quick breather. Before anyone could even respond to him, he continued. "Can''t the asswipes in command get a hold on what they fucking want to happen? It''s always the ''one-day surgical strike'' or the ''offensive to end the war'' bullshit. Then when we shed blood and soul to get them the objectives that they asked us to take, they backpedal on what they said and ask for more because it ain''t enough? Fuck me, man..." As the exhausted Otto ended his rant, Luther took out his lighter and a cigarette roll from one of his fatigues'' pockets, lit the cigarette, placed it in his mouth, and breathed in the nicotine before exhaling it into the already claustrophobic, chafing space of their armored box. "Leiforia was just a baptism of fire, koffer. At least you''ve come this far. Also, welcome to the military." After that, silence¨Cbarring the grumbling of the engine and the groaning of the suspension¨Creigned over the vehicle. Otto and Luther''s words gave the other members of their Fireteam food for thought. It truly has been well over two months since their landing and takeover of Leiforia, the federal capital of Leifor. Ever since then, their supposedly two-day operation to do a massive land grab on the Mu continent turned into days, then later weeks, before eventually becoming months. Sure enough, the major action that they saw was nothing like the high-intensity war that they fought with Kain back on Yggdra almost two years ago since the Leiforian military was by no means a peer to Gra Valkas''s, but they were not without difficulties. According to their company commander, another company from a different battalion suffered losses when they encountered an ambush from partisans when they were crossing a village, which was supposedly declared clear by a tank company that passed through it prior. Unlike their previous offensives, this one will have its head straight into what command has described as the "fiercest of Leiforian defenses"¨Cwhatever that may be. As Luther took another helping of nicotine from his cigarette, he felt that there were eyes pointed directly at his person. Turning to look over to his side, he finds Otto staring straight at the roll of tobacco in his mouth. "You want?" Otto raised his eyebrows at Luther''s question as if to say... "Need I fucking say it?" "Manners, koffer. Still, you should''ve said something." However, just as he was reaching for another roll, the sound of a deafening explosion reached their ears, the proximity and power of it managing to even make their hearts skip a beat. KABOOM!!! "Shit!" Before they could even process what had happened, the reflexes of the Gra Valkan soldiers had them quickly grab their Strauss MKb 4 battle rifles as they felt their vehicle screech to a halt. Then, they heard the voice of their platoon leader, Oskar Reissner, screaming over the comms. "Anton, Berta, Cesar; DISEMBARK!!!" Otto and Reinhard, the ones sitting next to the doors of their Schildkr?te, promptly kicked them open and stepped out of their vehicles in no time, followed by the rest of their Fireteam. Behind them, farther down the column, they caught sight of the burning wreck of a Schildkr?te, its rapidly breaking hull, popping ammunition stores, and blown-off turret tell of its grisly demise. Before they could even utter "what the fuck?", the ear-popping sound of another vehicle¨Cthis time an M.Fz. 113 armored personnel carrier¨Cbeing blown into smithereens assaulted their ears, reminding them that they were under attack. "Get down into the ditch!" Leading his Fireteam, Reinhard commanded them to hit the dirt and take cover behind the slight slope between the semi-paved road and the meadow. The other Fireteams had also done the same. As they kept their heads low so as to not be shot by whatever was firing at them, Otto felt the shockwave of a passing bullet or two over his ears. He then looked off to the left, spotting a series of figures peeking over hedgerows further down the road. As soon as he saw muzzle flashes, he reported them to their squad leader, Feldwebel Arnim Natzmer. "Contact; infantry at 12 o''clock! 400m!" "It''s a fucking L-shaped ambush!" At that point, they were already being showered in an unhealthy dose of bullets, so Arnim promptly issued orders. "Keep your head down and return fire! Make sure to make room for the Schildkr?te to maneuver!" Meanwhile, as the infantry squads were taking positions to counter the Leiforian infantry to their front, the Schildkr?tes and their accompanying APCs were already preparing to fight back at their flank ambushers. The leader of the 1st Platoon, Oskar, had already spotted the enemy positions the moment they fired and was broadcasting it over the platoon comms... "Enemy armor, two confirmed¨Cpossibly ''Aslans''¨C2 o''clock!" "Got ''em! Distance 700!" ...and with their autocannons. "Fire!" The turret-mounted 20mm autocannons of his platoon''s Schildkr?tes, having already trained their sights on the enemy, began firing, showering the enemy with solid rounds at a rate of 250 rounds per minute. As soon as their platoon opened fire, the other platoons, seeing where the bright red tracers were landing, also joined in on the barrage. Pam pam pam pam pam! "Driver! Reverse until we''re off the road!" Hearing his orders, their driver put the transmission in reverse, put pressure on the accelerator, and engaged the clutch, sending the vehicle backward and off the dirt road. As that was happening, Oskar activated the Schildkr?te''s smoke launchers, sending grenades into the air that instantly created a blanket of thick, opaque smoke that blocked them from view. The other vehicles repeated this. Oskar and the other platoon leaders then radioed their company commander, the Oberleutnant, to send in the anti-tank section. After three minutes of them laying down suppressive fire and the enemy firing blindly into the smoke, hitting none of their shots, they spotted two friendly vehicles emerging above the hill behind them. The section commander in the lead vehicle, an M.Fz. 512 tank destroyer, immediately surveyed the situation, given the information he had received from the Oberleutnant. Spotting the area where the red tracers from the Schildkr?tes'' autocannons were concentrating, he took a closer look at it with his periscope. There, hidden in the shroud of trees, were four Leiforian Ek/3 Aslan tanks, two of which appeared to be covered in dense foliage and camouflage nets while the other two were smoking wrecks¨Cpresumably from their artillery or air attacks due to the presence of craters around them. He watched as one of the intact Aslans fired its long barreled 83.5mm cannon at their company, a shot which missed and hit the treeline far on the opposite side of the road. With there being only two tanks, he decided to split targets with the other tank destroyer: one shot, one kill each. "Target identified; distance 1200m." As the gunners of both tank destroyers turned their turrets to their respective targets, their own 90mm high-velocity guns zeroed in on the long, vulnerable side profile of the Aslans. They then chose the appropriate ammo, armor-piercing rounds, which were then taken from a bustle at their turrets'' rear and rammed into the gun breech by an autoloading mechanism. Once they were loaded, the section commander gave the order. "FIRE!" Two violent blasts rocked the hilly landscape as the Gra Valkan tank destroyers let loose their guns, sending high-velocity anti-tank rounds at their unaware Leiforian counterparts. The AP rounds, capable of penetrating up to 185mm of rolled homogeneous armor, easily perforated the side armor of the Aslans, unleashing a hail of scorching hot spall bits at extreme velocities inside the vehicles, maiming the unfortunate crew inside. In a period of time spanning a mere three seconds, the Leiforian tanks went from the battlefield''s most dangerous assets to being silent metal coffins. With their assailants confirmed to be neutralized, the section commander radioed the Oberleutnant. Meanwhile, the infantry firefight was progressing comparatively slowly. His left shoulder having been grazed by a bullet, Luther was seething in pain as a medic tended to him. "Ngh... Another scar to the list, I guess... Ow!" They had the advantage in numbers, but the Leiforians were proving to be tenacious. Even against the onslaught of machine gun bullets from their squads'' machine gunners, the Leiforians were still firing back at them. Just as the firefight entered its seventh minute, they heard the composed voice of their platoon commander in the lead, Schildkr?te, over their comms. "The Aslans have been dealt with! Got any more targets?" Almost immediately, Arnim screamed into the comms as if driven by the adrenaline surging in his blood. "Infantry on the hedgerows at 12 o''clock, sir!" "Copy. They''re as good as dead." As soon as the comms were cut, they heard the machine gun-like rattle of their Schildkr?te''s autocannon roaring to life once more. This time, its deadly barrage of high-explosive rounds was directed at the Leiforian infantry to their front, producing a result that could only be explained by one word: gruesome. Trees, shrubbery, and branches were obliterated into splinters and shreds of greenery while red mist¨Cpresumably their former assailants¨Ccould easily be seen being produced as 20mm rounds peppered the treeline. When their autocannon went silent, it would have been the last sound of gunfire they heard for the battle. "All clear." Someone shouted as they stood up, a line which was then repeated all over to inform everyone that there were no longer any enemy combatants. "Gods... They sure pack a hell of a punch for a bunch of disorganized new worlders." Otto remarked as he looked back at the two flaming wrecks of their armored vehicles on the road. From what he could see, they lost a Schildkr?te, which appeared to have been carrying its fireteam at its time of destruction which easily claimed nine lives, and an M.Fz. 113 APC, which was vacated by its squad but not by its crew, adding three more dead to the roster. While they were already well aware of the capabilities their enemies have, this event still somewhat served as a rude wake-up call to them; it may be the case that they''re not the peer enemies Kain once was, but that doesn''t mean they won''t put up a good amount of resistance. Keeping this in mind, Otto ran back to his vehicle as the column was readying to resume its advance eastward into Havro. Cent. Calendar 14/08/1639, Army Base Havro, Havro, 13:10 It had now been two days since the Gra Valkans breached their pre-offensive frontlines, and the situation in the Leiforian chain of command was bad. They had expected the enemy to move fast, but even with the occasional reports of marginal, often tactical successes, they were literally blitzing through their static defenses while they still enjoyed total air and artillery supremacy. Since yesterday, they started receiving reports of mass desertions and mass surrenders, often after airstrikes and artillery barrages, particularly in the reserve and militia units. Even with the added baggage of sorting through prisoners of war (the Gra Valkans were unexpectedly treating them fairly, according to rumors), they were advancing as if there was no tomorrow. Indeed, at the pace that they''re advancing, there will be no tomorrow¨Cfor a free, federal, imperial Leifor, that is. At the lowest levels of the bunker complex underneath the Army Base in Havro, Ungforstander Jonas Jakobsen, the highest-ranking officer of the Leiforian Army¨Cor what''s left of it, was with the rest of his officers and subordinates constantly revising the positions of pieces on the map of Leifor in their war room. Since the offensive¨Cnay, the war started, all they''ve done is remove their own pieces from the map. Unable to get some rest from the worsening situation, Jakobsen couldn''t even properly lift up a cup of tea from the quivering of his fingers. "Ungforstander! Urgent!" Another messenger barged in with the word "urgent". They have already lost count of how many times they''ve heard of it ever since the offensive started. Without looking up to face the messenger, he simply waved his hand, which at this point, the messengers have also already gotten used to. "The Gra Valkan army has crossed the ?dis River! Other points along the 30km critical zone are also being pressured and are poised to break any time soon!" Instead of surprise, the Leiforian military leaders all grabbed their heads as if to violently rip off their hair in frustration and despondency. The ?dis River was one of the natural features that delineated their critical zone, a circle centered on Havro that roughly extends for 30km away. Directly behind this line was the last major defensive perimeter before Havro itself, and judging from previous reports, 30km was the estimated range of the Gra Valkans'' heavy-hitting artillery pieces attached to their divisions. By breaching this, not only are the enemies about to knock on the walls of Havro itself, but the city would also come within range of the bulk of their artillery pieces. This, coupled with the fact that the forces he painstakingly amassed were now rapidly disintegrating, meant that the end was near. However, Jakobsen wasn''t the type to give in, especially not without playing all the cards he could still play. Looking at another officer in his presence with a desperate yet determined look in his eyes, he activates his trump card. "Steffen, the birds are singing." The one whom he called Steffen, upon hearing what Jakobsen said, simply nodded in silence before exiting the room. In the forests northeast of Havro "The Ungforstander sends his regards: the birds are singing." "I guess it''s time, huh?" Two men dressed in the Leiforian Army uniform were talking to one another underneath the flickering glow of an electrical, incandescent light bulb¨Cone of poorer luminosity than the mana-based light sources but consumes less energy overall. Just as they were about to leave the dusty, enclosed room that they were in, the entire room shook, but it was not from an earthquake. "Fucking Gra Valkan bombing raids. I hope this big stick teaches them a lesson." Walking out of the room and down a flight of stairs about five steps tall, they found themselves in a pitch-black area. While the eyes do not perceive anything, their ears hear footsteps on gravel, steel, and wood. "Open the gate!" As soon as he gave the order, they heard the loud clanking and groaning of metallic gears far to the right, which was rapidly getting brighter and brighter as a heavy-duty steel door swiveled open. The sunlight that entered the chamber¨Cwhich was actually a tunnel¨Crevealed its contents: the humongous barrel of a 10.3 Sk (344 mm) pr?v. 38 artillery pieces that almost seemed to dwarf the railway car it was mounted on. It, its car, and the tracks were covered all over in thick foliage so as to improve their chances against retaliatory attacks from prospecting Gra Valkan aircraft. As the loud sound of the steel door completing its swivel echoed across the tunnel, they then heard the ear-piercing scratching of the railway car''s wheels against the steel tracks as it lumbered gently towards the light. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. With the Gra Valkan battering ram coming within sight of Havro''s city walls both ancient and modern, the Leiforians were deploying their heaviest and most dangerous assets in the battlefield. Several minutes after the order was given, seven of the gigantic railway artillery of Leifor''s supposedly impregnable Helsingsand Line were already raised high into the sky, poised to deliver destruction to their unsuspecting foes. Forward command post, 55km southeast of Havro, 13:15 Byron Keynes, a member of the staff of the Royal Muish Army Chief of Staff, was lightly trodding on the mud; its hardening consistency everywhere he stepped meant that it was easy not to slide off and dirty his clothes¨Cand reputation, out of many other things. He''d rather not recall the previous times he was out of the office and stepping on mud in the wide open fields of Leifor, but he was confident that this time was different. Aside from the fact that this time they were observing the Gra Valkans and not the Leiforians, he was sure that he wouldn''t be embarrassing himself in front of foreign and compatriot eyes. "Over here, sir!" A young man in his early thirties, his bright talent in technology only matched by his well-groomed mustache and properly trimmed, no-nonsense haircut, the man that called out to him, Myrus, was probably having the time of his life watching the Gra Valkan military in action. If only he had picked someone else high in the chain of command other than him to come to observe the Valkies, thought Keynes. Now, Myrus and his friend Lassan had every right to be excited¨Cthat much was clear even to Keynes. Despite having been friends with the Gra Valkans for the longest time since their unprecedented appearance in Asheran global affairs, the Muish imagination¨Cincluding those in the military and in politics¨Chave always wondered about the true capabilities of these otherworlders. The commercial products they brought with them, their industries, and even the ultra streamlined airliners in which their citizens arrived in their airports captured their awe and wonder. Naturally, this curiosity gravitated toward their military, which even their esteemed Central Intelligence Directorate had trouble assessing accurately due to their secrecy. That was the case until war broke out between them and Paganda and their allies, Leifor and Irnetia. The speed at which they forced the capitulation of the two island nations and secured the official surrender of the federal Leiforian government stunned everyone, breaking any established norm regarding the expectations with which war objectives were meant to be achieved. While this breakneck speed meant that they weren''t able to catch the Gra Valkan navy in action, the unprecedented resistance of the eastern federal districts of Leifor meant that a ground war was in order, giving the opportunity for Muish eyes and ears to spectate on how they would fight. What they saw blew their minds. Tanks capable of long-range engagements and firing on the move, supported by infantry in what was basically a fusion between APCs and light tanks, allowing the infantry to fight and keep up with armored operations. Mobile artillery that kept up with the main combat units and capable of shooting and scooting at almost a moment''s notice. While not so foreign due to their existence in Muish service, the way the Gra Valkans used their helicopters in transporting almost everything but the heaviest of vehicles allowed for unprecedented mobility and flexibility. Their air forces were nothing to scoff at either: the jet, a long-coveted (and developed) experimental technology following the Imperials'' adoption around a decade ago, was the name of the game. Bombers and ground attack aircraft seem to never be grounded as they''re constantly in the air dropping tons upon tons of ordnance on unfortunate Leiforians. The premier fighter aircraft of their Army Air Service¨Cnamely so as they apparently haven''t yet separated into a dedicated branch¨Cwhich was called the "Langschwert," even had the technology of short vertical take-off and landing, a feat that allows them to operate even on hastily constructed or damaged runways. Out of all of that, there was one thing that the Gra Valkans had that caught his eye. "A pleasure to meet you, General." "The pleasure''s all mine!" Led by Myrus and Lassan to a makeshift observation deck, Keynes exchanged greetings and shook hands with their ''tour guide'' for today, a liaison officer by the name of Rolf Wehner, rank Oberst. The lad had a rugged face and a scar across his left lip, but his eyes were probably the most hospitable thing he had seen in a while. "I presume that the ride here was quite the experience?" Until he talked; gods, his voice and tone were insufferably squeaky for some reason. Perhaps it was his ears? After all, the ride they used to get here was one of their helicopters, a model they called the "Brandeka" which, in spite of its larger-than-life size and spacious interior, the Valkies considered a ''medium-lift helicopter''. "Oh, I''d rather not talk about that, if you don''t mind. Automobiles are¨Cand will always be¨Cmy preferred method of ''going around.''" "That''s unfortunate, General, but I hope that this next show will blow you away¨Cnot literally, just figuratively." Standing on the observation deck, which faced northeast, they could see the towering peaks of the Malmund mountain range off in the distance, and in between were the countless columns of black smoke rising into the air. Fighting was intense as the offensive had just entered its last day, the crackle of gunfire and explosions from the frontline that got ever distant by the minute could be heard in the distance. Immediately in front of the deck was an empty field about the size of a small town riddled with tire and track impressions on the mud with the vehicles that made them still present. As far as their eyes could see, there were self-propelled howitzers, mortar carriers, and towed artillery all throughout the area pointed towards the Leiforian city of Havro situated to the northeast. Most curious, however, were a group of trucks in front of him. These were similar to any other truck he had seen before, but the cargo they carried on their flatbeds was neither seating for troops nor fuel for vehicles; at first, they appeared to be ammunition stored in long, horizontal tubes, but the caliber and length didn''t make sense. It was only when the ''ammunition container'' started to swivel upwards and around an axis that they realized that it wasn''t. "A multiple rocket system, perhaps?" Myrus was the first to realize what it was. Such a system wasn''t foreign to them, but knowing that the Valkies always had some sort of surprise factor, he asked Wehner for more details. "How far can this monstrosity of yours reach?" Just as Wehner was about to give an answer, they felt the echoes of distant, heart-trembling thuds. Boom... Boom... The energy that would have been necessary to produce such powerful echoes was something only these military men could understand, causing them to pause their conversation to look around for where they might have come from. Meanwhile, Myrus and Lassan looked at one another with faces that said, "it''s that." Hoping that wasn''t the case, they tried to ask their Gra Valkan counterpart as frank as possible. "Oberst Wehner, this may be me nitpicking but have your forces cleared out any railway guns?" To their shock, Wehner''s eyes widened as big as the full moon. Judging from this reaction, he¨Cand probably their entire officer corps for that matter¨Cwere not aware of the existence of Leifor''s extensive railway gun system underneath the Helsingsand Line. Whether or not their intelligence was faulty or they completely overlooked their existence was anybody''s guess. Either way, none of that matters now for if they wish not to be obliterated by a several-ton round dropping on their heads from out of nowhere, the Valkies must deal with them promptly. Myrus, Lassan, and Keynes all considered the suggestion to use the Valkies'' overwhelming air supremacy to immediately respond to the railway guns. Turning to face Wehner to discuss with him their suggestions (and maybe request to leave the vicinity), they found him talking to a radio in their native tongue. After a concise back and forth, he put down the receiver back on the apparatus before turning to them with a calmer look on his face. "Gentlemen from the venerable country of Mu, it appears that there are unexpected developments to our programme. Instead of letting you take a closer look at the rocket systems with which we pride ourselves, we will be showing you how we conduct counter batteries." The three Muish men looked at one another with raised eyebrows. It is indeed true that counterbattery is faster than organizing an airstrike, but at this far of a distance from the Helsingsand Line, the traditional ways of locating enemy artillery positions wouldn''t be as effective. Perhaps the Valkies had an aircraft acting the role of a forward spotter in the air? In any case, what fascinated them was the fact that they were going to conduct a counter-battery at this distance, which should be around 60km to the defensive line¨Ca testament to just how far-reaching their indirect fire capabilities were. "Counter battery, you say? May I ask how you were able to ascertain where the Leiforians'' guns are?" "With the help of technology, Mr. Myrus. We call it the counter-battery radar; it allows us to pinpoint with reasonable accuracy where enemy artillery is the moment they start getting noisy. They''re just like the ears of an eager boy with a slingshot: the moment a bird starts chirping, he knows exactly where that bird is and thus where to shoot." Myrus rubbed his chin. Radar is a relatively recent technology, only being developed and adopted more than a decade ago to detect incoming hostile aircraft. They''ve miniaturized them enough to mount them on their capital ships for both anti-aircraft and fire control usage, but if the Gra Valkans were using radar for counter-battery, then that means they''ve made them transportable by vehicle¨Csomething which the Muish are still yet to do. Mere minutes after they heard the deep bellows of the railway guns hitting the ground with tremendous power, the truck-mounted multiple rocket systems had already turned their gazes towards where they were. As soon as they were ready to fire, the order was given. The ground shook as the energy from several solid rocket fuel boosters roaring to life was directed downwards, allowing the rockets¨Csome armed with cluster warheads¨Cto soar high into the sky at breakneck speed. Suburb of Salkos, just outside Havro proper, 13:40 "Help! There''s someone still stuck underneath!" A Leiforian soldier calls out to those around him to assist him in removing the rubble of what used to be a two-story house, which had collapsed after a direct hit from enemy mortar fire. Out of the several hundred soldiers and noncombatants around him, only four had the liberty to devote their time and energy to help him, for everyone was either busy tending to the wounded, crying, contemplating suicide, or repairing broken static weapons and defenses. The soldier was tired, having gone without sleep for two days due to the specter of the endless Gra Valkan airstrikes, but he couldn''t forgo his duty to his country and his people, for there was the voice of a woman from beyond the brick and rubble. "Please... Help me... I can''t feel anything below my waist..." "We''ll be with you shortly, ma''am! Hold on!" Hollow words with empty promises. He could hardly stand straight due to the excess fatigue, let alone lift heavy rubble. Still, he exerted whatever energy he had left to get them out of the way. To help the woman and to prove to himself that his words were not empty. "Shit! The Gra Valkans are here!" He heard the shout of a lone man running up the road towards where they were. His words alone were enough to evoke a sense of life-or-death dilemma in the hearts of everyone, causing them to either panic and flee or drop everything else to get their rifles pointed in the direction from where the shouting man came from. He, too, wanted to take cover, but this woman was still stuck underneath the rubble. "Please, sir! Don''t leave me!" "I won''t! I won''t!" As he wearily lifted out of the way one heavy piece of rubble after the other, his energy evaporated, and his consciousness started to fade in and out. In spite of all that, he continued to do his utmost best. But then... "Tank! Take cover!" The signature clanking of tank treads and grumbling of a diesel engine poured over his ears. He looked to his left to where it was coming from and lo and behold a beast of an armored vehicle was cresting the slope leading up to where he was. It was unlike any tank he had ever seen. Alien symbols dotted its turret and front armor as its massive cannon menacingly pointed forwards. Scary as it was, he cannot afford to leave this woman behind. He mustn''t... he couldn''t. Even as its cannon turned to face him, an enemy soldier that was wearing a uniform and had a rifle slung over his shoulder, he desperately clawed away at the hopelessly heavy rubble he could no longer lift. He can''t let this woman down. He can''t let his country down. He can''t let himself down. ...and now he just can''t. The crackle of a machine gun bursting out bullets at a thousand rounds per minute reverberated across the suburb; in their wake, a soldier patriotic enough to help a countryman yet foolish not to take cover, was unceremoniously gunned down. As the clock struck 13:45, the first elements of the Imperial Gra Valkan Army (IGVA) were now inside the city of Havro itself. Army Base Havro, 14:05 "Enemy mechanized units reported having entered Gate 4! They''re now in Salkos!" "Report from Superheavy Battery 16! Structural damage to the bunkers is critical, so they''re evacuating!" "Superheavy Batteries 11, 13, and 14 are reported to be out of action, possibly from enemy counter-battery action! Batteries 8, 9, 15, and 17 are currently withdrawn and unable to fire due to concentrated attacks on their positions!" "Ungforstander! The commanders of the 41st and 73rd Infantry Battalions have informed us of their intention to surrender!" Jonas Jakobsen, possibly the last military commander of a free federal and imperial Leifor, felt like collapsing on his knees. The reports he had been hearing were now getting all the more bleak as their enemy effortlessly continued to tighten the noose on them. His trump cards had all been played. Some of his own officers were nowhere to be seen¨Cpossibly deserted to surrender to the Gra Valkans or to flee eastward to Mu. Those that had stayed were no longer looking at the map; instead, they were just sitting on the floor with their heads buried in between their arms and legs. Whatever hope and morale they had left were useless, for they were rapidly running out of men, machines, time, territory, and opportunities. However, there still existed an opportunity to save everything, but it was not the option he took lightly¨Cif anything, it was the absolute last resort. "Surrender..." He muttered to himself, yet his words were as loud as a bang to everyone around him. Instead of being consumed with anger and nationalistic fervor at the suggestion, his officers were aflush with relief, solace, and hope. "If we are to preserve as many lives as possible, then I believe we have no other choice, Ungforstander." "They took cities like Ernst, Sanders, and Valentina, the latter of which had the largest Army Base, second only to Leiforia, with ease. Even with the resistance we''ve given, I think the outcome of Gra Valkan flags over Havro is inevitable." Jakobsen didn''t contemplate their inputs further. With all the lives he had put on the line for their now impossible autumn awakening, he felt the immense burden of not putting their sacrifice into vain. Be that as it may, he was not willing to have more lives be offered to the slaughter for something as trivial as honor or glory; he was already confident that he, along with the rest of his men and people, had given their all. Because of that, Leifor will not have gone down without putting up a fight. He may not have put into effect Operation Efter?rsv?gen, their planned autumn awakening, but perhaps such an event will come later in the future. Looking up to face the capable officers and staff who had made everything possible, his regrets faded away. "Alright. Ready the city''s public announcement system and tune our manacomms and radios to the open channels! We''ll be making one last call." Jakobsen smiled as he made his orders, knowing that they''ll be the last he''ll issue to his officers and staff. Tears formed along the edges of their eyes as they all saluted upon looking at his smile, affirming their joy at being able to serve under him. "Yes, sir!" - - - The sound of gunfire, bullets whizzing past, artillery shells detonating and destroying infrastructure, and the general misery of warfighting in an urban environment. Despite things going great for the Gra Valkans as a whole, the individual soldiers carrying out the operations and maneuvers were facing steep struggles. As they got closer to the major enemy installation on the other side of the city, resistance got harder and harder to stomp out. However, as one certain infantry squad saw it, things suddenly got a whole lot quieter. "Hey, do you hear that?" Straining their ears, they could hear the faint sound of someone speaking gibberish from a loudspeaker. Perhaps a public announcement in Leiforian? Before they could ponder any further, their platoon comms was filled with voices from their platoon mates. "Heads up. Enemy infantry coming out of the rubble, 12 o''clock." "They''re... tossing their rifles and guns to the side? Now they''re raising their hands. They''re surrendering?" "We''re counting at least 50¨Cno, 80 combatants with their hands up. Can anyone confirm if they''re surrendering?" "Just confirmed. Command has received word directly from the enemy commander himself; they''re surrendering. Orders are now to receive POWs." Like reading an anticlimactic ending to a story, the tension that had built up in their bodies disappeared almost immediately. However, this was the kind of anticlimactic conclusion that was welcomed with sighs of relief and gratitude. On this day, the 14th of Aureit (Month 8), Ungforstander Jonas Jakobsen, commander of Army Group North of the Leiforian Army and the highest ranking surviving general left in all of Leifor, surrendered to the Gra Valkans after three days of bitter fighting, dealing a massive blow to the morale of still resisting military units, militias, and partisans elsewhere and ending any hope for a free Leifor. Cent. Calendar 17/08/1639, Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Occupied Leiforia, 9:00 "Alright, ladies and gentlemen. You all know the protocol." A bright-looking woman with petite spectacles and an elaborately made bun called out to her equally prim-and-proper subordinates all lined up. Her blonde hair glistened in the high afternoon sun¨Cand at times, sparkling even. She proudly wore her bland ministry uniform, and on her left breast pocket, she brandished her name tag: Cielia Oudwin. "The military is currently still processing regular Leiforian POWs after their successful operation up north near the Muish border... Alfred!" The man she called out responded with equal vigor. "Yes, ma''am!" "I trust that you''ll receive the formal surrender of the Havro governor, hm? Oh, and you''ve gotta smile better than that." His flaws pointed out, and he instinctively fixed his crooked smile before Cielia sent him away. After the surrender of the last major Leiforian Army holdout in the northeastern industrial city of Havro, other minor regular army holdouts and resistant civilian regional governments started to follow suit, already convinced that the last hope of a resurgent free Leifor was but a dream in a dream. Cielia, assigned to the ministry in occupied capital Leiforia as the head of staff of her department, was now sending her lackeys to formally accept the surrenders of the local Leiforian governments, as well as to secure the diplomatic recognition of Gra Valkan supremacy over their domain. Having finished handing out the tasks to her subordinates, she reached the last lackey on the line. "As for you..." Standing in front of her was a tall, lanky man whose usual unkempt hair was even more disheveled. He was rough along more than one edge; he hadn''t even shaved the stubs of hair growing off of his face. Was he even a diplomat? His almost unruly disposition made everyone ¨Cincluding Cielia herself¨Caround him doubt that he was one. This man was none other than that infamous fellow: Dallas. "Hold up..." Dallas held up his hands as if he were a criminal about to make a run for it. "Hm?" "Allow me to extend my congratulations on your assignment to this post." "How sweet of you. Now..." There were no hints of sarcasm in Dallas''s remark, but Cielia treated it as if it were riddled with it. "Wait..." His watery eyes landed on Cielia''s sharp gaze. Being the most outspoken person out there, he knew what it means to speak one''s heart out... but also when one was keeping it all in. Today, Cielia''s facade was muddled with such red flags, probably hiding something she does not want to be made known. "???" "...I thought you were going to hand in your resignation." She didn''t react meaningfully to this statement¨Cbut the lack of a reaction only convinced him that something was up. He pressed on. "You were so livid seeing us all in the hospital after the Army rescued us from Paganda. You looked as if you were going to kill someone over it... So now why are you so... complacent?... With everything?" Cielia blinked, but only to prop up her smile. "I had a talk with the boss: turns out, I was in the wrong. He convinced me that I needed to rein in my subordinates for their... colorful tendencies." Like a masterful liar, she turned the tables against Dallas, who was less than prepared for it. "W-What could you possibly..." "I admire your outspoken personality, Dallas. I really... do." Her voice cracked for a moment as if she was about to cry... but she showed this chink in her armor for a moment too long; enough for Dallas''s dense ears to pick it up. "I..." "...but you have to control yourself." She turned around, having decided not to give him the work he was supposed to do. The sound of her high heels clacking on the marble floor sounded like her heavy heart being dragged along. "Allow me to be unfair just this once: you being outspoken for the sake of others does not have to come at the expense of yourself." "..." Like an expert marksman, Cielia''s words hit right where it hurt for Dallas. "Your countless arrests at anti-war protests... Standing up for your liberal beliefs in the face of Pagandan royalty... You can do all of that without having to sacrifice yourself, you know?" She turned back around, her eyes now gleaming with mischief. "I''ll take care of your work today. I''m sure you''ll understand; they should have taught you the value of human life in liberal arts, right?" She then turned her back on him, disappearing into the endless wave of suits and briefcases down the hallway. She has made it clear that she intends to keep everyone¨Ceven him¨Cat arm''s length. Without even being given a chance to talk, Dallas was left alone with his thoughts. "You ass of a boss..." He gripped his fist in anger and remorse as if to pretend he still had a grip on the chance he allowed to get away. He had this opportunity to rectify something wrong and he blew it. "How dare you talk of prioritizing one''s self when Gesta has his dirty hands all over your throat, forcing you to do all of this shit! Maybe he even used threats to get you in line...!" In an effort to calm himself down, he inhaled and breathed out a huge helping of the dusty air. "Sucks for you, boss: my professors taught me to be ungovernable." His true colors slipped, but his facade was quick to catch up with him: he frantically turned around checking if anyone had heard him. "I should probably not be saying that out loud as a government employee..." The guilt of being a horrible subordinate also caught up to him, and so he ran after Cielia, hoping to get his work assignment back. Chapter 25: Trade Wars and Famine Cent. Calendar 29/11/1639, Esthirant, Parpaldia, 14:35 ¡°Hmm... Just the right amount of bitterness as always.¡± The sharp, almost tingly flavor of grounded coffee beans was something that Kaios would never get tired of. Its distinctive aroma was enticing and, in itself, something of a drug that he just couldn¡¯t stop taking. Perhaps such was the reason for this four-star-rated cafe in the northwest end of Esthirant, the imperial capital of Parpaldia, to only serve them in quaint amounts. It was either that or an entirely different reason related to ongoing events. Kaios felt himself sinking in his seat from the plentiful comforting feelings he was getting from each sip of the coffee. Still, as the chair of the Third Foreign Affairs Department, he has to maintain a certain standard of civility in public, and so he continued to sit with a firm pose. Sitting on the seat opposite him was someone of different circumstances, leaning onto the seat with an almost crooked back and displaying his displeasure with the coffee¡¯s pungent aroma. ¡°This is too high class for my taste! Blegh!¡± Accompanying his hoarse voice was his equally rough personality. The man was Hendric, a captain serving with the Parpaldian Imperial Navy. Unimpressed by the cup of coffee¡¯s taste, he put it back down on its saucer and elected never to touch it again. As for why a high-level official like Kaios and a rugged, no-nonsense captain of the navy were having coffee together in the middle of the capital, there was no particularly special reason. As the chair of the Third Foreign Affairs Department, Kaios maintained a plethora of contacts and friends in the military as he believed in getting to know better the men he was sending on punitive expeditions across the region by the stroke of his pen. One of these friends was the man sitting in front of him. ¡°With time, you¡¯ll get used to it.¡± ¡°Sure, if they¡¯d only give me an office away from a ship and paperwork to mull over day and night, I don¡¯t see why not.¡± The two shared a chuckle with one another. It had been a while since they¡¯d seen eye to eye, and despite their fields and social statuses being worlds apart, they somehow still hit things off, although that was largely down to Kaios¡¯s agreeable personality. Wondering how his friend has been doing lately, he brought up relevant recent events. ¡°So, how¡¯s the deployment upstate? I heard things got rough this time.¡± The question was expected, but it still caught Hendric with his pants down. His eyes darted here and there as he rested his jaw on his hands, deep in thought about how he¡¯d answer. As if settling on something agreeable, he snapped his fingers and leaned forward. ¡°The deployment was nothing special¨Cit was just a routine deterrence mission. What I can say, though, is that we were able to seize a hundred or so refugees, probably from Panera or Grano. Poor bastards... Some of them were almost skeleton-like, but the colonial authorities took the more healthy ones to god knows where.¡± Hendric served as the captain of the Harmattan, a river monitor designed to navigate and patrol Parpaldia¡¯s countless rivers and inland lakes. For this particular mission, the Harmattan and a small company of marines were sent up the river to the north where Parpaldia¡¯s colonies and conquests lay¨Cunsurprisingly, it was also where the Grand Crater Mines, the largest mana stone excavation operation in Philades (and probably the world), was located. Due to worsening socio-political conditions in northern Philades, coupled with the resentment from the fact that those Parpaldian colonies were former territories of the other civilized nations, rebellions and uprisings are a common sight there. While the bulk of Parpaldia¡¯s venerable Imperial Army was already deployed to the region, the Harmattan was still deemed necessary to deter any prospecting locals with disobedient tendencies. Since the matter concerned Philadean diplomatic and geopolitical affairs, the deployment was not Kaios¡¯s call to make, so he had no idea as to what transpired besides going off of official reports. As such, he was intrigued to hear more from Hendric. ¡°More refugees? Curious indeed... I wonder why the northern alliance isn¡¯t doing anything about this. Perhaps it¡¯s intentional? The ramifications if so...¡± The nation states of Panera and Grano, which shares a border with Parpaldia to its north, are members of the Philadean Northern Alliance, a pact of disgruntled nations that banded together out of a shared resentment against Parpaldia over the territories that were taken away from them. In spite of the name, it was nothing but a loose united front against a common enemy; in other aspects, the nations could not be any more disagreeing with one another, a facet that Parpaldia exploits. Since their establishment, the alliance has seen the widespread support of insurrections in their former territories, which at worst pegged the majority of Parpaldia¡¯s feared military in an endless, fruitless whack-a-mole. As of late, however, the northern alliance has been mostly quiet and docile, which coincided with recent surges in refugees heading south. Seeing Kaios brood over his story, Hendric elected not to talk about it any further. ¡°Bah! It¡¯s just the usual, unexciting river patrols! What about you Kaios? I haven¡¯t been around for five months so I don¡¯t know what¡¯s the situation here in Esthirant or anywhere else for that matter.¡± As soon as he brought that up, however, Kaios smacked his lips and the curiosity and interest from his eyes vanished. Hendric, thinking he had struck a nerve, was about to backpedal when Kaios talked about it anyway, albeit in an open, less professional manner¨Ca 180 from his demeanor just seconds ago. ¡°Have you heard of Japan, Hendric?¡± ¡°But o¡®course! Even a busy captain like me would hear about something as noteworthy as that.¡± ¡°Then you must have also heard of what they really are?¡± Kaios¡¯s raised his eyebrows as he put his cup down on the saucer. A mere week after the botched Lourian attempt to unify the Rodenius continent, news of a new player in the region making its presence known had already reached the cities and towns of Parpaldia, but stories of how they¡¯re purported to have ¡°appeared out of nowhere¡± earned them little more than dismissals from ordinary citizens and members high society alike. That was the case until, out of nowhere in the middle of Sivsly (Month 7), a strikingly beautiful white ship appeared in the harbor of the imperial capital. It was unlike the black-hulled iron and wooden boats of Parpaldia and the Third Civilized Region, but it was neither a ship from the Muish, the Mirishials, nor the Leiforians. As if that wasn¡¯t enough, a white aircraft that was unlike anything they had ever seen flew over the skies of Esthirant, escorted by the elite wyverns of the Imperial Guard. After a bit of mass media coverage, the Parpaldians would come to know of the so-called ¡°new kid in town.¡± ¡°From what they¡¯ve shown us and from what we¡¯ve learned, they¡¯re supposed to be on the level of the great powers: Mu, the Mirishials¨Cthose guys. However, since they¡¯re still in general proximity to Philades, we¡¯ve elected to put diplomatic affairs with them under the jurisdiction of the Third Dept., which is my department. We¡¯ve come to agreements on things like sovereignty, but we¡¯re currently discussing the matters of standardizations regarding trade. With all that said, there¡¯s one landmark deal we¡¯ve been trying to push forward...¡± Putting his arms on the table, Kaios leaned forward, the topic so intensely troubling that he felt he was on his toes. Hendric exclaimed, ¡°ah!¡± as he got the answer after he took his time guessing what he was referring to. ¡°Are you talking about the Eastern Offshore Joint Resource Exploration Agreement?¡± ¡°Ugh...¡± Hearing the very title of the deal got Kaios groaning and sinking into his seat before proceeding to explain it a bit more in-depth. ¡°You see, it was one of the first things the Japanese side proposed after relations were normalized. Apparently, there exists a massive oil deposit under the oceans to the east of our easternmost provinces. At first, we wanted to laugh it off since we didn¡¯t believe that extraction wasn¡¯t possible, but the Japanese were dead serious to the point that they gave us an outline of the plan should we come to an agreement. It was filled to the brim with mentions of technologies we could never have possibly imagined were possible. On top of that, they said that the oil there was ¡®enough to feed Parpaldia¡¯s, Mu¡¯s, and Japan¡¯s needs for a century or more.¡¯¡± ¡°Gods, that¡¯s mind-bogglingly lucrative if true. So? What¡¯s the hold-up?¡± ¡°The hold up is the greed of those bastards; they want full control over the operation and a 30-70 split on the resources and profit.¡± As Hendric was once more trying the taste of coffee by giving it a sip, Kaios¡¯s statement shocked him so much that he spat the drink back out. As the rugged captain of a warship, he didn¡¯t mind doing so, but that was not the norm in the metropolitan culture practiced by the patrons of the cafe; as such, their stares descended upon him and Kaios. ¡°Are they fucking hit in the head or what? What makes them think we¡¯ll stick with 30%?!¡± There was some sense to Japan¡¯s proposal since most of the funding, manpower, and the required technologies would come from them, with Parpaldia only providing their consent and cooperation. However, even if it was sound, the fact that the Japanese would be reaping far more benefits from the venture than the Parpaldians was something that they could not absolutely allow¨Cif not for pride, then for the sake of their image in the Philadean geopolitical arena. ¡°This brings me to my next point about this issue: that bitch Remille, the Foreign Affairs consultant to the Emperor¨Cbasically my boss¨Cis intent on interfering with the process.¡± ¡°Remille? Do you mean that gorgeous, big-breasted woman with the killer stare? Didn¡¯t take her for the bureaucrat kind, if you don¡¯t mind my opinion. The more powerful they are in society, the more domineering they are in bed, as I¡¯d like to believe.¡± Kaios paused for a moment to stare at Hendric, inwardly unleashing his metaphorical barf at what he had just said. ¡°Anyway, discarding that unwarranted opinion of yours that no one asked you to give, she¡¯s hell-bent on keeping the impasse in the negotiations, not unless Japan yields to shared control of the venture and a 70-30 split. The rhetoric she would use is... let¡¯s just say that she has a masterful way to color her words.¡± ¡°It¡¯s that bad, huh?... Okay, how about we talk about something else? What about Altaras¨Cyes! Those guys across the sea! What¡¯s new with those low-life miscreants?¡± Kaios rose from his despondent pose on the table to a more composed one, albeit still exuding an aura that things weren¡¯t going well. Perhaps there was nothing good going on, thought Hendric. ¡°Altaras... I¡¯ve kind of lost track of how things have been going with them. Last I heard, they imposed tariffs on all sorts of Parpaldian manufactured goods from things like foodstuffs and furniture to ship parts, textiles, and so on due to us imposing exclusion zones around our holdings in the strait. We didn¡¯t impose retaliatory trade measures, but I recall reading reports of two Altaran fishing vessels seized by the Navy when they ventured into the exclusion zones. I reckon that the Altarans will respond soon.¡± Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. Due to its geographical position between Philades and Rodenius and its proximity to refueling outposts in between the Third and First Civilized Regions, the kingdom of Altaras has become an economically important center of trade. Not only is it blessed with plentiful natural resources of its own, which were its initial contribution to past civilizations in the area, but it is also blessed with smart yet cutthroat leaders that knew how to position the kingdom better against its peers. This, along with the wealth coming from its position as the center of maritime trade, was what gave it a relatively modern military force with leftover surplus from Mu and the Mirishials, both of which wanted a balancing counterweight in the region to expansionist Parpaldia. As a result, the proud Altarans and the equally arrogant Parpaldians have always been at each other¡¯s throats¨Cat least in recent history. Both were competing for economic, political, and military dominance in not only the strait but in the Third Civilized Region as a whole; this escalating trade war was only an extension of that. However... ¡°What do the Muish and the Imperials have to say about this? Last time tensions came to a head, they both threatened to walk back on earlier agreements.¡± ¡°I received calls from their ambassadors telling me to ¡®exercise restraint¡¯ and to ¡®re-evaluate standard protocols to prevent escalation.¡¯ So far, nothing too drastic, except perhaps for the fact that they forwarded the Altarans¡¯ ¡®vulgar¡¯ protests on the matter, which I shelved in a category by the name ¡®Trash¡¯.¡± Both men burst into mild laughter, perhaps the only time they will do so in this conversation. Making eye contact, Kaios and Hendric agreed that there was little left to discuss about this topic, so they moved on to the next. ¡°Ah, did you hear, Hendric? Three months ago, the Leiforian embassy abruptly closed down, but only now did they finally arrange something with Mu and the Mirishials about their status. I heard they were now stateless. I¡¯m not aware of the official reason why, but I¡¯ve been reading reports... So far, we¡¯re still getting information from our contacts and personnel in the far west, but what they¡¯re saying is consistent in one thing: their country was wiped out!¡± ¡°What?! That Leifor?! Preposterous!¡± ¡°It does, but the story goes similar to what the Japanese are saying: there¡¯s a new country further to the west. With what we¡¯ve seen with Japan, I¡¯m not really sure discarding that story is prudent. Anyway, Leifor¡¯s fall may be true since the Mirishials are currently preoccupied with affairs in that corner of the world, so much so that they¡¯ve put ongoing negotiations on hold.¡± As the day¨Cas well as Kaios¡¯s story¨Cdragged on, the world continued to move around them, often at a pace that made obsolete what information they had on current affairs in mere days. Cent. Calendar 01/12/1639, Hilkiga, kingdom of Riem, 11:45 Its port bustling with caravans and ships from all over the region, Hilkiga, the capital city of the kingdom of Riem, was perhaps the largest and most prosperous city on the eastern seaboard of Philades¨Cif you don¡¯t count several Parpaldian cities. Its resplendent city streets filled with traffic of horse-drawn carriages cutting through bricked commercial districts, both old and new, make it a fitting capital for the most populous and economically powerful states on Philades after Parpaldia. As it neared noon, the sun was reaching its zenith, but this far north meant that it was not as high in the sky as it is in the lower latitudes. As it was the first of Dessalinth (Month 12), the dry, cold winds from the east were starting to blow in, occasionally bringing with them the clouds that would bring the first trickle of snow. As the dark gaze of winter stared at them from the horizon, diplomatic representatives of the nations that make up the Philadean Northern Alliance had gathered at a meeting hall at the royal castle. The diplomats that hurriedly searched for and occupied their seats were bearing unusually gloomy expressions that reflected the state of affairs in their countries, if not the entire region as a whole. Taking his seat on one end of the table was a man who wore a dark green tunic and a badge over his breast on which was emblazoned the horned serpent, Riem¡¯s symbolic creature, and signature royal insignia. His strikingly emphasized jawline, adequately thick lips, and turquoise eyes were only set back by the fact that he was uncharacteristically short for a Rieman. His name was Rival, the meeting¡¯s Rieman diplomatic representative appointed by the King in person. ¡°Why don¡¯t we start this meeting at once? Let us present our data and findings on the alliance¡¯s summer and autumn harvests.¡± Commencing the meeting, Rival signed to his aides, who then presented on the table in front of him a collection of papers. The other diplomatic representatives around the round table followed suit. Setting his papers in order, Rival then spoke up once more. ¡°I shall go first...¡± Starting with Riem, the members of the northern alliance reported on the numbers relevant to food production for this year¡¯s harvests in their respective countries. Taking into account previous censuses that detailed the farmer population and expected agricultural yield and data from previous harvests, the nations present their findings with dreary tones. After the last nation to present had concluded their presentation, Rival leaned back on his chair and began to groan. ¡°Dammit... Another year of bad harvests!¡± The cold, heavy atmosphere in the room got even more despondent. It is not known why this year has had another series of subpar harvests, but one of the possible reasons was the unusually cold temperatures all year round for the last three years. Regardless of the cause, the continued decline and lack of productivity from the harvests meant the nations of north Philades were headed towards a crisis. They had been able to mitigate the low food stocks last year by drastically increasing imports from other nations, but this year was exceptionally different. Qua-Toyne, the traditional bread basket of the region, for some reason denied their requests for increased food imports, citing that their production quota¨Cthe highest in the region by a wide margin¨Cfor the next several years had already been bought out completely by another nation (who in the world needs all that food?!). Parpaldia, the other massive food exporter in the region, while traditionally their enemy, is also the next biggest exporter of food to the alliance. However, in their recent trade scuffle with Altaras, the alliance unanimously decided to take their side, to which the Parpaldians retaliated by introducing near-suffocating restrictions on the food trade with alliance nations. The drastic drop in imports from the start of this year, coupled with dwindling local food stocks and implementations of widespread rationing, resulted in skyrocketing food prices in the region. Their increasingly unmanageable situation and worsening living standards had driven many people across the alliance, particularly the poorest individuals, to head south into Parpaldia to look for food, which led to the worst refugee crisis in recent Parpaldian history and the worst population declines of the nation-states of the alliance. Not even the economically stable Riem was safe from these effects. The ones that left were mostly farmers, which further exacerbated their bad agricultural yields during these past harvests. With a devastating famine looming over much of the continent and threatening to plunge the Third Civilized Region into chaos, Rival and his diplomatic counterparts tried to think of solutions. ¡°Has the Central World responded to our calls for increased food imports?¡± ¡°Yes, but they¡¯re insisting on the fixed price even with bigger bulk orders. I personally don¡¯t think that we could press them any further given our diplomatic standing.¡± ¡°Hah... And the Parpaldians? Can¡¯t we do something about that?¡± ¡°They¡¯re making... unreasonable terms in exchange for lifting the restrictions.¡± The diplomats eyed one another, the desperate situations in their home countries driving them to consider such a preposterous solution; at that point, they might as well be grasping at straws. So as to hold back his peers from doing something too drastic, Rival coughed loud enough to catch their attention. ¡°Now, now, let¡¯s not even think about caving into those devils¡¯ demands. In fact, I actually have a solution to propose.¡± Hearing that Riem, the largest and most powerful of the alliance nations, had a solution in mind, the other diplomats leaned forward to hear what he had to say. ¡°Yesterday, the Altaran ambassador came to us with a proposal regarding the food crisis. We¡¯re meant to give them an answer once we¡¯ve ¡®consulted with the rest of the alliance.¡¯¡± Cent. Calendar 09/12/1639, Royal Castle, Le Brias, Altaras, 15:00 Further south, the climate was a lot more agreeable to be in, especially in winter. Given the temperate oceanic and subtropical climate that much of the island of Altaras is under, it was still undeniably a cold place to be in during the latter months of the Central Calendar. Situated in the subtropical forested regions of the northern coastal lowlands on top of being near the mouth of the island¡¯s largest river, the capital Le Brias was a shining example of economic development. Silver spires reaching the skies glinted in the afternoon sun while impressive domes of all sorts of sizes lined the many rooftops of the city. At the center of the city stood the Tower of Prosperity, an office building housing Muish and Mirishial companies and the first skyscraper in the region, beating the Imperial Clock Tower in Esthirant by a year. To the east of the city lay its gigantic port, the volume of trade passing here as well as the number of ships entering its harbor managing to beat Esthirant¡¯s numbers by a margin. Then, as if to signify the enormous power held by the kingdom over the region, a colossal, 20m tall statue of a muscular, naked man striking a menacing pose; its stern expression, extended finger, and uncomfortably detailed erect manhood ominously pointed north as if to intimidate their longtime rivals across the strait. At the royal castle, a grand walled-off complex of rusted red bricks, sat the absolute monarchs that helmed the kingdom, of which Taara XIV was the present occupant. Unlike the countless bronze statues built all over the city, emphasizing his good looks, calm demeanor, and all-encompassing compassion for the people, he was on the verge of throwing a tantrum amid a high-level meeting with his ministers. ¡°I see...¡± Taara muttered in a deep, dismissive tone as his bloodshot eyes pointed downwards. He had just heard about a report regarding another incident of a Parpaldian warship seizing the goods of Altaran fishing vessels that had gone into their so-called ¡°exclusion zones,¡± areas they unilaterally delineated around rocks in the strait they claimed to be their territories. He had wanted to send a warship through the zones to send a message, but the last time they did so, the Muish and Imperials chided them, threatening to do something about the matter should they do it again. His mind out of options, he broke the silence with a scream. ¡°GODDAMMIT!!!¡± His sudden outburst reverberated across the opulently built meeting room they were in, causing his ministers to cower in their seats as he stood up and threw his heavy, hardwood chair off to the side. They knew that it was best not to speak up whenever Taara was angry, but without any good ideas to put forward, he was not going to calm down¨Cthere was even one incident where he stayed mad for five days straight. Be that as it may, if they don¡¯t come up with any soon... ¡°Any of you have any ideas in mind how we will ¡®shove it¡¯ in the Parpaldians¡¯ asses?¡± The Altaran king now directed his violent aura toward his ministers, the sound of his intense breathing single-handedly adding tension to the air. Just as they began silently eyeing one another, hoping for someone¨Cthe unfortunate sacrificial lamb¨Cto offer themselves up on the altar of Taara¡¯s anger, the foreign affairs minister spoke up. ¡°If I may, Your Majesty¨C¡± ¡°You may.¡± The minister was cut by Taara¡¯s prompt and impatient reply, causing him to pause for a moment before continuing his statement. ¡°We¡¯ve received word from our ambassador in Riem about our offer regarding the northern alliance¡¯s plight.¡± ¡°Well?!¡± Taara¡¯s impatience got the better of him once more, cutting off the minister just after he paused. ¡°They¡¯ve accepted it, Your Majesty.¡± ¡°Well... That¡¯s great!¡± For the first time since the meeting started, a genuine, non-sarcastic smile emerged on the king¡¯s face. The offer to the Philadean Northern Alliance focused primarily on food exports to critically endangered nations. On top of an established volume to be sold to the alliance, which is yet to be agreed upon, the offer also includes conferring beneficial trade partner status to the alliance nations, decreased duties on incoming goods from the alliance, and so on. The offer was also intended to deepen the ties between the alliance and the kingdom, especially in the face of their common enemy. Now that the alliance had accepted the offer, there was much work to be done. ¡°But how do we get this good news to strike back at the Parpaldians?¡± To this, the agriculture minister raised his hand and spoke. ¡°I think that we can afford to forward an initial batch of foodstuffs to the northern alliance as a gesture to affirm our willingness regarding this deal. Now, if my reports are to be believed, there¡¯s currently a long list of spices and seafood bound for Parpaldia; with a royal edict signed by Your Majesty, that can be redirected to the alliance instead. Additionally, if we want to put the hurt on them even further, we completely cut them off from those articles.¡± The smile on Taara¡¯s face became even wider as he laughed and clapped his hands at the agriculture minister¡¯s suggestion. ¡°I like that! Let¡¯s proceed with that plan of yours! Now, for the particulars of this royal edict...¡± King Taara and his ministers then began to carefully construct the terms of the royal edict, which they hoped would hurt Parpaldia for their transgressions. After a long afternoon of heated debate, the final draft for the royal edict had been created, which, later that night, King Taara would put his signature on, officially putting its terms into effect. Cent. Calendar 10/12/1639, Imperial Palace, Esthirant, Parpaldia, 14:15 ¡°Have you seen this?!¡± The thundering voice of a displeased Ludius, Emperor of Parpaldia, echoed throughout a dimly lit meeting room at the Imperial Palace. He held out a piece of paper, a copy of Royal Edict No. 437, the edict that King Taara XIV of Altaras signed last night, for everyone¨Chis different advisors, trusted department heads and chairs, and confidants¨Cto see. ¡°How dare they?! Those heathens!¡± Everyone in the room shared the same sentiments as their emperor, but no one wanted to earn his ire by speaking up. In addition to its cutthroat rulers, advantageous geographical location, and rich lands, the island of Altaras had also been gifted with seas abundant with marine life. Having developed a taste for seafood in their culture, the Parpaldians had saturated their coastlines with fishing operations, but as the demand for more seafood grew, they started to look south. Long story short, Parpaldia is the biggest importer of Altaran seafood, in addition to spices that could only be grown on the island. With demand still continuing to grow, the royal government in Le Brias cutting off their biggest source of imported seafood presented some consequences to the Parpaldians. On top of that, the general price of food has also been rising as of late; this new edict would definitely drive the price of already precious seafood like crustaceans to the moon. After slamming his fists onto the table, Ludius then pointed toward his economic advisors. ¡°This unilateral escalation will not go unanswered! Draft whatever trade measures we can enact in retaliation, and don¡¯t even consider the possible¨Cno, inevitable input from the other powers! I want to see your suggestions tomorrow morning!¡± As Emperor Ludius dismissed them all, a sequence of events leading to the inevitable change in the regional status quo was unwittingly set in motion as the two countries, in the name of national pride, faced each other in a standoff. Chapter 26: The Nature of Escalation Cent. Calendar 11/12/1639, Senate Building, Esthirant, Parpaldia, 10:40 It was yet another typical late morning in the grand city of Esthirant, the gleaming capital of the Parpaldian Empire. However, what wasn¡¯t typical was the dreary downpour descending upon the city; a low-pressure area coming from the southwest was passing through, drenching the southern Philadean coast with slightly more rainfall than usual. Bad weather notwithstanding, life in the city continued and persisted; horse-drawn coaches filled the cobblestone streets that crisscrossed the city while long coat-wearing Parpaldian citizens took to the sidewalks with umbrellas deployed. The shouting of newspaper boys, chirping of constabulary officer whistles, and the clacking sound of hundreds of iron horseshoes dominated the otherwise rain splatter-filled background noise. Elsewhere in the big city was the Villeurgues district, home to many of Parpaldia¡¯s important facilities, such as the Imperial Mint, the Bank of Parpaldia, and the South Philadean Railway Company (SPRC). Wide open concrete parks and towering stele monuments also characterized the Villeurgues district, complementing its wide four lane streets which were still awash with traffic despite the rain. Another signature feature of the district was that it contained the legislative heart of the empire: the Senate Building. The building was a massive square structure, but it was its southern facade, which faced the main boulevard cutting through the district, that stood out the most with its larger-than-life, realistic statues of former Parpaldian emperors and empresses which adorned the imposing columned walls. Inside the building, the imperial Senate had gathered in attendance at one of its halls, with senators seated on seats on increasing tiers shaped like a semi-circle¨Cjust like an amphitheater. At the very bottom tier were news crews from different media outlets of not just Parpaldia but of other countries as well, gathered with their microphones and cameras of varying technological sophistication and all pointed towards a raised wooden podium facing them. Before long, the sound of idle chatter that had filled the room was interrupted by the loud voice of someone speaking through a megaphone. ¡°His Majesty, Ludius, Emperor of Parpaldia, will now be speaking!¡± The hushes and chatter in the chamber immediately disappeared, replaced by the creaking of cushions and mahogany chairs as senators and visitors alike stood up in response to the announcement. Just as they did so, a figure with a dashing crimson coat and properly gelled hair walked up to the podium, his deathly stare intimidating enough to cause a land dragon to cower was perhaps the single most threatening force in the room to the senators. He stood with a seemingly perfect straight back, notwithstanding the immense weight of being the imperial sovereign he carried on his shoulders. He was none other than Ludius Gallaire, regal name Ludius, Emperor of Parpaldia. Today was supposed to be a regular Senate meeting, which was usually an endless back and forth from supposedly all-important statesmen representing the interests of the people across the vast continental realm Parpaldia commanded, debating over the great problems that plagued the modern era. However, this was not going to be the case this time; not because the Emperor was in attendance, although that in itself was a unique occurrence, but rather because there was something else that loomed over the empire, casting a shadow greater than any refugee crisis, rampant resource mismanagement problems, or budgetary concerns could ever cast. The shadow was that of Altaras; more specifically, its idiotic, perhaps even insane despot, Taara. Just the other day, he had issued Royal Edict No. 437, an edict that the Parpaldians consider to be an uncalled-for escalation to the ongoing trade war. Eager to respond in kind, the Senate¨Cand by extension, the people¨Cawaited the retaliatory measures the imperial government had in store. With papers in hand and the microphone waiting for his input, Ludius opened his mouth. ¡°Venerable senators, representatives of the esteemed citizens of the great empire of Parpaldia! It has come to my attention that calamitous distress is threatening to upturn the peace and order our overlordship over the internationally recognized Third Civilized Region has brought.¡± Pausing momentarily to catch his breath, when he next opened his mouth, he unleashed a loud, commanding shout. ¡°ALTARAS! Their name has become synonymous with all things unpalatable! They are the very grime that silently creeps through the crevices in our order, expanding, festering, dehumanizing, and weakening the strong foundations that have afforded Philades progress, development, enrichment, and glory!¡± Even before he ended his last line, claps and shouts of exhilarated agreement with his statement resonated across the chamber. ¡°In one more daring fit of animosity to the benign forces of the empire, the madman Taara XIV¨C¡± Cutting off Ludius was the spontaneous and unanimous jeering from the senators showing off their immense disapproval of the Altaran sovereign with echoing boos and faces of expressive hostility. Caught off guard by the display of solidarity with his message, Ludius coughed to try and regain the momentum in his speech. ¡°¨Cthe markedly insane despot of that wretched island kingdom has single-handedly proven himself to be the bane of international law and order, unanimously declaring the great empire of Parpaldia¨Cand by extension its honored citizens and peoples¨Cto be his enemies and, now his actions have made clear that he will treat us as such!¡± By now, the boos and jeers from the Senate became more coherent in their messages, with no one sparing the expense in showing their disgust. ¡°Off with him! Let him have a taste of our armies!¡± ¡°The tyranny must stop! Altaras must submit!¡± ¡°They cannot keep getting away with their belligerence! He needs to be in chains!¡± With this background of overwhelming agreement with his statements, he found the support with which to confidently say the succeeding words. ¡°In response to their unwarranted belligerence on the empire and the peaceful way of life of its citizens, I, with the power vested in me as your emperor, will enact the following economic measures as retaliation!¡± Flipping over the set of papers he had laid out on the podium, Ludius began listing the retaliatory economic measures his advisors had drafted and finalized within the last day. The list included the imposition of tariffs on incoming Altaran goods, regardless of the nationality of the trader selling them; the sanctioning of several influential Altaran individuals and barring them from using the continent-wide banking system of Parpaldia; the introduction of new taxes targeting Altaran-owned businesses in the empire, even if they had been naturalized within the past few decades. The centerpiece, the so-called crown jewel of this latest batch of retaliatory measures¨Cperhaps called so because of the sheer audacity of the imperial government in its introduction¨Cis the comprehensive reform on the sale and management of mana-sensitive materials. ¡°Never before have we considered this due to the magnitude that these measures will have on the empire and the region as a whole¨Cthe sale of mana-sensitive materials, especially mana stones mined in our extensive colonies to the north, account for a third of our gross domestic product as per the Finance Department¨Cbut if we are to teach the uncivilized fool in Le Brias a lesson, then we will have to show him our unrivaled determination!!!¡± Mana-sensitive materials, particularly mana stones, are the lifeblood that powers the many magical civilizations of Asherah. They make possible all sorts of mana-driven processes, from efficient cooling and lighting to industrial-level propulsion and military-grade explosives. The central highlands of Philades is home to the Vatga region, which contains a series of open pit mines in an area that spans thousands of square kilometers. Within the last several centuries, the highlands of Vatga were subject to the expansionist whims of states vying for control over the very life force of civilization itself, but it was the Parpaldians that truly cemented their uncontested overlordship over it in a series of conquests that crushed its northern peers. Their solid, undeniable grip over one of the possibly greatest sources of mana on the planet may possibly even be what led to Mu and the Mirishials considering Parpaldia as the hegemon of its region, eternally to be dubbed the Third Civilized Region due to its growing importance in global affairs. However, in recent decades rampant corruption, mismanagement, and the introduction of liberal economic ideas such as the ¡®free market¡¯ within the empire led to the ever-growing lack of imperial control over the monopoly of the mana-sensitive materials in the region. Parpaldia may still be the largest single market for mana stones, but the aforementioned issues led other players, particularly Altaras, to insert themselves into the imperial supply chain. It was here where the comprehensive reform is hoped to bring about a long-needed reckoning to the system. The most important part of this one measure is the return of much of the mana-sensitive material management back into the hands of the imperial government¨Cin other words, nationalization. Due to the widespread usage of magitech systems dependent on mana-sensitive materials, as well as the fact that a great many countries get their biggest share of mana-sensitive material imports from Parpaldia, this action was bound to earn a lot of diplomatic ire, especially from the mana hungry civilizations of the Central World. But that was no matter, for this was nothing more than a retaliatory measure to the irritable, unreasonable actions of Altaras¨Cin other words, Parpaldia¡¯s hand was merely forced. ¡°An exact date for the implementation of these measures is still being debated fiercely by the greatest minds in the greatest city of the greatest empire on this continent, but mark my words: Altaras¨Cespecially that dolt Taara¨Cwill answer for its transgressions!¡± Ending his speech on a markedly high note, Ludius maintained his perfect posture and stood proud to a massively elated Senate, which had erupted in applause. ¡°Amazing! Glory to the empire! Death to its enemies!¡± ¡°Parpaldia will be great once more!¡± ¡°Long live Parpaldia! Long live the Emperor!¡± The imperial banner of crimson red laden with golden land dragons proudly draped behind Emperor Ludius sparkled in the spotlights. Some creases on the glossy cloth appeared as it gently waved in the mild wind permeating throughout the chamber, a splitting image of the start of the groundbreaking effects Ludius¡¯s announcement is about to have on the Third Civilized Region. Embassy of the Holy Mirishial Empire in Esthirant, 13:15 Located within the vicinity of Proclamation Square and situated in a plot of land sandwiched between two middle-class commercial buildings, the embassy of the Holy Mirishial Empire in Esthirant was in a place that was not befitting of Asherah¡¯s premier great power. To compensate for that, the embassy made clear to passersby the elite status of the Imperials: two magnificent steel statues of the ideal elven man and woman stand proud as the facade of the almost featureless embassy front. Erected in the middle of a well-trimmed garden in front of the crystal clear double glass doors of the embassy was the flagpole that flew the navy blue and gold colors of the divine and imperial homeland of Mirish. The image that the Mirishials wanted to project was that of a proud, powerful, and menacing empire that stood at the top of the world, but beyond the thick walls of the embassy lay an unruly chaos. The cacophony of telephone rings, heels clacking heavily on the ceramic floor, papers and documents moving about, and the disheveled crisscrossing of dialogue from several embassy personnel answering calls were what greeted the visitor upon entering the building. At the far end of the lobby was a television, still broadcasting in monocolor, around which a group of elves from all walks of life¨Cfrom a woman who looks like your average housewife to an old man who looks like a retiree from the Navy¨Chuddled to watch a news broadcast from the Imperial Broadcasting Company or IBC. ¡°...and now we will be hearing live from our correspondent in Esthirant in the Parpaldian Empire, Sundamar.¡± A male newscaster in the formal elven white robes was talking in a soothing yet serious voice when his projected video feed was made smaller to accommodate the projected feed of another elf, who was in less formal wear and standing on the cobblestone sidewalk with the belle epoque-ish skyline of Esthirant behind him. ¡°Thank you for having me today, Elanan!¡± ¡°Sure! Now, what can you tell us about the newly announced economic measures by Emperor Ludius?¡± ¡°Yes, as announced by His Majesty, the Emperor, in front of the Senate just hours ago, a new round of economic measures are now being considered by the imperial government, presumably in response to the recent royal edict issued by King Taara XIV of Altaras, which was to cut off Parpaldia from its list of buyers in many industries, just days ago. These economic measures included the introduction of tariffs on a long list of Altaran goods, including steel and glass, and sanctions against key Altaran individuals and their exclusion from the Parpaldian banking system.¡± ¡°I see. But Sundamar, we have comments from experts on the economy saying that these sanctions are about to have a devastating effect on our economy. None of the measures you mentioned seem to fit the bill, so what do you think are the experts referring to?¡± ¡°You see, Elanan, as you may know, our economy is still reeling from the unimaginable Gra Valkan conquest of Leifor, our biggest trading partner in the Mu continent, so it would make sense that these Parpaldian sanctions would be disastrous.¡± ¡°I agree with you, but you still haven¡¯t answered my question...¡± ¡°Ah, right! One of the measures included in the announcement by Emperor Ludius was a comprehensive reform of their management system for mana-sensitive materials. As it currently stands, with the loss of Leifor, the majority of our mana-sensitive materials now come from Parpaldia. Since they explicitly mentioned that nationalization of foreign components in the supply chain was necessary to do this, this presents a massive risk to the flow of magic into the empire¨C¡± ¡°Wait, wait, wait... Do you mean to say that the Parpaldians are about to take complete control of the mana-sensitive materials trade?¡± ¡°You are correct, Elanan.¡± A collective, audible gasp emanated from the group of elves huddled around the television as shock ran through each and every one of them. Bewildered and in denial of what they had just heard, they turned to look at one another, but all that greeted them were faces equally as confused as theirs. This cannot be happening, everyone thought. Just then, interrupting their processing of the news, the loud thud of a box of documents falling onto the floor assailed them from behind. The elven civilians turned around, only to find the figure of a sublimely robed elf standing behind them in a frozen pose, his eyes, and mouth wide open as they stared emptily at the television screen. ¡°Ambassador!!!¡± The echoing shout of a woman in office apparel shook the frozen man, finally causing him to twitch before turning his head to where the shout had come from. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. ¡°His Majesty is on the line, and he¡¯s expecting you!¡± The prospect of work and the headaches of diplomatic affairs surged into his head like an amnesiac man recovering his memories. Momentarily shaking his head to relieve himself from the shock he had experienced, he then picked up the documents that he was carrying as he replied to his secretary. ¡°I will be there!¡± His name was Revalor, the Mirishial Ambassador to Parpaldia. The documents he carried in his arms were a part of the keys necessary for more than ten thousand Leiforians, who months ago were made stateless by the Gra Valkan annihilation of their home country thousands of leagues away, to become Mirishial citizens. A high-level official like him was not supposed to be doing this sort of leg work, but the city¡¯s constabulary, which had held the Leiforians for months now, demanded that he be the one present during the filing of paperwork. ¡°Damned Parpaldian constabularies... Damned Gra Valkan warmongers...¡± Problems just seem to be continuing to heap one on top of the other for the beleaguered Mirishials. A key player, in a fashion similar to the Gra Valkans, appeared in this region too by the name of Japan, but government efforts to respond to the former and mitigate the economic damage caused by the loss of Leifor distracted them from making contact with the Japanese. Now, there are credible intelligence reports that the Muish, their eternal rivals on the global stage, are already engaging in formal talks with them. ¡°Oh Mirish Goddess Almighty, how could you let your benign people suffer like this???¡± Walking back to his office with the cumbersome documents in hand, Revalor let out a heavy puff of hot air, his eyes on the brink of tears. The year 1639 on the Central Calendar had been extremely harsh on the Mirishial domain and its supposedly gargantuan sphere of influence and this new information about Parpaldia is the latest in a string of hard blows. Several years ago, at around 1627, the mana-sensitive ground pumping stations all across the Mirishial homeland have, for some baffling reason that to this day they¡¯re yet to understand, stopped producing mana altogether, leading to bad times that year unimaginatively dubbed the Crisis of 1627. The lifeblood of magic civilization on which the entirety of Mirishial society, economy, technology, influence, and the military was built around was now gone, its sudden and abrupt disappearance threatening to undo the very empire itself. In response, the government in Runepolis swiftly ramped up importation, with primary sources coming from Leifor, Magearaik, and the mana stone-rich mines of Vatga in Parpaldia now making up the bulk of mana consumed by the gargantuan magitech-heavy society of Mirishial. After a quick and extreme shock to the economy, everything stabilized, and things appeared to be going forward yet again, but the pumping stations still remained dry. They had hoped that these domestic sources of mana would return since having much of their mana supply chain resting on imports from outside the Central continent was a discomforting geopolitical weakness, but they never did return. And then, the Gra Valkans launched their outrageous invasion of Leifor. After Leifor¡¯s complete and utter collapse in Aureit (Month 8), the hole left behind by the disappearance of Leiforian imports was quickly filled by Parpaldia-sourced mana stones, but the complete evaporation of one of their biggest trade partners was something that was much harder to come back from. Now, hardly four months since then, the petty geopolitical spat between the equally arrogant bullies of Altaras and Parpaldia had come to a point where the latter was now considering touching the trade of mana-sensitive materials to harm the former. They¡¯ve always used their massive influence to intimidate Parpaldia into not touching the trade, but now with their shape being worse for the wear and distracted with developments in the Mu continent, they were in no condition to actually take this new, alarming issue seriously. At least not with the big, flashy deployment of world-renowned Mirishial warships this far east. Oh, how far has Mirishial fallen... As Revalor entered his office, the secretary that had called out to him bowed deeply before beelining for the door, but before she could leave, he called out to her. ¡°Ah, wait! Could you schedule me an appointment with Lady Elto from First Foreign Affairs? Tell her it¡¯s urgent.¡± Stressing the word ¡°urgent¡± was his extra deep voice and a smile that barely kept the murderous aura emanating from his person in check. Notwithstanding, his secretary was unfazed, and she replied to his wishes with a flat face. ¡°Understood.¡± Imperial Palace, 15:00 A clack rings from the saucer as the delicate fingers of a woman gently place her cup of tea into the rim carved out in a perfect fit to accommodate it. It was the only sound that gave a backdrop to the tense atmosphere that had built in this great reception chamber in the Imperial Palace, its lively oil paintings of Parpaldian generals in their honorable conquests and the human-like, realist sculptures of the old gods staring down from their marble pedestals apathetic to the events that play in the present. It was an adequate display of flamboyance, perhaps even arrogant in its undertones, but to Revalor, representative of His Majesty, Uevareth I, emperor of perhaps the greatest of all nations in this world, he displayed not the slightest hint of amusement. But neither did his counterpart, Elto, the woman reserved in her pose and deep blue gown yet sitting at a level plane with her counterpart. Both sides were under the impression that they had the power in this room and that the other was in their ballcourt. This was how the silence¨Cand the stare-down¨Cplayed out for the first few minutes or so. ¡°I say we should not waste our valuable time ogling each other with hostile eyes, Lady Elto.¡± Relenting, the Mirishial diplomat spoke. For the first time, in perhaps a generation or so, the talk began on Parpaldian terms. Acting on this surprising show of humility and weakness, the Parpaldian loosened not her shoulders. ¡°Of course. What brings you to Paradise, your excellency?¡± Elto pressed on the advantage she¨Cand by extension her empire¨Cheld by subtly reminding the Mirishial where he was: the Imperial Palace¨Cthe Palais du Paradis. The astute man caught on, yet he was still unmoved, at least in expression. ¡°I¡¯ll be frank.¡± He put his hands together as he flattened his eyebrows, which was followed by his expression. ¡°Why has His Majesty decided to touch the trade of mana-sensitive materials?¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡± Feigning ignorance, Elto tried to get more out of her position of power by playing with the Mirishial diplomat. Oh, how the powerful have become powerless. Be that as it may, she had overplayed her hand, as shown by the now obvious annoyance on Revalor¡¯s face. ¡°If I recall correctly, the Emperor only announced that there will be comprehensive reforms on managing mana-sensitive materials within the empire, particularly those coming from the Vatga mines in our extensive northern... territories.¡± Elto continued to play with what power she now wielded¨Cand with semantics. ¡°Ah, but you see, those same mana-sensitive materials, the processes between the mining operations and their oceangoing transports, and all the tiny tidbits along the way affect the global price of such materials and, by extension, the components, machinery, and technologies that rely on them. The situation is already precarious, especially following the... unfortunate loss of our common ally in the Mu continent, the federal empire of Leifor, which was also a major exporter of mana-sensitive materials.¡± As Revalor leaned forward to make his point, Elto swung back discreetly as if to sign to him that there was little in his progress of making things clear. To clarify the empire¡¯s position in this debacle, she tilted her head to the side and made an indifferent expression. ¡°And?¡± Inwardly, the Mirishial seethed. How the hell could she¨Cand by extension, her blasted wannabe hegemon of a country¨Cbe treating him, the esteemed diplomat of the head of the First Civilized Region, like a lowly barbarian?! Could they actually be so arrogant that they would go and try to control the global price of mana-sensitive materials, the lifeblood of magic civilization everywhere, and get the Holy Mirishial Empire to bend?! Out of options, he sets into motion what His Majesty and his superiors had told him over the phone a while ago¨Csomething which he hoped he would not need to resort to. ¡°That would lead to a worldwide crisis of proportions the divine empire cannot ignore. Your hubristic actions have earned the disappointment of His Majesty, Uevareth I, and he has made a direct call for your empire to make good on our mutual understanding over the independence of the mana-sensitive material trade from direct intervention.¡± She tilted her head to the side once more, but this time in genuine confusion. ¡°¡®Mutual understanding over...¡¯ what? Your excellency, we have not agreed on such understandings, not on paper nor by mouth; we have not violated anything you accuse us of violating.¡± Shrugging at Elto¡¯s placid reply, Revalor made it known that he was starting to shake off the shreds of diplomatic formality. Personally speaking, he was utterly done with these Parpaldians. Perhaps a reassignment somewhere else more accommodating like Agartha, he momentarily considered. ¡°Then, in good faith, will your government reconsider the reforms you have announced? Perhaps, as a personal suggestion, your government should consider the responsibility they hold as a major exporter of mana-sensitive materials and how dire the consequences lay in the path ahead for you.¡± In spite of how inoffensive the reply she received sounds to be, Elto felt insulted. If anything, it was the presence of foreign intervention seeding the corruption in the management that was ruining the empire¡¯s chances of true prosperity. In her eyes, the emperor, Ludius, was doing everything right and just. ¡°Might I remind you, your excellency, that this decision is the word of His Majesty, Ludius, and that his word is in the interests of the empire and its people. We do not answer to you. As a personal suggestion of my own: take your little pissy attitude and go ask the Altarans across the pond and convince them to stop their belligerent attacks at your ¡®already precarious situation.¡¯¡± Only three words echoed in Revalor¡¯s mind at this reply: that¡¯s it. Without even uttering a grunt or a vaguely audible expletive hidden underneath a sigh, he got up from his seat, turned around, dismissed the Parpaldian imperial guard at the door and opened it himself, and left the chamber. For the first time in generations, the relations between the Holy Mirishial Empire and the Parpaldian Empire have reached an all-time low. Cent. Calendar 12/12/1639, Royal Castle, Le Brias, Altaras, 10:55 On this side of the great Altaras Strait that separates the continental Third Civilized Region and the island of Altaras, Sios, and the Rodenius continent, dry wind was blowing. The tropical depression of two days ago had gone past, but in its temporary visit, it ravaged the subtropical forests along the northern lowlands and the mighty metropolis of the capital Le Brias, leaving in its wake clear skies that could only be interpreted with good omens. Yet the omens were, just like the storm, fleeting, and the dry wind carried not the smell of salt and the cries of seabirds; instead, it carried the cries of angry merchant folk and citizens and the smell of burning wood and iron, not because they cry of poor disaster relief but rather of radical change. ¡°Death to Parpaldia and Ludius!¡± ¡°We give no quarter to imperialists and thieves!¡± ¡°To hell with the Parpaldians! To hell with their reforms!¡± Already the price of mana stones, the essential material craved by ever-hungry magic civilizations, had risen. The economic ministers of the kingdom and the financiers and bankers that make up the central bank have already introduced measures to try and curb the rising prices, but their men and women in the constabulary fared worse with the rioters. Standing at the grand balcony connected to his quarters, the head of state¨Cand by de facto the government too¨CKing Taara XIV placed his restless hands on the hardened clay balustrade. He closed his eyes in an attempt to shut out the overwhelming load of sensitivities coming from all sorts of directions, but the cries of his people mercilessly cut deeply at his spirit¨Cand his patience. At the tail end of a long series of breathing exercises, the high-pitched voice of a maid hacked at his eardrums. ¡°Your Majesty! You have a visitor!¡± Turning to look at her modest black gown and white frills, the crossed position of her extended arms indicated a message only understood within the Altaran royal court, to which Taara promptly responded by following her to the throne room. After making their way through the maze-like layout of twisting corridors and fake turns and rooms, a labyrinth only the royal court and the distinguished Royal Guard have memorized by heart, they arrive at the long, spacious hall of glasses that was the throne room. There, at the foot of the steps leading up to the golden throne of the Altaran kings, was an elven woman with flowing golden locks and wearing an equally long dress seemingly made out of silver that glinted in the morning sun. There was only one nation that would have its diplomats wear clothes of such modest yet extravagantly minimalist nature. ¡°Ah! Why if it isn¡¯t my dear Ryllae!¡± In true Taara fashion, he disposed of formal diplomatic etiquette in his greeting with Ryllae. As the ambassador of the Holy Mirishial Empire to Altaras, she knew the importance of keeping appearances in high-level talks with the leaders of partner nations. But she also knew of Taara¡¯s spontaneous attitude, so she at least put on a welcoming smile for the king. ¡°Your Majesty! It has been a while, hasn¡¯t it?¡± Ryllae replied as Taara closed the distance, eventually making contact by giving her a healthy, friendly pat on the shoulder. Whether or not this was a show of power by the Altaran king was anyone¡¯s guess¨Cincluding Taara¡¯s¨Cbut the Mirishial diplomat knew better than to make it obvious that this was a breach of etiquette. ¡°Too long, my dear... Now, what is a woman of your caliber doing here?¡± Mentally discarding the king¡¯s flattering statement, she kept her smile in place, even as the words she was about to say delved into serious matters. ¡°I¡¯m sure you are well aware of the Parpaldian decisions announced by Emperor Ludius yesterday?¡± Taara¡¯s bright face turned dark in an instant; the vibrance¨Cwhether real or not¨Chad all but evaporated from his eyes at the mention. Even his response showed hints of hostility. ¡°What of it?¡± Taking a deep breath, the Mirishial diplomat clapped her hands in an effort to dispel any hesitations and doubts about what she was about to say, for beyond was a future that even she herself knew was unavoidable. ¡°Well... I¡¯m here to extend to you, the King of Altaras, the situation in the imperial court back in Mirishial. His Majesty, Uevareth I, has personally called on me to impart to you what he is in the mood for. He is currently willing to see the status quo, which has unfortunately turned for the worse due to certain irresponsible actors and their actions, returned to the way it was¨Cby any means, if necessary.¡± Taara¡¯s eyes widened as brightness returned to them, but they were not the kind of brightness that was present just minutes ago. No, they were the brightness of a raging fire of vengeance. The message conveyed by Uevareth I through Ambassador Ryllae was¨Cin spite of the vague and indirect language used¨Ccrystal clear. Tired of the tiresome balancing act it had played for decades in the region, the end result of which was their efforts being thrown into the metaphorical dirt by circumstances they could never have control over, the Holy Mirishial Empire was finally deciding to do something substantial, even if it was underhanded and taking place behind the curtain of current events. Against its will, it had been driven to this state of hedging its bets on one of the belligerents of this brewing cross-strait crisis, especially now that the other had refused to cooperate. A smile appeared on Taara¡¯s face, a replacement for a different kind of smile that would have shown his true colors. He picked his next words carefully so as to play his own hand under the cover of the thin veil of plausible deniability. ¡°I... acknowledge that His Majesty has such a relatable mood.¡± Satisfied with the king¡¯s concise yet straightforward response, Ryllae was more than ready to make herself scarce. After all, the king had so much to attend to, she assumed. ¡°Thank you for your acknowledgement, your majesty. Now, if you¡¯ll excuse me.¡± ¡°But of course!¡± After a brief yet substantial exchange of farewells, the Mirishial diplomat went on her way. Once the loud thud of the massive, heavy wooden doors to the throne room echoed all the way to his ears, Taara promptly set out to work. The Mirishials had given him this blank check, and he was going to use every single imaginable digit he could possibly get out of it. ¡°Matuk! Come here!¡± He directed his shout towards one of the entranceways that lead into the throne room from behind the throne and the national banner that hung behind it. Not a moment had passed before a man dressed in a green uniform decorated with all sorts of colored medals and wearing tall, red headwear that looked like a bork hat stepped out of the shadows and into the sights of the king. The man, Matuk, then saluted, the embroidered patterns on his shoulders indicating that he was of the highest rank of the Altaran Royal Guard¨Ctheir commanding officer. ¡°I have a request to make of you.¡± ¡°What is it, my King?¡± These silent hushes in the largest hall in the entirety of the kingdom of Altaras are what would set in motion the future Ryllae and others had anticipated. Cent. Calendar 13/12/1639, port of Le Brias, Altaras, 14:35 ¡°Justice for poor Altarans!¡± ¡°We are done being stomped upon!¡± ¡°Misfortune befalls the evil empire!¡± Protests at the bustling port of Le Brias continue into their second day. The cries of hundreds of disparate merchants and citizens hit hardest by the rise in prices of mana stones coming from all sorts of countries make their demands known, whether by shouts or the clamoring of their pitchforks. Today, it was not the foghorns of steamships and bells from sail ships brimming with goods as they come and go that dominated the soundtrack. It was the anger of the people. As the hordes of protesters continued to be joined by more and more disenfranchised low-income folk, they passed through the Barezan granary and mill, an industrial complex handling agricultural goods located in the port area. The recent edict issued by the king had also disturbed food prices, but not to the level seen by mana stones. At that very moment, when the frustrated chants of the protesters seemed to reach their crescendo, they were all easily drowned out... KABLAM!!! Out of nowhere, one of the towering mills next to the cobblestone roads through which the protesters were walking appeared to combust into flames before turning into rubble. They followed a gigantic conflagration that reached high into the heavens like a phoenix being reborn, the shockwave of the blast shattering the brick walls of the mills next to it like glass and forcing their own grain innards to spontaneously combust too. The series of explosions completely destroyed the mills, but if the blast and fire weren¡¯t the ones to befall the bystanders and protesters nearby, then it was going to be the debris falling like meteors. ¡°Eeek!¡± ¡°Look out!¡± ¡°Run!¡± Thousands upon thousands of bricks and heavy structural materials rained all across the vicinity, turning whatever was unfortunate to be in their way¨Cpeople, stray animals, goods, structures, everything¨Cinto all sorts of unrecognizable particulate matter. Those nearby that weren¡¯t crushed were subject to all sorts of bodily pain from the sheer force of the blast wave, a plethora of suffering that ranged from destroyed eardrums and internal bleeding to concussions from being thrown off their feet. The resounding boom emanating from the explosions rocked the very foundations of Le Brias, but these were nothing more than ripple effects on their own; in time, they would set off a wave and later a tsunami poised to disturb the already delicate balance of power in the region. Still, they were the defining alarm bells to wake up any who had not yet realized the reality that they were actually in, for a future without the status quo of yesterday had been violently set in stone. Chapter 27: Desperate Measures Cent. Calendar 13/12/1639, Embassy of Japan in Esthirant, Parpaldia, 19:50 The port of Esthirant, easily one of the largest in the region by area and amount of tonnage docking at its piers, disappointingly stood in second place to the more prosperous harbor of Le Brias. Even then, the sheer amount of square-rigged sail vessels, iron-hulled steam ships, and modern-esque merchant vessels coming and going from the port was a testament to an efficient system of communications present to make this all possible, and that was in addition to the vast economic power Parpaldia held. Sure, Altaras may have the biggest and busiest port in the region, but Parpaldia has several more port cities just like Esthirant. As one of the busiest ports in the region, it also housed a number of warehouses, crane machinery, land transportation hubs, and even a station for freight rail to take cargo to and from the port. Out of all of these places for commerce stood a single building of considerable size yet smaller than the cargo depots flanking it. The lot it was in was also wide, but the building that stood in its center took up much of the space available, leaving only grass and stone pathways for the remaining area. Erected in front of the red-bricked facade, an architectural style reminiscent of the Marunouchi facade of Tokyo Station, was a flagpole that flew the Hinomaru¨Cthe state flag of Japan. This was the Embassy of Japan to Parpaldia. In spite of the latter¡¯s recognition of the former as an equal that should be treated with respect befitting a regional power, the plot of land they gave them to build their embassy ran contrary to that line of thought. One may think that this was in retaliation to the fact that Japan provided a lot in Naha, Okinawa¨Ca city that was definitely not the Japanese capital¨Cfor the Parpaldians to build their embassy on, but that was hardly Japan¡¯s fault in the first place; unrest and disorder still plagued Tokyo and contact overall was easier in Okinawa since it was geographically closer to both Philades and Rodenius. At any rate, given their accessible location next to the port, it was easier for personnel and supplies meant for the embassy to go to and from Esthirant, so all¡¯s not lost. While relations between Parpaldia and Japan remain rather amicable and with several high-profile deals such as the Eastern Offshore Joint Resource Exploration Agreement decorating their joint diplomatic portfolio, the same cannot be said for the relationship between Parpaldia and Altaras. Maintaining diplomatic and fruitful economic ties between the two nations¨Cnotwithstanding domestic reasons following the controversy surrounding Operation Zanzibar¨CJapan has taken a position of non-alignment, which is shared by many others such as Mu, Fenn, Qua-Toyne, and so on. However, with the increasing belligerence between the two parties, especially recently given their economic spats against one another, the worsening situation in the Altaras Strait, a body of water where so much of everyone¡¯s trade, including Japan¡¯s, goes through, they may soon have to do something to calm everyone¡¯s nerves; although as much possible, there mustn¡¯t be any side-picking in the first place. However, as everyone will soon see, hopes for calmer solutions to prevail will be dashed. ¡°Hey, Ninomiya! Turn up the volume, will you?¡± ¡°On my way.¡± A group of Japanese embassy personnel huddled around a television while one of them increased the volume output. They were supposed to be working on their computers and doing paperwork but a certain broadcast caught their ears and now they were completely glued to the television¡¯s monocolor screen. ¡°What in the goddamn¨C?! Stop slacking off you morons and get back to work!¡± A man so tired from work that his hair and tie were disheveled had walked into the group of personnel crowded around the TV. In spite of his graying hair, the man, Tanaka Noboru, was still full of cocky spirit. While someone else had been assigned to the position of ambassador, he was still assigned to the embassy as chief of mission, much to his chagrin. ¡°Shh!¡± One of the personnel, a supposed subordinate of his, flat-out shushed him. Having had enough of work and now the audacious disrespect coming from his juniors, he was just about to lose it. ¡°Why you¨C¡± But something else caught his attention. The television, a TCH R38-2000 bought from the local store selling Mirishial appliances, was showing a black and white news broadcast from the Imperial Broadcasting Company (IBC), a Mirishial state-owned news company. While he couldn¡¯t make out the squiggly characters on the screen, he could understand what the newscasters were talking about. Two male elves in the formal white fantastical robes of Mirishial dress were discussing amongst themselves with a picture of what appears to be a massive conflagration at the port of Le Brias displayed on a screen behind them. ¡°Details are still coming in but to all those that are only now tuning in: earlier this afternoon in the port of Le Brias, Altaras, at approximately 14:35 local time, a gigantic explosion leveled a granary complex. Casualties are currently confirmed to be at 184 with a further 10,000 wounded but local officials tell us that the death toll is expected to climb as search and rescue efforts continue...¡± The embassy personnel, who were already well-versed in Asheran common, understood what the newscaster said. They were completely stunned. ¡°Holy shit.¡± ¡°Reminds me of Beirut back in 2020... What the hell...¡± Some of them even vaguely remembered hearing a loud boom that came out of nowhere earlier that afternoon. If the explosion was powerful enough to be heard from Esthirant all the way across the strait, there was little doubt that the death toll may indeed be higher than what the current numbers show. ¡°An investigation carried out by the Altaran Royal Guards has already determined the cause for the explosion. As per a report issued just hours ago, they conclude that the Barezan granary explosion is ¡®undoubtedly an act of sabotage and terrorism against the Altaran people by clandestine Parpaldian state forces.¡¯ They claim to have evidence for this but so far they refuse to release them publicly, citing fears of ¡®counterespionage.¡¯¡± The Japanese looked at one another with raised eyebrows. The explosion was without a doubt tragic but the speed at which the Altaran government pointed their fingers at Parpaldia was a tattletale sign that something was up; either that or they were more than eager to use the occasion to slurry mud at their enemies. Just then, the other newscaster cut them off with a tone that conveyed a sense of urgency. ¡°This just in: the Foreign Affairs Minister, Count Erdithas of Rydwheg, is currently live and is about to make a statement regarding the Barezan granary explosion.¡± The broadcast was then changed to that of a glass podium located in what appears to be a purely white hall. Flanking the podium were the flags of the Holy Mirishial Empire with the golden imperial insignia emblazoned on the side facing the camera. Seconds after the live broadcast had started, an elf with graying hair and sagging facial features walked up to the podium from the right. Facing the cameras and the crowd beyond them, he started to speak, surprising the Japanese with the clarity of the sound and his somehow young-sounding voice. ¡°On behalf of the government of the Holy Mirishial Empire, its benign and proud people, and His Imperial Majesty Uevareth I, I extend condolences to the bereaved of the tragedy that occurred at the port of Le Brias in the kingdom of Altaras, as well as prayers to the innocent lives who were lost.¡± Count Erdithas lowered his head slightly and stayed silent for a few moments before resuming his address. ¡°Peace and fraternity among coexisting peoples are part of the values enshrined in both the Imperial Charter that proclaimed the Empire centuries ago and the Asheran Charter that established the norms and values that ought to dictate international relations and international society. As we had done with the insufferable act of insolence committed by the Gra Valkas Empire in invading and taking over the Federal Empire of Leifor months ago, the Holy Mirishial Empire will once again stand by these values in the face of this unprecedented unilateral attempt at destabilizing the world order.¡± After briefly looking away to cough, the Mirishial foreign affairs minister turned back to look at the cameras with a sharp glare in his eyes. ¡°We have been long standing friends with the Parpaldian Empire and our economic and military ties speak of this, but the shared interests of all when it comes to peace, order, and stability come first; I hereby extend the immense disappointment of His Imperial Majesty Uevareth I and his will to denounce the Parpaldian Empire for its horrendous, barbaric act of violence against the kingdom of Altaras and its people! We call on Emperor Ludius to immediately reexamine their erroneous foreign policy, claim responsibility for this blatant attack on Altaran sovereignty, and cooperate with the Altaran government to pay for reparations!¡± As soon as he finished his address, the camera shutters, flashes, and reporters armed with microphones started assailing the old count. The Japanese embassy personnel sighed in exasperation. They were barely in shape to work due to the immense energy they spent tiptoeing between everyone¡¯s interests in an attempt to both get foreign trade into Japan to try and boost back their economy and to satiate domestic demands for more careful diplomatic conduct and to prevent what had happened with Operation Zanzibar. Unfortunately with this new and unwarranted development in the burgeoning cross-strait crisis, things may just be about to get uncomfortably hot. Tanaka, meanwhile, stared at the television screen with eyes of clear and unabated skepticism. Well, that has got to be odd, no? Why is the Mirishial foreign minister already taking the word of the Altaran Royal Guard for truth? How could they already conclusively point to a definite cause for the explosion when they¡¯re only starting to get people into search and rescue efforts, meaning that they¡¯ve hardly touched ground zero? Is the so-called ¡®evidence¡¯ the Altarans have really legitimate or are they perhaps¨C ¡°Tanaka!¡± Interrupting his stream of thoughts was the voice of his superior, the Japanese Ambassador to Parpaldia, Hamakubo Tatsunosuke. He could never quite get used to the ruffian-like voice of his Showa-esque superior, especially since he has a habit of barking at him. ¡°Yes, Ambassador?!¡± Careful not to modulate his voice louder than his boss¡¯s, Tanaka replied to Hamakubo. ¡°Come with me! We¡¯ve just received word from Kasumigaseki!¡± Tanaka followed him as they walked through the brightly lit hallway. ¡°May I ask what it is that they said that¡¯s so urgent, Ambassador?¡± ¡°The Mirishials have just issued an official statement regarding the Barezan granary incident. The Muish ambassador has told us that their government is about to do the same so we are under pressure to issue our own statement too.¡± ¡°And what¡¯s our official stance, Ambassador?¡± ¡°We don¡¯t really have much in the way of credible influence over the Altaran deciding making apparatus so we¡¯ll unfortunately just have to side with the result of their government¡¯s investigation¨Cyes, I cannot lie that it¡¯s downright suspicious but we¡¯re also hard pressed to prove ourselves a mediator of peace in this region to our citizens back home. We¡¯re going to condemn the Parpaldians and tell both of them to exercise restraint and to resolve this issue diplomatically.¡± So basically we¡¯re going to do nothing, thought Tanaka. He wasn¡¯t the least bit surprised but he hoped there was more that they could do in this situation. Be that as it may, despite the so-called ¡®international society¡¯ that the Asherans have propped up, diplomacy was still largely conducted in the manner of dog-eat-dog or survival of the fittest. Having grown a generational, almost natural aversion to this kind of militarist, gung-ho attitude and stance towards other nations, it¡¯s only reasonable that his countrymen would be against Japan continuing to ¡®speak in the natives¡¯ language,¡¯ especially after Prime Minister Takamori¡¯s reckless¨Cyet undoubtedly beneficial in hindsight¨Cdecision to greenlight Operation Zanzibar. ¡°Ah well, here we go again, I suppose.¡± With Japan opting to try and play the advocate of peace, they have chosen their path down the winding road of local geopolitics. Cent. Calendar 15/12/1639, Mausoleum of Yasmin, Le Brias, Altaras, 10:00 The bright white and beige domed rooftops of the residential districts of the Altaran capital reflected back into the viewers¡¯ eyes a sort of image evoking feelings that they had reached ¡°Paradise.¡± Sailors aboard ships destined for the major port city¡¯s bustling harbor, having come a long way across the treacherous, mostly-still unmapped expanse of the Altaras Strait, would have definitely fallen on their knees in gratitude to the gods upon seeing the gleaming towers of Le Brias. What a time to be alive, they¡¯d often pray. As one traces the skyline of the capital, they¡¯d inevitably come across a gigantic structure topped with an equally impressive dome, all clad in rusted, earthen red bricks. Flanked on all four corners by towering spires, one would be forgiven for thinking that this was the Royal Palace¨Cthe center of the richest and most powerful kingdom in the East¨Cdue to the daunting turrets and walls at its base. In actuality, this was nothing but a mausoleum, a grand memorial to death in the midst of a city filled with life and vigor. Today, however, the city mourns... and seethes in explosive anger. ¡°O Altaras! How perverse and degenerate are the enemies seeking your subservience!¡± Almighty King of Altaras, Taara XIV, spoke to a weeping crowd of thousands with the kind of confidence and presence that more than befitted his title. Flanked by his Royal Guards and the equally austere figures of the three princesses, his daughters, he opened his speech with the patriotic opening line of the Altaran national anthem, ¡°For Land and King.¡± Shedding a tear or two underneath his eyes filling with nationalistic ardor, he sympathized with the pain his people were going through; putting his enclosed fist high into the air, he was exuding a message for all Altarans: fear not the adversary and stand! ¡°Our kingdom has seen countless enemies bash their heads against our impenetrable walls and lay down their useless, futile lives at our indomitable beaches! It may have been at the cost of thousands of our own countrymen¨Ca cost we could never repay¨Cbut we cannot let their memory be in vain!¡± He looked down at the people that filled the mausoleum courtyard below. Everybody held a brightly lit candle; the elderly, children, their hardworking parents, the poor that made the streets their home, the rich merchants that otherwise couldn¡¯t have cared less, and so many others. Not a single one of them showed no signs of sadness and anguish. As a king, it was his obligation to comfort his people and rouse them from this infectious sadness. However, it was also his duty as a king to use this to his¨Cno, Altaras¡¯s advantage. ¡°The tragedy of Barezan we cannot forget but above all: we must never forget that this is an act of war!!! Not just any act of war; this is an act of war against all Altarans!¡± He could hear the sorrowful cries of his people from below him. The pained, cracking voices of his benign people only served to anger him further. ¡°The enemy laughs at us in our moment of weakness but we must show them that they are mistaken! Blood must be shed a thousand fold for every Altaran drop of blood!¡± Soon, he started to hear a different kind of cry, one that seeped to the very core with rage. ¡°To hell with the usurpers!!!¡± ¡°Avenge Barezan! Avenge Altaras!!!¡± ¡°The eternal kingdom will never falter!!!¡± It was working, almost smiled Taara. Just one more should be enough ¡°For Land and King, O proud people of the land between two continents!¡± He cried out in pained rage the closing line of ¡°For Land and King,¡± a verse that was echoed throughout the mausoleum¨Cif not the entire, weeping city¨Cby the sorrowful, vengeful voices of his people. ¡°FOR LAND AND KING!!!¡± In one, easy stroke, the so-called despot of Altaras turned his people¡¯s despondency into raging fury and he did not even need to imply who their ¡°enemy¡± was. There was only one enemy in the minds of the Altarans and indirectly reminding them of that was more than enough. He closed his eyes; while there was more work to be done, silently reveling in one¡¯s success did not hurt. With his vision out of the way, all that his senses picked up were the cries of a population thirst for retribution. Good. Very good. He patted himself on the back for a job well done. Barezan was a tragedy, but it was nothing more than a scratch on top of a larger wound on the king¡¯s heart, one which to this day has not healed. It is in the background of the brokenhearted cries of his people that he heard a faint cry echo from the deepest abyss of his heart. Upon hearing of it, he couldn¡¯t help but shed a tear. <> Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. A name he had not heard in what was perhaps a lifetime¨Cbut it was also a lifetime ago he had last seen anything resembling hope for a future in the East. The cutthroat Altarans and the exceptionalist Parpaldians had always been at each other¡¯s throats for as long as both states found each other blocking the other¡¯s road to hegemonic power in the Third Civilized Region. But things weren¡¯t always so savage between the two. For once, there was hope for a¨Cwhile admittingly begrudging¨Ccoexistence between the two. That was when a young, up-and-coming king Taara fell in love with a noble from Palnea, one of the subordinate realms underneath the Parpaldian Empire. She was endearing and he was ambitious and the two could not have been more driven towards the eventual normalization of ties between Altaras and Parpaldia. Her smooth, curly yet free flowing hair was more comforting than any silk and her smile shone brighter than any full moon. She meant the world to him but the world exacted a high toll for their ultimately unacceptable pairing¨Ca toll she¡¯d ultimately pay for with her life. He remembered now. Her blood-stained body lying devoid of life in his arms. The defiant, almost insulting eyes of the men¨Cpeople whom he once deemed as his family¨Clooking back at him as he gave the order that condemned them to eternal damnation. The three daughters who were hardly capable of walking with whom she left parts of herself with: her beautiful blue eyes that glimmered in the light like pearls, the apple-red cheeks with no hints of artificial blush, and the curly yet flowing brown hair that captured his heart. And then the conviction that the blood that was spilled that day would herald no more concessions to any of the enemies that seek Altaras¡¯s submission. He opened his eyes and caressed the red, earthen bricks of the mausoleum, a symbol of the dried blood his beloved wife Yasmin and every Altaran before and since then had spilled. ¡°The day of our enemies¡¯ judgment is nigh. There will be no more peace.¡± - - - As crowds cheered vengefully at the vigil being held at the Mausoleum of Yasmin, the city mourned but with explosive anger. All across the beautiful, industrial-era cobblestone streets of the Altaran capital were gangs of protesters, consisting mostly of middle class workers, determined small time journalists, and angered nationalists, all armed with torches and crude, homemade staves. Some flew sky blue banners while some had signs with ¡°down with our enemies!¡± painted in bright red. In all such instances, no matter where in the city, the cries they propagated made clear to all that heard them their unquenchable thirst for revenge¨Crevenge for Barezan, for the high prices brought by the trade war, for the humiliation brought upon them by their so-called ¡°enemies.¡± ¡°JUSTICE FOR BAREZAN!!!¡± ¡°THE PARPALDIANS MUST PAY!!!¡± They vented their naked anger on what they deemed deserved it: their ¡°enemies.¡± Conveniently, Le Brias has a couple places where their ¡°enemies¡± could be seen in plain sight. ¡°Stop! No!¡± A man wearing an apron powdered to the white with flour in the business district was at his wits¡¯ end trying to stop a gang of chanting, angry rioters from destroying his shop. How could they? He was a baker with a legitimate license and the necessary permits to operate in the city. He had a family of three to feed. But perhaps the most obvious flaw in his profile was that he was a former Parpaldian citizen. ¡°Please! I am no enemy! I have been here for three decades!¡± They listened not to his pleas as his windows were smashed, broken by rocks and sledgehammers, his oven set ablaze, and his freshly baked bread were thrown onto the ground and crushed underneath the soles of the same neighbors who mere days ago were buying them by the droves. All because he was a Parpaldian¨Cthe ¡°enemy.¡± ¡°That bastard¡¯s gotta be colluding with the enemy! Get ¡®im!¡± All their infuriated eyes, thirsty for retribution, turned to him. ¡°What?!¡± Men and women armed with bloodied fists and half-broken wooden clubs converged on him. In the midst of this difficult moment, all that he could now think about was his family whom he left upstairs at their apartment. He glanced for a moment to check if the door had been barricaded. It was. Thank goodness, he thought. And then the blows started coming. Whack! Bam! Kapow! The blows kept on coming. Every single hit he received did not serve to satiate the vengeful desires of the people he once called neighbor, friend, or even brother; if anything, the fact that he was not yet lifeless only served to make them angrier. Two minutes of anguish later, the rioters were exhausted but their rage was not yet satiated. The man, the ¡°enemy,¡± was now pacified, but there could still be more enemies. ¡°Spread out! I heard the Rox family a few blocks down the road was about to head back to Esthirant! Make sure they don¡¯t escape!¡± ¡°Yeah!!!¡± Another hour, another ¡°enemy¡± lay bloodied and lifeless in the streets of Altaras. There were more enemies, more blood to be shed. Still, it was not enough. Until the martyrs of Barezan are avenged, they will never be enough. Esthirant, Parpaldia Across the pond from the magnificent capital of one despotic state was the magnificent capital of another, Esthirant. Equally impressive and majestic in its appearance and skyline, the imperial capital of the world-recognized regional power of the Third Civilized Region did not lose to the underdog capital of Altaras in many more aspects. One of these aspects was the immense violence the streets of the capital were seeing in recent days. Anger seeped through every nook and cranny of the massive metropolis but it was different from the one afflicting Le Brias. The Parpaldians, having witnessed days ago the Altaran dictator Taara XIV vilify them on the world stage as a ¡°brutal, underhanded state sponsor of terror,¡± were livid¨Cand even that is a massive understatement. The Mirishial, Muish, and Japanese embassies, the countries which backed the Altaran statement, had closed for the day and were on the highest alert possible for any sort of violence that could target them. To help contain the riots in order to preserve their international image, the Parpaldian Constabulary was out in force to make sure none of them got out of hand. Unfortunately, whether intentional or not was anyone¡¯s guess, the streets outside the Altaran embassy were devoid of constabulary presence. As a result, the center of gravity of the riots¨Cand in turn the violence¨Ccould be easily traced to the fortified walls of the Altaran embassy. The armed guard patrolled walls rigged with layers upon layers of inter-coiled barbed wire were desperately being climbed over by enraged Parpaldian citizens. Modest profit-earning businessmen, glass factory workers, newspaper journalists, and even educated teenage boys were but some of the demographic makeup of the angry rioters trying to get into the Altaran embassy. Even if they were not united by cause, what they had in common came in the form of a resounding cheer: ¡°Expel the Altarans, expel the barbarians! Expel the Altarans, expel the barbarians!¡± The company of Altaran guardsmen tasked with guarding the embassy and armed with surplus Mirishial Great War-era bolt action rifles¨Ccutting edge weaponry in the East¨Cwere close to cowering beneath the wave of furious Parpaldians. They had gone through several wars as mercenaries before and had withstood so much contempt from civilians over the years but none of their experiences remotely matched what they were witnessing. Mere boys burning with nationalistic ardor were clawing their bare little hands onto the barbed wire eager to get it off¨Call for revenge for Altaras vilifying the glorious empire. Their determination alone scared them. Even if it was their order to protect the embassy, they were reluctant to point their rifles at such brave men and women. ¡°S-Stay back! I¡¯m w-warning you!¡± An intimidated Altaran guard whimpered as he pointed the barrel of his FB/04-ALT rifle at the protesters. He, along with every single one of his peers posted along the walls, were under strict orders not to ¡°make a scene.¡± But it felt like his life was at stake. If he doesn¡¯t do anything, the rioters may just get their hands through the interlaced barbed wire and pull him in to maul him. His finger shook uncontrollably as it hovered over the trigger, a single jerk could very much end the life of the little boy bloodying his hands over the barbed wire. ¡°Dammit!¡± An idea had popped into his head. If he could not shoot and kill them, perhaps he could scare them? But what exactly could scare someone who¡¯s so angry that they¡¯d personally try and wrangle a coil of barbed wire loose with their own bare hands? One way to find out, thought the guardsman. ¡°I said back off!!!¡± Just as he pulled the trigger, he pointed the rifle up into the heavens. BANG! The dry, resounding thunderclap of a rifle shot was followed by the clinking of the spent casing hitting the floor. Silence then followed. Holy shit, did it work? Thought the guardsman. The others looked at him with eyes that said ¡°what the fuck are you doing?!¡± but seeing the rioters stop in their tracks made them think twice. Perhaps it did work after all? ¡°That¡¯s right! I¡¯m not gonna ask twice!¡± Shouted the guard that fired as he pointed the end of his still smoking barrel at the rioters. His arms now shook vigorously not from the recoil of the shot he just made but rather from the extreme nervousness. In all his colorful background, he had never actually been made to do crowd control; all he knew was to point his gun at a target and make sure it was dead. For a while, the rioters appeared to have been pacified, but then... ¡°The motherfucker just tried to shoot little Jean! Kill the bastard!!!¡± A lone cry from the crowd broke the silence and all hell once more broke loose. Anger stiffened the resolve of the citizenry as the mere thought of an Altaran trying to kill a little Parpaldian boy fanned the flames of ardent nationalism within their hearts. How dare they?! ¡°Get ¡®im!¡± ¡°Justice for little Jean!¡± ¡°Maul that ugly face of his!¡± Unable to break through the barbed wire, the citizens got smart. They started throwing whatever they could find that was within arm¡¯s reach: stones, foodstuffs, empty bottles, their staves, torches, wooden placards, and so on. ¡°Eeek!¡± The guard never expected them to start throwing literally everything at him. With only his rifle and his arms to shield him, he stood no chance against the onslaught of steel, hardwood, and glass. ¡°Hey! Stop!¡± Seeing the violence starting to re-erupt, the other guardsmen tried to intervene. They were, unfortunately, too late. An elliptical, sharp-edged rock thrown by an individual they¡¯ll never know found its mark on the guard¡¯s forehead. The edged rock hit with enough force to break open the poor man¡¯s skull, ending his life before he could even wrap his head around the circumstances. In mere seconds, the guard went from trying to intimidate the rioters to falling back over the ramparts. Seeing the event unfold, the rioters cheered with relentless vigor, crying out that ¡°justice had been served!¡± ¡°Fuck! Yusuf was hit! Quick!¡± Witnessing what had happened, the guards quickly tried to band together and enact tougher crowd control measures while some went ahead to check on the fallen guard. Back at the embassy, the commanding officer of the guards, had been informed about the worsening situation and opted to check what was going on for himself. Looking through the windows, he found a situation far worse than he had feared: masked guardsmen throwing their new crowd control weapons, tear gas canisters imported from abroad, into the rioter masses tried to break into the compound as a couple of his men put a body-sized white cloth over one of their fallen comrades. Overwhelmed by exasperation at the scene, the officer couldn¡¯t help but let out a heavy groan. ¡°Just why is this even happening?..¡± Like the commander of a garrison besieged by a fanatically determined opponent, he lamented everything that had happened and was yet to happen. The violence, he fears, is only going to get worse from now on. Imperial Palace, 16:30 As riot violence gripped the capital, the Imperial Palace, standing tall over the city from its relatively safe hilltop position to the north, was about to host a press conference with His Highness, Emperor Ludius. The road into the expansive palace complex was lined with all sorts of vehicles belonging to mass media companies from all over the globe with civilizational giants IBC, ONN (Otaheit News Network), and even the Japanese NHK, along with local news media such as The Esthirant Times, Philades Daily, and many others. Inside the palace, the room where the press conference was to be held was where the Parpaldians typically held meetings between heads of state. As such, it was decorated with stainless silver mirrors bound by golden frames, its porcelain pottery and lifelike sculptures made of the finest marble serving to occupy the in-betweens. Shining gold chandeliers hang from the ceiling with their brightly lit candles giving the room a tender yet strong orange glow. Journalists and news crews filled the room as they checked through their questions and equipment. Lights, microphones, and cameras were set up all along a line demarcated with chalk dust roughly two meters away from a jeweled table that was positioned next to a chair with velvet red cushions. After several minutes of chattering amongst themselves, they were interrupted by the clapping of a uniformed man by the door at the far end of the room. ¡°Ladies and gentlemen, His Highness, the Emperor of Parpaldia, Ludius.¡± The dual set of gilded doors next to him opened from the inside, revealing the dignified person of Ludius, who then proceeded to calmly walk towards his seat. He was bathed by a barrage of camera flashes but the Emperor kept his posture and expression firm and stoic as he flawlessly took his seat to face the crowd of journalists. ¡°If you¡¯ll allow me to speak.¡± The flashes stopped as soon as he made his words crystal clear. ¡°Well then, I will get straight to the topic.¡± Putting his gloved hands on his lap, the Emperor leaned forward with a difficult face. ¡°Let me make myself clear: the Parpaldian nation and its peoples will not stand for the uncalled for vilification of its dignified name by the mad dictator, Taara XIV. The so-called ¡®investigation¡¯ by his phony Royal Guards concluded with pitiful evidence and laughable inconclusiveness that the empire is responsible for the tragic accident at Barezan. We condemn this unjust accusation made on baseless lies!¡± ¡°Not only did the Altaran government make its hostile intention to slander the empire clear but the mentally deranged Taara XIV even went so far as to insinuate outright racial violence against innocent Parpaldians in his own capital! On top of that, its own soldiers fired on a crowd of protesters on Parpaldian soil, a clear violation of imperial sovereignty! They lambast us for actively provoking them when they clearly are in the wrong with these injustices to the Parpaldian people and nation!¡± The camera flashes resumed to capture history in the making but Ludius was not done. No, he had more to say and he curled his fist as he started feeling the gravity of the words he was about to say. ¡°Barezan was not an act of war. It was a tragedy, yes, but we had no part to play in it.¡± ¡°Most importantly, in spite of the strong reception we have received over the last several days, glorious Parpaldia will not back down: we will push through with the economic measures regarding Altaras and the trade of mana-sensitive materials.¡± Just as the last words left his mouth, the crowd of journalists erupted into a frenzy. News crews intensified the frequency of their camera flashes as journalists extended their microphones while bombarding the Emperor with a hurricane of questions. ¡°What does this mean for Parpaldian-Mirishial relations?¡± ¡°Will you condemn the acts of violence said to be happening within Esthirant itself?¡± ¡°What will the imperial institution actually do with the mana-sensitive trade? Any specifics?¡± A drop of sweat traced across his forehead. There were many questions and none of them palatable. With careful maneuvering and diplomatic restraint, Ludius started to entertain some of the questions being hurled at him. Cent. Calendar 16/12/1639, Royal Castle, Le Brias, Altaras, 8:40 The stench of violence in the form of burning houses and barricades and faint irritants from the countless tear gas canisters being emptied into the crowds still permeated the streets of the Altaran capital. As these awfully brutal demonstrations took place all across Le Brias, in the background a storm had been brewing behind the colossal walls of the royal castle. Inside, at the king¡¯s study, the king¡¯s trusted ministers which formed his so-called ¡°inner circle,¡± his military commanders and advisors, and his daughters Semira, Alila, and Lumies all gathered around the Altaran monarch. Each and every one of them reflected the same expression of uncertainty, for his foreign minister had just briefed him about the Parpaldian emperor¡¯s remarks in his press conference last night. For five, agonizing minutes they stood in awkward, excruciating silence as their eyes darted to and from Taara¡¯s thousand yard stare. None of them¨Cnot even his beloved daughters¨Ccould tell what was going on inside the mind of their sovereign. No longer capable of withstanding the pressure, the optionless ministers turned their gazes to Semira, the eldest of the princesses and the closest to Taara. They thought that with her appearance, which bears a striking resemblance to the late queen, she may be able to get their king back from the brink. Feeling the pleading stares of the ministers upon her, Semira relented. She turned towards Taara and gently placed her slender hand on his. ¡°Father?¡± Hardly a moment after Semira spoke with her voice, the gentleness of which was like a mother caressing a baby in her arms, life returned to Taara¡¯s eyes. He then turned to look at her, gripping her hand as if he had been on the verge of losing her. Something must have happened to him in the five or so minutes he had been staring into nothingness, thought Semira. Either way, he was back with them and the next thing he did was turn his attention towards the foreign minister. ¡°D-Did I get that right? They are not withdrawing their protectionist measures?!¡± Like a lion released from its cage, the king raised his voice as his glare got sharper. The foreign minister, fearing both the king and his life since he knew what had happened to previous ¡°unsatisfactory¡± ministers, tried to control as much of his stammering as possible in answering him. ¡°Yes, Your Highness!¡± The king then stood up and extended his fingers in the direction of the cowering foreign minister, his wide-open irises brimming with unmatched fury. He opened his mouth and his Royal Guards, upon seeing this, stood at the ready to enact his so-called ¡°disciplinary¡± orders. However, as if restraining his ugly tendencies, the king stopped short of speaking and curled his fingers into a fist instead. For a short four seconds or so, everyone was on their toes expecting another one of their ministers to be ¡°sent away for disciplinary measures.¡± But none of the sort happened and what they got instead was the sight of their monarch fuming. Taking this as his chance, the foreign minister tried to explain his way out of his predicament. ¡°Your Highness! Forget not the fact that we have the Mirishials, the Japanese and their Rodenian allies, and the Philadean Northern Alliance backing us! If we maintain this pressure on those Parpaldian snakes, they will eventually¨C¡± ¡°No they will not!!!¡± The king thundered, cutting off the foreign minister and setting the atmosphere in the room. At this point, even his beloved daughters started to sweat underneath their palms. ¡°Listen closely...¡± Taara began his slow march towards the foreign minister with his unyielding, menacing glare pointing straight into his trembling eyes. Every step he took felt like a thunderclap that dictated the rhythm of their heartbeats. ¡°Our treasury will run dry before the Parpaldians exhaust theirs. Our economy may be big, but it relies a lot on actions taken by foreign actors abroad and once they see that we¡¯re not performing well, they will bail along with a huge chunk of our economy. The Parpaldians may be declared the pariah for their actions today but things will normalize around their system should we do nothing to change it. In the long run, the Parpaldians will be victorious and we will be none the better for it.¡± Taara then turned for validation from his economic minister, who then nodded softly in affirmation. In short, despite their favorable diplomatic standing against the Parpaldians, the Altarans will suffer more and more as time goes on. Even the Mirishials, whose glaring dependency problems are widely known, will soon have no choice but to yield to the Parpaldians¡¯ insolence. There was no denying the great power the Parpaldians wield and even by upsetting the status quo, their position was advantageous; most worrying of all however was that it would come at great expense for Altaras. If they don¡¯t do something soon to pry the Parpaldians¡¯ stubborn hands, they will without a doubt lose. In the midst of the immense pressure weighing over him in the form of the king¡¯s deathly stare, an idea came to the foreign minister. If hurting Parpaldia was the aim, there was one place where they could do a great deal of damage that¡¯s short of outright war. ¡°In that sense, may I suggest a plan of action, Your Highness?¡± Taara¡¯s glare loosened, his ears tickled by the possibility of a way to hit back at the Parpaldians harder. Seeing this as permission for him to put forward his idea, the foreign minister continued. ¡°There is only one place more important to the Parpaldians than their own mana stone mines. This is the place where if we could successfully present to them that we could credibly threaten it, they will be backed into a corner.¡± The foreign minister need not say it for everyone in the room immediately realized what he was pertaining to. Soon, they were exchanging anxious hushes amongst each other. To say that the foreign minister¡¯s idea was audacious and reckless was an understatement. However, King Taara, desperate for a solution to the economic deadlock, did not shy from showing his delightment to this idea. He promptly returned to the map of the Third Civilized Region sprawled over a table, his eyes drawn towards a tiny speck of land some hundreds of kilometers to the east of Altaras. His ministers, commanders, and daughters, seeing the enthusiasm in the king¡¯s eyes, were deeply worried, for written next to the tiny island read... ¡°Sios...¡± In just one word, the kingdom of Altaras has set its sights on its next move in this crisis. Chapter 27.5: Internal Dynamics Cent. Calendar 16/12/1639, Royal Castle, Le Brias, Altaras, 18:15 As civil unrest and efforts by the outnumbered Altaran constabularies unfold in showdowns of violence across the streets of the capital. The red-brick walls of the citadel-like compound in one corner of the city sits unperturbed, and the sleepy atmosphere that hung over the entire complex was a luxury no other place in the kingdom could afford. Guards in their combat uniforms, having ditched their ceremonial ones in preparation for any rioter daring enough to lead the mobs to the gates of this compound, made their rounds across the ramparts of the walls, some even openly sighing in boredom and lack of action. Hanging from the two massive circular turrets flanking the main gate into the compound were the royal standards of Altaran royal house, its golden star plastered over a striped pattern of alternating cyan and white gleaming immensely in the torchlight. Inside the compound was an impressive structure built in the same rustic red bricks that adorned the complex walls and encompassed an area of roughly 75 square meters. The complex patterns that made up the red and brown domes and towering beige spires gave the already daunting appearance of this fortified complex a more formidable look, fitting for the castle that housed His Majesty, Taara XIV, his family, his retainers, and his numerous servants. The thick, multi-layered walls, meant to protect its inhabitants against even the most destructive of siege weaponry, also served another purpose: insulating the inside from the sounds of the chaotic ruckus and tumult happening outside. The screams of people being tragically lynched in the streets and the explosions of Muish-supplied tear gas canisters were all but a distant memory inside one of the dimly lit halls of the castle, replaced by the metallic clatter of silverware against ceramic plating. Unlike many families, especially those of Parpaldian descent, tonight, the royal family was having dinner in peace. Inside the dining hall, servants in black and white flank the table where the three princesses and their father, the king, dined, ready to move to serve the royals at a moment¡¯s notice, all while a lone violinist provided a somber backdrop to their supper. The table they ate on was long, meant for feasts and celebrations with dignitaries, local allies and ministers, and other important, noteworthy figures, but only the four chairs on one end were occupied, and their candles lit. Sitting at the end was none other than Taara, flanked on his right by eldest Semira and on his left by middle child Alila and finally the youngest, Lumies. Spaced from one another by just a bit more than an arm¡¯s length, far enough that they couldn¡¯t discreetly pass along dessert out of their father¡¯s gaze, the family appeared to be having a legitimate wholesome moment with one another, but the dignified appearances and almost religious attention paid to proper etiquette was all but a telling reminder of their noble status. Blessed as they are in being able to hold such an eventless dinner with one another, there was one thing this particular scene had in common with what the rest of the kingdom was going through. Surgically removing the freshly cooked innards of the clams dotted all across her savory, oil pasta, Lumies maneuvered her utensils with a hint of what one may describe as ¡°machine-like.¡± She made sure to sprinkle in a bit of oopsies and fluid movements here and there, but she could only hide these quirks for so much; on the other hand, she fared better with her expression. Stiff, unmoving, and most of all, hungry, these were the only traits she could express on her face, hiding beneath layers of carefully balanced apathy and concerned her gripes with the recent situation. Unfortunately for her, in her almost 22 years of existence, she¡¯s shared more than enough of them with her family that they¡¯re able to tell¨Cmost especially and crucially of whom is her father, Taara. Always the devil¡¯s advocate, the education she received in statecraft and her service in the Altaran military proved her an excellent counterweight to the king¡¯s ambitions, almost to the point of hostility between them. It is during such trying times when the king makes a decision that she finds fault in whether she would act this way, but never before has she held her mouth shut for as long as she was doing. An uneasy atmosphere hung in the room. The three sisters, well aware of what needed to be said to their father, played hot potato with the responsibility using silent glances and feigning indifference to the situation. In the end, Alila and Semira, trying to use Lumies¡¯s natural tendency to be the devil¡¯s advocate, ganged up on their youngest sibling, hence the status quo. Their father, meanwhile aware of the intense back and forth happening between his daughters, waited in silence for their input. He had always known that his daughters were smart and capable leaders in their own right, but as of late, they have been proving to be more obstructive than supportive of his goals. Most glaring of transgressions was when the three of them placated the Parpaldians for what he believed to be a righteous act on their part when an Altaran boat tried to harvest guano from the disputed Menda Point, a set of small rock-like islands in the strait. ¡°Father.¡± The soft voice of Lumies cut through the tense atmosphere that had built up. Finally, they began to talk, thought Taara. Continuing to twist her pasta with her fork like before, she did not even give her father her visual attention as she spoke her next words. ¡°Are you really pushing forward with your intentions with Sios?¡± Concise and straight to the point. As expected from their confrontational sister, thought Semira and Alila. Taara, also expecting this question, continued to consume his medium rare lamb steak indifferently. ¡°Yesh.¡± The indifference with which their father said yes, coupled with the apparent lack of seriousness he¡¯s taking their concerns, mildly irked Alila, but she kept her eyes on her plate and continued to display her own apathy to what was going on. Lumies, however, was rattled. The screeching of her fork against the plate became a little louder as her hand grew heavier, yet her face remained devoid of expressive emotion. ¡°With all due respect, Father... do you not see that what you plan to do is unreasonable?¡± The king, much more focused on trying to cut and chew the leathery texture of his sauce-garnished steak, did not even lift his eyes to face her direction. ¡°You should know better, Lumiesh; thish ish ze only hand short of war in whisch we can forshe ze Parpaldians.¡± The two sisters grew more annoyed with Alila gnashing her teeth in silence as she chewed, and Lumies began to breathe a little deeper. Semira, who was old enough to serve as a calming mother figure to her own sisters, watched with concern. This time, Lumies upped her tone. ¡°The situation with which you¡¯ve maneuvered us into is proving a little more challenging for us, Father; irritating the Siosans will do us only harm.¡± There was little merit in such pointless back and forths, thought Taara as he savored the juicy taste of his lamb. If only his daughters could yield as easily as this stake. Still, he played this game, but only so his daughters would tire and give up. ¡°And what would you have done?¡± Lumies¡¯s eyebrows rose. She knows her father would much rather engage in piecemeal back and forths than substantially consider their input. He was just that stubborn and eggheaded, and she loved none of that. She glanced towards Alila¡¯s way, and with a few slight movements, she informed her of what she was planning to say, something which Alila acknowledged but refused to support. To her, there was little point in what was right and wrong, especially if she wasn¡¯t going to benefit from it. With her sister¡¯s implicit support, Lumies breathed in, and with her exhalation came a bombshell. ¡°For example, I... would not have ordered Matuk and his men to rig the Barezan granary to blow and then blame it on the Parpaldians.¡± Clink! The sound of a fork landing hard against the plate echoed like a bell being rung across the room. The king froze just as he was about to put a cut piece of lamb into his mouth, his eyebrows twitching every now and then. Semira, fearing this, gently put her utensils down as she prepared to try and shut down the conversation as Alila, unfazed by Lumies¡¯s escalation, continued to munch apathetically on her food. Before the silence could set in, Taara ceded his manners, wiping the sauce that had splattered onto his beard from his fork falling onto the plate before proceeding to lean towards Lumies¡¯s direction, his index finger extended towards her like the barrel of a gun. His tone, however, remained composed as it was. ¡°I...¡± He paused to swallow, but in reality, he¡¯s run out of ideas. His daughter had a point, but there was no way he was going to concede on the Barezan incident¨Cno, he doesn¡¯t even regret it, no way... ¡°Your mother would not like the tone with which you¡¯re speaking against your father, young woman.¡± Semira and Lumies sighed; whereas the eldest held a peeve to their father bringing up the memory of their dead mother in an argument, the youngest, having no memories of their mother, fond or not, lamented the pitiful state their father is in. ¡°Mother isn¡¯t here now, Father. Don¡¯t bring her up.¡± Lumies¡¯s eyes widened as she failed to stop her mouth from running its course. She¡¯s said too much. For the first time in this discussion, she turned her gaze to meet her father¡¯s, but what she saw was nothing like her dear father; eyes wide open and irises agape, his breathing has become uneven and the veins on his hands almost at the point of bursting. At this point, he¡¯s even discarded his composed tone¨Cperhaps his self-control with it too. He lashed out like an angered lion. ¡°You dare set aside your mother, child?! What have I done to incur such disrespect from you?!¡± Taara was now standing up, appearing like a rabid predator ready to pounce. Semira, seeing this, put her hands on the table, itching to stand up to try and get between her angered father and her sister. On the other side, Lumies, recalling the disregard with which her father has always treated their opinions, also had enough. Standing up to face her father, she pinched herself so as to try to remain reasonable, even as she was about to blow her own fuse. ¡°I¡¯ve done nothing of the sort, Father! Don¡¯t insinuate something so egregious based on anything but fallacies! If anything, you are the one tainting mother¡¯s memory! Alienating our allies due to some nonsensical decision to coerce the Siosans in a useless bid to try to ¡®get back¡¯ at the Parpaldians?! How could you do this to Altaras?! To us, Father?!¡± ¡°That¡¯s enough, Lumies!¡± Semira, too, had had enough of it, raising her own voice against her own sister to stop the discussion in its tracks. She had a point, but she was the one escalating the mood after all. In response, Lumies shut her mouth, acutely self-aware that she herself had said too much; Taara, however, didn¡¯t heed Semira¡¯s attempt to stop the discussion. Pushing aside his chair, he walked directly towards Lumies. How dare his daughter, of his own blood, speak against him? In spite of everything¨Cthe gifts, the overseas trips to the Holy Mirishial Empire, the education he¡¯s given her, and the values and discipline he¡¯s instilled into her¨Cwhy is she like this?! She could never hope to understand his goals¨Cnone of them do! It was the Parpaldians¡¯ fault for destroying any hope of diplomatic amnesty between their two nations! It was the Parpaldians¡¯ fault for undermining Altaran sovereignty and right to economic glory! It was their fault for Barezan; for the countless lives being gutted by lynch mobs in their streets and Esthirant¡¯s; for the innocent lives incarcerated or sent to the gallows due to their spies being everywhere. For why she doesn¡¯t have a mother to call on; for why she has to be taught a lesson this instant! How could she not see this?! The infuriated king pulled aside Lumies¡¯s heavy wooden chair to the side with one brush of his hand, his other hand grabbing her by the arm. He stared into her still defiant eyes, now dashed with hints of fear and sadness, as he heartlessly uttered the next words. ¡°I will not tolerate treasonous talk, not even from my own daughter. Smart and cunning as you are yet to fail to see the shrewdness of my plans in our struggle against Parpaldian imperialism... Your mother would have been very disappointed.¡± She returned her father¡¯s intense gaze, but she couldn¡¯t pinch herself hard enough to prevent the chinks in her facade from leaking how truly frightened she was. Her ¡®father¡¯ before her was no longer the father she grew up with, the one who would spoil his youngest Lumy with all-expense-paid-for trips to the breathtaking museums of Runepolis. What stood before her was a man far intoxicated with his own hubris and self-righteousness, which mixed dangerously with his innate lust for ambition and Altaran superiority. She cursed herself, both for failing to curtail her own emotions and for getting herself into a situation in which none have survived, for all who dared speak against the king or his decisions were banished into obscurity and erased from existence. ¡°Luckily for you, I love you, so I will be lenient.¡± He turned his gaze towards a couple of guards standing next to the doors, who by his gaze alone understood what they had to do. Taking the princess by her arms, who was now shaking in plain view of everyone, they carried her off and out of the room. ¡°Spend a night in the tower, Lumy! Maybe your hotheadedness will clear by the morning!¡± As the thick, heavy doors slammed shut, Semira sank back onto her seat and planted her face in her hands, covering her watery eyes from view while Alila, having lost her appetite, simply and silently put her utensils down, stood up, and headed for the door. Just as the servants begin to clean up as if nothing had happened, the king, more frustrated at his daughter¡¯s always being at odds with him than what he had just done, merely scratched his head as his gaze went to the ceiling. ¡°Why must your dearest daughters be so conceited, dear Yasmin? Goodness...¡± Naha, Okinawa, Japan Hundreds of kilometers to the east of Altaras and Sios lie the islands that make up Japan¡¯s southwesternmost sovereign territories, the biggest of which was the island of Okinawa. It perhaps wouldn¡¯t be an overstatement to say that these lands were alien, for it was the work of some unknown, godly force of nature that allowed these landmasses to pop out of existence in the middle of the ocean less than a year ago. In the ocean of darkness that hung over this side of Asherah, the lone islands glistened magnificently like stars in the night sky, outshining the traditional regional power centers of Esthirant and Le Brias. The chain of bright lights traces a clear line across the void as if to drive a wedge between the Empire of Parpaldia and the Japan-aligned Rodenian states¨Can almost ominous foreboding of the geopolitical divide threatening to set alight the powder keg. Beyond the shining, crystalline buildings of Naha lay countless more islands of light drawing the arteries of the Okinawan capital¡¯s cityscape¨Cthe streetlights. It was hardly past six in the evening, and the sun had already long set, a clear sign that it was already winter, but the time reserved for the vibrant nightlife of this tropical paradise was uncharacteristically quiet. This was no strange phenomenon, for they were in the midst of a time of troubles, a lightweight name that gave little justice to the almost calamitous period since the Transfer. The ghost town aura hanging over the city home to hundreds of thousands of people betrayed the sense of life coming from the shining lights. Even then, the city was not completely dead. ¡°Bullocks!¡± ¡°Gah! Blast these contraptions!¡± A pair of outbursts, clearly ones of frustration, reverberated across the soulless seaside street. Beyond the cowl of eye-watering white LED streetlights was another source of light emanating from a scarlet red vending machine beneath one of the light posts. Standing in front of the machine were the only two souls that populated this otherwise lifeless street. ¡°Are you sure you read it right?¡± A breeze had swept in, prompting the men to hold onto their trusty fedora hats to prevent them from being carried off. The other man, holding a notebook with worn-out edges in his other hand, hurriedly scanned once more the almost illegible writing. Damned those translators, he thought. He didn¡¯t know which one had the worse handwriting, the part written in his native Muish script or the alien scribbles he¡¯d never seen before. ¡°I did! It says here that we should ¡®twist the knob when we insert the money!¡¯¡± Yeah, right, mumbled the man as he fiddled with his mustache. They had already tried that method for the past six attempts already! His rapidly declining patience¨Cand the lack of fluids relieving his dry throat¨Cgot him on the verge of pulling his mustache out in frustration. But instead, he opted to put things under his control. ¡°Hand that over!¡± He commanded, yet he carried it out himself. Snatching the notebook from the other man, he had more experience with handwriting of almost neanderthal quality; thus, the code was deciphered in but a second. ¡°You imbecile! It said that we should click on the blasted beverages we want after inserting the money!¡± There was little patience for apologizing and even less on his part for witnessing his companion¡¯s nonexistent attempt at doing so. Klink! Click! Kachack! Kachack! In what only took a fraction of the time they read the instructions, they finally got their hands on two cans of black coffee, long coveted ever since they laid their eyes on it when they discovered the vending machine. Both men grabbed the drinks from the tray before opening them¨Cregardless of the technological superiority the Japanese apparently had, the technology of canned consumables was something that evolved little, it seems. Instinctively finding the thin tab that would force the tear strip open, the two secured access to the aromatic contents with relative ease. ¡°Cheers.¡± As if to wrap up a ritual of goodwill, the men lightly tapped the extended rims of their cans against each other before sending the beverage down their parched throats. They were assailed by a wave of aroma from the roasted beans that had formed the coffee they were drinking, making it feel as if the hypnotic fragrance was gripping at their nostrils while the drink passed through their throats with hardly any resistance. Almost immediately, the caffeine felt like it kicked in, blowing away fatigue that had accumulated from hours of exhausting diplomatic back and forth. They were nothing less than satisfied and reinvigorated after downing almost the entire can. The troubles felt like they were fleeting away, but the two men wanted to talk about them before letting them go. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. ¡°What a bother. I find it difficult to believe we¡¯re dealing with people this important.¡± Uttering such a statement felt as if he had lifted off something unfathomably heavy from his heart, yet he found himself no lighter after the fact. ¡°What were the eggheads in the ministry thinking when they decided to send us? They even had the nerve to issue the memo that we¡¯re dealing with a Class X diplomatic mission after we were already halfway to this... god knows where we are!¡± Class X was an unofficial term for a mission to a foreign country that¡¯s to be treated with (beyond) utmost care and respect. If there was to be any indication of the seriousness of this tag: the last time a mission was tagged as such was when they first discovered the Gra Valkas Empire almost two years ago. Many in the ministry considered them an alien, technologically superior country of significant threat to the political ecosystem surrounding them; while they still enjoy an amicable friendship, their fears were proven right when the foreigners conquered their neighbor in Leifor, a strong regional power of considerable global standing, in a day (two and a half months when counting the campaign that followed). Their lax, almost unattentive attitude towards the Gra Valkans haunts their experiences to this very day. After all... ¡°We can¡¯t afford to be so forgiving of potential threats, especially given...¡± The two froze, not from the cold winds blowing in from the sea but from fear¨Cfear of the words that they had read off a report issued by the Central Intelligence Directorate before leaving Esthirant. It was a comprehensive study into their target nation Japan, the very country they¡¯re currently standing on. They had very little intelligence to go off owing to the overall lack of presence the Japanese initially played but the one time they did cause a scene they demonstrated something outright flabbergasting. In conclusion, they recall having read: All evidence accrued surrounding the ¡°Jin-Hark Incident¡± has driven the directorate to give Japan a grade of X*: they are to be considered militarily superior in all aspects even when compared to perceived future threats and have displayed the diplomatic and political capability to carry out military action with catastrophic consequences unilaterally. The two swallowed, surmounting the fear-driven paralysis that had fallen over them. The memory of Leifor¡¯s fall, the overwhelming dexterity and supremacy the Gra Valkans displayed in their conquest, and the depressing reports of Muish diplomats and agents about the events were still fresh. They, along with the rest of their mission, had genuine fears that their actions may accidentally drive this new nation, Japan, to another Leifor-style upending of the local order. Everything points to them being capable of crushing Parpaldia and Altaras, which if either were to fall would mean calamitous consequences to both the Third Civilized Region and the world as a whole. ¡°Given how it¡¯s a complete clown show between Altaras and Parpaldia as of right now, we can¡¯t afford to upset the delicate balance of power by pushing Japan.¡± The man grumbled before emptying his can. ¡°We can only really pray to the gods that they¡¯ll reciprocate our act of goodwill.¡± Disposing of their empty aluminum cans, the two looked up. The bright clouds, lit up by the extensive display of lights by the Okinawan skyline, had cleared a bit, revealing the darker void that lay beyond. ¡°When¡¯s the deadline again?¡± ¡°In a fortnight. We have to present the approved versions to the Japanese before then so the plans can move forward as scheduled.¡± The man crossed his arms and clicked his tongue at this. Fortnight was an unreasonable deadline, but there was no surpassing how utterly preposterous were the contents that they needed approval for. ¡°Goodwill, my arse. I see absolutely no sense in sending His and Her Majesty this far east just to bring these... aliens to heel.¡± The other man nodded his head to this. He agreed with almost unanimity. Almost. ¡°But you can¡¯t really argue with His Majesty¡¯s Word. He was the one who insisted on it.¡± The man clicked his tongue again but louder. He knew his attempts at objection were futile, but when standing at some bizarre, otherworldly island literal oceans away from the halls of power in Otaheit, there was no one to chide him for it. Embassy of the Holy Mirishial Empire in Esthirant, Parpaldia Empire Kadunk! A light shock ran through the room, coinciding with the muffled bass of an explosion from far away. The weakened blast waves still brought with them a thump with enough force to shake the shiny, crystalline gem-bristled chandelier hanging above the room from its inertial slumber, yet all the force it brought wasn¡¯t enough to faze the man sitting on one of the lone chairs in this otherwise empty room. His interlocked hands, separated by a space made humid by the ceaseless perspiration oozing from his pores, were about as stiff and serene as the dangling chandelier swaying above him. He put on his best smile, an attempt at projecting some sort of unwavering composure to his would-be client¨Canother man from a world also being shaken by the chaos that had been gripping the region. Kaboom! There goes off another explosion, yet this was not why the man was shaking down to the tips of his toes; what was happening outside were the Parpaldian constabularies unleashing their sedative riot control munitions, which require a mana-based catalyst to activate and diffuse, a process that often results in a bang resembling an artillery shell going off. This had been going on for some time now and one they had already expected, for they, the Holy Mirishial Empire, the greatest and most powerful of all nations on this humble planet, had just called out the Parpaldians for their hubris. It was no snap decision, but the man, Revalor, His Majesty¡¯s appointed representative to Parpaldia, could not help but be... annoyed. Why did it have to happen now?! Crisis after crisis... Can it all stop?! Still wearing the smile that would probably assure no one, Revalor cursed his luck. But just as he was about to consider counting his blessings, the door to the room swung open, and in came a human whose graying hair appeared to defy the very way he carried himself into the room. His no-nonsense disposition afforded Revalor little in the way of pleasantries as the human immediately went for the seat opposite him. ¡°My humblest apologies for being late, Ambassador!¡± His gruff, almost barbaric way of greeting set off all the ticks that would make anyone irk. Most of all, however, was the lack of shame in his movements, which were all so smooth and... comfortable. How dare he treat me like he isn¡¯t talking to an ambassador¨Cappointed by His Majesty, Uevareth I, himself¨Cfrom the greatest empire to have ever existed on this planet?! The man sank deeper into his seat, his posture and expression evoking a sense of leisure, all while he threw his leg above the other in a cross-fixed position. Can¡¯t he be any more lax?! ¡°N-No problem, Ambassador Hamakubo...!¡± Why am I forgiving this barbaric buffoon?! And why am I the one stuttering?! On top of the ruthless Parpaldians and Altarans, who, for the love of Mirish cannot play nice with one another, was another problematic nation: Japan. Appearing in their diplomatic and intelligence reports less than eight months ago, seemingly out of nowhere. This new nation made a name for itself in the region when it stopped the Parpaldian-supported Lourian attempt at hegemony in its tracks, culminating in a military action that, to this day, they couldn¡¯t adequately explain. That or no one could believe that Japan was capable of doing something like that. In any case, all the studies and findings by their intelligence community on them pointed to Japan being a high-risk threat that may be capable of extremely destabilizing actions¨Cnot so far off from what the Gra Valkans had done with Leifor. Fortunately for them, the Japanese so far had appeared to be docile, always humble and non-aggressive in their diplomacy and hardly ever raising their fists in any meeting, even when push comes to shove. Still, his superiors, wary of another Gra Valkas rising from the east to challenge and destabilize the established world order, ordered their departments in the Third Civilized Region¨Cincluding his chapter in Esthrant¨Cto treat the Japanese with utmost respect and care. He knows very well the bolded characters these orders were presented to him, but he couldn¡¯t help but ask if tolerating their behavior was part of it. This Japanese diplomat, a human by the name of Hamakubo, was their ambassador to Parpaldia. Unlike any other diplomat he¡¯s faced, including the earlier Japanese diplomat (Tanaka was it?) with whom he conversed back at the Proclamation Day ball, this man hardly carried with him a tense aura¨Cone that anybody would bring with them whenever they were to meet with someone of the highest importance. Every single diplomat he¡¯s faced was more nervous than even the lowest-ranked Mirishial clerk present in the room, their backs crooked to the point where they might prostrate themselves at their feet at any moment; this man, who just made himself comfortable by leaning back on the squeaky leather furnishings of his chair, exuded none of that. If anything, it was as if he was the only one in this room truly prepared to have this meeting. ¡°Ambassador, if you may... I have come here for one purpose.¡± Here it comes. Alarm bells echoed across the recesses of his mind in anticipation. What else could the Japanese ask of them? An economic front? An arms embargo? Perhaps an initiation into the world order? What more could they want?! Revalor listened with all intent even as the muffled explosions of riot munitions going off outside rocked the room. ¡°I do not mean to intrude on your government¡¯s bureaucratic processes, but it¡¯s already been three months since our request for formal diplomatic relations between our two nations.¡± Huh? A drop of sweat fell from his forehead right onto the back of his right hand, the chills from which reverberated across his entire body. Hamakubo brought up something he had been expecting but with which he had yet to prepare. He was right; where has their response been? He vividly remembers processing their request, sending it via mail back home, and replying to them that they would ¡°get back to them once the request has been processed.¡± That was three months ago. Every day he checked the mail they were receiving to keep tabs on updates, yet he remembers not a single one addressing the Japanese concern. Sweat rushed out of every single pore in his body as if the floodgates had been opened. He scrambled to mentally piece words together in a reply while the seconds ticked by and the awkward atmosphere festered. After a whole five seconds of him spending years thinking of a reply, he opened his mouth. ¡°Ah, yes. My apologies! I have not forgotten but allow me to apologize on behalf of the government for they are still processing your request at this¨C¡± ¡°Mmm. Is it possible to expedite it, then?¡± Before he could even finish, Hamakubo cut him off and cut right to the chase. Revalor¡¯s eyebrows twitched in annoyance, but his ridiculous self-control afforded him no more than that. He truly was no-nonsense. ¡°Of course! I will see to it that your request could be expedited. I ca¨C¡± ¡°It will be problematic if we can¡¯t obtain the permissions for passage through Cartalpas.¡± The Japanese ambassador cut him off once more. But now, his response caused him to tumble back in confusion. What exactly is the relevance of Cartalpas, one of their most developed port cities and the southernmost Mirishial metropolis? Why bother bringing it up? Revalor clarified the confusion in his expression as he looked at the ambassador with wide-open eyes and a raised eyebrow. However, he was only met with a similarly bewildered look from Hamakubo. It appears that they were not on the same page. ¡°Cartalpas? Ambassador, what does Cartalpas have to do with this discussion?¡± ¡°Huh? Are you not aware of what¡¯s going to happen?¡± Oh, now he¡¯s completely in the dark? What kind of important matter concerning Cartalpas, one of their most vital cities due to commerce and diplomatic relevance, doesn¡¯t involve him?! He¡¯s already racked his brain more than once for any notice or directives from back home regarding this so-called ¡°what¡¯s going to happen¡± in Cartalpas. Is this an event he should not hear about, but the Japanese are bringing up? A coup?! An uprising?! An attack?! ¡°I apologize, Ambassador, but could you enlighten me on what¡¯s going to happen?¡± Hamakubo scratched his head, himself genuinely confused at this turn of events. ¡°I figured you¡¯d be informed about this: we¡¯re meeting with our counterparts from the United Realms and Dominions of Mu in their capital, Otaheit. They¡¯ve already arranged the trip, but we will have to pass through Cartalpas on the way. Without any diplomatic relations with the empire and no arrangement on immigration and customs, it would be really problematic for our diplomats to enter your country.¡± Revalor¡¯s eyes bloomed as if they were going to pop out of their sockets. This is the first time I¡¯ve heard of this! His hands now shook beyond his control as the ramifications of what he had just heard whizzed by his head at a breakneck pace. The Muish and the Japanese are already that close?! Since when?! Do the Muish know something about the Japanese that they don¡¯t that would cause them to prioritize establishing diplomatic ties with them?! Are they in cahoots in this entire Parpaldia-Altaras scuffle, just like the Muish and Gra Valkans were in Leifor?! Perhaps it¡¯s a long game to destroy Mirishial image and influence in the Third Civilized Region?! How could they not have known this?! In the split second that he considered these things, he started formulating a reply¨Cand a plan of action. Right now, the Japanese should be paralyzed since they will have to have a Mirishial visa to be allowed to dock at Cartalpas, even when their vessel is flying a Muish flag. But the longer they keep the Japanese waiting, the more they will lose their trust and the likelier the Japanese will move against Mirishial interests. It is also in their best interest to try and challenge the Muish for Japanese friendship. In all cases, expediting the Japanese request for diplomatic relations works in their favor. With a reply in mind, Revalor controlled his squirming and looked at his counterpart with renewed vigor. The empire will not lose to the Muish in this game. ¡°I see. I will personally see to it that the ministry processes your request with haste.¡± Revalor stood up and extended his hand in goodwill, a gesture he wouldn¡¯t dare make with a nation that was not of the same standing. However, if the Muish are doing everything they can to get on the good side of the Japanese, then they too must not lose¨Cespecially more so given the risks of a second Gra Valkan type of threat. In response to his Mirishial counterpart¡¯s gesture, Hamakubo too, extended his hand and shook Revalor¡¯s. Unlike their first contact back at the Proclamation Ball, this was probably the first time that both Mirishial and Japan recognized each other as being on equal footing. Prime minister¡¯s residence, Tokyo, Japan At the Japanese capital, the scenes of chaos, mayhem, and desolation found in the other capitals of the region played out in similar tones. Foreigners both white and not, forcefully estranged by the circumstances of the transfer event from their home countries, aired their dissatisfaction in the streets against what they felt to be a resurgent sense of Japanese ultranationalism, made worse by the scandalous nature of Operation Zanzibar and state media outlets repeating news of the findings of Imperial Japanese ruins in Quila and Qua-Toyne. Joining these disgruntled foreigners were Japanese from all walks of life, equally thrown into slumps by the economic recession brought by the transfer event. Riots and protests of varying degrees of violence, turnover, and reasoning from the reinstatement of rationing to a major disagreement with government actions gripped the nation but nowhere was it more apparent than the capital Tokyo. Police and ambulance sirens wailed to the tune of protesters chanting ¡°enough is enough¡± as pressurized weapons firing tear gas canisters and water cannons either broke or amplified their spirits. Above them towered the glistening skyscrapers reminiscent of better times, their ghastly lights nothing more than a shell of the economic powerhouse status Japan once hosted; from time to time, entire buildings would turn dark as rotating power outages took effect. In the midst of it, all glimmered a building of which the lights never flickered nor turned off due to electricity rationing outages: the kantei, or the residence of the prime minister. This time of the night, things should be slow and quiet, at least back on Earth. Now, there¡¯s always some sort of crisis, whether it be a generation plant shouldering the load of most of Kanto having to shut down due to extensive wear and lack of spare parts or an upset foreign power clamoring to get a better deal out of what was already considerably fair and justified, and it just pulls all sorts of agencies and ministers in and out of the residence for meetings with the prime minister. This time, however, he was alone in his office, but he wasn¡¯t done with work. ¡°Yes, yes... I¡¯m well aware of that fact.¡± Sitting on his office chair, the leather of which has gone considerably worn due to excessive squirming from the countless, headache-inducing meetings since the transfer, was Takamori Hideaki, the poor man to hold the title of the prime minister of this country. One hand held the desk phone to his ear while the other was on the table; the position he took had him on the verge of doing a dogeza, kowtowing to no one in particular. ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to take your word and communicate it to the rest of my cabinet, Mr. President.¡± The man he was talking to was Francis Woods, the former Ambassador of the United States and currently the acting President of an interim American government, while the one in Washington was still beyond contact. They were friends even before the transfer phenomenon while Takamori was still a cabinet minister, but the unforgiving circumstances of the transfer proved to be beyond what their friendship could surmount. ¡°I can¡¯t stress this enough, Takamori... I know we¡¯re badly indebted to you for your administration¡¯s continued adamantine support of us and our forces, but I hope you understand that there are... limits.¡± Now there¡¯s the signature threatening undertone in Woods¡¯s gruff voice. It was probably an American quirk, thought Takamori, who¡¯s also handled some strong-arming by the United States in past dealings, but it may have also been out of being fed up with them. ¡°I already told you that there¡¯s only so much we could do at this moment. Some forces at play against us are just beyond our control.¡± Takamori tried to be reasonable, but not for the sake of it; he just knew that he could not hope to suffer whatever consequences awaited his next decision should he heed Woods. Unsurprisingly, he heard a loud, deep sigh from the other end of the call. ¡°You¡¯re sitting on a powder keg, Takamori, and you¡¯re only fanning the flames that would set alight the fuse.¡± ¡°I¡¯m well aware of the dangers my citizens present¨C¡± ¡°No, I¡¯m afraid that¡¯s not what I¡¯m referring to.¡± Takamori blinked twice. He had a remote idea as to what Woods was trying to talk about, but he inwardly insisted that that wasn¡¯t what it was about. It mustn¡¯t be... ¡°What you did with Zanzibar, and now the almost daily broadcast of NHK specials on the Imperial Japanese Army remnants you found in Rodenius isn¡¯t helping anyone.¡± ¡°Care to expound?¡± ¡°Do I really need to, Takamori?¡± He stayed still and kept his lips shut, feigning ignorance of the topic, much to Woods¡¯s audible dismay. ¡°After the decommissioning ceremony of the USS Lake Champlain, we received a tip, the nature of which has me right here right now urging you to exercise caution with arming the kind of people you¡¯d absolutely never want to arm with confidence¨Cconfidence that emboldens them to do something dangerous and drastic.¡± ¡°I understand and acknowledge your concern, but what is this tip?¡± ¡°I¡¯m afraid that¡¯s all I could tell you, Mr. Prime Minister. Have a good evening.¡± ¡°Ah, you t¨C¡± Before he could say his parting remarks and get more information, Woods hung up the call, and his voice was replaced with a consistent, monotonous beep. ¡°Goddammit...¡± Gently placing the phone back on the receiver, he leaned back on his office chair and sighed. He¡¯s more than aware of the malign societal elements spurred on by their actions, but with his intelligence apparatuses running in circles trying to catch their own tails, he¡¯s out of luck. Whatever leads they had have disappeared into the quagmire of social unrest now plaguing every corner of Japanese society. Caught between advancing Japanese interests abroad, securing lifelines for his country, placating the various interest groups, foreign powers both earthly and of this world, and keeping in check the disgruntled extremist political factions of both the far left and far right, he¡¯s had enough of this shit, for lack of a more appropriate descriptor. Planting his coarse, wrinkled palms on his face, he remembers standing against the wishes of the Diet and his people to resign after Zanzibar. In spite of the initial understanding the populace had of his goals in securing Japan¡¯s all too important lifelines, his administration¡¯s failure to move forward with key economic deals¨Cmost especially with the Parpaldians and now the Muish¨Cand the setback from their decision to replace Japanese overseas deployments with that of the USFJ caused his approval ratings to dip. His own party and cabinet are behaving in a way that distances themselves from him, all while the attrition of resources continues to whittle away at their rapidly degrading energy infrastructure. The more promises and assurances they make, the more the situation is worsened as they can¡¯t firmly press their interests abroad due to the allergy their society has to strong-arm. As of this moment, they¡¯ve made endeavors to reach out to far-flung lands with a high likelihood of underdeveloped natural resources to exploit, such as Topa, Riem, the Mirishials, and so on but have received not a single reply. All of this while the Parpaldians and the Altarans are sabers rattling with their massive armies, threatening to send the greater region into conflict. ¡°Gods... I just want to sleep and never wake up.¡± Dragging himself off his office chair, Takamori began to curse his luck for every second that passed. How he wished he could retire from this mess and be done with it. Chapter 28: Banners of Blue and White Cent. Calendar 17/12/1639, Royal Castle, Le Brias, Altaras, 4:50 Cluck cluck cluck! The soft sounds of chickens going about their early morning routine could be faintly heard over the sound of the breeze whistling as it blew past the tiny metal slit separating the open window pane from its hinges. The inside of the castle had heat insulation in mind when it was constructed, and it did its job well, but the occupants of this one certain room found the insulated warmth suffocating, so they had opened the windows to their room some hours ago. Inside the brightly lit room was a long, elliptical table around which were seated several dozen men of considerable administrative standing as determined by their chafing, aristocratic wear, and medal-adorned chests. Littered all across the table were all sorts of quills both worn and hardly used, with ink splattered where there were papers. The men, whose half-asleep eyes and mouths that were partially agape, were scrambling to finish a set of papers so important their chances of being able to experience the rest of the day were more or less determined by whether or not they were able to finish it. The men, however, were not fretting over a case of mental block or some irregularity with the implementation of the contents that will be inked on this set of papers. Sleepy as they are, they were mulling amongst themselves¨Cand for hours at that¨Cabout the wishes of their dear monarch, Taara XIV, on what they should put. They¡¯ve already clamored over every legal framework, international and domestic, and every possible hole that they might be able to slither into, but what their king demanded of them was borderline madness. The group of men, appointed administrators of the kingdom of Altaras, already have an idea of what the set of papers would contain, but the primary problem hounding them at this point in time was whether they should be writing them down. ¡°I don¡¯t know... For the love of all things logical, I can¡¯t be arsed into writing this down!¡± One administrator grumbled as he crushed the quill with his enclosed fist¨Cthe 8th one he had gone through the last several hours. The others looked down on their completed papers, contemplating not only the life that they would lose by refusing to submit it but also the life that they would lose by submitting it. ¡°What His Majesty wants... it¡¯s just impossible! This will never work!¡± Another one groaned out loud, much to the panicking clamor of his companions. ¡°Shh!!! They might hear you!!!¡± As they admonished him, their eyes turned to the door. For one second, their hearts skipped a beat, bracing for the moment that it would burst open to reveal a royal guardsman coming to take them away for ¡°re-education.¡± Fortunately for them, the moment never came, and they sighed away in exasperation. Regardless, the huge elephant in the room remained. ¡°I never thought that I¡¯d be writing such horrendous terms down¨Cif you could even call them as such!¡± ¡°Indeed... This is not the work of any sane man...¡± At this point, everyone was more or less convinced that there was no way out; convincing the king to change his wishes on the matter is suicide and so too would be coming up with terms that he would find unsatisfactory. The men looked at the clock hanging from the wall. It was already almost five in the morning¨Ctheir dreaded deadline. Knowing that the consequences of what they will do are too much to swallow, the men relented. ¡°Damn it all!¡± As if signing their death certificate, the men took to the papers and wrote down their ¡°dreaded¡± terms. ??? Physically exhausted from having to work through the night and emotionally drained from the amount of pride and rationale they had to swallow, the group of administrators was led by a royal guardsman into the meeting chamber where His Majesty awaited them. As the heavy, lavishly decorated acacia doors were opened by a couple of guardsmen, the men were greeted by the silhouette of the king standing behind the meeting table. Unlike them, his eyes were well rested and wide awake, as if eagerly awaiting the next chapter in a developing story. To the men, his well-built yet aged face may have been well-lit underneath the flickering candles of the chandeliers hanging from above, but no amount of light could ever dispel the darkness they saw hiding beneath His Majesty¡¯s smile. Knowing that certain death awaited them should they speak their mind, the men kept them in the one place where the king could never know of their existence¨Ctheir hearts. To hell with this man. To think that he¡¯s here, eagerly awaiting this set of... ¡°terms.¡± After they¡¯d all entered the room, the men all bent their bodies forward in a coordinated bow as a sign of respect for their king. Haggard-looking as they were, they felt more sorry for the ink they had to waste writing the terms. As soon as they got up from the bow, the man holding the papers handed them over to the king. The entire setting mirrored a ceremony¨Ca funeral, to be precise. Taking the set of papers from his administrators, Taara took a few moments to go over the neatly written terms. For every bullet point he skimmed over, the more his lips appeared to curve upwards. When he was done, his lips had formed into a smirk. ¡°Heh. This is excellent!¡± Taara commended his administrators, who simply smiled in return, unsure of whether or not to feel relief that they didn¡¯t get ¡°demoted¡± or sadness that they had a part to play in such a cruel act. He then beckoned on some of his servants waiting on the sidelines and handed them the set of papers. ¡°These are to be encoded in the kavun cipher and sent to our ambassador in Sios to be then forwarded to the Siosan government. It is to be prefaced with the urgency code A.¡± ¡°With haste, Your Majesty.¡± The men looked on with shattered hearts. Now the king will bypass even his own foreign affairs minister to hand the terms to the Siosan government directly... As if that wasn¡¯t enough, he ordered the terms to be prefaced with urgency code A, a level of urgency only to be used in the absolute worst case scenario. The men clenched their fists in regret for what they had just done. 5th Council of Noto, Villa Noto, Sios, 17:25 As the turmoil of the latest ring of developments threatened to upend the Altaras Strait into all out conflict, the seas¨Cand correspondingly, the mood¨Cwas a lot tamer further to the east. Sandwiched in between the westernmost islands of Japan to the east and the island of Altaras to the west was a lone, elliptically shaped island in the middle of the ocean called Sios, ruled by a state whose name it borrows. Secluded inlet coves, harsh stony cliffs, and battered rock formations jutting out into the ocean like knives pointing against potential invaders were the hallmarks of the Siosan coast, with what little natural harbors there were having already been occupied by the island¡¯s biggest cities. It is in one of these vacation vistas that a gathering of benign importance was about to take place. Constructed atop a rock formation separated from the mainland by a slight wedge in the geology was a massive villa. Built with beige and white bricks, the shining particles embedded into its brownish clay roof tiles glittered in the harsh sunlight. A lavishly decorated stone bridge connected the villa¡¯s equally massive complex to the mainland with its cast iron gates brandishing the characters ¡°Villa Noto¡± in the local Siosan writing. Besides the complex system of winding paved pathways and gardens filled with exotic plants meant to confuse potential intruders was the parking lot, which was massive enough to be considered the villa complex¡¯s distinguishing feature when viewed from above. Due to the aforementioned meeting of benign importance, the normally empty expanse of black asphalt was filled to the brim with all sorts of motorized vehicles painted in a jet black color, which was the only characteristic that was in common in between them. The vehicles were cordoned off from one another by a grid of grassy, lawn-like separators, which acted to group them according to their allegiance. ¡°Oi, Matthias. Look at them purplenecks o¡¯er there.¡± ¡°Ah?¡± A group of sharp-eared men wearing black suits of equal sharpness eyed a couple of the so-called purplenecks¨Ccalled as such because of their highly conspicuous purple collars¨Cstanding near a black car in the parking lot opposite them. ¡°What¡¯cha trying to say, Romio?¡± ¡°Ya idjit, look at their car!¡± Ignoring the ugly purple iridescence of the chrome-painted fenders, the black car that the purplenecks possessed a more streamlined, aerodynamic shape. Its wheels were lowered to what looked like an adequate yet sexy degree and the tint of its windows was about as dark as night. It was fascinatingly elegant to look at, with its headlights molded into a sharp, eye-like shape emitting a cool blue color. The more the man called Matthias looked at the car, the more his jaw dropped. ¡°Oh, shut up! An Emilkar Duncan 3?!¡± ¡°Told ya! Those Ardaghieri assholes get the best bling!¡± Matthias threw his cap onto the ground in an open display of frustration. ¡°Why¡¯d they have to have the Mirishial concession?! Those purpleneck asses!¡± He turned to look at the vehicle next to them: a Dania & Jorgensen DJRI. Painted all around in a gorgeous matte black with curves that would make any housewife jealous, the DJRI was a handsome vehicle with which he had the privilege of being able to drive. However, being a model that was first released into the market ten years ago, it was already showing its age, with even more streamlined-looking cars being released by the Mirishial and Muish markets. As if that wasn¡¯t enough, Dania & Jorgensen, its manufacturer, for some odd reason, had closed down indefinitely, meaning they wouldn¡¯t be able to maintain their fleet of Leiforian-made vehicles for longer. To make things worse... ¡°Eh? Is that them laughing at us?¡± The same batch of purplenecks plus three more had noticed his open display of frustration and had gathered to revel in laughter as they pointed their fingers at him. Their snickering giggles and ridiculous faces... ¡°Meh, let the weasels snicker an¡¯ jest. I couldn¡¯t give two shits.¡± Not even Romio understands, he thought to himself. Living in the Mirishial concession with his wife, they¡¯ve had to fight uphill battles to keep the family home from being gobbled up by the ever hungry corporations, so much so that the processes it took to fight them have cost him more and more of his pay. He entered into his current job as a driver for the Cantissi family since the Ardaghieri shunned him for his inability to drive a car with a transmission system unique to vehicles of Mirishial make. On top of that, because of the closure of the local Dania & Jorgensen, he¡¯s now forced by the family¡¯s ridiculous sharks¨Cits managers¨Cto part with a sliver of his pay to compensate for the increased upkeep. How could life be this unfair? Why does he have to put up with driving such a second-rate car and be ridiculed for it? These thoughts triggered a switch in Matthias as he clench his fist. Forgoing his chauffeur gloves, the man crossed the grassy boundaries of their parking lot to head towards the Ardaghieri side. ¡°O-oi... where ya goin¡¯?!¡± Seeing his partner discard his gloves, Romio could only think that he was up to no good. ??? Inside the carpeted halls of the Villa Noto, a lone elf donning a black suit with a pin of an orange-colored family crest on his lapels looked through one of the countless stained windows of the building. Sweat ran down his neck, which dampened his well-ironed shirt. He did not like what he was seeing, much less the options he had. Regardless, he felt that it was something that their Madame should be made aware of. ¡°M-Madame...¡± He hesitantly called out to a woman standing a meter or so in front of him. The woman he referred to as ¡°Madame¡± turned around, revealing the face of a beautiful middle-aged elf whose facial contours were about as razor-edged as her gaze. The man stiffened in more places than one as her steely green eyes met his. ¡°What is it, Gonzolo?¡± ¡°O-Our men are engaged in a fistfight with Master Ardaghieri¡¯s men at the parking lot...¡± Gonzolo looked away to avoid her gaze as he pointed towards the window. Taking one glance at the violence unfolding in front of the villa, Madame Cantissi simply exhaled. ¡°How regrettable.¡± Uttering these words, the Madame walked away. ¡°H-Huh?! That¡¯s all, Madame?!¡± ¡°Yes, Gonzolo. Do take down their names for me; we¡¯ll settle on what to do with them based on my mood after this... meeting.¡± As the Madame disappeared behind a pair of hulking mahogany doors, Gonzolo replied with an affirmative. ¡°Goodness...¡± Sighing as she entered past the doors, Madame Cantissi found herself in the middle of a meeting chamber filled to the brim with men in black suits shouting at one another and hurling all sorts of insults. Complementing the hot air exhaled by the wine-drenched mouths of these drunkards was the suffocating amount of tobacco smoke that filled the chamber¡¯s atmosphere. Gods, it was so chaotic. ¡°Announcing the arrival of the Cantissi family head, Madame Rouge.¡± An announcer broadcasted to the room that she was now in the room, yet the pandemonium continued unabated¨Calmost as if her entrance was equivalent to that of a mere servant girl¡¯s. Inhaling in the familiar smell of alcohol and tobacco without coughing, Rouge Cantissi worked her way past the hoodlum of suits to her designated place on the grand meeting table escorted by her guards. Taking her seat, she finally opened her ears to listen to the babble her peers call an ¡°argument.¡± ¡°Calling this council on such short notice...! Do you have any idea how important the deal we just missed was?!¡± ¡°There hasn¡¯t been a council in decades! Why now? Why do we all have to be here?¡± ¡°If I have to be in a room with the Massini family for one more second, I will have to do something drastic!¡± ¡°Oh no, the almighty Master Avolino has spoken! Watch out, everyone; lest you have to smell the dead duck he ate for lunch as he gives his sermon!¡± ¡°Hahahaha!¡± In an instant, the insults and death threats and the muddled atmosphere that was tenser than the suspenders of the porky Master Avolino melted away to banter and laughter. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. ¡°If we had gathered here to have some sort of hearty reunion, we could have picked an even better place than this hellhole.¡± The mood of laughter all but disappeared as the meeting chamber heard the feminine voice of Madame Rouge, the only female family head. As much as they could take her statement to be a joke aimed at Master Ardaghieri, they knew her for her no-nonsense attitude and spiky character, and so for the first time since the first head entered the meeting chamber silence befell the room. With the ambiance finally having been reset, they could get down to business. ¡°I¡¯m confident you have a good reason to convene the 5th Council, Master Ardaghieri?¡± All eyes turned to one corner of the table where a single young man sat, his cleanly cut beard was about as orderly as his perfectly upright sitting position. His hands lay crossed on the table as a look more mute and blank than the chamber¡¯s aura hung over his face. He was Salvatore, head of the powerful Ardaghieri family, the owner of Villa Noto, and the youngest head present. Without taking his eyes off of wherever he was staring out to, he responded to Madame Rouge¡¯s inquiry straightforwardly. ¡°The ambassador of the kingdom of Altaras has forwarded the government a set of terms for us to consider.¡± With a clean snap of his finger, Salvatore had his men distribute copies of the Altaran terms to the other family heads. ¡°The deadline is midnight tonight. I¡¯ll let you be the judge.¡± The further they got through the papers, the Siosan family heads all showed varying signs of fury and rage; some even lashed out before they finished reading the terms in their entirety. ¡°Bullshit! You call these terms?!¡± ¡°¡®Terms¡¯ my ass! These are fucking demands!¡± Having finished going through the terms, Madame Rouge calmly put the papers down and reached out for her pack of Leiforian-made cigarettes. Lighting it with help from one of her guards¡¯ lighters, she held the cigarette to her mouth, taking in a breathful of nicotine. As soon as she was finished, she took it off with her quivering fingers and puffed out a cloud of smoke. ¡°This is impossible. The Cantissi takes the position that we must reject all of these terms.¡± The other family heads look at her with worried and hesitant looks. As much as they agreed with her and wanted to take the same position, they felt the pressure emanating from the terms the Altarans had sent. Out of all the terms presented in the document, the most difficult to come to terms with are the following: the forced closure of the Parpaldian concession in the island, the seizure or freezing of assets belonging to Parpaldian companies both state-owned and private, the issuance of a statement (included in the terms) that would have them side with the Altarans against the Parpaldians for the Barezan granary explosion, and the honoring of the Altaras-Sios Friendship Treaty of 1587, specifically the article stating the ¡®unconditional assistance of the other to a party in need of help.¡¯ ¡°What¡¯s the matter? This is against our decades-old foreign policy. We can¡¯t do these terms.¡± ¡°I do agree with you, Madame Cantissi, but...¡± Established in the late 1400s, the state of Sios was once a backwater country deemed to be lower than their Rodenius neighbors to the south due to their lack of arable land and usable space as most of the island was densely forested and the harsh, rugged coastline made for bad commercial ports. However, the latter made good secluded havens for pirates, a unique trait of the island not lost on many opportunists as the trade volume in the straits started to balloon. The government of Sios, seeing the massive earnings the pirates made out of plundering the trade routes burgeoning in the Altaras Straits, struck a deal with the pirate clans that allowed for their presence in exchange for a cut. However, as the Altaran and Parpaldian states started to coalesce into major powers with serious international support and recognition, piracy dwindled in the straits as their rapidly industrializing navies began to crack down on disruption to trade. While this put the pirate clans in a tight spot, the industrializing societies of Parpaldia and Altaras gave them one more gift: refugees displaced by Parpaldian conquests and Altaran societal crackdowns looking for asylum and work. With this, together with displaced intellectuals from Altaras¡¯s own purges of anti-royalists, the pirate clans carved out their own communities at the expense of the Siosan government; by the dawn of the 1590s, the pirate clans held more territory, firepower, and economic sway than the state. In one final swoop of evolution, the pirate clans, now taking the names of their most affluent families, took advantage of the entrance of the Mirishials and Muish into the newly established Third Civilized Region by marketing Sios as an unaligned tax haven. Disenchanted by the petty politics of Parpaldia, the difficulty of basing their operations in Altaras, the hostility of both countries to one other, and the Siosan families¡¯ willingness to ignore certain outlawed practices, the big economies of the west set up their operations on the island. In a generation, Sios went from disease-ridden refugee camps to neon light districts with financial centers rivaling that of Esthirant and Le Brias. With careful maneuvering and shrewd decision-making, the former pirate clans of Sios, having now taken their modern day form as multi-national criminal syndicate families, have amassed enough power to completely control the island and everything that happens on it, with its government now reduced to mere puppets. The former territories the families had were leased off to the major powers, including the likes of Parpaldia, Altaras, Leifor, and even Riem, as concessions. It is in this current state that the island finds itself mired in the developing tensions between Altaras and Parpaldia over hegemonic dominance. Having survived previous outbursts of tense diplomatic standoffs between the two thanks to their adamantine stance of being unaligned to any party, the island has formed an image as a safe haven for espionage between opposing states, in addition to establishing a norm that goes by this: ¡°one is never to touch Sios by any means nor force it into any position.¡± The current terms presented to them by the kingdom of Altaras go against this very norm. Now that their foreign policy, having proven successful up to this very point, was put into question, the families were at a loss on how to respond. ¡°How do we know that the Altarans won¡¯t respond with force if we don¡¯t agree to this?¡± The family heads nodded in agreement with this view. After all, without any precedent, anything goes. To this, Salvatore responded. ¡°While I do understand where you are coming from, the Altarans coming up with such appalling terms has already put them in a very tight spot.¡± ¡°Agreed. This was simply not a smart move.¡± Madame Rouge added as she took another puff of nicotine from her cigarette. ¡°We will reject these terms, and in order to add pressure on the Altaran government not to pursue this policy any further, we will politely warn them and remind them that we are capable of leaking these terms to the public.¡± The other family heads were wowed by this suggestion from the young head of Ardaghieri. The man was definitely worth his weight as the head of the most powerful family in Sios. ¡°Seeing as they¡¯ve handed it to our government through backchannels and it came not from the mouth of their king, they definitely intended to keep it a secret.¡± By placing their hands down, they guarantee the preservation of Sios¡¯s independent foreign policy and status as an unaligned state while at the same time allowing the Altarans a discreet exit. Should smarter heads prevail, they will take the prudent way out and save themselves from the embarrassment of being caught with their pants down. ¡°If there is no opposition to this policy, we will commence the drafting of the reply to be handed to the government, who will then wire it to the Altaran ambassador before midnight. Might I remind you that we will convene again to examine the Altaran response.¡± With a light slam on the table from Salvatore¡¯s hand, the meeting between the syndicate families of Sios, the true holders of power on the island, has adjourned. Cent. Calendar 18/12/1639, Royal Castle, Le Brias, Altaras, 6:00 ¡°My king...¡± A man of lanky build and in formal dress pressed his gloved hand against his heart as he bowed before his sire, who stood some distance from him, facing the other direction towards the red light coming from the rising sun. The king rested his hands on the brick balcony rest, his head slightly raised to face the salty sea breeze blowing in from the city harbor. A silence that was almost as solemn as the king¡¯s silhouette served as the preface to what may have been a development that was downright unsavory for everyone involved. Standing behind the tuxedo-wearing man were the nervous faces of military officers, the king¡¯s chiefs of staff, and his various civilian administrators, some of whom had been involved in the drafting of the terms they sent to Sios. Everybody else had already received the memo of Sios¡¯s reply to their demands, which were issued an hour before their deadline. No one expected the reply to be any different; which is precisely why the king¡¯s ragtag group of hand-picked officials one may call a rudimentary ¡°cabinet¡± was on edge. There was little doubt among them about how the king would react. ¡°Sios has given their reply...¡± The man spoke, squeezing every bit of strength he had in his person to be able to do so. Taara turned his face to the side facing his way, eyeing him with a glare, the meaning of which he immediately understood. ¡°T-They reject all demands... In addition, they¡¯ve warned about the risk of pursuing the terms, adding that they have the liberty of issuing a public statement regarding them.¡± A slight tinge of sourness lingered on his tongue as the words left his mouth. Never before did it feel like he had just said something so awfully uncouth to the king. Such a distasteful outcome was not his fault and yet he felt as if he was the one going to be admonished for it and it was not just him; everybody else in the room felt as if they had done a disgraceful disservice. When the king raised his head and turned around to face them, the ministers and officers twitched; it had cost them a cosmic amount of energy just to steel themselves from turning tail and running at that very instant. ¡°So much for being our friends... Gentlemen, by refusing to align with us, the Siosan syndicates have chosen to align against us.¡± Clenching his fist as his graying eyebrows contracted into an intimidating scowl, Taara made his seething anger all too clear, even in the roughness of his breath. As for his ministers, officials, and military commanders, what they saw before them was a sight they had never seen before. There was not a time in memory distant or recent that they had seen their monarch so agitated and... unreasonable. They, too, shared a common hatred for the scheming, imperialist thugs from across the strait, and they, too, knew that no one had any more valid reasons to be angered than Taara. He had never been the same since Her Majesty, Yasmin, perished in his arms after taking two bullets to the chest decades ago. But even given all the reasons to loathe the Parpaldians and to wish their empire an infernal end, none of them could ever justify their sovereign dragging all of them down this path. ¡°Deploy a squadron for Messina as our reply. We must act now while we have all the international support at our feet!¡± Everybody else in the room was petrified at the words they had just heard. No one could believe their ears. A naval squadron to Sios?! That is even more unreasonable than the demands they¡¯ve just issued! The king has gone absolutely nuts! While their collective dissatisfaction with how the king is handling this situation rang true in their hearts, there was simply no way in hell that they could ever say that to his face. Almost immediately, the chiefs of staff started formulating the words necessary for them to try and convince the king to see reason. ¡°But, my king...!!! That is an escalation we absolutely cannot sustain!¡± Their foreign affairs minister, carrying with him his own disgruntled emotions after His Majesty had bypassed him in issuing the so-called ¡®terms¡¯ to Sios, also attempted to get the king to dial back this foolish decision. ¡°I second his assessment, Your Majesty! Be that as it may that we have a blank check from the Mirishials to freely conduct subterfuge against the Parpaldians, sending a naval squadron to force our demands is something not even they could stand for!¡± ¡°Please, reconsider this decision, my king!¡± So pleaded the kingdom¡¯s top bureaucrats to their monarch, yet their reason fell on unyielding ears. The king¡¯s eyes and face, already swollen red from the fury of being shamed by the Siosan rejection, grew even more menacing to look at. His lips slightly parted from one another, revealing his incisors in an intimidating fashion that mimicked that of a wolf baring its fangs at its prey-to-be. Before long, this angry wolf barked. ¡°NO! I¡¯ve had enough of being pushed around, not least by those Parpaldian-backed Siosans!!! They must be made repentant for their brazen insolence against the great kingdom!!!¡± Parpaldian-backed... what? Now the king was spouting utter nonsense. Oh, how they wished his daughters were here to calm him down, but the only one with guts to stand against him, Lumies, was still locked away in the tower for her ¡°unrepentant behavior.¡± ¡°But, my king...!!! We cannot have more of these illogical actions!¡± ¡°We absolutely cannot proceed with this action, Your Majesty! No one will support us!¡± Concern for Altaras¡¯s wellbeing and standing, as well as for its people and their families, spurred on his ministers and officials to get the king to reconsider, their fear of what the future holds having turned into the fuel that drives their defiance. The king, however, heard nothing but ungrateful noise from the very people he elevated to power. For every chord that struck true and for every nerve their words touched, the more the king¡¯s fuse shortened. Their harsh tones and even more hostile words were like metal shards being forcefully scraped along a long stretch of blackboard, irritating and vexing to the point of madness. It did not take long for Taara to reach his boiling point, after which he could no longer bear to control the blazing wrath that was tearing through his soul. Following one wave of his finger, he opened his mouth, unleashing the pent-up rage that had built up. ¡°GUAAAAARDDSSS!!!¡± In mere moments, the green-uniformed guardsmen at Taara¡¯s command burst into the room bearing loaded rifles affixed with combat bayonets. Seven of the best riflemen in all of Altaras formed ranks in between Taara and his ministers, the pointed ends of their serrated bayonets facing the king¡¯s ¡°ungrateful¡± cabinet. After less than half a minute, the only sound that could be heard in the room was the soft, dry clicks from the guardsmen disabling the safety on their rifles. The ministers, officials, and even the military commanders who held seniority over the guardsmen they faced froze where they stood. Again, there has never been a moment in Altaran history when the monarch summoned the Royal Guards to have their guns pointed at his own administrators. It is in this turbulent chaos that they realized two truths: they were powerless against Taara both in their offices and outside of it, and that he was fully capable of ordering his men to turn on his own people. With his petty ministers now silenced from airing their fiddling concerns, Taara resumed what he considered to be more important business. He pointed his finger toward the navy chief of staff like a hostage taker pointing a gun at his hostage. ¡°How soon can we get a squadron to Messina?¡± Fully knowing he had no other choice but to answer the king and play along, the navy chief of staff answered frankly. ¡°A day at most. The entire fleet is on high readiness, just as you ordered weeks ago, so we can get a squadron down to Messina by the day after tomorrow.¡± Taara raised his eyebrows as if to signal that he wasn¡¯t satisfied with this answer. ¡°No, if we are to prove ourselves serious, it mustn¡¯t just be any squadron; it must be helmed by a Villatam-class¨Cno, two of them!¡± Once again, the king¡¯s irrational preferences trumped all the ones that came before. For them to send two of their Villatam-class ironclads, which was half of the entire class as a whole and themselves considerable capital ships in their own right, for a gunboat diplomacy mission in Sios was¨Cunder any and all circumstances¨Ca horrible decision. Not only will two of their most powerful warships be out of port while the Parpaldians are gearing up for war, but they also run the very high risk that the squadron could be caught alone and off guard by a bigger Parpaldian task force. The navy chief of staff mustered the courage to speak out about this even as the king¡¯s guards had one of their rifles directly pointed at his head. ¡°Your Majesty, we have credible intelligence that the Parpaldian 1st Armee Corqueuxima is gearing up for deployment near the Philadean southeastern coast. Whether it be for training exercises or a fleet review, we cannot completely ascertain, but in my opinion, this is enough of a risk against sending out a squadron helmed by two of our prized capital ships to Messina...¡± Taara¡¯s right eye twitched slightly upon hearing this, to which he promptly pointed his finger to another official in the room, the representative of the Altaran intelligence organ. Now that he¡¯s on the spot, the representative, too, felt the need to regurgitate something that aligns with the king¡¯s wishes. In spite of his inner rational consciousness clamoring for him to speak the truth, he relented to Taara¡¯s pressure. ¡°A-Actually, we¡¯ve j-just gotten our hands on new intelligence t-that suggests the 1st Armee Corquexima is... r-rescheduling their deployment to next month...¡± The representative and the navy chief of staff looked at one another, their eyes on the verge of tears. Both of them understood the immense risk this policy direction entailed on Altaras, but their self-preservation instincts, especially when facing the barrels of the loaded rifles of the king¡¯s guardsmen, prevailed. As for Taara, having gotten what he wanted to hear, he puffed his chest and exhaled a great chuckle. ¡°Hah! See? The stars have aligned for us!¡± The administrators all felt a great weight fall upon their shoulders. If anything, it was as if the universe was out to kill them in the cruelest and most sadist of ways. ¡°I expect to hear from you again to report on new developments with Sios.¡± With his administrators dismissed from his presence at gunpoint, the king of Altaras was left to his own devices to brood over their following actions. Cent. Calendar 20/12/1639, off the coast of Messina, Sios, 6:30 ¡°Ah, what a morning.¡± A man relaxedly sighed, swallowing the bitter mouthful of mildly hot tea from the cup he was holding as he loosely leaned on the vibrating steel structure that made up his ship¡¯s bridge. Turning to the left, he could see before his eyes the gigantic cylindrical steel structure painted in a glorious titanium white, but the primary source of awe-striking beauty could be found in the form of a set of long 5,7 kasin (248mm) cannons jutting out of their respective barbettes. Oh, how beautiful the powerful guns appeared as they towered over the shower of waves crashing against the bow of his ship, the ironclad Orhasli, one of the most powerful warships of his kingdom. To the right, his eyes were treated to the sight of the long trail of foaming water left behind by the powerful twist and turns of their screw propellers, and beyond that lay the Hudaden, the Orhasli¡¯s sister ship, followed by five third rate ships of the line in two lines staggered from one another. Looking up, he could see their mast towering high into the sky, lending its support to the hoist line that flew the colors of the Royal Altaran Navy ensign: a long banner in a tricolor of blue and white. ¡°Gorgeous, isn¡¯t it?¡± The man was approached by another man with a thick, gray beard, the symbols on his shoulder pads indicative of his rank as captain. ¡°Absolutely.¡± The man grinned in response to the captain before taking another mouthful of tea from his cup. He then placed the cup and saucer down on one of the platforms nearby, in turn picking up a cap adorned with a six-armed star in glistening gold¨Ca cap only worn by those who bear the rank of Yarbar (Commodore). Placing it comfortably on his clean-shaven scalp, he let out another sigh, this time with hints of forlornness. ¡°If only we came here under different circumstances...¡± ¡°Indeed. So much for its beauty...¡± One may be forgiven for thinking that this was a couple of nerds giggling amongst themselves over the awesomeness of the warship they¡¯re in, but the cries of seagulls begged to differ, for several kilometers out to the south lay the breathtaking vista of the city of Messina. The intense orange glow of the rising sun ran past the clouds obscuring the horizon itself and onto the window-filled towers of the Siosan city, appearing like a skyline adorned with glittering ruby gems as far as the eye could see. To its sides lay the untamed nakedness of the original Siosan coastline, its jagged cliffs and rocky coastline contrasting the flatland estuary upon which Messina was built. Century-old gun emplacements, relics of a bygone time when more rudimentary cannons were still the norm, decorated the tops of the cliffs flanking the busy harbor. Against the more modern surplus Mirishial and Muish weaponry that bristled the gundecks and barbettes of the Altaran warships, these were laughable defenses at best. But launching an attack was not what they were here for; at least, those weren¡¯t their orders. ¡°Captain! Orders directly from the Chief of Staff!¡± A young man from the communications room came running to the captain and the squadron commander, extending to them a small piece of paper. When the captain took a look at it, all he found was a string of characters that made no sense. ¡°It¡¯s gibberish...?¡± Not to the commodore, it wasn¡¯t. When the captain gave it to him, he applied the appropriate decoding procedure for this cipher and immediately made sense of the string of gibberish. With empty yet resolute eyes, he looked back at the captain. ¡°Get your men to action stations, captain. I¡¯ll relay the orders as soon as more come in...¡± ¡°Yes, sir!¡± As the seven-ship Altaran squadron took their positions at the mouth of Messina¡¯s harbor, their sailors began preparations for what was to come. ??? Meanwhile, inside the city itself, the local government office in Messina, a building of pathetic size in comparison to its towering neighbors and occupies a space that was hardly more than 15 square meters, was in an uproar. Manned by an equally paltry size of 40 government employees that were paid less than the grunts of the syndicate families, they were nevertheless at the forefront of an emerging threat to not only Siosan sovereign integrity but also to the peace of the greater region. ¡°Dammit, why won¡¯t the regional office pick up?!¡± The office director screamed as the phone returned another frustrating round of ¡°currently unreachable¡± messages. He was at his wits¡¯ end and was on the verge of pulling out every single strand of hair on his scalp. ¡°Why did the entire office have to be issued a day off?! Of all the fucking days...!!!¡± He screamed and squirmed in his office chair, powerless to do anything more than sit and attempt to phone his higher-ups, while the situation continued to deteriorate. As he was about to begin pulling out the hair strands from his eyebrows, one of his staff haggardly burst into the room. ¡°D-Director...! The Cantissi¡¯s Messina office responded!¡± Hearing that one of the more powerful families had decided to lend an ear to their pleas was music to the director¡¯s ears. ¡°Fuck! Patch me through!¡± Just as he was about to pick up the phone again, he felt a powerful shockwave run through this desk and office chair and up his entire body, followed by its audible manifestation. Boom! The ear-splitting roar of the Altaran warships¡¯ guns rocked the building, which promptly switched on the director¡¯s survival instincts, causing him to take cover underneath his sturdy wooden desk. ¡°Gods... Are we really under attack???¡± The director clutched the phone underneath his hands as he shriveled into one corner. His words echoed the collective thoughts of every person in the city, both Siosan and foreign, as the thunderclaps of the Orhasli and Hudaden¡¯s powerful batteries in action signaled an all new low in the emerging flashpoint between Parpaldia and Altaras. Chapter 29: I Give You Justice! Cent. Calendar 20/12/1639, Royal Castle, Le Brias, Altaras, 14:20 ¡°Greetings, all!¡± King Taara XIV, the undisputed king, and sovereign of the kingdom of Altaras, stepped out of the recesses from behind his throne and emerged into the grandiose opulence of the royal castle¡¯s foyer-like throne room. Whether or not his usual jolly disposition when receiving guests compensated for the lack of fanfare and the entourage of royal guardsmen blasting the trumpets at his appearance was anyone¡¯s guess. At the very least, though, one could easily tell that the so-called ¡°guests¡± he was receiving were not at all pleased. Underneath the great shower of lights emanating from the windows that lined both sides of the throne room was a group of people in various dresses, often with a variation that evoked a feeling similar to a Halloween party. In this sense, however, their stern, stone-faced expressions were perhaps a bit scarier to look at¨Cbut that was not where their similarities ended: all of them were the representatives of a nation that had interests in the Altaras Strait and carried with them a certain pressing concern. ¡°If you could allow me to greet you all individually...¡± Taara chuckled as he descended the steps leading from his throne, but with each step he took, the more his sweat entered his garments from his neck. He may have been a bit out of line with some of his actions as of late¨Che inwardly (and begrudgingly) admits¨Cand he was smart enough to at least understand why this coalition of diplomats was giving him such piercing stares. ¡°I believe that that won¡¯t be necessary, Taara.¡± Standing in front of the coalition as if taking the mantle of leader, the Muish ambassador to the kingdom, Smithson, made awfully clear in his tone¨Cand in his usage of the king¡¯s personal name¨Cthat he was going to match Taara¡¯s lighthearted disposition. ¡°I don¡¯t follow¨C¡± ¡°Well, then, let me be straight.¡± He was no-nonsense, too, cutting off the king in a clear-cut display of both sobriety and dominance. Uninterested as it is in involving itself too much in the east out of fear of escalating tensions with the Imperial Mirishials, the Muish realm was nevertheless going to exercise its command, something which even Taara was keenly wary of. ¡°Your decision to embark on a foolish errand to persuade the Siosans to accept your demands under the threat of naval bombardment is a blatant violation of the Asheran Charter, and we will have to remind you of the consequences.¡± While adjusting his spectacles, Smithson made sure not to allow the king, who had overstepped his bounds, time to even speak. ¡°Effective immediately, we¡¯re suspending the kingdom of Altaras from its participation in the Foreign Military Assistance Program indefinitely. The government of Mu would only lift the suspension under the condition that the kingdom of Altaras is to withdraw all of its forces from the state of Sios.¡± A shock ran through the aging muscles of Taara¨Calmost as if he had just been struck by a lightning bolt. The Foreign Military Assistance Program is a program opened by the government of Mu to provide aid in the form of surplus weaponry and equipment leftover from earlier wars to friendly countries, which are usually technologically challenged. Thanks to participation in this program, they were able to get their hands on advanced Muish small arms, which are a huge step up from earlier home-developed weaponry. The ambassadors from the other nations, upon hearing the thunderous statement coming from the mouth of the Muish ambassador, also shook in shock and disbelief. If they were in Altaras¡¯s shoes, such an exclusion would have meant diplomatic isolation, certain loss in arms races with neighboring competitors, and the high likelihood of losing favor with the other Asheran great powers. ¡°I will not impose a deadline, Taara, but I do hope you reconsider your actions at once. If not, there¡¯s no telling what other consequences are in store for your kingdom and your people.¡± Ending his statement on a strong note and with a threat vague enough to have any diplomat scratching their head for answers, Smithson simply turned his back on the Altaran king and walked towards the exit. The other ambassadors crowding the throne room who were standing behind him gave way, cowering as if they had been the ones that had been reprimanded. The silence that followed after the end of the staccato of the Muish ambassador¡¯s heavy leather soles on the floor understated the gravity of the atmosphere. ¡°Well...¡± Breaking or adding to the tension¨Cthat depends on who you were to ask¨Cwas the voice of a man with a tinge of youth to his tone. All eyes went to the source of the voice: a man with features that indicated he was in his 30s and wearing a tuxedo that appeared to have been newly bought. Complimenting his sharp eyes and jawline was his jet-black hair, perfectly combed backward. ¡°You...¡± Seeing the man approaching him with an uncomfortably nonchalant expression, Taara¡¯s shoulders stiffened. In response to his cocksure display of power, he too put up the best facade he could muster. ¡°Ah, well if it isn¡¯t¨C¡± ¡°Zip it, Your Majesty.¡± Like the Muish ambassador before him, the man also cut off Taara¡¯s attempt to improve the atmosphere. Forced to play by the man¡¯s rules, Taara dropped his act. ¡°What do you want, Polezzi?¡± The Siosan Ambassador to the Kingdom of Altaras, Polezzi was nominally a state politician appointed to the office by the Premier of Sios. However, his true allegiance lay with the Cantissi family, one of the major syndicate families that are the true masters of Sios. While typically fulfilling his duties as ambassador by relegating them to his staff, he was nonetheless understandably pissed at the Altaran government for bypassing him in relaying the so-called ¡°terms¡± to Sios. Now, after having been given orders by the 5th Council of Noto on how to respond to the Altaran ¡®response¡¯, he was more than thrilled to take out his grievances on the diplomatic arena, especially against their hotheaded tyrant. He put his fingers on his lips as if to signify that he was still pondering his next move, only that he already knew what it would be. ¡°This question is a bit personal, but how does it feel to be the one in the hot seat?¡± The question, tone, wording, and delivery were all purposefully molded to be provocative to Taara. Judging by the man¡¯s wide open eyes and relaxed facial muscles, his provocation was a success. From Taara¡¯s perspective, his entire soul and psyche almost had him lunging at the Siosan diplomat to tear both the cocky smile and blue eyes out of the steaming pile of hot garbage that was Polezzi¡¯s face. Nevertheless, he called up whatever reserves of self control he had left, chained his emotions behind his facade, and responded to him with a deathly stare. ¡°Get. To. The. Point.¡± Taara growled, unnerving everyone else in the room, including the two royal guards posted on both sides of his throne. Polezzi, meanwhile, stood there defiantly, still wearing his smug disposition. ¡°That¡¯s funny. Your threats here mean nothing, Your Majesty. Now, onto the good part: as per the orders of the 5th Council of Noto, the lease enabling the Altaran concession will be deemed ineffective starting on the 25th of Dessalinth, 1639. The council and only the council reserves the right and power to alter and repeal this order at its discretion.¡± Like the Muish ambassador before, these retaliatory measures sounded like they would sting Altaras hard, causing the other ambassadors to gulp audibly upon hearing them. Meanwhile, Taara, still finding it difficult to reel himself from the brink after hearing the Muish retaliatory measures, felt his heart skip a beat at Polezzi¡¯s statement. He almost tumbled backward as if he had been delivered a sucker punch. I-Is this how it¡¯s going to be for everyone else in this room?! Looking at the faces of the other ambassadors in the room, some of which come from important trading partners such as the Lourian states, Riem, the northern alliance, Agartha, and many others, Taara couldn¡¯t help but break a sweat. Oh, how he had gravely miscalculated the diplomatic sympathy Altaras still had from the Barezan tragedy... He could never have been convinced that this was how the international community was going to react to the simple deployment of a naval squadron to strong-arm the Siosans into his burgeoning anti-Parpaldian club. Now with basically everyone in that club coming to him with their grievances on how he played his hand, he had lost all the progress he had against Parpaldia. In other words, he fucked up. As soon as Polezzi wrapped up his turn, the Rieman ambassador went next and presented his country¡¯s response, much to the detriment of Taara¡¯s aging heart. ??? After receiving what felt like hundreds of ambassadors and their equally many grievances and retaliatory measures, King Taara XIV looked as if his trembling legs were about to give away, a rough simile to the crumbling state of the kingdom once those measures go into effect. ¡°No more...¡± whispered an exasperated Taara. He couldn¡¯t control his trembling anymore. His vision was in a much worse state: everything appeared to be shaking, and the great throne room appeared to stretch further and further into oblivion. He was about to fall into a state of delirium, but whether or not it was due to the trauma of having to hear the different ways the other nations were going to beat up Altaras for his transgressions or because of some unknown physiological reasons was anyone¡¯s guess. Then, as if to knock some sense back into his thick-headed skull, the sobering sound of a woman¡¯s voice tickled his ears. ¡°Your Majesty?¡± The voice was as enchanting as Yasmin¡¯s, but the masculine urge to present one¡¯s self in a dignified manner in front of a woman had him pick himself up from the brink and recollect his sanity. In less than a moment, he was back to projecting his spirited persona. ¡°Ah! Excuse my manners! And you¨C¡± His reflexes had him speaking first but as soon as his eyesight followed suit and fixed itself, he was greeted with the image of a woman with a skin as white as the sandy beaches of a tropical paradise and wearing a formal gown that appeared to have been made out of the purest of silver. He immediately recognized her, but one feature was a stark contrast to his image of her in his memories. ¡°Ryllae? Is that you? Did you perhaps get a haircut?¡± Ryllae, ambassador of the Holy Mirishial Empire, nominally the most powerful nation in all of Asherah (should you ignore their fall from grace in the last Great War and the crises that followed it), to Altaras, had her shining golden locks cut and styled into an inviting asymmetrical bob haircut. ¡°For your information: yes. But I am not here to be asked about my recent strides into more fashionable haircuts.¡± Crossing her arms in an indication she wasn¡¯t going to entertain any more comments, Ryllae went straight to the point as to why she had come. ¡°Tsk, tsk, tsk. A certain little birdie had told me something interesting...¡± Walking in a circle around the king, her tongue clicking matched the loud taps of her high heels on the floor, which, together with her ominous words, produced an unsettling mood for Taara. ¡°¡®Altaras sends forth a squadron of warships in a shocking move against Sios,¡¯ or so reads the headline of the newspaper I picked up down the street from the embassy...¡± Taara, tired of being non-confrontational, decided to be upfront about it. ¡°And what of it?¡± But Ryllae barked back at him. ¡°What of it?! Are you really serious?! That was seriously out of line, Your Majesty! The Emperor sends him his immense disappointment in your unnecessary escalation of the situation!¡± Taara curled his fingers into a fist. He¡¯s more than had enough of the bullshit he had been receiving the past hour or so. The Holy Mirishial Empire, one of his main sponsors and the same bastards that offered him their green light for changing the status quo ¡°by any means necessary¡±, was now grilling his ass for it? He was not having any of it. ¡°But wasn¡¯t it you who told us to change the status quo in your favor ¡®by any means necessary¡¯?! Right?! That technically falls under that scope, doesn¡¯t it?!¡± He lashed out at the Mirishial diplomat, but she was prepared for a tit-for-tat kind of exchange. ¡°Are you sick in the head, you deranged maniac?! No intervention or backing from us could ever justify the stupidity you pulled in Sios! That was way beyond what we could realistically support you! You¡¯ve crossed the damned line!¡± As soon as he heard the line ¡°deranged maniac¡±, time seemed to have stopped for Taara, muting out the other parts of Ryllae¡¯s statement. Never before had he been called such a name, much less something so immensely rude and offending, but he could not find it in himself to vehemently oppose this act of slander against his person. Squirm and gnash his teeth all he could, but he could not force a single word out of his mouth¨Chis chest tightened as if to lock away his voice. Why? Why couldn¡¯t the words come out¨Cif any came to mind at all? For some odd reason, too, those two words uttered by the ambassador stung his already wounded heart greatly, like a scorpion delivering the killing blow to a prey that was as good as dead. ¡°This is it for you, Your Majesty! We¡¯re withdrawing our support for you in the Barezan tragedy and will henceforth remain impartial in any dispute between Altaras and Parpaldia for the foreseeable future!¡± That was the breaking point for Taara. Hearing those words leave the Mirishial ambassador¡¯s mouth, he finally collapsed on his knees; he stared straight down onto the ground with eyes as dark and motionless as a dead fish¡¯s. Ryllae, having said what she needed to say, simply fixed her bangs and walked towards the doorway. In all her time as ambassador to the kingdom, this was the first time she had seen Taara so crushed and defeated. As a longtime friend, she wanted to give him assurances, but her duty as the highest representative of the most powerful country around called on her to nip his aggressive tendencies in the bud. In short, there was nothing that she could realistically do in this situation without compromising her own standing. As a gesture of pity, she looked back at the dispirited husk that was Taara just as she was about to leave and uttered a few neutral words. ¡°Make the right call this time, Your Majesty.¡± ??? Everything had gone to shit: his plans for an anti-Parpaldia coalition; his standing with their allies; the economic and diplomatic privileges they enjoyed that took him a lifetime of planning and maneuvering to realize; hell, even his relationships with the people close to him, most of which now either shun him, keep their distance away from him, deny him as a friend, or were outright removed from the picture. In this gigantic, spacious throne room, majestically constructed to be as beautiful as the riches of paradise described in their mythologies and to be a symbol of Altaran majesty and preeminence, he was all alone¨Cnot a single soul beckoned to him or called out his name. His so-called friends, family, and the people he could confidently trust were nowhere to be seen. So this is what it feels like... to be left alone... The stinging pang of loneliness hit him just as memories of his late wife, Queen Yasmin, surfaced, her lifeless eyes looking past him while her blood continued to stain his robes and his arms. Cornered at one end of the palace during a diplomatic reception, she was gunned down just as the gunnery exhibition took place in the courtyard. For ten whole minutes, she lay there, her blood streaming onto the cold stone floor carrying off her life force. For ten whole minutes, her pained cries of help must have gone unanswered¨Cunheard of and muted by the fanfare. Was this similar to what she had felt back then? Did she really think of herself abandoned by her dear husband? Her friends? Her own daughters? If so, did she leave this world for the next with feelings of sadness... or anger? Damn it all! At this point, everyone had more or less laid down their cards against him. ¡°The fools,¡± a thought grazed his mind, ¡°they¡¯ve picked their sides, and they picked the wrong one!¡± These idiots simply do not understand Altaran diplomatic prowess, even if it hit them in the face! If they did, then they must only be out to see the great kingdom fail! Yes! That must be it! With how economically powerful Altaras has become, everyone wants a piece of it once it¡¯s been butchered and leveled to the ground¨Cthat makes perfect sense! ¡°I¡¯ll make you all see!!! You¡¯ve all made a terrible decision to side against me!!!¡± After having cried out in rage about what he had wanted to say, Taara set about mentally marking his opponents for demise. Cent. Calendar 22/12/1639, Senate Building, Esthirant, Parpaldia, 13:50 ¡°Down with Taara! Down with the Altarans!¡± ¡°He¡¯s a madman!!! Authorize the punitive strike already!!!¡± Impassioned chants of ¡°justice!¡± and ¡°avenge Sios!¡± echo throughout the Villeurgues district of the capital Esthirant as a sea of people consisting of varying ages from young, breakeven journalists to political party leaders leading their blocks in the streets¨Call of them protesters¨Cgathered by the thousands outside the great halls of the Parpaldian Senate. The scarlet red uniforms of the Imperial Guards, posted along the premises due to the Emperor being in attendance, had their weapons disengaged and their stances relaxed: a reflection of their sympathy with the protesters¡¯ messages. Sure enough, however, this time, the protesters were not there to make their voices heard. Inside one of the extensive chambers of the Senate Building, most of the Senate¡¯s senators had gathered in attendance to witness a historic event in the making. At the center of the amphitheater-like arrangement of the chamber were a chair and table, replacing what was usually a podium in its place. Sitting on the chair was none other than the Emperor himself, Ludius, and standing all around him were his various appointed ministers, military commanders, advisors, and members of the Gallaire imperial family. ¡°I¡¯d never thought I¡¯d live to see this day... My doctor even let me off my prescription just so I could be in attendance!¡± ¡°Had it not been for that idiot Taara¡¯s horrifying error, we would definitely not be here.¡± ¡°But this is so exciting! Finally, the empire is with cause to see those heathens put in their places!¡± As the senators tremble in their cushioned seats with thrill and excitement at this wholly unexpected yet very much welcome development, they anxiously await for the event to begin. Just then, the chamber suddenly got quiet as everybody stopped talking; a page, dressed in eye-catching crimson garments, emerged from a door at the chamber¡¯s far right. Carrying on his arms a velvet cushion, on top of which was a document written in the finest of sheets, the boy walked slowly and gracefully towards the table at the center in which the Emperor was seated. Arriving there, Elto, the First Foreign Affairs Department Chair, dressed in a gown dyed in the imperial red and gold, neatly grabbed the document by the sides and placed it on the table in front of the Emperor. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. ¡°Presenting to you, Your Highness, Bill No. 2977.¡± Given a quill and ink by Kaios, the Third Foreign Affairs Department Chair, the Emperor was now free to choose whether to sign the bill into law or discard it into the irrelevant annals of history forgotten. He looked down on the document, the contents of which he already read and knew¨Cfor he was one of the principal authors via several of his nephews in the Senate¨Cbut pretended to reread for ¡®posterity.¡¯ Everybody¡¯s eyes¨Cfrom the senators in the chamber to the hundreds of thousands of the empire¡¯s citizens watching a live broadcast from afar¨Cwere on him, particularly the quill he held in his right hand. Is he gonna sign it, or is he not? The tension mounted in the hearts of the countless onlookers, anxious that the outcome won¡¯t be what they had expected. To the men and women that surrounded Ludius, who very much knew about the innumerable strings he pulled to get this bill passed through the countless bureaucratic cogs of the swampland that was the Parpaldian government, they didn¡¯t bother holding their breath¨Cthey¡¯d bet their lives plus all of their possessions and collateral that he was going to sign it. As for Ludius, putting his signature on the bill would altogether fulfill one of his house¡¯s greatest ambitions and cement in history his place¨Chopefully with the epithet the Conqueror, just like his grandfather. ¡°Heh... The Conqueror...¡± Ludius chuckled as he repeated the epithet, the words tickling his power-hungry heart as they rolled off his tongue. With a couple of flicks from his wrist, he engraved his signature on the document in dark ink, setting in stone the inevitable. He then picked up the document and showed it to the crowd of senators and cameras. ¡°Ever excellent Parpaldia, I give you: justice!!!¡± In the ever-strong and resounding tone of his voice, Ludius cried out what the protesters outside¨Cand so many others throughout the course of this spat¨Chad been repeating, ¡°justice.¡± Almost immediately, all of the senators in attendance, their aides, the Parpaldian camera crews, the men and women surrounding the Emperor, the protesters outside, the policemen assigned to keep them at bay, and hundreds and thousands more clapped their hands in unison. Elsewhere, cheers of gale could be heard from those watching the broadcast as those who held their hats, canes, newspapers, and whatever else was in their hands at the time threw them high into the air in joyful exclamation. It was as if at this specific moment, all of Parpaldia rejoiced at what could be described as the most decisive point in their foreign policy. Bill No. 2977, now signed into law as Imperial Act No. 1849, enshrined in its clauses the staunch Parpaldian condemnation of the Altaran act of aggression against the free, independent, and sovereign state of Sios¨Cbut that was barely the icing on the cake. The true filling came in the form of an official authorization by all relevant state institutions for the mobilization of the armed forces in preparation for an imminent war. Additionally, the Emperor was given the express power of imposing an ultimatum on the Altarans and declaring a state of war against them should the deadline, which the Emperor also has the express power of setting, come to pass or whenever the Emperor deems it logically sound. Elsewhere, foreign nationals, particularly those from the great powers, who were watching the broadcast could only look at each other with worried looks. No amount of foresight or intuition could have prepared them for this sudden plunge in regional stability: from their perspective, they were now in the ¡®warzone.¡¯ ¡°Well, shit...¡± ??? ¡°Uh Huh... Yeah... Understood.¡± Putting down the telephone on the receiver after the difficult call, a man with hair gray beyond his years closed his eyes as he heard the metallic chime of the telephone resting in place. He was hardly in the 60s, yet his wrinkled face and hands, alongside a ruffled voice told of an otherwise arduous and colorful life. Going by the rank standards on his shoulder, he was of rank Imposrion d¡¯Corqueux (Admiral). ¡°Grrr... Lad!¡± After struggling to pronounce his words in his ruffled voice properly, he managed to call out to one of his staff who was in the room. ¡°Yes, sir!¡± ¡°Take this green-colored one to logistics and the red-colored one to the communications section... discreetly.¡± Taking out two thin strips of paper churned out by the manacommunications unit under his desk, the old man gave them to the young staff member. ¡°O-Of course!¡± ¡°You know the drill, boy...¡± Reminding the still young man of newly established protocols, the old man waved him off as he humbly nodded in affirmation and left the room. Once he was completely left to his own devices, the old man groaned once more. ¡°Ugh... I¡¯m getting too old for this shit!¡± He pondered about the call and orders he had received as well as what he had kept hearing about the worsening crisis in the straits. As per the newly signed Imperial Act No. 1849, the armed forces, which includes the navy, are to be mobilized for an imminent war. However, he had been informed by the War Department that orders from the Navy Chief of Staff explicitly call on him to ready one of the flotillas of his unit, the 1st Armee Corqueuxima, for deployment within ¡°4 hours.¡± On top of it being an extremely tall order, thanks to a recent visit from Interior Security, the counterespionage wing of the imperial government, they have to be more careful with their communications due to the confirmed presence of Altaran intelligence assets notifying the enemy of their movements. Fortunately for them, Interior Security is working to actively fool them into thinking they were preparing for an exercise, leaving them with enough leeway to stock for war preparations even before the signing of the law. Still, he personally found it a bitter pill to swallow that it was his unit leading the Parpaldian Empire into war, more so the fact that the Emperor is yet to set a deadline for the ultimatum. All in all, these developments did not bode well for his heart. ¡°Hngh... Can¡¯t really do much from where I stand, can I?¡± More or less accepting his fate and responsibility, the admiral stood from his chair and put on his officer cap. Under orders from the Navy Chief of Staff via the War Department, the 1st Armee Corqueuxima discreetly yet steadily readied itself for the upcoming clash against Altaras. Embassy of Japan in Esthirant, 17:40 ¡°Yes, this is the Japanese Embassy...¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but we will have to return to you in...¡± ¡°The government of Parpaldia and Japan have not yet come to an understanding. We will issue an announcement as soon as an agreement is reached... Yes, this is the Japanese Embassy...¡± The cacophony of telephone rings, the clap of plastic made as the telephone is slammed back onto the receiver, and monotonously repeated set statements from dozens of embassy personnel engrossed in work defined the busy mood in the Japanese embassy. Beyond that superficial layer, however, lay a darker, more worrisome atmosphere: one of fear. Just hours ago, the Parpaldian Emperor and Senate signed into law a monster of a diplomatic headache, one which effectively sets into motion the Parpaldian war machine to respond to what can only be described as an imprudent and irrational move by Altaras. From the Japanese perspective, both sides were being uncooperative and thirsting for war, like little rascals shouting at each other while covering their ears and screaming, ¡°lalalala! I can¡¯t hear you!¡± To the embassy personnel, who had been receiving and putting off what must have been thousands of calls by now, the developments were highly irritating. There were thousands of Japanese citizens on both sides of the straits, unaware and assuming that Parpaldia and Altaras would come to an understanding ¡°eventually,¡± now calling the embassy all at once and asking for assistance in being evacuated at once. ¡°Yes, this is the Japanese¨C¡± ¡°This is Yamazaki Tojiro! This is my sixth call!¡± ¡°I apologize, Mr. Yamazaki, but right¨C¡± ¡°Is it too fucking much to ask that we be given priority status at the port?! I¡¯m a fucking representative of Shimamoto Corp., for crying out loud!¡± ¡°I¡¯m truly sorry, Mr. Yamazaki, but we currently have no¨C¡± ¡°Ugh, for fuck¡¯s sake! Useless cunt!¡± Beeeeep The embassy personnel taking the call, having just endured the 16th caller that called her offensive names, the 16th caller she had to turn down, and the 16th caller pleading for assistance in evacuation, clenched her fist as she tried to swallow her emotions. For all her effort, all she got was the fury of her countrymen and not a single raise in sight. After taking a deep breath and shedding a single tear, she took the next call as if nothing had happened. ¡°Yes, this is the Japanese embassy...¡± Meanwhile, at the ambassador¡¯s office, Ambassador to Parpaldia Hamakubo was standing by one of the tall glass windows of his building looking out to the bustling Esthirant harbor while holding the telephone in his hand to his ear. Speaking on the other side of the call was none other than Mugei, the Muish Ambassador to Parpaldia, probably at his office at the better-positioned Muish embassy in the administrative Villeurgues district. Engrossed in viewing the Parpaldian warships at one of the wharves being loaded with supplies by cranes and men, he suddenly snapped back into reality as his subconscious jolted him awake, having detected that the Muish ambassador just said something important that he didn¡¯t manage to catch. ¡°Wait, what?¡± ¡°What I¡¯m saying is that we¡¯ve got our hands on credible intelligence that Emperor Ludius has already designated a deadline for his ultimatum to the Altarans for them to pull their ships back from Sios.¡± Hamakubo wiped the sweat that had accumulated on his brow. He¡¯d never been this apprehensive about a devolving diplomatic crisis, not at least since the incidents related to the Senkaku islands back in 2012. ¡°And when is the deadline? Did your source get their hands on the details too?¡± He heard Mugei sigh for a good two seconds from beyond the phone. Judging by the nature of this world, this was probably not his first rodeo, but it nonetheless must have still been a stressful moment. A war between Parpaldia and Altaras will never not be difficult to deal with. ¡°Tomorrow. At noon, Esthirant time.¡± Hamakubo took the phone away from his ears for a moment to try and process what he had just heard. He paced across the wide breadth of his room for a few seconds or so while scratching his head. Tomorrow noon?! There are only about 18 hours left! Having come to the undeniable conclusion that these bastards are asking for war, he so badly wanted to give Ludius a black eye. Doesn¡¯t he know that he¡¯s putting innocent lives from non-belligerent sides in danger?! Stressed and without any official word from either the Parpaldians or the bigwigs back in Tokyo, he felt like he was left in some powerless void, unable to do anything meaningful to stop the wheels of fate from turning. ¡°Goddammit, that¡¯s not enough time!¡± ¡°Ease up on the language, Tatsunosuke. They¡¯re likely to announce the deadline at the press conference at the Imperial Palace at 8:30 later, so we wouldn¡¯t be in the wrong if we¡¯re to expect official word from their foreign affairs soon.¡± From beyond the call, Hamakubo could hear the audible static of wind blowing on the telephone, which might have been Mugei¡¯s smoking. ¡°While our governments work out a response, I say we give these brats a piece of our minds...¡± In other words, they were going to talk to them. Not exactly an unorthodox method, but with their respective governments yet to do anything, it was basically left to them to try and talk some sense into the Parpaldian leadership. Having redirected his rage into this newfound resolve, Hamakubo accepted Mugei¡¯s beckoning. ¡°Let¡¯s! While I work out the details with the Imperial Palace, I suggest you contact your ambassador in Le Brias, and I¡¯ll contact mine so that they, too, could talk some sense to King Taara.¡± ¡°Excellent. I¡¯ll call back in an hour to chime in.¡± With that said, the two ambassadors quickly got to work on their makeshift attempt to try and stop the seemingly inevitable clash that was about to occur in the straits. Cent. Calendar 23/12/1639, Royal Castle, Le Brias, Altaras, 9:30 ¡°Father...? Can¡¯t you really say something to us? Anything???¡± ¡°Yeah, this is what I¡¯m talking about! Ugh...¡± ¡°...¡± The three sisters of the Altaran royal house, as shown in their reactions, have not been having a terrific morning. In spite of the assuring presence of Semira, the eldest and closest to Taara, their old man just wouldn¡¯t budge from his semi-vegetative state in which he had been since hearing the Parpaldian ultimatum and deadline last night. They would have been able to afford to ignore the king¡¯s lack of presence had it not been for a pressing matter... ¡°I¡¯m terribly sorry that you had to see His Majesty this way...¡± Instantly changing her emotional persona into her stone-faced, diplomatic facade, Lumies bowed deeply to their guests as she apologized to them. ¡°I see that we¡¯ve come at a rough time...¡± ¡°Well, this is certainly the most unfortunate of timings, If I may add...¡± Standing side by side on the other side of the room were Fujinuma and Smithson, the ambassadors of Japan and Mu to Altaras, respectively, accompanied by several of their own aides. Having received a call from their counterparts back in Esthirant to hold an impromptu dialogue with the Altaran monarch while they converse with the Parpaldian emperor, they¡¯ve fought tooth and nail with the royal house¡¯s reception to get them to free up the next appointment with the king. Unfortunately for them, the best their efforts could reward them was an appointment at 9:30 the next day, which left them with less than three hours till the Parpaldian ultimatum expires¨Cas misfortune would have it, their counterparts in Esthirant suffered the same dilemma, apparently. On top of that, King Taara XIV was in a state one could only describe as a husk of a man after having his soul left him; either way, he was definitely not someone they could negotiate with. With less than three hours on the clock, a window of time that could hardly be called a ¡°window¡± in this world, they were figuratively sweating buckets at the vexingly irritating developments. Holding back the angry words that were about to burst out of her lungs, Fujinuma put up the best smile she could as she tried to get to the point. ¡°Thank you, Your Highnesses, for allowing us the opportunity to get to talk to His Majesty; Smithson and I offer our sincerest sympathies that he is currently not in the state to accommodate us...¡± This time, Semira was the one to respond to them. ¡°I thank you for your kindness, ambassadors; once again, we are truly sorry that you had to see His Majesty like this.¡± ¡°I understand that he is currently in a state wherein he couldn¡¯t accommodate us, but we¡¯d like to ask if it¡¯s possible that we could speak to Your Highnesses instead?¡± Hearing Fujinuma¡¯s question, the three sisters eyeballed one another. They haven¡¯t had the opportunity to take the reins of authority from their father ever since they were born and while he had been preparing all three of them for the eventuality, the time never did come up that they had to act in their father¡¯s stead, especially in such an emergency. Still, as per the Altaran tradition of succession, Semira should be the one to take authority should Taara be incapacitated for some reason. Stepping forward, the eldest of the three took charge. ¡°Of course. What is it we could do for you?¡± Fujinuma and Smithson exhaled with a collective sigh, saying, ¡°finally!¡± After such a long, pointless time waiting for things beyond their control to align, they could, at last, achieve progress. Just as the Japanese ambassador was about to speak, however... ¡°Catcher to Shortstop, priority message; please respond¨C¡± The static-ridden sound of a voice followed by a louder audio cut echoed throughout the otherwise somber reception chamber, abruptly disrupting the neutral silence. Her uneasiness now having returned to her at this unscheduled call, she looked back towards one of her aides, who carried a military radio with him (there was no infrastructure to accommodate cell phones yet), responding to what was clearly an urgent situation. After what may have been the tensest minute she had ever gone through watching the aide turn pale, he finally turned back to her with what can only be described as the expression of a man who had just seen a ghastly apparition. ¡°Madame Ambassador...¡± ??? Everything was for naught. The reignited resolve he had days ago after meeting with the different ambassadors? For some reason, it had completely disappeared when he heard the news last night. ¡°My king! The Parpaldians have sent us an ultimatum to withdraw the squadron from Messina by noon tomorrow, or they will attack!¡± He remembers the echoes of his foreign minister¡¯s frightened voice bouncing all across his mind. He wondered where his bravado had all gone. He checked every nook and cranny in his heart and upturned every memory and emotion: alas, he found no trace of it. Even as daybreak signaled the genesis of a new day, he couldn¡¯t find it in himself to get out of bed. He knows fully well that if he did nothing, thousands of Altaran sailors¨Cthe men who would gladly lay their lives down ¡°for land and king¡±¨Cwould end up at the bottom of the straits. Even with such information, which would have typically fed the nationalistic fervor in his heart and got him to act faster than anyone else, his muscles hardly moved an inch. Ah well, if everyone actually had wanted him dead, then it probably didn¡¯t matter if he moved or not. ¡°Father, the Japanese and Muish ambassadors are here to see you!¡± Even the voices of his daughters, which he loved so much, somehow felt like they were jumbled echoes. Whatever. He was convinced down to the core that even his beloved Semira, Alila, and Lumies hated his guts. After all, how could they not, especially Lumies? Perhaps that girl had a point. ¡°Well, this is certainly the most unfortunate of timings, if I may add...¡± He recognized that voice¨Cthe voice of that bastard from the western empire of Mu. What the fuck was he doing here now? What more could his imperialist kingdom want from him? And what was the other guy? The one from Japan? The country that teased him with small arms offers only to turn him down with their disappointingly puritan arms export laws? What in the world are they doing here? Ah, never mind. It¡¯s all pointless. The deadline was approaching, and there was little meaning to moving forward. If only... If only Yasmin could appear in front of him and carry his tired soul away from this world... ¡°Ambassador... MoD has reported shots fired on Altaran vessels near Messina, Sios¡ªit¡¯s from the Parpaldians.¡± What? ¡°Are you sure? Are you really serious?!¡± They¡¯re saying some gibberish... perhaps it¡¯s in their native Japanese tongue? ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am! We¡¯ve also received an emergency memo from Tokyo to pack up and evacuate!¡± Whatever it was, it sounded grave and serious. Wait, could it be...? ¡°Well... shit! Smithson! Our military¡¯s assets are reporting clashes between Parpaldian and Altaran vessels near Sios! The Parpaldians started it, apparently! What the hell... but there¡¯s still two hours to the deadline?!¡± Wait, what? ¡°Son of a bitch! I should have known better! That imbecile Ludius!!!¡± ¡°Quick, father! We must get a hold of Admiral Gucer Nizam at once! We¡¯re at war!¡± Shock. Denial. Sadness. It was in this order that the emotions struck Taara¡¯s heart. Almost immediately, his imagination went to the horrors that his sailors must have been experiencing at sea being shelled by the evil Parpaldian menace... For once, he started to feel regret¨Cregret that he should have done something. However... ??? ¡°Heh...¡± A light chuckle, soft as it may have been, reverberated across the chamber, catching everyone¡¯s attention with its out-of-place presence. They all looked at the cowering figure of Taara, who only moments before had his half-dead expression, which was now replaced by a sinister¨Cif not outright senile¨Cgrin stretching across his face. ¡°Hahaha... HAHAHAHA!!!¡± The chuckle immediately turned into cackling, unsettling everyone¨Cmost especially his daughters. ¡°The fools!!! They¡¯ve come to attack us, thinking we¡¯re going to cower?! And what¡¯s more, they violated their own deadline?!¡± When put together, it all seemed funny¨Cthe only emotion that somehow welled up from the depths of Taara¡¯s heart and remained. Now that he considered it, what¡¯s a few thousand of his own countrymen? The Parpaldians have demonstrated their idiocy and foolhardiness on the world stage: they¡¯ve acted against their own deadline and started a war! With such an amazingly ironic display of their so-called ¡°justice¡±, it was now a matter of time before the rest of the world gangs up against them; he had played his cards right by not playing at all! ¡°HAHAHAHA!!! What buffoons!!!¡± Everybody watched speechlessly as the Altaran sovereign broke down in tears of joy on the floor of the chamber. Confused and unsure of what to say, Fujinuma and Smithson, together with their aides, simply turned and left the chamber. His daughters, even the usually mute Alila, unable to get a hold of their increasingly insane father, could only do as much as shed tears at their rapidly disintegrating situation. In a confusing mix of disappointment, laughter, and desperation, the kingdom of Altaras had unwittingly entered into what was probably its darkest hour. Imperial Palace, Esthirant, Parpaldia Hundreds of kilometers to the north of the island kingdom, at the hillside Imperial Palace, ambassadors Hamakubo and Mugei, having come to have an audience with Foreign Affairs Chair Elto and Emperor Ludius, had just heard the news from their own aides. The two of them looked at the emperor with bloodshot eyes, the byproduct of not having slept through the last night due to unfathomable restlessness gnawing at their sanity. Seeing the Parpaldian emperor sitting on his comfortable, cushioned chair unbothered and unfazed by their pleas probably popped several veins. Just then, a man wearing a Parpaldian officer¡¯s uniform entered the room and whispered into Ludius¡¯s ear. ¡°Oh? Goodness, it isn¡¯t the deadline yet, though? Ah well, accidents do happen...¡± Apparently, the Parpaldians were also well aware of what they had done, but Ludius simply brushed off the blatant transgression as a mere ¡°accident.¡± Mugei, the more outspoken of the two and having had to rein in his vicious temper all throughout this nonsense, finally popped off and angrily stood up from his chair. ¡°Oh, spare me the steaming hot pile of bullshit!¡± After airing an expletive, he threw his gloves onto the carpeted floor and pointed straight at the Parpaldian sovereign with his bare fingers. ¡°You and I, Ludius? We¡¯re done.¡± With that, he stormed out of the chamber, violently throwing open the gilded double doors. Hamakubo, still processing what he had just heard, had trouble controlling his trembling fingers. What had they just gotten themselves into? Was their effort in trying to stop this not enough? Or was it all simply in vain? ¡°Dear god...¡± Off the coast of Sios, 10:10 ¡°Captain!!! Enemy vessels are concentrating fire at us! They¡¯re coming in from both flanks at a range of 800 and closing in rapidly!!!¡± ¡°Keep up the fire and maintain heading!!!¡± The shouts of men desperate to see their wives and children back home crisscrossed across the bridge and decks of the Orhasli, one of the Altaran navy¡¯s Villatam-class of ironclads and one of the fleet¡¯s most powerful ships, as drops of steel and ocean water peppered the warship. Riding aboard was the Yarbay, the commodore, who commanded the seven-ship squadron dispatched by His Majesty Himself to project Altaran interests onto Sios¨Cor at least, what used to be a seven-ship squadron. ¡°Incoming enemy fire!¡± ¡°Braaaaace!!!!¡± A group of Parpaldian warships had just fired salvos of shot against them, prompting the entire group of sailors on the bridge to shelter beneath what cover was at hand. Even up to now, the commodore still had trouble believing their circumstances. Around an hour ago, he received the first reports from their lookouts of a 20-ship flotilla emerging from the horizon; a dozen minutes later, they confirmed the standards on them to be of the Parpaldian navy¡¯s. While this unsettled many of them, even him, they thought nothing much of it: perhaps the Parpaldians were readying for when their ultimatum expires? Still, it was somehow strange because their intelligence advised them that most of the 1st Armee Corqueuxima were in port and that their departure for an exercise was delayed. When the Parpaldian warships got as close as five nautical miles, he ordered all ships to weigh anchor just in case. He personally believed that the Parpaldians wouldn¡¯t do anything, not until the deadline had come to pass at least, but for some reason, his hunch told him otherwise. It was when the Parpaldian flotilla formed into a battle line, effectively cutting them off from the rest of the ocean, that he finally acted on his hunch. Before the Parpaldians commenced their attack, he immediately ordered his ships to form into a column with the Orhasli at the vanguard to try and break out of the encirclement. It has been 45 minutes since then: three of their slower third-rate ships of the line had already sunk beneath the waves due to concentrated fire; one was effectively immobilized when two stray lucky shots took out her mainmast and mizzenmast; another one took concentrated hits to the waterline and was now taking in water¨Cand moving ever slower¨Cby the minute; and the Hudaden, the Orhasli¡¯s sister, was currently battling a fire that had broken out near one of her aft guns. In exchange, they sank five of the Parpaldian warships, immobilized at least three, and set fire to a further three. Nevertheless, the situation for them was looking extremely grim. ¡°Come on! Just a bit more!¡± They were just about to hit open water, leaving behind the slower Parpaldian ships of the line in their wake. The sailors, desperate to be out of this predicament, were trembling with an uneasy combination of restlessness and hope¨Cthey could almost taste freedom, yet they knew all too well they were still yet to be in the clear. But then, the ever-cruel hands of fate intervened. ¡°Incoming fire from enemy ironclad 40 degrees to port!¡± All eyes turned to a particular Parpaldian ironclad, a warship with similar firepower as theirs, which was steaming to intercept them from their port side at an almost perfectly perpendicular angle. The smoke and flashes emanating from its forward and aft barbettes indicated that it had just launched a full salvo toward their direction. Once again, they were finding themselves taking shelter behind the steel frame of their ship. ¡°Braaaaaace!!!¡± The blistering thunderclaps of the enemy¡¯s guns roared through the ocean, providing a dreading prelude to what was about to fall over their heads. For a good minute, no one dared to speak, for all wanted to hear the sounds that they hoped would follow the gunfire. The men anxiously waited for the soft sloshing of seawater swallowing the enemy¡¯s shots, but none came. Then, they heard a sound. Kablam!!! Almost immediately afterward, they stopped hearing¨Cor sensing anything¨Caltogether. The Orhasli, one of the most powerful warships in the Altaran navy, received several shots fired by a Parpaldian ironclad, some of which landed squarely on the bridge and started, annihilating everyone inside and destroying the mechanism used to steer the ship. On top of that, several of the shots penetrated through the thin wooden deck and started an internal fire that further crippled her. Within several dozen minutes, with the breakdown of command and the fire completely beyond their control, the surviving sailors and officers abandoned ship. Utilizing their superior numbers and almost equal firepower, the Parpaldians showered the small Altaran squadron with their advantageous volume of fire, slowly yet surely sending the beleaguered Altarans beneath the waves. After two hours, the sound of gunfire was but a distant memory; only those that flew the Parpaldian battle standard remained afloat. In a scene of confusion, desperation, and deadly miscalculations¨Crepresentative of the vexing fiasco that led to this tragic moment¨Cthe first shots were fired, and the first drops of blood were shed; the war between the kingdom of Altaras and the Parpaldian Empire had begun. Chapter 29.5: Destined for Demise Cent. Calendar 23/12/1639, Prime Minister¡¯s Official Residence, Tokyo, Japan, 14:20 Darkness filled the conference room at the official residence of the Prime Minister as equally gloomy storm clouds gathered ominously over the blackout-stricken capital. The National Security Council, the highest committee in Japan responsible for the nation¡¯s defense policies, was in session; but they were not going to discuss some vague, indeterminate policies for a far-flung future beyond their tenure in government, but rather something in recent memory that requires decisive action to be made in between now and yesterday. But where have they last seen such a grueling challenge to the bureaucratic megalith that is the Japanese government, and what exactly happened after they tackled such a problem? Unfortunately, the answers to such questions are known all too well by this cabinet, especially Prime Minister Takamori. Bzzzzzzz... But all was not darkness¡ªat least, not inside the conference room where the council was currently convening. The room¡¯s built-in projector cast an eerie white light from across the empty space and onto a flat, featureless wall on the other side, painting a moving picture of the gray ocean in grainy yet tolerable fidelity. A low, somewhat mechanical hum played from the hidden speakers playing surround sound¡ªthe powerful growl of turboprop engines of a Lockheed P-3C maritime patrol aircraft, muffled artificially by the device that had taken the footage. The oceans in the footage, grainy as it may have been, visibly sloshed around back and forth, the lack of any discernible movement from the aircraft determinant of just how far it was from the scene taking place. Then, the camera swayed ever slowly to the upper left, before long revealing a singular feature that stood out from the rest of the unimaginative wave-splashing background: a warship painted in a lighter shade of gray than the surrounding sea steaming towards the direction just offset to the left of the camera. There was hardly any indication of its actual size¡ªin fact, it appeared more like a remote-controlled vessel than an actual ship¡ªbut the slow speed at which it threw itself at the angry waves and the almost vexing rate at which its gun battery fore of the superstructure rotated to face the left side of the camera give the viewer a feeling of how life-like it was. To most of the men present in the National Security Council, it was none other than some old pocket-like battleship, the closest vague image they could conjure in their heads was the legendary Mikasa battleship in Yokosuka; but to the more knowledgeable about the military who were present, it was resemblant of a late 19th-century ironclad that had more in common with the turn-of-the-century pre-dreadnoughts than the American Civil War-era monitor ships. Divided in their interpretations, the men were unanimously on the same side regarding one clear fact: this had happened in real life. As absurd as the circumstances of the transfer phenomenon may be, what they were witnessing did indeed take place; the blue and white battle ensign flying above the warship indicated she was fighting on behalf of the Kingdom of Altaras. Moments after her guns had stopped moving, a bright flash assailed the video footage for a split second: the guns had just fired, sending semi-opaque clouds of burnt powder all across the ship¡¯s side and obscuring roughly a third of the ocean seen on the footage. The camera then warped to a different focus: the ocean was still there, but this time it featured an ironclad warship of more conspicuous crude construction flying a battle ensign of red and gold¡ªthe Parpaldian Empire¡¯s colors¡ªwith its guns facing the opposite direction to the Altaran warship¡¯s. Mere moments after the camera adjusted its focus, pillars of water erupted at random places along the Parpaldian warship¡¯s vicinity as it, in turn, unleashed its own volley of shots back at the direction of the Altaran warship. The footage continued to play in silence, the hum of the aircraft¡¯s engines having faded into the background tone of monotonous, uneventful stillness. More warships exchanging fire with one another were shown, but it was awfully clear that the Altaran side was outnumbered by their enemies. It didn¡¯t take long for some meaningful developments to occur: direct hits were scored; fires broke out; catastrophic explosions rocked the ocean with their powerful shockwaves; ships began listing off to a side or their decks started to slip beneath the waves; and then finally, some of them disappeared underneath the ravenous maws of the ocean, never to see the light of day again. It was chaotic and tragic, yet watching it also gave them some mind-numbing sense of nothingness from the helpless frame of their apathetic camera lens, separated by an insurmountable boundary known as time. It was nothing like a movie or a documentary: there was no plotline, a clear-cut narrative, characters, or even a message to tell. Yet the council watching the footage felt aggravation, nausea, a sense of loss, and above all, disappointment, for they knew what they had seen was worse than a movie or documentary¡ªit was real, and they knew they had a role to play in it. As soon as the footage ended, the lights were turned back on, pulling the men of the council back into the urgency of the situation, yet the apprehensiveness from watching the footage never did go away. To get the meeting back to speed, Asada Taiji, the man appointed to be National Security Advisor, cleared his throat and proceeded to get things underway. ¡°That was the footage from the JMSDF of the altercation near Messina, Sios, now referred to as the ¡®Battle of Messina¡¯ by the international press, between the navies of the Parpaldian Empire and the Kingdom of Altaras. The respective authorities are yet to determine which side shot first, what circumstances led to this event, and whether or not there were miscommunications, but based on the footage, we can conclude¡ªfor now, at least¡ªthat it was the Parpaldians who fired first. Neither side has published a report on casualties, but based on the footage, we have estimated the death toll for the battle to be around 3,000 on the Parpaldian side and 4,000 on the Altaran side, totaling to around 7,000 deaths.¡± The number of people dead, many of whom they¡¯ve seen in the footage being either burned alive, being blown away by an explosion, or being outright eviscerated, sent a deathly chill down their spines. They were, however, puny in consequence to Asada¡¯s first point: the two great regional powers of the Third Civilized Region, both of which are major industrialized nations with competent military forces and possessing a sizeable stake in the regional economy, have just bloodied each other in an act of war the clarity of which they¡¯ve never seen before. All who were present in the room were either sweating buckets, looking down at the documents laid before them on the meeting table and avoiding eye contact or were loosening their ties in a futile attempt to relieve the tension they were feeling. The Minister of Foreign Affairs, Agano Kenzo, who was about to speak, checked all three. ¡°At exactly 13:30, Altaras time, the Kingdom of Altaras formally declared war against the Parpaldian Empire.¡± Silence. For a good minute, an uneasy hush hung over the council as everyone struggled to cope with the reality they were living in. In the straits, just a mere hundred kilometers from their westernmost islands in the Ryukyu island chain, a major war between the region¡¯s most powerful nations¡ªand it goes without saying that they¡¯re also two of their bigger economic partners¡ªhad just broken out. Even worse still was the fact that there were more than a thousand Japanese citizens on either side of the strait, now undeniably subject to the horrors of war so far from home. Takamori, knowing that ¡°Well, first things first: we must get our citizens out of there, at once!¡± Here goes Takamori again with his un-Japanese-politician characteristic of being decisive. The rest of the council stared back at him, although not with confused looks but with those asking for clarification: he didn¡¯t exactly specify where ¡°there¡± was. Nevertheless, they were not clueless¡ªthey knew exactly where he was pointing to¡ªbut such a clear answer was too problematic for them to specify personally in their own words. ¡°W-Where exactly is ¡®there,¡¯ prime minister?¡± Both Altaras and Parpaldia, with their basic industrialized economies and potential for resource extraction and import-export markets, serve as a huge stepping stone for Japan on securing a path back to recovery towards a sense of pre-transfer normalcy, if even a fraction of it. Be that as it may regarding their hegemonic tendencies¡ªas is the case for late 19th century imperialist behavior¡ªand their lack of respect for one another, there exists a stable (yet comparatively primitive by Earth standards) international society for amicable peace, trade, and economic partnerships complete with powers enforcing a semblance of rule of law that Japan could utilize to forward its economic interests in the region without necessarily invoking the unpalatable force projection cards in its deck. As such, there has been some significant headway made on the economic front as economic links between Japan and Altaras and Parpaldia are realized; but then the usual bout of tit-for-tat that has been going on for years between the two suddenly devolved into all-out war within the extremely short span of a month. With untold destruction and loss of life undeniably on the horizon, Japan must obviously prioritize its citizens¡¯ lives and get them out of the way, but then they face having to make a painful decision: with the war obviously going to afflict both sides of the straits, in the evacuation, should they cut their losses with Altaras or Parpaldia? Or perhaps both? It was one thing to prioritize their citizens, but with the policy of the administration¡ªand by extension, Japan itself¡ªhaving predicated its continued existence on economic recovery from the depression brought about by the transfer event, it was also imperative that they try and pursue big economic agreements with as many nations (industrialized, if possible) as they could. Altaras and Parpaldia going to war was something they could never have prevented (contrary to the peacemaker image they¡¯ve been knowingly projecting to both outsiders and their own people). Takamori already had an answer in mind, but before he could say something, Agano cut in to add to the discussion. ¡°If I may, prime minister: the United Realms and Dominions of Mu and the Holy Mirishial Empire have both already decided to pull their assets from Altaras and to issue an evacuation directive to their citizens there. They cite previous studies that conclude that Altaras will receive worse damage economically and in terms of human cost than Parpaldia should war break out between them. Perhaps their insight may serve us well in this decision too.¡± Their insight goes without saying and the reality is that Japan has much more to lose with Altaras than with Parpaldia; hedging their bets in this case also won¡¯t do them any good either, as they should at least do the bare minimum to keep to their commitments, especially to friendly nations that have gravitated to them to try and seek refuge from Parpaldian expansionism. ¡°In that case, we should draft and finalize an evacuation order for all Japanese citizens currently in Altaras. And while we¡¯re on the topic, we must issue travel warnings to those currently in Parpaldia...¡± Takamori scratched his head as he remembered yesterday¡¯s reports of panic-stricken Japanese citizens trying to leave Esthirant and the ensuing altercations with embassy personnel and Parpaldian constabularies. The Parpaldians making the fatal decision to issue an ultimatum out of nowhere caught them in a bad spot since it was all so sudden. Back on topic, he turned his gaze to Okada Masako, Minister of Defense, who met him halfway with a nod as if already knowing what he was going to say. ¡°The Self-Defense Forces are on standby to assist in the evacuation, prime minister.¡± ¡°Good.¡± With that part out of the way, he turned his attention back to the stiff-faced Agano to discuss another important issue that they have to deal with. ¡°Now... Regarding Parpaldia¡¯s more-than-obvious position as the aggressor in this matter...¡± ¡°Ah, yes! We are already in the process of drafting a formal protest: ¡®In response to the blatant disregard of the Parpaldian Empire for international norms espoused under the Charter, and the sanctity of Altaran sovereignty and the lives of its people, the government of the State of Japan condemns the empire for its unprovoked act of aggression against the Kingdom of Altaras.¡¯¡± ¡°Excellent. And what does the MoD say about giving them a copy of the footage as a reminder that the ugly truth of their unmistakable role as the aggressor in this conflict is there for all to see?¡± Takamori turned back to Okada, who promptly answered him with a well-rehearsed response. ¡°We are already working with our Muish counterparts on trying to convert the footage to a format that the Parpaldians have playback for.¡± She put a clear and blunt emphasis on ¡°trying,¡± understating the unimaginable difficulty of converting modern file formats to antiquated, even alien formats¡ªhell, at this point, it was probably more imaginable for the Muish to film a showing of the footage from a screen than outright attempting a format conversion. ¡°Speaking of the Muish,¡± interjected Asada. ¡°They, along with the Mirishials, are currently discussing implementing an air and maritime exclusion zone around Altaras and the straits, in addition to a ¡®safe passageway¡¯ through the strait between Altaras and Rodenius. They¡¯ve floated the idea of creating a multinational task force that includes us to ensure that non-belligerent states could steer clear of the exclusion zone.¡± ¡°Heh.¡± A light chuckle uncharacteristic of the despondent mood hanging over the conference room came from Takamori, but given the context, one couldn¡¯t blame him. The tense, sometimes bitter rivalry between Asherah¡¯s biggest powers was so evident that even the Japanese understood the stakes at hand, despite their relatively surface-level understanding of Asheran geopolitics. Regardless, the fact that this idea was already being concretely discussed in an international setting meant that implementation was more or less at hand, necessitating them to take the matter seriously. ¡°What do you think?¡± Unable to muster an informed response on whether to commit to the endeavor or not, Takamori tossed the question back to Asada. ¡°Unfortunately, prime minister, I don¡¯t think this is feasible for us. We¡¯ve yet to understand and grasp this world¡¯s norms and procedures regarding multinational cooperative operations and what our participation entails when it comes to obligations. Furthermore, there¡¯s the technological aspect: the dominant form of communication in this world appears to be magical in nature and if we¡¯re to believe that that will be the primary method of coordination in the operation then we are wholly underequipped.¡± ¡°Then there¡¯s the diplomatic aspect...¡± Agano added to the discussion, signaling to the others his position on the matter. ¡°We¡¯re yet to receive a response from the Holy Mirishial Empire on our request for diplomatic relations, which, if we¡¯re to enter into this commitment with such a gaping hole in our communications, would put us at great risk of unwarranted misunderstanding.¡± ¡°And to add as well, the prospect of further overseas deployment of the Self Defense Forces isn¡¯t really popular right now...¡± Aoto Maeda, Minister of Agriculture, Forestry and Fisheries, mumbled. ¡°Unpopular,¡± however, was an understatement: not only was the National Diet successful in raising awareness and almost passing a bill that could prevent the likes of the National Security Council¡¯s actions leading up to Operation Zanzibar from happening again, but their recent attempts to rouse the nation in a collective spirit of nationality to galvanize the people in the midst of the aftermath of the transfer had backfired in the form of greater participation in radical political movements¡ªthere¡¯s even a recent string of disconcerting incidents linked to some of these movements. In any case... ¡°Then that¡¯s going to be a resounding no from us regarding participation in that multinational task force.¡± Takamori said out loud in a flat and blunt tone, devoid of any ambiguity and equivocation. As aides tapped away on their half-charged laptops to take note of the meeting¡¯s minutes, their meeting on policy regarding the emerging national security threats from external and internal factors continued on, but as it did, the prime minister couldn¡¯t help but slouch back bit by bit against the worn leather of his chair. As he scratched away at the stubs of gray hair growing from his chin and jaw, one could tell that something was clawing away at his consciousness. You may run wild for six months, Takamori! But eventually, things will come back to bite your ass! Or so it went. He could clearly remember the impassioned face of Yukino, the opposition leader, and a Diet member, as he called him out during a Diet session after the details of Operation Zanzibar were made public all the way back in Sevsrune (Month 6), but he could no longer recall the exact words he hurled at him. It was a no-brainer that things have gotten worse since then, but the new war was definitely a crisis¡ªone on top of an already existing one¡ªthat everyone, from their cautious Muish soon-to-be-trade partners to the increasingly agitated foreigner ¡°refugees¡± currently on Japanese soil, was going to scrutinize him and his administration for. In any case, the mere fact that war had broken out despite their active efforts to prevent it was already a major blow to their public image and credibility¡ªat least for some people. ¡°Like hell, you¡¯d do any better in my place, you bastard...¡± Takamori mumbled to himself, his sharp words aimed toward his outspoken critic. Imperial Palace, Esthirant, Parpaldia, 21:15 Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Meanwhile, further to the west, on the southernmost coast of the Philadean mainland, another high-level meeting was taking place within the dazzling golden walls of the Parpaldian Imperial Palace. Below the amber glow of incandescent light bulbs¡ªimports from Mu that had long displaced their primitive wax counterparts¡ªmounted on every arm of four gilded chandeliers was a long white table filled on all sides by men and women in aristocratic fabrics wearing medals made out of precious metals and pearls nabbed from exotic seaborne mussels. For these men and women of the highest strata of Parpaldian society, this was their finest moment, for a righteous war against the menace that was Altaras had just been declared. Fortunately for all, the war began overwhelmingly in their favor: seven Altaran warships, including two of their fearsome ironclad capital ships, and thousands of irreplaceable sailors now lay at the bottom of the straits. But instead of a jubilant atmosphere, apprehension gripped everyone, including His Highness Emperor Ludius, who was present. The source of this apprehension came from the far end of the table (from Ludius¡¯s perspective), beyond which a large blank white canvas stood. On it was projected in glorious, vivid color the footage of the battle off the coast near Messina, Sios, which was being shown through a motion picture projector on loan from the Muish embassy, which also gave them the film rolls on which the footage was on. The footage captured the heroic feats of the 1st Armee Corquexima, the Parpaldian Navy fleet involved in the battle, and how their men fought valiantly against the dreadsome Altaran iron behemoths. The Parpaldian officials watched countless instances of cannon fire and explosions in mesmerizing silence as warships and men from both sides disappeared from beneath the waves. All in all, their courageous sailors emerged victorious, sinking the entire Altaran task force at the cost of 11 ships lost and damaged. They should have been proud, delighted, imbued with ardor and nationalism, and yet... they aren¡¯t. At the tail end of the footage, a single empty frame was left out. Inscribed on it in thick, blood-red letters were the words ¡°The entire world will know of your transgression in starting this war¡± in the local Parpaldian script. Below it is signed by the author of the footage: the Japanese government. As the Parpaldian officials pondered and brooded in silence about what the ramifications of this meant, Kaios, chair of the Third Foreign Affairs Department, recipient of the footage, started to speak. From the tone of his deeper-than-usual voice, anyone could tell that he was forcing it out. ¡°As of this moment, the Japanese government has released this same footage to international media networks. We are currently working with Interior Security to determine the specific media outlets that have been given this footage.¡± The Japanese had captured the moment their warships initiated the war by opening fire on the fleeing Altaran task force, not only implicating them as the aggressor in this conflict but also making further light on the violation of their own ultimatum. If this raw information were to spread amongst the Parpaldian nation at this point in time, it might not only dissuade supporters of the war from participation but also embolden the anti-war and anti-imperialist factions, both of which currently comprise a negligible minority. As if that wasn¡¯t bad enough... ¡°Prince Gaumer...¡± Locking his hands together in a sign of restraint, Emperor Ludius turned to Prince Gaumer of the Principality of Fr¨¦nau, a member of the Imperial House of Gallaire under a faction allied to Ludius, and whom he appointed the Chief of Staff of the Imperial Navy, as he uttered his name in a condescending tone. Being a natural non-confrontationist, he slightly cowered as his overbearing distant cousin mentioned him by name. ¡°Y-Yes, Your Highness...?¡± ¡°I did not hear any mention of a Japanese reconnaissance unit being present during the battle in any of the reports you¡¯ve shared. Care to clarify?¡± ¡°I¡¯m afraid there is nothing to clarify other than the reports did, in fact, not mention any Japanese unit being present or spotted during, before, and after the course of the battle, Your Highness...¡± Shaking as though his hands may be, he still managed to be coherent in his speech. He then beckoned on an aide to hand him a bundle of papers, which he rapidly glanced over before turning his attention back to Ludius. ¡°Even the reports by the wyvern lord flight assigned to conduct reconnaissance before and after the battle is consistent with the detachment¡¯s reports: they didn¡¯t spot any other forces in the area.¡± Ludius bit his lip. There was still much to analyze regarding the credibility of their reports, but the consistency of the details they had provided with the footage of the engagement issued by Japan painted a crystal clear picture of events. If they didn¡¯t notice or detect the presence of a Japanese reconnaissance unit in the area, how in the world did they even manage to record the battle with such detail and comprehensiveness? The logic eluded him; based on the troubled looks of the other officials, it eluded them too. Of the few that had unclouded expressions, Ianos, the director of Interior Security, an internal counterintelligence organ that also doubles as Parpaldia¡¯s intelligence bureau, was perhaps the most convinced of the Prince¡¯s statement. Wishing to defog the situation for the others, he began to speak. ¡°If I may, Your Highness: I think there is logic to be found in the nature of the circumstances surrounding this ¡®missing¡¯ Japanese unit.¡± Desperate for answers, Ludius motioned his hand to give Ianos the floor to speak. ¡°If you remember the incident in Jin-Hark and the nature of the Japanese action there, perhaps it would make more sense...¡± As soon as the words ¡°incident in Jin-Hark¡± reached the ears of all who were present, their eyes widened as if they had stumbled upon some epiphanic truth. ¡°Initial doubts were that the Japanese possessed some sort of air unit similar to the Imperial ¡®aircraft,¡¯ a suspicion we¡¯ve since been able to confirm from our assets embedded in Louria, Altaras, Qua-Toyne, and so on. There is enough conclusive proof to say that the Japanese are in possession of a fleet of sophisticated, advanced aircraft of various designs. We do not know yet the definitive details of their capabilities, the nature of their mission, or even the degree of technological sophistication, but all accounts are telling. What I¡¯m trying to say is that taking into account these things, being able to have the technology to fly far away¡ªenough to be out of sight¡ªwhile still being able to see the battle unfold so clearly is not impossible for them.¡± There was some logic to Ianos¡¯ statements, and the others didn¡¯t have the necessary information or even the speculative capacity to try and say otherwise. In any case, this message was definitely a painful sting to the pride of everyone involved: a mind-numbing, humbling reminder of the threat the Japanese posed regardless of their otherwise meek self-presentation. It was tempting to sideline and disregard, especially true for the more outspoken nationalists in the room, in favor of what was essentially a successful opening battle in the war against Altaras. ¡°Hmph. Let¡¯s leave the speculation aside for now...¡± Believing that the crux of the problem lay not with how the Japanese captured the footage, Ludius moved the discussion back to the threat the footage posed to their war effort. ¡°I assume that this problem wouldn¡¯t be too much for you to handle?¡± His gaze went to a conspicuous, silver-haired woman sitting in between a couple of military uniforms. She wore an unassuming blank poker face on top of the layer of heavy makeup beautifying her already gorgeous face, all of which worked hand in hand to disturb the balance of libido (for the men) and envy (for the women) in the meeting. The chair she sat on was reserved for the director of the Imperial Communications Office, the government organ meant for directing how information must be shared throughout the empire¡ªin other words, they were the imperial government¡¯s propaganda arm. The director is, on paper, appointed by the senate committee, but the overarching nature of Parpaldian nepotism and power politics in the imperial house meant that the director is almost always aligned with the emperor. Today, the chair is occupied by none other than Remille, appointed to the position by a committee chaired by yes men loyal to Ludius. ¡°Why, of course! Needless to say that their propaganda efforts aren¡¯t going to penetrate far into the people¡¯s consciousness!¡± She replied in a tone too haughty and unbothered for the meeting¡¯s serious ambiance as she flicked her wrist as if to brush aside the problem. ¡°You do understand the gravity of the situation, woman?¡± The uniformed man sitting next to her, a fellow aristocrat from a military family who¡¯s subordinate to the Army Chief of Staff, spoke to her as if to chide her, placing emphasis on her being a woman. It was obvious from his wavering eyes and perspiring appearance that he wasn¡¯t awfully comfortable with the presence of a woman in the meeting¡ªand a bewitchingly attractive one at that. ¡°With all due respect, sir, I don¡¯t need you forcing yourself on me to know how important my duties are.¡± ¡°We¡¯re getting off track.¡± Knowing the man¡¯s misogynistic attitude, Ludius deemed it best to intervene, letting out a stomach-turning growl underneath what otherwise sounded like a neutral warning to the two. With the unruly seatmates silenced and put back in their respective places, he continued. ¡°As I was saying: it is imperative that we get the mass media in line with our message¡ªlimit their accessibility to the communications network, sanctions to their economic operations, removal of their permit to operate, and perhaps even coerce them through the use of force. While it may already be next to impossible, you must also try to get the international media outlets to fall in line. In any case, we must get as many people as possible to believe in our message and for as few people as possible to be reminded of our... unfortunate ultimatum circumstances.¡± ¡°As you wish.¡± Remille replied, restraining herself from doing actions that may earn more of Ludius¡¯s ire. Seeing that that issue was seemingly resolved, Elto, having something to report for the meeting, spoke up. ¡°Your Highness, may I now speak?¡± ¡°Ah, yes. You may proceed.¡± With Elto summoning her aides to hand her a handful of documents, the meeting returned back on track. While there was more to discuss, especially relating to policy moving forward with a fully-fledged war on their hands, the directive for their propaganda operation has been set with Remille and her office to oversee its implementation. Royal Castle, Le Brias, Altaras, 21:40 As the Parpaldian leadership was recovering from the stun that was the Japanese ¡°propaganda effort,¡± on the other side of the strait, the Altaran leadership was recovering from a different level of pain. While nationalistic rage surged through the streets of the cities of the kingdom as widespread demonstrations and protests erupted following the declaration of war and the news of the tragedy at Messina, little of the optimistic urge for retaliation was to be found among the group of ministers, officials, and the highest-ranking military officers present at a meeting hall at the royal castle. That was not to say that there wasn¡¯t a desire for revenge and victory¡ªthere was plenty of that to go around¡ªbut the staggering loss of a squadron in the opening battle had undeniably set the disheartening tone for this war. That case is true for everyone¡ªthat is, except for one man. ¡°Finally! War! And the uptight assholes in Esthirant started it! Now the world knows who they are!¡± Invigorated and full of spirit, King Taara XIV roared with exhilaration in the midst of the meeting, making it known to all his jubilant impression of what had just occurred. Naturally, everyone was skeptical¡ªsome were even offended¡ªby the uncalled-for, insulting behavior of their king, but they all knew better than to put on full display their displeasure for him, for they all knew too well what awaited them if they did. The princesses, who stood next to the king, slightly lowered their heads, feigning ignorance to the matter in the eyes of their father but were really, consciously embarrassed by his abhorrent conduct. ¡°Lift your heads in dignity and pride, oh valiant sons and daughters of Altaras! Have you not seen the footage and how bravely our men fought against the imperialist bastards?¡± He may be blinded by his own deluded interpretations of the matter, but he was at least conscious enough to see the disheartened faces of his people. However, instead of inspiring confidence and morale, his remarks instead irritated his officials. News of the squadron¡¯s destruction at Messina spread slowly, but it was not until Japan released clear, unaltered footage of the battle from a bird¡¯s eye perspective that they finally saw the full picture. They were initially doubtful of the footage given the unbelievable circumstances of how it was taken, but what it showed them was the final nail in the coffin for any lingering hope that their squadron survived. There was now only the disheartening tragedy that a squadron¡ªa comparatively big formation given their navy¡¯s minuscule scale¡ªand thousands of Altaran sailors were now forever lost to them, yet the king had the gall to celebrate such an act. Still, they knew better than to show their resentment to him, so they raised their closed fists into the air instead and cried out, ¡°For Land and King!¡± ¡°HAHAHAHA!!! That¡¯s the spirit! The very earth trembles at the mere sight of your ironclad resolve!¡± Satisfied with himself and the sight of his people ¡®rallying¡¯ to their national cause against the Parpaldian imperialist tide, Taara got down to business. ¡°I summoned you all here so that you may spread the word of the kingdom¡¯s call to arms to the people across the land¡ªa full-on mobilization!¡± The officials and military officers all glanced at one another upon hearing this. There was technically nothing in the law that could stop the king from calling a mobilization, and given that they were in a state of war against an existential threat, this was nothing short of reasonable. And yet there was an aura of apprehension among the aristocratic, old men present, for all of them had disagreements with the war¡ªthe role they played in enabling it and the terrifying effect it will have on economic prosperity¡ªin one form or another. Furthermore, while the nationalistic fervor in Le Brias, the uber-centralized power base of the kingdom, was undeniably powerful, the same cannot be said for many places outside of it; this was especially true for the more underdeveloped, mountainous south, where tense feelings of dissociation from the kingdom due to administrative neglect and corruption, coupled with an existing power base since this was where Taara dumps his political ¡°undesirables,¡± might cause problems for Taara¡¯s ¡°full-on mobilization¡± desires. Unfortunately for them, Taara was uninterested in hearing their side of the story¡ªthey were only here for the purpose of listening to what he wanted to say. In fact, the announcement of that policy wasn¡¯t meant for them either. ¡°What do you think, General Kainarka?¡± Taara turned to a gray-bearded man standing off to one side of the table. A fluffy cloud of gray hair strands obscured his eyes, which were, in turn, shadowed by a khaki cap that was too big for his bald head. He wore the minimalist uniform meant for those that occupied the upper brass of the Royal Army; braided along the length of his sleeves was a pattern that only the highest-ranking man in the kingdom would have. His complexion was darker than what would be expected from a noble favored by Taara, who generally spent most of his days cooped in opulent office spaces that could easily be mistaken for royal lounge rooms, but sun-tanned skin was not what got him to where he was... ¡°Splendid choice, Your Majesty!¡± Kainarka, the old man Taara appointed his Army Chief of Staff, gladly affirmed his strategic decision. To the more disillusioned of the king¡¯s conduct and mental capacity, they were utterly disappointed in General Kainarka¡¯s predisposition to accept his ideas all willy-nilly; yet they were the fools for failing to expect something so obvious. It was an open secret that much of the inner circle that surrounds Taara are handpicked individuals that are either like-minded in policy and implementation or are complicit in them¡ªin other words, they were all yes-men. There definitely exists a couple of meat bodies with actual, functioning heads and a reasonable amount of empathy and wit among that circle, such as the Navy Chief of Staff and a couple of ministers, but the framework of power in the system that Taara had spent decades crafting to his advantage meant that they were eternally at fault in terms of actually fulfilling their obligations; at a flick of a finger, Taara could override or supplant their decisions or worse, take them out of office and plug them into the boonies for ¡°re-education.¡± But unlike the Navy Chief of Staff, who was at least competent in his administration of the Navy, the Army wasn¡¯t as fortunate¡ªif anything, they got the shortest end of the stick. A man of an age beyond what was considered reasonable for retirement from public office, General Kainarka was a bonafide yes-man through and through. To make matters worse, he was malleable; he could not effectively manage the Army in his old age, enabling Taara to push his policies past (and through) him to be implemented by the Army and the other ministers. This fact, which had been in place for decades, has led to the decline of the Army¡¯s effectiveness as a fighting force thanks to Taara¡¯s appointment of cronies in its ranks, resulting in a highly centralized command structure centered around him¡ªa byproduct of not only his obsession with control, but also his paranoia of so-called ¡°Parpaldian insiders and traitors¡± trying to undermine said control. Taara smiled at Kainarka¡¯s almost giddy response, which was like music to his ears, as he clapped his hands in victory. ¡°I knew I could always count on the great General Kainarka! Now, how does... a million of our finest men mobilized in Le Brias sound?¡± The ministers, officials, military officers, and even the princesses almost jumped from their heels at the sheer shock of hearing such a blatantly impossible figure. Why a million?! And of the finest men? At their current numbers, even if he could somehow bypass the logistical and command and coordination problems that this could entail, concentrating such a huge chunk of their force in the capital, which is located smack dab in the middle of the northern peninsula jutting out into the strait, is tantamount to kingdom-wide capitulation. Not to mention that they already have multiple permanent units, along with the capital¡¯s dedicated defense garrison and air force, already stationed within the greater Le Brias area. They were itching to call Taara out on such a herculean and strategically stupid request¡ªsome were even itching to maul the madman then and there¡ªbut the mere fear of losing their positions and lives held their frustrations back. That wasn¡¯t the case for the princesses, however. ¡°Father, with all due respect: that is simply unreasonable and goes against the basic rule of putting too many eggs into one basket!¡± Lumies, the youngest of the princesses and yet the most outspoken, did not shy from protesting her father¡¯s idea. ¡°I can agree with mobilization, for we are at war with Parpaldia, and we need every able-bodied man to man the guns and stock the wares, but I cannot fathom the strategic value of putting most of our army at the capital!¡± She put up a valid counterpoint to Taara, but a lone voice from what he saw as his rebellious daughter was not going to sway him anytime soon. Just as he was about to rebuke her, another princess, Alila, traditionally the silent one but now emboldened by her little sister and having grown tired of their father¡¯s ineptness, joined her. ¡°It doesn¡¯t make sense, Father. ...Think of the, uh... holes you¡¯ll open in our defenses... by, uhh, redeploying crucial manpower to the capital. A Parpaldian landing at... say, uh, Saveh or Madibur, would push through should we leave them... unmanned? Is that the right term?¡± ¡°It¡¯s ¡®undermanned,¡¯ dearest big sister Alila.¡± Meanwhile, Semira, the eldest and the closest to Taara appeared as if she was going to join her sisters but for some reason had frozen on the spot. She agreed with their points wholesale, and she, too, thought that their father¡¯s idea was ludicrous, but her predisposition to chime in as the devil¡¯s advocate to them for their father got her hesitating. At the same time, she also didn¡¯t wish to antagonize him, believing that this wasn¡¯t the time nor the place to challenge him. As for Taara, for the first time in a long time, two of her daughters¡ªone of which was typically mute to the conversation¡ªwere unanimous and outspoken in their stance against their own father. Seeing this, he flinched ever so slightly; he could easily overpower and corner one of them with rebuffs and threats of punishment, but there was little he could personally do against two of them. In a way, he was also proud of his daughters finally earning the gall to align with one another, but now was not the time for family moments. They¡¯re at war; in a war, one must cleanse one¡¯s nation of strife and disunity, for he believed coherence in command and control is the key to achieving strategic success. A house divided and caught in infighting will never set its differences aside to deal with an invader. With that said, it was clear where this conversation was going to go. ¡°No, no, no. Your ideas are fine and dandy, but this is no place for them. Actually, why did I even bring you here... This is a meeting between men and the big heads of Altaran policymaking! Go take your wishful thinking somewhere else, alright, dears?¡± In a bout of confusing regression in how their father sees them, the daughters were pushed to the verge of throwing a fit. ¡°What?! How could you deny us this obligation to the kingdom, Father?!¡± ¡°Yeah... we¡¯re not little kids anymore.¡± Yet you still act like little, whining kids, you brats... After lightly massaging his forehead as he felt the first signs of a migraine, he raised his hand high into the air and breathed out. ¡°Guards!¡± Without further commands or cues, a squad of royal guardsmen on standby came to the two princesses and restrained them by the arms and shoulders with their strong, burly hands. ¡°Take them away! Let them play in the garden or have them pray at the mausoleum or something¡ªI don¡¯t know, just take them away from here!¡± The guardsmen then proceeded to drag the two princesses by their arms out of the hall. They kicked, struggled, and screamed at their father to reconsider what he was doing, but he apathetically turned his back on them as two of his daughters disappeared behind the closing doors. Semira, all the while, was still frozen, but now her hesitation had been replaced by regret¡ªregret that she should¡¯ve either stood up with her sisters or stopped their father and talked some sense to him. Just as she was silently mulling over her indecisiveness, Taara walked up to her with eyes devoid of empathy. ¡°And where do you stand in this matter, my dearest Semira?¡± She looked straight into his eyes as he asked the question. His equally blank expression gave her little clues on what he really wanted to know¡ªor rather hear¡ªfrom her, but if she valued her standing and what was left of her father¡¯s sanity, there was only really one answer. ¡°...With you, dearest Father.¡± Hearing what he wanted to hear from her, Taara¡¯s lips curved into a smile. He gave her a light pat on the shoulder for the sensible reply. ¡°Good.¡± The sight was nothing short of perplexing to everyone else in the room¡ªafter all, no sane father would do something of the sort. But perhaps he was no ¡®sane¡¯ father; if anything, what he did was plainly frightening and disheartening. If the king could dismiss his own daughters¡¯ opinions as easily as he did right now, what chances did they¡ªa bunch of nobles and aristocrats, of which a sizable number have little to no empathetic connection to Taara¡ªhave in persuading him? The men bite their lips in frustration as they once again hold back their more violent tendencies. Nothing could convince them that they were destined for demise. Chapter 29.6: War Plan Intr茅pide Cent. Calendar 24/12/1639, War Department, Esthirant, Parpaldia, 9:00 Back on the other side of the straits, preparations for a hot conflict in the straits¡ªan event long anticipated and feared by all involved¡ªwas underway. Although preparations had already begun long ago, with the Parpaldian military having had a heightened state of readiness for decades following the initial flare-up of tensions with Altaras, there was still a long way to go before they could bring most of the military to the fight. At the War Department, the main building of which is located in the Imperial Palace complex not too far from where the imperial family¡¯s residences are, the highest-ranking officers of the Parpaldian military have convened to discuss war plans. Most of them, anyway. ¡°Where the hell is the Supreme Commander?!¡± A burly man in a crimson-red uniform barked out in irritation. The golden sash adorned with medals that wrapped around his body identified him as the Imperial Army¡¯s chief of staff. His question was directed toward no one in particular, but the other men seated around the long mahogany table took it as an affront to themselves and hurled back at him his sentiment. ¡°Like hell we¡¯d know!¡± ¡°Shouldn¡¯t it be you who¡¯s supposed to be keeping tabs on him?!¡± ¡°In case your brawn-for-brains hasn¡¯t comprehended the obvious: I am not his chauffeur!¡± Naked, bare insults and stinging remarks flew across the room, the vulgar, coarse tones they were manifested in echoing all throughout the decadent walls of this one single chamber in the War Department. As unprofessional and uncouth as this may seem, this was actually nothing less than an established mutual understanding between all the big men in the room. As the highest ranking members of Parpaldia¡¯s renowned military institution, it goes without saying that the men that occupied this space were some of the most powerful in the entire empire: most present were estate owners; some were grand dukes and princes of incorporated, annexed, and key territories; a select few were members of the imperial family; fewer still were direct allies of Ludius in his faction. Since this highest echelon of military command had in itself both an explicit and implicit rank structure based on a delicate mixture of seniority, ties with the imperial faction in power, and territorial possessions, it was only natural that a cutthroat environment of power plays was in place. However, recently, with the specter of Ludius¡¯s unifying influence over much of the imperial machine bearing over even this powerful group of men¡ªsome of which were even on friendly terms with him¡ªthey had to play nice, tolerate each other¡¯s presence, and dance with ¡®fierce¡¯ loyalty to His Highness¡¯s imperial ambitions in public appearances since the military was front and center in his foreign policy against rival powers in the area. As such, this one meeting place in the War Department where only they were present was the only such place where they could directly air their disdain for the other guy¡¯s existence right in his face. It was in this moment of unfiltered and unadulterated exchange of death threats that the doors to the meeting chamber were flung open. As each man scrambled to swiftly fix their uniform, correct their posture, and wipe the saliva from their staches, they all watched in passive annoyance as the man of the hour walked into the room. They scrutinized the lackluster grace in his walking posture, his unkempt shoulder pads, the missing button from his right wrist cuff, and the hairline on his scalp that had receded by a few thumb lengths since the last time they saw him. However, all these petty violations in etiquette and dress paled in comparison to what was probably the worst offense... ¡°Supreme Commander, If I may.¡± The Army Chief of Staff, restraining the urge from putting his hand up to his face, looked at the tall, lanky man that was the Supreme Commander with watery eyes. ¡°Go ahead.¡± ¡°With all due respect, we¡¯ve been waiting all morning for you. May I inquire as to the reason why you were not able to join us earlier?¡± In an ideal setting, he was in no position to ask such a direct question to one that was superior to him in rank, but the unanimity of the rest of the men present in wanting the answer to that question, made apparent by their collective scrutinizing gaze towards the Supreme Commander, forced the man¡¯s hand. ¡°That¡¯s none of your business, General.¡± Shaking it all off of his consciousness, the Supreme Commander nonchalantly went on his way toward his designated seat. As for the others, they could only hold back the urge to wipe the tears building on the edge of their eyelids. There was an unbelievably strong odor permeating the room that only manifested after the Supreme Commander entered the room. Much to everyone¡¯s irritation both emotional and physical, they knew that this powerful, libido-wrenching smell could only come from one place... There¡¯s no doubt about it! I can¡¯t fucking believe the Supreme Commander went to the fucking red-light district downtown! Each and every single officer clenched his fist, closed an eye, or gritted his teeth at the fact that the Supreme Commander, the man appointed by Emperor Ludius himself as the nominal commander in chief of the military, had the gall to have gone down to one of the brothels just before the meeting. While it did make more sense that he likely spent the night before there, it was nonetheless irksome. After all, it didn¡¯t take much for any one of them to conclude that this one incident, along with many others before, reflected how seriously he took his obligations. But their vexation was not out of the man¡¯s lack of merit but rather that each one of them believed that they were better seat warmers for the position of Supreme Commander. What the hell was His Highness thinking in appointing this clown?! Upon taking his seat next to a big flat board obscured by a curtain on one end of the room, the Supreme Commander commenced the meeting. ¡°Now that I¡¯m here, let¡¯s get this meeting started.¡± At his orders, an aide came to unravel the curtains by activating a rope mechanism, revealing a gigantic, monochromatic map of the region. Several points on the map were lit in bright green, corresponding to major Parpaldian cities and bases, and other points an ominous bright red, corresponding to major Altaran cities and military bases. A couple more aides then moved towards the map and hovered their hands in certain places as their lips moved to hushed incantations. Moments later, the places on the map underneath their hands started glowing in distinct colors of either white, orange, red, purple, and so on. Repeating this process over and over and on specific parts of the map, the aides produced a collage of arrows, symbols corresponding to specific military units, numbers indicating a sequence of events, and others in brightly lit colors coded in a specified manner. While an enthusiast of magic would focus more on the use of mana-sensitive materials to create an editable panel of lights for use in depicting military operations on a map, to the Parpaldians, the sight represented a summarized version of one of their extensive war plans. However, the eagle-eyed men of Parpaldia¡¯s military command immediately noticed that certain specific details, such as the deployment, movement, and disposition of some units, were either changed or missing. With the aides finished in their work, and stepping aside, the supreme commander stepped in to explain what they were seeing. ¡°With the opening of hostilities with the kingdom of Altaras, our war plan for the invasion of Altaras, codenamed ¡®Redoubtable,¡¯ should have been put into implementation, but as of 1635, a new war plan was drafted to take into account changes in Altaran military capability, the Holy Mirishial Empire¡¯s change in its approach to its relationship with them, and changes in our own objectives.¡± He stood up and got closer to the map. ¡°This new war plan, only finished and approved by His Highness this year, codenamed ¡®Intr¨¦pide,¡¯ will have at its primary objective the capture of the Altaran capital, Le Brias.¡± He motioned his right index finger to point towards Le Brias, depicted on the map as a kaleidoscope of white, red, and blue colors. ¡°It will consist of three primary stages. The first stage will see the Navy and the wyvern corps front and center.¡± He grabbed a collapsible pointer from his person, extended it, and used it to circle a symbol drawn onto the Altaras Strait, used to signify the Royal Altaran Navy. ¡°The Navy and the wyvern corps will cooperate to see to the destruction or the crippling of the Royal Altaran Navy¡¯s capital task force, which will see its capability to contest for command of the seas eliminated and thus allowing the empire to have it. Taking into account the Altaran doctrine of forcing decisive battles with their superior capital ships, we will either force their hand through resource attrition or lure them into a decisive engagement with as many elements in our favor as possible.¡± He then motioned his pointer down towards the island of Altaras. ¡°Once we¡¯ve secured command of the seas, the second phase will commence. The Navy, supported by the wyvern corps, will concentrate outside the port of Le Brias and commence bombardment of the city¡¯s harbor defenses while small detachments will sweep the northern coastline for stragglers. While Altaran strategic focus, which will likely fear a landing on Le Brias itself, will move there thanks to this diversion, our Naval Infantry will land at these points, which we will dub ¡®Margaux¡¯ and ¡®Jeanne.¡¯¡± Focusing on the northern peninsula, he identified a point of interest on each respective side of the peninsula corresponding to roughly the peninsula¡¯s ¡®base¡¯; Margaux is on the peninsula¡¯s west side, while Jeanne is the one on the east. ¡°Near points Margaux and Jeanne are minor towns, Kan Garasi and Astaran, respectively, which the Naval Infantry will have to secure as soon as they land. Once these towns are secured and a perimeter projecting several leagues from the town proper established, the rest of the Army will follow and land. Engineers will then set up a base of operations for attack formations of the wyvern corps, which will come all the way from the mainland. As soon as these first attack wyverns are ready, the main elements coming from both Margaux and Jeanne will converge here.¡± He highlighted a major city in the middle of the peninsula, along which a great river, the Sa¡¯arak, ran north, meandering into the heart of the capital of Le Brias before emptying into the peninsula¡¯s northeastern side, which housed the great port that made Altaras so economically important. The major city contained a crossing, one of the first of many along the Sa¡¯arak River, that the Parpaldians would have to control. ¡°This city, Kagis, along with its vital crossing of the Sa¡¯arak, will have to be taken to complete the second phase.¡± As the discussion moved towards the third and final phase, the high-ranking officers in the room braced themselves. They breathed in deeply, put their hands together, and leaned in forward as their stomachs, having long digested their breakfasts, started to twist and churn once more. As far as they could tell, this aspect of War Plan Intr¨¦pide remained unchanged from Redoubtable, which meant that the fact that it was the hardest and most challenging part of the plan still held true. ¡°With the capture of Kagis, we can expect our zone of control to have effectively cut off the peninsula of Le Brias from the rest of the island, turning the city and its surroundings into essentially an island. If current intelligence on Altaran command tendencies and war plans still holds true, this would mean that we have trapped the bulk of the Altaran Army in that peninsula.¡± Analysis of King Taara XIV¡¯s administrative overhaul of the Altaran Army¡¯s command structure, military deployment, and distribution of military funding over the years show a clear bias in concentrating the army¡¯s capabilities in the peninsula, particularly in and around the greater Le Brias metropolitan area, resulting in an overly centralized force disposition. For example, the next major city in the area beside Le Brias and Kagis, Hajjisler, which lay far to the southeast of the capital, only had a single infantry battalion as its permanent garrison. While this overly paranoid concentration of forces is a strategic handicap for Altaras, it also meant that the capital itself was a nigh impregnable fortress¡ªa tough nut for any invasion force to crack. ¡°Something that remains unchanged from Redoubtable is the fact that Le Brias hosts one of the most complex systems of fortifications and defenses we¡¯ve ever faced. That, coupled with the confirmed existence of surplus Muish and Mirishial artillery, aircraft, and elite Altaran Army formations, including the Royal Guard, make the campaign in taking the city perhaps the bloodiest we will ever fight.¡± A gradual advance into the heart of the city, where the royal government and the palaces lie, will be, without a doubt, the most difficult part of the campaign to fulfill. Everyone involved, whether it be the Navy, the Wyvern Corps, or even military intelligence, could expect to suffer a degree of loss in materiel and men, but none of them will be worse for the wear than the Army. Making things worse for them was that King Taara has never given off the impression that he will sit down and negotiate even when the worst has come, meaning that they might have to pry free the lock and key to the innermost sanctum of the royal palace from his cold, dead hands before Le Brias would truly fall. That much goes without saying, especially for the accomplished military commanders present. ¡°The details for the offensive into Le Brias remain the same as in Redoubtable, so I trust that you can see to it yourselves.¡± The commanders eyed one another, confirming with the rest that the mild annoyance they felt over the supreme commander¡¯s lack of urgency and shallow explanations wasn¡¯t limited to themselves. They never did have to see eye to eye if this was just the meeting as it was; a simple message sent over official channels would have sufficed. Of course, a war as big as this one does mean that their plate will start to receive more and more content than usual, necessitating a common command structure where all of them could tackle their individual challenges together, similar to the more sophisticated unified military command structures of the powers out west, but the best they got was this desultory, superficial ¡°meeting¡± with their ¡°supreme¡± commander. Unless things get out of hand in an unforeseen development, they might never have to see each other again after this. ¡°Ah, I almost forgot!¡± Said the supreme commander, as he stopped midway through making a break for the doors. Some of the commanders couldn¡¯t help but subtly roll their eyes in disdain at their superior¡¯s lack of tact for their time. ¡°Both Redoubtable and Intr¨¦pide have an overall casualty estimation¡ªtaking into account every possible engagement and other such factors¡ªof 300,000 in the conservative range, including deaths, wounded, and missing in action from all services.¡± They looked back at the surface of the table, hoping to evoke the image of being ¡®busy¡¯ in front of the supreme commander¡ªin truth, they were livid. Absolutely livid. On top of aforementioned grievances, both personal and professional, he had the gall to ¡®forget¡¯ to mention the casualty estimate. Seriously, Your Highness, what the fuck were you thinking in appointing this buffoon?! ¡°I could¡¯ve done better!¡± or so thought everyone in their own minds, seemingly free from the backlash of the others knowing that that was their intention. None of them, however, appeared to be bothered by the 300,000 casualty estimate as if they¡¯ve been far-removed from the emotions associated with such appalling bloodshed. The military and the Parpaldian public are no strangers to casualties that range in the hundred thousandths, a hallmark of their culture that prides on imperialist exceptionalism. But with advancements in political consciousness, aided by the gradual permeation of such surreal concepts such as ¡°liberty¡± and ¡°universal rights¡± from the First and Second Civilized Regions, the political problem posed by high casualty estimates only grew bigger as public tolerance or the standard for what counts as ¡°egregiously high¡± got lower. But if His Highness, after being briefed on War Plan Intr¨¦pide, had approved of it, then he¡ªa better calculator of political decisions than they were¡ªmust have deemed the 300,000 estimate to be within reason. That much was to be expected. ¡°Well, then...¡± The supreme commander, as if not having just dropped something of importance, simply put his hands behind him and made way for the exit. As soon as the doors closed behind him, the commanders, who were left in the room, collectively breathed out a sigh of exasperation. As much as they hated having to deal with each other¡¯s insufferable presence, the empire was once again at war, and thus their priorities now lay with fulfilling the objectives necessary to bring Parpaldia victory. Each man went their separate ways to convene with their subordinates in their own departments exclusive of the other to get the war moving. Cent. Calendar 25/12/1639, Embassy of the Holy Mirishial Empire in Le Brias, Altaras, 16:20 ¡°Quick!¡± A young-looking elven woman in a formal getup of all white egged on a male coworker in clothing of similar monotony as they crouched near the bottommost shelf of a bookcase, which was the only shelf that still remained occupied with documents, books, ledgers, and other papers of various assortment. Restricted as they were by the tight seams of their apparel and the fact that they only had two arms, they grabbed as many documents as they could. They then brought those to a nearby machine that was as big as a table yet was half the height of one. Each of the two then relaxed their arms, letting go of the documents into the sandbox-like clearing in the middle of the machine without a care for their contents or any protocol demanding strict delicate handling of such. Just as they hurriedly turned back to grab more from the bookshelf, the documents that landed inside the empty clearing promptly combusted into flames from invisible embers, their mana-sensitive material lined fibers reacting from the combustion spell the machine was automated to cast. Moments later, the papers, their face coverings, and so on had completely disappeared, leaving only a vague memory of their presence and a waff of burnt paper. Just as the two elves were about to dump a new batch of documents into the incinerating machine, an unfamiliar figure in a dirt-ridden uniform mottled with an intriguing pattern of overlapping sharp, polygonal shapes came through the open doorway of the room. ¡°Hey, you! Are you Ryllae¡¯s secretary?¡± The soldier, with both hands holding up his iridescent, cerulean battle rifle, cried out to the woman carrying a box¡¯s worth of documents in her arms in a hoarse voice. ¡°Yes! Yes, I am!¡± Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. She responded with haste as she continued with her incineration of documents. ¡°Can you go get her already?! We will miss our scheduled departure at the port if we don¡¯t leave soon!¡± The soldier gestured to the wristwatch on his left wrist, indicating the urgency with which they had to move. The woman, finally realizing that the departure time set by the ministry back in Runepolis was already at hand, bowed her head in acknowledgement. As soon as she threw the documents she was carrying into the incinerating machine, she dashed for the open doorway through which the soldier left. ¡°Finish the remaining documents for me, Gen! I¡¯ll be back!¡± Before she could stay to hear her coworker grumble about the work she had left him, she ran through the hallways of the embassy. Despite the countless boxes marked with ¡°fragile¡± and ¡°for transport¡± and the dozens of embassy staff hurriedly packing all sorts of equipment and documents into such boxes clogging the hallway, she expertly navigated through such obstacles, managing to reach a certain set of mahogany doors at the other wing of the embassy in a short amount of time. Before she twisted the doorknobs, she could hear the loud wailing of someone else in the room, almost as if they were begging for dear life. When she opened the doors, she found a very peculiar yet unsurprising sight. ¡°Ah, my dear secretary. Is it already time yet?¡± Ryllae, the Mirishial ambassador to Altaras, nonchalantly reacted to her presence as she sat on the velvet cushion couch with an unmoving demeanor to what appeared to be a man in Altaran ministerial dress prostrating on the carpeted floor before her. It didn¡¯t take long for the woman to read the mood of the room, as would anyone as soon as they heard the sniffling of the prostrated man. ¡°Please! I beg of you! His Majesty demands¡ªrespectfully¡ªthat you honor your prior commitments to the kingdom in providing aid!¡± The man was so close to crying a river of tears, knowing that salvation from utter demise was mere inches from him. Ryllae rolled her eyes, having grown sick of hearing the same plea for what might have been the hundredth time. ¡°As I have already mentioned previously with utmost candidness, Mr. Balcan: the Holy Mirishial Empire, under the terms of those said commitments, have deemed them void following the kingdom¡¯s grave violation of the aforementioned in its actions in Sios.¡± She stood up, crossed her arms, and leaned in close to the Altaran minister. ¡°I¡¯m afraid there is nothing more we can do for you. That much is final.¡± As soon as the final, definitive, official words of Mirishial indifference to their plight reached his ears, the man began whimpering, his tears and snot soiling the expensive, velvet purple carpeting. While it can¡¯t be said that she herself isn¡¯t moved by the notion that the city she was in¡ªtogether with its several hundred thousand inhabitants¡ªwas about to be burned in wyvern hellfire, the foreign affairs ministry back in Runepolis has already taken its side. There really was nothing more she could do. Fixing her bangs and donning her white blazer, she turned away from the weeping, still-prostrated man on the floor and made way for her secretary, who was waiting by the doorway. Before she left the room, she took a silver box¡ªa set of cigars produced and manufactured in Hajjisler by an Altaran company, her favorite brand¡ªfrom her purse and gently placed it on one of the empty bookshelves next to the door as if to say her final and subtly forlorn farewell to her post. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± Cent. Calendar 11/01/1640, town of Kan Garasi, ~80km southwest of Le Brias, Altaras, 6:00 The sound of singing sea birds making passes over the cream-colored sandy beaches of this quaint Altaran coastal town of just over a thousand people resonated well with the sloshing of waves crashing against the sand to create a sense of unfettered tranquility. Compared to the hustle and bustle of the major cities several kilometers inland, the peaceful atmosphere that hung over the early morning of this town of Kan Garasi could easily be mistaken by city folk as ¡®nothingness¡¯ or even ¡®sleepiness.¡¯ They were not at fault in making such an assumption, however, as most shops and small-scale artisan industries in the town are yet to open for business this early. Of course, there were exceptions; one such example was a small, two-storey cafe close to the beach. Despite the sign on its unassuming glass door saying ¡°we¡¯re open!¡± in a creative, cheerful font, one would be forgiven to think that the cafe was still closed after seeing its deserted seats and untouched milk and sugar containers. Nonetheless, it was still open, and the shop could pride itself over having earned a regular customer, who always seems to take the veranda table facing the ocean on the second floor¡ªa known favorite spot for vacationers on regular days. Sadly, with Parpaldian gunboats threatening to appear over the horizon under the banner of war, those regular days were probably long gone. Dressed in a black dress of modest skirt length, Nilay, the cafe owner and the only permanent worker of the establishment, climbed up the stairs with a tray in one hand, negotiating the steep steps with speed and ease only someone with enough repetitive familiarity could do. Moving through the patron-less seats and tables, she emerged past the open doors to the veranda before arriving at the one table that did have a patron. The customer, who had become a regular since the months before, was a man with a moderately muscular build, evident even through the loose shirt and overalls he wore, whose face creases were only starting to form; he was probably a worker from the nearby mill in his early thirties. He always got here as soon as she flipped the open sign on her door, would always take the veranda table, and would stare at the ocean with a dazed expression, almost as if he was longing for something that was far from his reach. ¡°Your espresso.¡± Taking the piping hot espresso and its saucer from the tray, Nilay gently placed it on the table, right next to the man¡¯s left hand, which was placed next to an open sketchpad. ¡°Thanks.¡± The man replied with his usual appreciative tone, yet just like always, he didn¡¯t take his sight away from the beach. Nilay, curious about so many things regarding the man, wanted to strike up a conversation, but the man exuded an unapproachable aura around him, almost as if he wouldn¡¯t appreciate any attempt at doing so. Still, the months she¡¯s spent giving him his espresso made from the coffee beans she¡¯s sourced weekly from the Qua-Toynian merchant at Le Brias has built within her an expectation of familiarity; she has spent almost half a year with him and yet she knows next to nothing about him. She wracked her head for conversation starters: the reason for his being here every day, why her cafe of all places, maybe his personal circumstances? Just then, a gust of wind coming from out to sea blew against the veranda and then later her curly brunette hair, the salty waff of ocean blue caressing against her elongated, pointed ears. She instinctively placed her tray down on her skirt to prevent it from being blown upwards, but just as her sight went downwards, she caught a glimpse of the contents of the sketchpad underneath the man¡¯s hand. The winding, sharp turns and single strokes of lead wove together a fascinating rendition of the beach that intrigued her, but above all else, she finally found her conversation starter. ¡°My, that¡¯s a wonderful sketch of the beach there, mister.¡± The words came out of her mouth in a natural manner, but now that her consciousness had caught up with the moment, she twisted her lips in a vain attempt at taking those words back. Fortunately for her and her shy tendencies, the god of socialization had seemingly decided to reward her. ¡°Ah! Why, thank you.¡± The man replied with enough modesty to fill a woman¡¯s heart. His subtle attempt at covering the sketchpad and the slight jerk of his head off to the side also told her of a cuter side to him. ¡°But yeah... My master would always tell me that my hands are better used for grinding wheat and grain than producing ¡®art that no one will ever see.¡¯¡± He chuckled in a vague attempt at masking his awkwardness. ¡°Well, your master got that last bit awfully wrong.¡± Nilay placed her arm on her other sleeve, worried her shy attempt at praising the man will be taken the wrong way. ¡°Heh! He¡¯s not the type to take kindly to consensus on him being in the wrong, lady!¡± The man barked in amusement. He turned to face her, finally breaking away from what she could only have seen to be a month-long staring contest with the ocean, revealing the state of his right arm: completely cast in white bandaging and medical mana stones used for temperature control. ¡°But I have his tendency to be in the wrong to thank for; if he didn¡¯t give me the wrong instructions, I wouldn¡¯t have broken my arm, and I¡¯d be sent off to the war.¡± She looked in shock at the man¡¯s plight, having never once seen it despite the months she¡¯s spent serving him his usual espresso, probably because she¡¯s gotten used to his presence that she never paid heed to him going in and out of the cafe. Her face reddened in embarrassment for the possibly wounding words she¡¯s said, but the man was quick to assure her. ¡°Ah! You don¡¯t have to worry! It¡¯s because of the refuge this cafe brings me that I¡¯m able to numb away the pain...¡± His gaze returned to the beach. While it did seem that this man had more of a story to tell than she¡¯d previously thought, she knew that she was never going to be more than just the server of his espresso. Her heart skipped a beat as what may have been a cacophony of emotions¡ªsome of which she¡¯s never even consciously realized¡ªdisappeared altogether. As long as both of them wore their respective uniforms, his dirtied in sweat and ground wheat and hers in spilled coffee and sugar, she felt that this was going to be the limits of their interaction. Nevertheless, there was something to be thankful for today, especially as soon as it became clear to her that a part of that distance was negotiated and that he played a part in it. She turned back to head towards the kiosk, convinced of where her place was in his heart. ¡°As a token of thanks for talking to me on this lonely day, I¡¯ll give you another espresso. This one¡¯s on the house.¡± The man, who was taking a sip out of the cup she had given him, almost spat it all out in surprise. ¡°Ah, wait! You don¡¯t have to¡ª¡± But before he could talk to her again, she had already disappeared past the doorway. Hearing the clacking of her heels on the wooden staircase leading to the first floor, he retreated back to his seat in defeat. ¡°My goodness...¡± He placed his palm over his face as he sunk further in his seat, appearing to be dejected by how things with the endearing cafe lady had gone. Make no mistake, he was but a lowly apprentice to the mill man; the difference between the lone unmarried owner of a cafe¡ªthird-rate as the place and ambiance may be¡ªand a glorified serf in a mill was almost like that of this world and the next. There was only so much of that future he could dream of, but no matter what he did, it would only remain a dream. Disheartened as he was by his prospects, however, that was not the reason why he appeared to be frowning underneath his palm. ¡°Damn it... That was too close!¡± His mind immediately went to the sketchpad underneath his left hand. On the surface, the frontmost page had on it a sketch of the graceful waves of the sea crashing against the beach, but just underneath it, on the other side of the same page, lay something more important than anything else¡ªeven more so than his own life. Thank goodness I was working on the sketch instead of the report...! Written in detail just below the unassuming beach sketch was a sketch of one of the coastal defense batteries around a league or so down the coastal road and the seat he was on had a clear, unobstructed view of the top of its walls, its singular artillery piece, the patrol patterns of its soldiers, and the comings and goings of officers, supply trucks, and so on. Today, he had written along with his sketch the confirmation of routines made during this particular day of the week, contributing to the establishment of an almost complete picture of how the defense battery operated. Even the sketches of the beaches he had done were later commissioned as bonafide intelligence thanks to their noting of specific landing spots and other particulars along the beach such as ditches, rocks, and so on. He took another bitter sip of espresso from the cup, savoring the salivating refuge it offered from the guilt of having to deceive the cafe lady and the rest of the town¡ªand then later, contributing to possibly dozens of casualties once the enemy sets foot on its peaceful coast. ¡°No... It¡¯s too late to be guilty...¡± The more he entertained such feelings, the more they proved harder to stamp out. In order to make it easier to do so, he recalled the memories of the Parpaldian scumbags that approached him all those months ago. He recalled vague feelings of pointed stones on his knees, sweat covering every inch of his body, and the presence of two men whose faces he could never remember standing over him. ¡°Look, the moment you took a sketch of that battery, your life has been forfeit...¡± ¡°But I never intended it that way!¡± He recalled the pungent smell of plum alcohol overpowering his sense of smell and the pain of some sort of agent that made his eyes all irritated. He remembers being powerless to even satisfy the endless itching as his hands were bound by some sort of cloth. ¡°Intended or not, the authorities aren¡¯t going to see it that way. How naive of you to assume otherwise.¡± He recalled the frustration of not being able to land a fist on what he imagined to be the smug grin on the man¡¯s face as he said that. But nothing prevented him from barking at them. ¡°But they¡¯ll believe me! They¡¯ll know what you¡¯ve done to me!¡± ¡°Oh? With what evidence, hmm? Who are you, a lowly mill worker who¡¯s destined to grind wheat sold to the highest bidder for barely a ducat a gram for the rest of his, for His Majesty¡¯s men to believe? Who are you to dare to disturb the peace of this town by calling out innocent men, who are contributors to His Majesty¡¯s coffers, as traitors to Land and King?¡± He had no answers, no rebuttals, and no hope of resistance. He was shamed into accepting their terms, but it was not without some accursed gift they left behind. ¡°You know, we are not ¡®barbarians,¡¯ and in order to prove that your worth and service are not without merit: on my word, we promise you land, position, and wealth¡ªif your contributions have proven to be a boon to our success, that is.¡± In exchange for his continued gathering of intelligence¡ªin essence, contributing to countless deaths of innocent people like the cafe lady¡ªthey would give him a place of luxury and comfort in the new society that they would build on top of the ashes. If he refused to carry out his part of the arrangement, they would label him as a spy and traitor to the authorities. Not only were the consequences of his refusal utterly horrible, the enticing rewards the enemy had put on offer¡ªa guaranteed escape from an eternity of slave-like servitude¡ªwere too good for someone like him to pass on. But accepting the deal meant that he made his choice in the war between home and the enemy and he will forever have to live with the consequences of it. It was indeed a deal made with the devil. ¡°Goddammit it all...¡± He murmured in defeat as the bittersweet aftertaste of the espresso he drank changed to that of an unpalatable sourness. Cent. Calendar 17/01/1640, Palmerie Air Base, northeast of Esthirant, Parpaldia, 6:30 As the sun had made its way well above the horizon far to the east, shining onto a grateful Asherah its life-giving rays of warmth and clarity, a new day awaited the men and women down on the planet¡¯s surface as they rushed to begin anew petty scuffles over petty reasons for petty differences. But what does the sun care for the wars the races of this planet fight for? It has neither stake nor investment in this world: it has only served and will serve to give to the world and has never taken and will never take from it. So prayed one man as he kneeled on the flattened dirt, hoping that the sun would continue to serve as the distant arbiter to the fight he was fighting in. ¡°Oi, Reckmeyer! You¡¯re getting dirt on your damn suit again!¡± The angry shout of one of his trusted maintenance crew members assailed his ears, pulling him out of his daily meditation and back into the fray of war. He stood up from the dirt, slightly damp from this morning¡¯s higher-than-usual humidity, which caused it to stick in clumps to the delicate fabric of his rudimentary flight suit. ¡°Oh, shut it, will you?¡± He retorted with a teasing grin back to the even more irritated crew. ¡°Nothing a good patting down can brush off.¡± The crew member approached him, extending to Reckmeyer a clipbook opened to a page with detailed instructions for that day¡¯s flight. ¡°You¡¯re not the one being dressed down if those expensive things fail to be patched up, you dumbass! The supply system for parts from the Mirishials is all over the place because of the war! Instead of the usual where the command is sourcing those stuff and providing them for us, the supply hasn¡¯t kept up with demand at all so there¡¯s a shortage¡ªand that has been the case since before the new year! Now I have to pay for the stuff outta my own pocket from dubious sources, and they¡¯re not even as good¡ª¡± Using the pencil that came with the clipbook, Reckmeyer filled up what needed to be filled, but not before putting the manacomm set on his ears so that he doesn¡¯t have to listen as much to the crew member¡¯s rambling. ¡°Uhuh, okay... Yeah, that sure is bad...¡± Reckmeyer replied in a fashion that made it obvious to the crew member he wasn¡¯t going to listen. Mildly annoyed, the crew member, seeing that he had just about finished with the paperwork, took the clipbook from him and walked away. ¡°You know what? I don¡¯t care anymore if you don¡¯t come back today. I¡¯ll have you flagged as a deserter as soon as you fail to chime in on the timed checks.¡± Reckmeyer, still having his manacomm set over his ears, didn¡¯t hear what the crew member just said. Frankly, he didn¡¯t care either, so he just took it as business as usual and went over to his wyvern lord to begin pre-flight checks. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ll see you later, you dick!¡± He sent him his usual reply before running off to the apron, failing to see the extremely rude, offensive gesture the crew member gave him upon hearing his reply. Arriving at the apron where a dozen wyvern lords, some of which are the finest examples of monster combat aviation history has ever seen, are lined up. Some of them were being groomed by their designated crew members; some were being fed their usual carbohydrate-rich diet for recon missions, which require endurance; some of the crews were scrambling to clean up after the wyvern had defecated; and some, like his, which was already groomed, fed, had its equipment readied, and beaming with confidence for the day, was being cleared for takeoff. He approached the beastly wyvern lord, towering over the apron at twice his height, with open arms. ¡°Buddy!!!¡± He called out to his longtime friend with a wide smile on his face. The beast of war turned to look at him upon hearing the familiar voice of its rider; at once, its lizard-like eyes, capable of glaring down a herd of demons into subservience and striking fear into the hearts of grown men, turned into adorable, puppy-like irises. Ruuuu...!!! It lowered its head down to the height Reckmeyer could reach it and asked for the usual pats and hugs. This monster, which with its powerful fireballs could set on fire an entire city block, purred and rolled onto the dirt like a loyal dog that had not seen its master for months. ¡°Hahaha! Why, of course!¡± Pleased at the sight of his longtime friend warming up to him this morning, much like the countless mornings before, he threw himself on the wyvern lord¡¯s head, scratching the rear of its long ears and rubbing the underside of its huge mouth. The tough scales of the wyvern, sturdy enough to withstand a crossbow bolt at point blank range, were incredibly rough to the touch for Reckmeyer and any dragon knight, but familiarity and the adoring, loveable reactions of his wyvern at his show of affection were more than enough to overcome such difficulties. ¡°Guess that means you¡¯re ready, aren¡¯t you?¡± He asked his wyvern friend, to which it responded with a confident affirmative, almost as if it could understand his speech. ¡°Alright! Let¡¯s get going, then!¡± Reckmeyer then climbed up on the saddle, rigorously strapped onto the wyvern¡¯s lower body just after its arms, which doubled as its wings. The saddle had ample back support, and adequate comfort for long-duration missions, in addition to a robust seatbelt, which he then secured on himself. As soon as he put his boots down on the fixed stirrups attached to the saddle, which also had the added function of communicating to the wyvern specific moves or maneuvers dependent on stirrup rotation, he began checking the onboard equipment. ¡°Navigations, check. Flight instruments... comms, check¡ª¡± Once every single system on the checklist had been checked to be in working order, he waved to one of his crew members standing off to the side in an affirmative gesture, to which they responded with acknowledgement. Things were now in order to begin the mission. Motioning his wyvern to move forward using control mechanisms on both his hands, they emerged onto one of the designated spaces for vertical takeoff. The base did have a runway for dedicated aircraft and is used by wyvern individuals that had difficulty taking off vertically; it is primarily used for ¡°hot landings,¡± which occur when circumstances, whether due to the wyvern, weather or others, don¡¯t allow for vertical landing and the wyvern must thus land at speed. For him and his wyvern, which could take off vertically without any problems, he only needed to use the vertical takeoff space. He tuned in to the frequency used for communication with the base¡¯s flight control center, which was perched on a nearby hill to the northeast, and tapped on the push-to-talk button near the control mechanism on his right hand. ¡°Palmerie Tower, this is Galeas-4, ready for takeoff from Pad 15.¡± Moments later, he received a grainy reply from the tower. ¡°Galeas-4, Palmerie Tower. You are cleared for takeoff from Pad 15.¡± And just like that, Reckmeyer jerked all of his limbs backward, translated by the control mechanisms and the stirrups into familiar, mechanical movements on certain touch-sensitive scales that his wyvern lord had been taught to mean one thing: take off. In the span of a few seconds, the beast fully extended its wings, raised them as high as it could, and sent them back onto the ground with a force powerful enough to send its lightweight body up into the air. Before he could even process it, he and his wyvern lord were airborne, the countless training sessions and missions having hardened his body for the powerful forces acting on his body at such speeds. His hands and feet moved on their own as if they had been pre-programmed to act in a specific manner, sending commands to the wyvern to level its wings and glide straight into the wind. In the minute since taking off, they were well on their way to their mission. He then tuned in to the frequency used in times of missions such as this. ¡°Rapace, this is Galeas-4...¡± His mission today, not unlike the previous days and not unlike the other dragon knights like him, was of reconnaissance: to scour the wide expanse of the Altaras Strait for the whereabouts of the Royal Altaran Navy, most especially its powerful capital task force, and provide as much real-time data back to their navy. In the absence of beyond-visual-range detector contraptions, the wyvern corps of either Altaras and Parpaldia play a vital¡ªif not central¡ªrole in gathering battlefield information. And since aircraft carriers dedicated to wyverns, a concept that was tried once but never fully realized due to how unfeasible it was, were basically non-existent, both countries¡¯ wyvern corps had to take off from their respective mainlands, meaning that the continued, uninterrupted, flow of battlefield information depended on not only the number of wyverns being deployed but also on the endurance of both wyvern and dragon knight. In this case, the Parpaldians, with their larger wyvern corps and their wyvern lord and wyvern overlord breeds possessing better endurance, have the upper hand. But with the Altaran capital ships proving difficult to find, let alone track down, the war has slowed down to a tense stalemate in the past month. ¡°We¡¯re gonna get them today, buddy, and we¡¯re going to have our well-earned time off. Mark my words.¡± Reckmeyer mumbled to himself. As the stillness of the wide open blue skies devoid of clouds set the tone for the rest of the day, he, along with so many other Parpaldian wyverns from other air bases, flew south, entering the battlefield that was the Altaras Strait. Chapter 30: Battle of Menda Point Part 1 Cent. Calendar 26/01/1640, Royal Navy Headquarters, Le Brias, Altaras, 10:40 It was a chilly winter morning in late Jaisrak (Month 1) of the new year 1640. Altaras, located in a region with a sub-temperate climate, was assaulted by a cold front blowing in from the northeastern regions of Philades and the wastes of the northern continents beyond, but that was hardly enough to push the temperature below 15 degrees Celsius. But the cold wind blowing in from the northeast not only brought in an endless stream of low clouds that was screening the Altaran capital of Le Brias since the new year but also an unceasing feeling of apprehension to the hundreds of thousands of people on the ground. It had already been more than a month since His Majesty, King Taara XIV, declared war on the Parpaldian Empire, yet other than an extensive draft that pulled thousands of able-bodied Altaran men from their families to be armed with rifles and sent to build fortifications all across the kingdom, not a single bullet has been fired over Le Brias since the war declaration. The initial intensity of the spirit of nationalism and the earnest desire to go to war had all but dissipated, replaced by the silence of city folk going by their lives with heads hung low underneath the watchful eye of the city''s constabularies, supposedly there to keep track of ''dissenters'' and ''traitors'' but are now almost always sleeping on the duty. Other than the rising prices of goods brought about by the combined Muish-Mirishial enforcement of an exclusion zone around the island to discourage non-belligerent vessels from being fired upon, in addition to the round-the-clock evacuation of foreigners, which continues to this day, one would be forgiven to think that war had not been declared at all. That impression was not limited to the masses¡ªKing Taara himself, the most powerful man in the kingdom and the person with the monopoly on all information, had now gotten the impression that a war was not being fought. Having grown impatient from there being no large-scale action since the initial spat at Messina, the reigning monarch had decided to pay a visit to the nexus of command of the Altaran force that is currently participating wholesale in the conflict: the Altarasi Kraliyet Donanmasi¡ªor the Altaran Navy. Stunned gazes and stammering mouths characterized much of Navy Command as they found their monarch, wearing full regalia and an unamused frown, standing in front of the opened doors of the command chamber. "Y-Your Majesty?!" The officers of the Navy, accompanied by some of the General Staff, collectively fumbled their speech as they hurriedly saluted their commander-in-chief. Having tirelessly monitored the situation while carrying out their mission of denying the enemy command of the seas, they were caught off guard by the king''s untimely visit to the Royal Navy Headquarters. "Gentlemen..." Taara clapped his hands as he took in a heap of air. The commanders present curled their hands into fists underneath their sleeves, steeling themselves for the inevitable wrath that would come out of his mouth. "It has been a month... Has the Parpaldian Navy ceased to exist yet?" Taara calmly asked them, to which the commanders eyeballed one another, waiting for someone among them to answer the king. He was a lot calmer than they expected, but no one doubted the ridiculousness of his question. Knowing the king''s temper, none of them wanted to be the poor bastard that would be slammed with a suspension for simply trying to answer his question truthfully. They all subtly turn their attention to the Navy Chief of Staff, Erdil Gucer Nizam, who they hoped would take the fall; Gucer Nizam, correctly sensing that the others had come to their consensus that he should be the one to answer His Majesty, sighed inwardly before addressing the king with a candid expression. "I''m afraid that is not the case, Your Majesty. They are still very much a threat to the kingdom." Taara scratched his head, but even to them, he was clearly holding back his temper. "Alright, alright. Let''s dial back the question: have we dealt them a blow powerful enough to force them on the defensive?" Gucer Nizam promptly swayed his head from side to side. "No, Your Majesty, it is just as we reported to you in our daily report yesterday morning: His Imperial Majesty''s Navy still retains much of its strength and is actively spreading its forces out, presumably to prevent a decisive battle with our qualitatively superior task forces." Taara''s eyelids twitched, and his lips spasmed, details which everyone had by that point learned were signs of him going past his breaking point; sure enough, the long-awaited roar came surging from his mouth. "And why is it still that way a month since Messina?!" The king slammed his fist onto the brick wall of the chamber with enough force to crush some of the mortar into bits. Blood came gushing out of his fist, but the king was angered to the point he barely flinched in pain. The chamber was frozen in shock, utterly afraid by the king''s ruthless display of fury¡ªeven more so than they were concerned for his well-being in forcefully slamming his fist into what was essentially a stone-hard wall. Even Gucer Nizam couldn''t help but quiver slightly at the sight. "Your Majesty..." Before the conversation could continue, the king suddenly leaned against the wall as his eyes, once bloodshot and filled with rage, began swelling with tears. He gripped the fist he had used to punch the wall and was on the verge of yelling in pain. At this point, everyone in the chamber scrambled to call for medical aid. ??? With the two separated by the Altaras Strait, it was a no-brainer to anyone, whether they be military men or uninvested civilian onlookers, that a scuffle between the Parpaldian Empire and the Kingdom of Altaras would inevitably involve their navies. If one wished to threaten an invasion of the other, they would have to first secure command of the seas, which would mean mauling or breaking the other''s navy from posing a significant threat to a landing. Both sides understood this, but due to varying circumstances, such as historical ties with the great powers, geographical position, immediate strategic necessities, and so on, Parpaldia and Altaras had developed their naval doctrines¡ªas such, their naval forces¡ªdifferently: the Altarans, thanks to their smaller population, necessity to secure their trade routes and greater wealth devoted to the navy, have a smaller navy and are leaning to a doctrine focused on decisive engagements, which is helped by their qualitatively superior vessels, a boon of their closer relationship with Mu and the Mirishials; the Parpaldians, owing to their history of continental expansion and greater population and resources, have a much larger navy, but have a significant share of it dedicated to riverine operations with the ocean-sailing fleets operating underneath a "fleet-in-being" doctrine. While the Altarans have better equipment, training, and experience (this will be Parpaldia''s first major naval operation outside of riverine and coastal environments), the Parpaldians have the advantage in numbers and, as time goes on, resources, too. Since the start of the war, they have been probing Parpaldian formations to try and force decisive engagements, but the Parpaldians knew better than to try and engage them in terms unfavorable to their own. This was also not helped by the fact that the Parpaldians enjoy a larger wyvern corps with better wyvern breeds for long endurance missions, which allows them a greater situational awareness; they also use their greater numbers and better-trained riders to actively harass Altaran recon wyverns, which are only numerous enough to deny the Parpaldians from getting too close to the Altaran mainland. However, situational awareness alone is not enough to offset their warships'' better weaponry, which has proven their superiority in range and lethality in the few encounters between both navies. Nevertheless, in this one long month of strategic impasse, their efforts to try and force a decisive engagement have been for naught, and the consequences of their limited potential to acquire and produce resources for the fight have begun to sting. This was likely why the king was furious; efforts to divert fuel, munitions, and spare parts to the navy were already put in place but there was only so much in storage before they completely ran out, leaving their powerful warships dead in the water. The status quo was ultimately against them, and they needed to do something soon to change it. In the 30 minutes since the king was sent to the medical ward, the command chamber went back to their usual routine of monitoring developments, but the king decided to return, eager to personally do something about the ''lackluster'' situation. The doors to the chamber opened, revealing a Taara, whose fist had been bandaged, escorted by nurses clad in black dresses. As soon as he sat down on a throne-like seat on one side of the room from where he could observe everyone doing their duties, the nurses left. "Now, where were we..." The commanders turned to salute him as soon as he made his presence known, steeling themselves for the inevitable thrashing they''ll receive. But just as they were about to start talking, one of the manacomms present in the chamber started beeping incessantly, indicating that it was receiving an incoming message. The officer manning the manacomm ran over to the waiting commanders as soon as the message had been decrypted, bowed in the king''s presence, and then read it aloud. "Apologies, Your Majesty and Your Excellencies, but we''ve received an important message: At around 8:17 earlier, Squadron 2 had made contact with a Parpaldian squadron of three ships¡ªtwo third rates and a protected cruiser. A firefight ensued for roughly 10 minutes, in which Squadron 2 confirmed one of the third rates incapacitated and the cruiser moderately damaged; in exchange, Squadron 2 suffered an estimated 50 casualties from a fire that broke out on the deck of the protected cruiser Ahirkli, which also damaged their manacomms, hence the message''s late issuance. The Parpaldian squadron disengaged and left the scene; Squadron 2 did not give chase, citing fuel concerns as they were returning to port to refuel when contact was made." The commanders scratched their heads as they turned to look at the map showing their navy''s deployment spread out on the table in the middle of the chamber, confirming with the officer where the engagement had taken place. Amidst their discussion, the king clapped his hands, drawing their attention to him. "Well, well, well! Is this not fortuitous?" The king said with a mildly relieved expression strewn over his face, but the commanders, not knowing what he wanted to say, returned his expression with raised eyebrows. "What are you looking at me all stumped for? Do you actually not know what this means?" "I apologize, Your Majesty, but I don''t¡ª" Before he could finish, Taara got up from his seat and walked towards the table to join them. Without uttering a single word, he picked up a couple of blue-colored wooden ship pieces placed on the map¡ªthey were meant to indicate Altaran warship deployments¡ªand moved them towards a red-colored wooden ship piece that the commanders had recently placed after hearing of the message from Squadron 2. Once he was done, he turned to look at the navy commanders, expecting them to understand what he wanted to convey to them. After a couple more seconds of them staring blindly at the king, he groaned in frustration. "Am I not wrong in hearing that a Parpaldian squadron was driven back with comparatively fewer casualties on our side?" "You are correct, Your Majesty, but¡ª" "Then go after them! We could obviously destroy them with a squadron or two!" The king scratched his head as he frustratingly pointed repeatedly towards the blue-colored wooden ships on the table, waving his fingers in between the blue and red pieces to emphasize his wish of getting the squadrons to annihilate the single damaged Parpaldian squadron. Having understood what the king wanted them to do but knowing that it was too risky of a move, Gucer Nizam interjected between Taara and the navy commanders to try and get him to see reason. "With all due respect, Your Majesty, but¡ª" But Taara, whose twitching eyes told of the great wrath being restrained, held up his palm towards Gucer Nizam to silence him. "It''s been a month, Nizam. Where is my victory? Where is my proof that the Parpaldian Navy no longer holds a threat to us?" He stepped towards Gucer Nizam as he stared down his eyes, barely composed and on the brink of being broken. He held his ground against the king, but he knew that the more he did so, the more it put him in his crosshairs. In any case, as much as he feared the king''s tyrannical tendencies, his sky-high pride won''t allow him to break in front of his subordinates. "I have entrusted to you the duty of breaking Parpaldian maritime power from the onset of this war, but for this past month, I have heard next to nothing from you. I waited patiently, convincing myself that you were doing your best, but when I decided to come and visit this place after thinking that you were keeping information from me, here I learned that you have done something worse than that!" He then turned to the navy commanders standing behind Gucer Nizam and the rest of the command staff trying to mind their business. "You''ve been doing nothing but sit on your asses for the past month, gobbling up precious resources and funds by the minute while the inferior warships of the Parpaldian fleet roam our waters free unabated instead of populating the sea floor and being the food for the bottom feeders! Why do you allow the heathens that have slaughtered our heroes at Messina to run free?! Why are you denying them their well-deserved vengeance?!" The king shouted and yelled more obscenities at them, but the navy commanders remained apologetically silent. But Taara was having none of that apologetic silence; he wanted results and fast. He took a long wooden staff used for pointing to particulars in presentations and pointed their blunted end towards the navy commanders, casting upon them a murderous gaze. "With the authority invested in me as your king, I''m temporarily overriding your command of the Navy to issue this one single order: get every squadron we can muster and smash that Parpaldian squadron!" With a swivel of his arm, Taara swung the staff high into the air. Seeing the violence the king was about to inflict on them, the navy commanders froze on the spot, unable to move out of the way for fear of a worse punishment. But just as they closed their eyes, steeling themselves for the blood that will be shed... Wham! A loud thud from a powerful slam rang out, but none of the commanders felt any pain to their person. Meekly opening their eyes, still afraid of incoming pain, they found the long wooden staff broken in half: the end with the handle lying harmlessly on the floor with the other end punctured on the table with the map and strategic placements, like a bayonet forcefully stabbed onto a helpless person. The king, convinced that he had made his point, was already walking towards the room''s exit. Having recollected their wits, the navy commanders had only just the problems surrounding the king''s words. His orders were too vague, and while they understood his intentions, it was a strategy that would have them gambling a significant portion of their navy. Unable to stomach the chances of such a risky gambit, the navy commanders cried out for their king. "But, Your Maj¡ª" "My orders are crystal clear and absolute, gentlemen. I trust that you will not disappoint this time." In a statement made with his back turned to them, Taara shot down their concerns, insisting that they carry out his orders to the letter. Having finally left the room, the navy commanders turned to look at one another. None of them, not even Gucer Nizam, looked unfazed by the king''s exercise of absolute power. There was much to deliberate regarding the feasibility and strategic soundness of His Majesty''s orders, but the king''s insistence on immediate results forced them to swallow these concerns. How risky this endeavor was was lost on no one, not even the other lower-ranking officers in the room. And if luck didn''t favor them and they lose catastrophically, they can essentially kiss their careers¡ªand, by extension, their lives¡ªgoodbye. With how lopsided the odds were stacked against them, it was essentially a lose-lose situation. "Ngh... Curse the gods for our luck..." Ultimately unable to find it in himself to defy the king''s orders, the once strong-willed Gucer Nizam reluctantly decided to carry them out. Krall?k-class battleship Andras Kaymakk, somewhere in the Altaras Strait, 13:15 Somewhere in the Altaras Strait, a mere several dozen kilometers from sovereign Altaran territory, two metallic vessels plowed the moderately strong waves of the windy and turbulent midwinter seas. The two vessels, one of which was visibly larger, bristled with more armaments, and more technologically sophisticated, sailed side by side, maintaining their heading despite the relentless battering of the unruly ocean. The smaller warship, the cruiser Saveh, was the lead ship of her class; the larger warship, the battleship Andras Kaymakk, was the most powerful warship in the Royal Altaran Navy, a title it shares with its sister in the same class, the Rahmi Kaymakk. Armed with four 343mm cannons in two dual mounts and capable of resisting hits from its own shells, it was a formidable vessel, unmatched even against its peers in the Parpaldian Navy. Onboard the smoke-spewing warship, a characteristic telling of its origins as a Muish-built vessel, a communications officer manned one of the hulking manacomm machines inside the ship''s communications room. While the manacomm was capable of long-range two-way speech communication, military modernization following the example of Mirishial and Muish standards stipulated the widespread use of military communications using creatively designed coded ciphers. The officer monitored the channels for activity, waiting for a message to come through. Just then, the once silent channel was bristling with activity. A transmission was being received. The officer, with pencil and paper in hand, started to write down the contents of the message as soon as he heard the familiar identification tag at the transmission''s beginning. Deciphering the message almost as fast as he was hearing it, the script he produced quickly produced a legible message. By the time he heard the second identification tag that designated the transmission''s end, he had in his hands orders from the Navy Command. The officer quickly left his post with the orders in hand and made haste for the bridge. As soon as he stepped foot on the bridge, eyes from the officers, sailors, and the captain were already faced towards his direction, probably having heard the loud clanking of steel under his heavy footsteps. "Captain!" He exclaimed as he swiftly straightened his posture and fixed his right arm and hand into a salute. With his left hand, he handed the piece of paper to the captain as he added, "Orders from Navy Command!" Binbasi (Captain) Matehan Bos spared no time taking the piece of paper from the officer, bringing it up to his bespectacled eyes, which still had some trouble with reading from afar. It was a relatively short message, yet Bos spent a good five minutes staring at what amounted to only two simple sentences. He squinted his eyes at the piece of paper and kept checking the back side for additional information. He twirled his well-grown beard as he audibly hummed. It was almost as if he wasn''t satisfied with the orders, or perhaps his wealth of experience already had him mentally calculating their strategy moving forward. Just as everybody was about to grow tired of waiting for his response, his loud sigh struck the ears of everyone on the bridge, which was then followed by a series of concise orders delivered in a calm tone. "Communications, inform the Rahmi Kaymakk that we''re en route; signalman, tell the Saveh to follow our lead and maintain present formation. Set course for 29¡ã 34'' 12.92" North, 0¡ã 28'' 11.09" East." The men whose responsibilities align with the captain''s orders all promptly responded with "Aye, captain!" in acknowledgment. The vice-captain promptly set to work figuring out the bearing and distance to the coordinates given on the bridge''s navigational chart. Almost immediately pinpointing the location the coordinates pointed to on a chart using the Le Brias Meridian, he grabbed a compass and pencil to figure out the missing values of the remaining variables. As he did so, he couldn''t keep at bay the thoughts that circled in his head. His experience quelled this curiosity, using the several missions he had been on beforehand as proof that this was not out of the ordinary. Still, he felt that there was more to this than just the coordinates. After all, there was no harm in asking. "29¡ã 34'' 12.92" North, 0¡ã 28'' 11.09" East... That''s oddly specific from Naval Command for just a random patch of the strait." The vice-captain directed the question to Bos, whose presence he could feel to his side, looming over the chart. The captain replied with a barely audible "Mhm," to which the vice-captain, still wanting answers, made more conversation. "Got an important target, perhaps? What did the order say?" A man of few words, Bos simply laid the piece of paper flat on the navigational chart for the vice-captain to read. His eyes dotted back and forth between the paper and the course he was preparing, juggling words and values as he processed them each; the course was almost done, but comprehending the thought process of the ones that issued the order was an unexpectedly more difficult task. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! Proceed to 29¡ã 34'' 12.92" North, 0¡ã 28'' 11.09" East, and merge with Squadrons 1 through 12. Command of this new task force will be given to Mirliva (Vice Admiral) Iskann; details of the operation to follow. There were no important targets for them to engage, only an order for their squadron to merge with several others to form a task force under Vice Admiral Iskann. What confused him and Bos was not just how vague the orders were but the scale of the task force being formed. "What the hell? ''Squadrons 1 through 12''? That''s essentially the entire navy!" The vice-captain''s tendency to loudly air his feelings got the entire bridge to glance his way, but their bewildered expressions were in response to the contents of the orders. Bos furrowed his eyebrows in mild agitation, yet he nonetheless entertained him. "I don''t understand it either. It is certainly a break from the strategy of Navy Command, which leads me to wonder if something had happened to push them to change." Two ideas popped into their head: the logistical burden of an entire navy engaged in continued operations was starting to have an effect back home; the lack of significant results against the enemy had irked someone back home. While the first possibility was indeed imaginable, both Bos and the vice-captain had a gut feeling that the second was the truth, although neither was necessarily mutually exclusive. As much as they had a lot of reservations about the orders, they were in no position to question them, let alone disobey them. Not long since the orders were given, the vice-captain had finished the course plan for their destination. "Got it. Course 035." Captain Bos promptly relayed the course to the helmsman. "Right standard rudder, steer course 035." "Aye! Course 035." The helmsman repeated the course as was protocol and relayed this order through his muscles toward his hands, which were both on the ship''s wheel. The turning of the ship''s wheel had an immediate effect: the Andras Kaymakk''s right rudder turned starboard, forcing the hulking steel vessel on a slight turn to the right; its maneuver was mirrored by the Saveh. The massive battleship, what would likely have been regarded as a "pre-dreadnought" by Earth standards, listed slightly to port thanks to inertia as it executed its turn. While its lookouts constantly watched the skies for enemy wyvern patrols, the battleship and cruiser pair steamed steadily toward their uncertain mission. Krall?k-class battleship Andras Kaymakk, 29¡ã 34'' 12.92" North, 0¡ã 28'' 11.09" East (roughly 100km southwest of Menda Point), 16:30 A mix of warm, soothing orange and powerful magenta colors painted the late afternoon skies in this empty patch of the sea as the sun was well on its way beneath the horizon to the far west. There were no clouds in the vicinity, a far cry from the conditions not long ago, and an intermittent yet weak wind blew to the west. In this random part of the Altaras Strait, a rather conspicuous gathering of forces¡ªone that is unimaginably powerful, especially this far east¡ªwas occurring. The gigantic hulking steel behemoths of the Royal Altaran Navy, the Andras Kaymakk and the Rahmi Kaymakk, dominated the scene with their formidable array of guns in full display, although they were not alone: the barbette ironclads Arirmuslu and Shubdere, sisters of the doomed Orhasli and Hudaden sunk in the Battle of Messina, added their own complement for show. The Saveh-class cruisers, of which there are only five and they all comprised the entirety of the cruiser designation for Altaras, were all in attendance as well; five older ironclads, consisting of a mix of central battery and broadside types, were present too. But it wasn''t these ships that made the bulk of the burgeoning task force: all around them were dozens upon dozens of wooden ships with their sails neatly furled away. Aging legacies of an era of naval warfare that the region (or at least its most powerful states) was slowly ditching, these rated ships still formed the bulk of the Altaran navy''s roster and still fulfilled roles that were relevant to their needs. The necessity for a large force to defend the kingdom''s extensive coastline and the competitive circumstances surrounding the procurement of Central and Muish Great War surplus meant that these older ships were still kept in service with varying success at attempts to modernize them. Some were up-gunned; some were up-armored; some received both but were worse off than if they only received one upgrade; some could even be considered bonafide ironclads, albeit of a cruder build than purpose-built ones. Numbering a total of 59 warships in addition to 40 sloops of war and auxiliaries, it was perhaps the single largest naval force currently in operation in the Altaras Strait. But rather than send a massive, intimidating message to their northerly enemy, their concentration in one place had meaning... or not¡ªit depends on whether you ask King Taara or his navy commanders. Although, if you asked the highest-ranking officers on this battlefield out at sea, they would probably say there is, but only because they feared undue danger to their person or close circle for the crime of challenging orders, especially if these were marked with the royal stamp. On board the Andras Kaymakk, its officers and crew gathered on the deck on the fore port side. They formed a corridor that led and continued inside the ship with officers as this corridor''s ''wall.'' They stood perfectly still even as the intermittent wind blew on their full-dress uniforms. Their expressions were blank and mostly emotionless, and their eyes pointed forward, but their attention was focused on movement coming from a gangway that was fixed onto the rails. Then, a hand emerged, clinging onto the railing of the gangway; before long, another hand appeared and clung to the opposite railing. The distinct service cap of a flag officer was the next to appear, and then finally, the flag officer themselves in the Altaran Navy service dress. The officer, an aged man with a pronounced jawline and facial features that was a bit shorter in stature than most of the enlisted men lined up to welcome him, took to the gangway''s last step before the deck. This man was none other than Mirliva (Vice Admiral) Iskann. As soon as the vice admiral was in full view of the deck, the ship''s vice-captain shouted at the top of his lungs. "Mirliva on deck!" At once and in simultaneous fashion, the crew of the Andras Kaymakk rendered their salutes to the vice admiral and the officers that accompanied him. Several sailors behind them blew their trumpets to a melodic tune that easily pierced the silent atmosphere, signaling the vice admiral''s arrival and presence. The vice admiral stepped onto the battleship''s wooden deck and returned the salutes of the honor guard receiving him, making his way down the corridor that they had arranged for him. It was a rather quick and simple ceremony, but it was still the best the crew of the Andras Kaymakk could give, given the remoteness of their current location. Once the vice admiral entered the brightly lit interior of the battleship, he was greeted by the ship''s captain, Matehan Bos, with a quick and proper salute. "Mirliva." The usually stoic-faced captain loosened his facial muscles, and his eyes appeared to glint in the incandescent glow of the interior lights when he greeted the vice admiral. "Binbasi." The vice admiral returned the prompt greeting, but his facial expression was a tad more relaxed than when he initially boarded the vessel. "It is my pleasure to welcome you aboard the Andras Kaymakk, Mirliva." Bos put his hand on his chest as he nodded his head slightly, the tone in his voice soft. "No, no, no, Bos: the pleasure is mine." Iskann let out a smile that stretched from ear to ear, which was difficult to spot from underneath his thick beard, something that wasn''t an issue to someone who knew him well. Taking the smile, in addition to the vice admiral''s dropping of rank formalities, as they were, Bos gestured to his senior officer toward the direction that he would accompany him. "I will show you to your quarters." Sensing that the captain wasn''t reciprocating his familiar actions, Iskann chided him, "You need not be so stiff with me, Bos." "Maybe once we''re back on land." Bos chuckled from underneath his breath, taking the vice admiral''s chiding to effect, but he heard no reply. He glanced to his right, where Iskann walked alongside him, and saw the telltale signs of a disheartened man. What were just a minute ago, gleaming eyes filled with trust were replaced with ones of distraught. It didn''t take long for him to pin this change in behavior on what he had just said about going back to land, a deduction that transported his thoughts to the order they had initially received from Navy Command. The captain and the vice admiral walked through the long corridors of the battleship, passing by water-tight doors and flanked on all sides by steel walls. The ship''s personnel, especially those that didn''t join the welcome ceremony due to their duties being essential to the ship''s most important functions, saluted the two officers when their paths crossed. After a couple of minutes of walking through the increasingly damp corridor, they finally reached a certain steel door not too different from the others that they had passed. Bos opened it and entered the room behind it: a spacious accommodation with decorated wooden walls, elaborate wall lighting fixtures, an office desk next to a comfortable-looking chair, and a neatly prepared bed with thick, padded pillows that were easily worth ten pillows of the quality distributed to the enlisted sailors. It was just about as damp as the corridor outside, and there didn''t seem to be any climate control equipment, but other than that, it was the best quarters anyone could ask for on a warship. "These will be your quarters." Bos indicated, stating the obvious. Thankful for a myriad of reasons besides the welcome and the gesture, Iskann patted his taller friend on the arm. "Thanks, Bos." He could hear the honest gratitude in his voice, but the distressed look on the vice admiral''s face was still there. Before he could ask him about it, the vice admiral chuckled. "Heh, you know... This well-kept room reminds me of the accommodation on the Rahmi." The vice admiral seemed to be referring to the Rahmi Kaymakk, the Andras Kaymakk''s sister and an equally formidable battleship. There was a light tone to his voice when he started, but that quickly changed to a more heated tone. "...or at least this is what the accommodations there should have been." His voice has taken a raspy, coarse quality, sounding closer to an old man who was about to ramble about something. The vice admiral proceeded to walk toward the center of the room. "When I was shown the room by that punk of a vice-captain, I was immediately greeted with the smell of tobacco. And what do you know? I spotted piles of ashes¡ª" He pointed to several spots in the room as he groaned, "There! And over there!" over and over. He then turned to face Bos and motioned his fingers to and from his mouth, mimicking the smoking of rolled tobacco leaves. "And that''s not all: not only did those idiots not know how to clean up after their mess, but they also didn''t know how to handle munitions, even if they knew it''d kill them!" Iskann started to talk about an incident from earlier this month. "When we were back in Le Brias to resupply, the fucking dolts were smoking while handling the 343mm rounds! I had to take the burning rolls from their mouths myself and gave them and their officer a proper scolding!" At this point, the vice admiral''s face had reddened to the degree that it seemed like he was starting to sear all over. Bos started to snicker. As much as he knew how detrimental to combat performance these mannerisms were, the case of the Rahmi''s crew was not unique. The newest ships bought from the powers were hardly three years into their service with the navy and were all procured at the same time, presenting the navy with the dilemma of finding manpower to man these new ships. A portion of the officers on board these ships, including Bos and his vice-captain, were already long-time navy officers, but the bulk of the enlisted sailors on board both the Andras and Rahmi battleships in addition to the other bigger ships, were press-ganged into service. That, together with them only spending a couple of years in training and running a battleship combined, led to a pretty questionable outlook for their competence in battle. He couldn''t even expect the most seasoned of officers, which had to immediately adapt to relatively more sophisticated equipment and weaponry in comparison to their previous stations, to be ironclad in their work given these circumstances. "The orders were for me to remain on the Rahmi, but I petitioned them to allow me to switch flagships to the Andras, which..." Just then, the vice admiral mentioned the orders, which Bos promptly picked up. Having been looking for a good opportunity to talk to the vice admiral, who was a long-time friend of his, about them, he quickly jumped on it and cut his rambling short. "My apologies, but this has been bugging me for a while now. I''m not in a position to ask as a captain, but allow me this moment to talk to you as a friend: what were those orders?" Bringing it up directly, he witnessed the distraught look return to Iskann''s face. After exhaling deeply, the vice admiral''s expression changed from one of anxiety to that of forlorn determination. "This was supposed to be saved for the briefing, but I''ll let you in on it early..." The vice admiral told the captain about the orders, which were just about as frank and concise as the ones issued to him and the other squadron commanders. Navy Command, as per the orders of His Majesty, King Taara XIV, has ordered Squadrons 1 through 12, to be led by Mirliva (Vice Admiral) Iskann, to chase after a Parpaldian squadron, which is currently fleeing north after suffering extensive damage in an engagement with Squadron 2. After destroying this Parpaldian squadron, the new task force, to be named "Selma," is to attack and launch a company of marines on Menda Point, a Parpaldian-held string of islands roughly halfway between the Parpaldian Empire and the kingdom of Altaras, and take it for the King. Bos''s face, upon hearing this, visibly went pale as bulbs of sweat popped up all over his face. His thoughts immediately went to how they were at a disadvantage by forming a massive task force against the Parpaldians. "We are superior to the Parpaldians ship for ship, but no matter how big of a force we assemble, the Parpaldians will always be able to assemble a bigger force. That is not even the biggest concern: the Parpaldians have a larger wyvern corps with better wyverns and riders! They have eyes all across the strait, all the time! I wouldn''t be surprised if they''ve already caught wind of our amassing here!" Worrying thoughts swirled into his head as every strategy he considered almost always ended with a high possibility of defeat. His head started to spin, which he tried to resolve by taking a seat on the bed and resting his head on his hands. As he was caught in the midst of this storm of anxieties, he felt the warm, friendly, reassuring touch of a palm on his left shoulder. He looked up to find a standing Iskann, still wearing that determined look on his face, but there were also some of the distressed feelings from earlier. "Our strategy is not yours to worry over, Binbasi. What matters right now is that we have to fulfill our orders, for that is already set in stone." There was a hint of forlornness in the vice admiral''s voice when he uttered the latter sentence. This was not lost on Bos, and neither was the reason why. And he needed not to imagine: back at the hometown he and Iskann were from, they knew someone younger than them that entered the Altaran Royal Guard. He was clumsy and knew not how to care for himself, but he had a kind heart and the willingness to improve. He was posted at the Mausoleum of Yasmin, the big, flashy building at the Royal Palace complex in the middle of the capital that was dedicated to the king''s departed wife. His orders were simple: stand guard without fail until relieved. Weeks into his assignment, Taara personally had him thrown into the prison at the Ahikhaya Fortress, the sea fort defending Le Brias''s port. Apparently, he went away from his designated post when he had to save someone who fell while tending to the flowers on the mausoleum''s upper floors. Unluckily for him, Taara was in the mausoleum to witness this act of ''insubordination.'' They knew all too well that the king was heartless, but he was only heartless when his word isn''t upheld or followed. Unfortunately for them, his word was that they were to engage a Parpaldian squadron and fortified island garrison, with the high probability that the Parpaldian Navy was already well aware of their presence¡ªand worse of all, their objective. The supposed near future of them seeing each other ''back on land'' suddenly seemed so distant. So improbable. But the vice admiral was right: there was no disobeying His Majesty''s orders. Carrying the accursed weight this knowledge wrought on his consciousness, Captain Bos excused himself to return to the bridge and leave Vice Admiral Iskann to his devices. As the sun drew closer to the horizon and the sky was further dyed a deeper red, the flag of the vice admiral was flown above the Andras Kaymakk, signaling to all¡ªwhether they be enemies or allies¡ªthat this Altaran battleship was to be the flagship of this newly formed task force. Empereur-class battleship Carles D¨ªdac Gallaire, somewhere in the Altaras Strait, 17:00 On the other side of the Altaras Strait, the upper half that was closer to the southern coast of the gigantic Philades continent, which formed the heartland of the powerful Parpaldian Empire, another massive force of ships had amassed. Unlike the Altaran task force far to the south, this group of ships was already moving; it was also growing as more and more ships sailed from all over to join the burgeoning fleet. There were a lot fewer sailships than the Altaran fleet, but there were a lot more of the bigger, more menacing capital ships¡ªbut they all seemed a tad less intimidating than their southern counterparts. Adding to the miscellany of wooden and masted ships, broadside and turreted, and small and big guns was the mismatch of magic and non-magic propulsion systems. Some of the big battleships, which would classify as "pre-dreadnoughts" by Earth standards, spewed out columns of thick black smoke as they sailed, while some didn''t. But despite this mishmash conglomeration of paradigms, they were all united by the banner of imperial red and gold that every ship flew atop their masts. Consisting primarily of ships from the Parpaldian Imperial Navy''s 1st Armee Corqueuxima, the formation with jurisdiction over the Altaras Straits, but also complemented with support ships and warships from the 2nd and 3rd, this recently formed Parpaldian task force steadily steamed under the rapidly darkening winter skies. Their destination had been clear from the start: Menda Point. Leading this heavily armed task force was a certain battleship located to the right of the ship that was positioned at the center of the formation. This battleship, armed with a main battery of four 279mm guns in dual mounts¡ªone fore and one aft¡ªand a blistering array of secondaries in casemate and deck mounts, was capable of withstanding dozens of hits from guns its own caliber. Given the honor to be named with the non-regnal name of an emperor, the Carles D¨ªdac Gallaire was also given the honor to be considered the most powerful warship in the Parpaldian Imperial Navy. The ship had been bought from scrapyards of the Leiforian Navy two years prior and delivered a year later. It was so new that its original Leiforian designation was still painted on the battleship''s bow, one of a series of signs of a quick sale and transfer. This was also apparent inside, where many fixtures and equipment, ranging from something as unimportant as furnishings to important things such as fire fighting equipment and pipes, were in various states of disrepair and overuse. In the room used by the Deuxi¨¨me imposrion (vice admiral), two of the seven light fixtures were still broken, having been due for replacements since the battleship had been bought but had never been fixed. Bemoaning the lack of lighting since the two broken ones were near his desk, which also had no desk lamp, Deuxi¨¨me imposrion (Vice Admiral) Pommerau tried to ignore this minor problem as he read through a piece of paper he was holding in his hands for the nth time. He murmured the words under his mustache repeatedly as if to find some hidden fault he had never noticed before. "Intelligence suggests substantially large Altaran Navy force amassing north of Le Brias, with the last known heading reported to be consistent with Squadron 5''s course. Regroup with Squadrons 6 through 24 at 30¡ã 16'' 5.92" North, 1¡ã 19'' 36.80" West, and proceed to Menda Point. Combat readiness is to be raised to Stage 2... Intelligence suggests substantially large Altaran Navy¡ª" These orders, which he received from the prefect command, were an enigma. The squadrons indicated consisted of the Parpaldian Navy''s most powerful warships and more. While the prospect of leading such a distinguished force made him nervous, the reasoning behind this drastic change of strategy, which had been to avoid protracted engagements and starve the Altaran navy and wyvern corps in attrition, was what concerned him. Putting all the Navy''s eggs in one basket just seemed like a bad decision, but for Pommerau, an officer that had a penchant for doing things to the letter, he could only trust that his superiors had access to information that made a decision like this seem reasonable. "Just follow... the plan..." So far, they''ve only been ordered to amass, sail to Menda Point, and heighten their combat readiness. While it''s been indicated that a big Altaran force may be heading to Menda Point, there was nothing concrete about them having to face off against them. He mulled over whether this was a trap, as the Altarans could utilize their superior firepower and range to choose their engagements; even if they were dumb enough to choose to engage them in a pitched battle, their bigger guns were sure to leave stinging wounds on his fleet. He got up from his seat as he was unable to break the stalemate with his worries. He pondered, taking a walk around the Carles D¨ªdac Gallaire, which, while its rusting steel walls and uneven corridor lighting leaves a lot to be desired was a lot better than being cooped up in a room as claustrophobic as his. Just as he was about to leave the vicinity of his desk, two loud knocks reverberated across the echo chamber-like room. They seemed to have come from the steel door, the room''s only point of entry. "Enter!" Pommerau barked at the door, which swung open to reveal one of the young men he recognized to have come from the communications room. After a quick salute, the young man spoke in a wavering voice. "F-From Prefect Command, s-s-sir!" The young man had a stammer mouth. Thinking it may have been his tall, imposing stature, Pommerau drooped his shoulders and relaxed his eyes in an effort to get him to calm down. "Speak slowly and articulate your words. You need not be so uptight, lest you mess up the contents of the message you are trying to tell me." Heeding the vice admiral''s words, the young man took a few seconds to calm down before he started talking again. "New reports from wyvern reconnaissance confirm that a substantially large Altaran Navy force is chasing after Squadron 5. Task Force Nalina, as you will now be referred to, is to intercept, engage, and destroy this hostile task force." The orders to attack this big Altaran fleet had now been given. Before Pommerau could dive into concocting a strategy, the young officer handed him a sheet of paper. "This was also sent together with the new orders, sir." Pommerau took a look at the sheet of paper, and his eyes immediately widened. What he saw was a near-conclusive list of what the Altaran task force consisted of. While Altaran wyverns ensured that their own recon wyverns didn''t get close to see the actual makeup of the fleet, deductions from the lack of recent sightings of certain squadrons and the checking of Altaran navy patrol patterns gave Parpaldian military intelligence some ideas. The product of that intelligence was what was written in the paper Pommerau was holding, and it gave him useful insight as to what to prepare for¡ªnot to mention how instrumental a victory in this engagement would be. "These... These are all their capital ships!" The Altarans had put all of their eggs in one basket. A victory here was war-winning. The first thing that entered his mind was what kind of dull-witted dimwit decided to put every Altaran capital ship into one force. Right now, there were two variables he needed: the objective of this Altaran task force and whether or not they could monitor this task force. The first variable seemed to be clear as day: they were chasing after Squadron 5, mauled at an engagement with an Altaran squadron earlier and limping to the safety of Menda Point. But he was going off the consistency of two reports that were only a couple of hours apart. It was vexing to consider the possibility that this deduction of his may be wrong, but he''ll have to consider this variable solved for now. As for the other variable, that would require the cooperation of the wyvern corps. Determined to see this strategy through, he turned back to the communications officer. "Alright, I¡ª" Just before he could issue orders, he caught a glance of another uniformed man appearing at the doorway. Wearing a similar uniform to this young officer, Pommerau deduced that this other man was also from communications. "Sir!" The officer saluted as he called out. "New transmission from Prefect Command!" The officer handed him another piece of paper with another list of ships. However, unlike the first one, this one included sloops of war, rated ships, the speed and heading of the fleet, and even which one was the flagship. His hands began to shake, not from nervousness but from exhilaration. It was obvious to a man as learned as him that this report had come from either a visual assessment or intelligence acquired from the Altaran Navy Command itself. There was one way to find out. "Did Prefect Command give details about where this came from?" He asked the other communications officer for more details. "The wyvern corps, sir. They didn''t say anything more than that." "Figures," Pommerau murmured to himself. As a flag officer, he had an inkling as to how the wyvern corps conducts their reconnaissance, and it wouldn''t be a surprise if they had pulled some tactical genius to get these details on the Altaran task force. They were so potent at their job that they were even tracking the movement of the Altaran wyvern corps itself, something that allows them in the navy to know whether they were spotted by the enemy or not. Judging from the fact that their heading remains unchanged, it was likely that they didn''t even notice they had been observed¡ªa massive advantage that they could exploit. Seeing the stars align for them, Pommerau knew that the only thing left to do was to make it happen. After dismissing the communications officers, he went straight to contacting the other commanders of Task Force Nalina to brief them about the recent developments. The Prefect Command, having already surmised that the Altaran Royal Navy Command may have sent its capital ships on this mission, have briefed them beforehand on contingency battle plans; with it being definitely certain that the Altaran task force was bringing all of its eggs in one basket, Vice Admiral Pommerau activated one of those contingency battle plans. In less than 18 hours, after months of impasse, the war between the Parpaldian Empire and the kingdom of Altaras is about to witness its most climactic event yet. Chapter 31: Battle of Menda Point Part 2 6:25, Cent. Calendar 27/01/1640, La Roche, Menda Point It was a cold winter morning in the straits like any other. A thin layer of fog hugged the surface of the ocean, dissipating by the minute as the golden streaks of a rejuvenated sun came rushing out of the horizon to the east. In the midst of this empty ocean lay hundreds of floating black stones several meters wide, jutting into the sky from the seas like the teeth of a colossal underwater monster. These clusters of jagged rocks, a definite hazard to any seagoing vessels, surrounded a group of three bigger islands, the biggest of which was hardly more than several square kilometers wide. The lack of significant vegetation and port facilities, natural resources for growth, and land to build settlements on ensured that no one colonized this place¡ªat least, not until recently. As part of its long-term objective of securing regional dominance, the Parpaldian Empire had set its eyes on this group of unnamed islands. There was nothing of note on the islands except for guano, bird droppings used as fertilizer, but the Parpaldians weren¡¯t there for resources. By planting the flag on one of the more hospitable islands, which it called La Roche, Parpaldia was stamping its hold on the Altaras Strait intending to put more of the waterway under its sole control. In order to realize its designs on this southern region, it was paramount that these islands, collectively given the name Menda Point, were to be under their control. Building a lighthouse on where they initially planted their flag, they followed it by stationing a permanent garrison to keep the other major power, Altaras, at bay. ¡°Ughhh...¡± The lone groan of a man echoed throughout the empty, pristine island, startling a couple of sea birds that had perched atop the battlements of an artillery dugout. ¡°Just a few more minutes, dammit...¡± Allin, a soldat unfortunate enough to be posted in the middle of nowhere, was having a conundrum. As part of the night shift, which was about to end at 6:30 in the morning, he was supposed to have kept watch for the better part of the night. It was an unfair patrol system, adopted because there were only 20 of them on the island, and he just had to have rolled the worst possible face on the die. In what was essentially the middle of an endless ocean with nothing better to do, the most excitement he could enjoy was battling the vices of slumbering. ¡°Ah, shit...¡± He leaned more against the cold, wooden chair of his westerly outpost. He could feel himself losing to the overwhelming power of his eyelids. It was soon to be decisive. ¡°Two minutes probably wouldn¡¯t hurt anyone...¡± He had just lost the battle of wills. Conceding to his carnal desire to rest, he finally allowed his eyelids to shut close. But just as they were about to, his sense for patrolling, cultivated after months on the job, noticed a discrepancy in the sliver of light entering his eyes. This also prompted him to jerk himself awake, and in a matter of moments, he was up on his feet as if he hadn¡¯t been succumbing to sleep just a while ago. ¡°Hm?¡± The discrepancy he noticed was two dark specks contrasting against the light blue morning sky to the west. His thoughts immediately considered them as wyverns, but the pressing fact he needed to know was whose side these wyverns were on. Binoculars in hand, he pointed them toward the two dark specks and looked through them. Sure enough, he was on the money about them being wyverns, but upon closer inspection of their identifiers¡ªcolored markers on the wings, tail, and abdomen of a wyvern for visual friend-or-foe identification¡ªhis heart skipped a beat. They were unmistakably blue and white: not the colors of the imperial banner, but of Altaras¡ªof the enemy¡¯s! Immediately, blood shot through his arteries as his fight-or-flight response kicked into gear. He shouted at the top of his lungs. ¡°Two enemy wyverns, coming in low from the west! They¡¯re heading toward us!!!¡± Just as fast as startled sea birds flew off in surprise, the Parpaldian garrison of La Roche swiftly went into gear, alerted to the Altaran wyverns¡¯ presence. After Allin¡¯s call, others took to their binoculars to confirm the threat; hardly two minutes after his initial call, anti-wyvern munitions were already being brought out of the magazine and carried to the mortars. ¡°Prepare to fire the anti-wyvern shells!!!¡± Their officer barked as the two enemy wyverns continued their approach. The garrison¡¯s two mortar teams quickly loaded anti-wyvern shells into their dual-purpose mortars; in less than 20 seconds, their gunners had already put their hands on the primer mana circuit located on the mortar¡¯s barrel and raised their other hand, signaling that they were ready. The garrison officer watched as the enemy wyverns continued to close the distance. They were heading toward them, but they didn¡¯t seem to be on an angle of attack. Judging from their movements, he deduced that they were simply conducting a scouting pass. Regardless of whether or not they were there to attack, their mission wasn¡¯t to allow their presence unhindered. As soon as they were almost above them, the garrison officer barked. ¡°FIRE!!!¡± Through a switch, the mortar gunners activated the primer mana circuit, its pre-programmed spell executed in just a little over two seconds. The mortar teams covered their ears immediately after the switch had been activated, their actions followed instantly by two distinct, resounding booms. Bam! Bam! In a fiery show of smoke and embers, two round objects were blasted at a steep angle that sent them high into the sky. As soon as they were airborne, the shells¡¯ ticking timed fuses were well on their way to being exhausted. ¡°Take cover!!!¡± Every single man on the ground hid beneath what cover they could find¡ªthe earthen dugouts, the brick battlements, or the sufficiently sturdy steel shielding of their artillery pieces¡ªto prepare for what was to come. As the anti-wyvern shells were about to reach their zenith, their timed fuses were exhausted, causing their detonators to ignite their explosive filler. In a flash, two fireballs manifested in the air. Boom! Boom! The explosions¡¯ blast wave unfurled in all directions, followed closely by thousands upon thousands of steel shrapnel traveling at ultra-fast speeds. Any wyvern unfortunate to have been caught in the blasts of these anti-wyvern shells, whether they be the regular breed or the overlord breed, would be utterly obliterated. A few seconds after the fact, the rain of shrapnel had ceased, and the officer motioned that it was now safe to come out. The men emerged from their blast covers, coughing up smoke and dust sent flying by the mortars¡¯ firing and the shrapnel hitting the earth. They looked up to see the flowers of explosive smoke created by their anti-wyvern shells, dissipating into the wind by second. But there were no wyverns visible. Perhaps they had shot them down in that engagement. Just as the officer was about to order a couple of the men to search for downed wyverns, Allin, ever sharp-eyed, shouted once more at the top of his lungs. ¡°Spotted the two enemy wyverns! They seem to have avoided our shots and are now flying south!¡± Everyone swiveled their heads to face south. There, in the rapidly brightening sky, they spotted the two Altaran wyverns seemingly unscathed and flying off into the distance. They knew not why they had only conducted a scouting pass of the island, but the fact that they allowed a couple of enemy wyverns to get close to La Roche and not shoot them down left a bitter taste in everyone¡¯s mouth; some were dejected enough to hurl curses at the sky. ¡°You motherfuckers! Come back here!¡± The garrison officer took off his cap as he exhaled in mild disappointment. This had been the only action they¡¯d had in a while, and the fact that they didn¡¯t snag even one of the enemy wyverns was a difficult pill to swallow. After discarding those feelings, an idea popped into his head as to why an Altaran wyvern squadron decided to pay them a visit. But before he could brood over that idea, one of his men manning the island¡¯s lone manacomm called his attention. ¡°Sir! Incoming transmission from a friendly wyvern squadron! They say they¡¯re coming in from the north!¡± The officer¡¯s mood lightened up to the point that a smile appeared on his face. Talk about good timing! As a garrison on an immovable rock, there was little they could do against an enemy as maneuverable as a wyvern, but a wyvern squadron¡ªa friendly wyvern squadron that was likely flying the improved wyvern lord breed¡ªcould even the scales. Desiring to get back at those pesky Altarans, the officer walked up to his subordinate. ¡°That¡¯s great! I¡¯ll take it from here.¡±
6:44, the skies above La Roche High in the skies, just a little bit north of La Roche flew two great, winged lizards. Including their wingspan, these mighty lizards were about as big as the legendary prop fighter planes of the Second World War, but their tough scales, mean-looking faces, and razor-sharp claws made them more intimidating to look at than when considering their air warfare capabilities. These lizards¡ªwyverns, as everyone calls them¡ªwere bigger, faster, stronger, and had more stamina than their counterparts in the Altaran wyvern corps. Flying the identifiers of red and gold, these two wyvern lords belonged to the Parpaldian Empire and its elite, all-encompassing wyvern corps. As they glided along the wind to conserve energy and allow for longer times in the air, the crackle of manacomm speakers flaring to life replaced the sound of the wind in the ears of Reckmeyer, a seasoned wyvern rider and the senior in this squadron. "Kkjakskd...¡ªGaleas-4, this is Roche Station. Do you hear me? Over." He heard the voice of a man different from the one he conversed with earlier. "This is Galeas-4. I hear you, Roche Station. Over." "Greetings, Galeas-4, and welcome to La Roche. Logging you down..." As was protocol in the wyvern corps and the Parpaldian military, overseas stations like the one in La Roche are required to log down the unit of a passing wyvern patrol and the time they arrived and left; the wyvern patrol is required to report the station they passed and what time they arrived and left back to their base. "Acknowledged. We''re just passing by, so we''re flying out again. Farewell! Galeas-4, o¡ª" Just before he could complete his sentence, the voice on the other end cut him off. "Wait! A few minutes ago, at around 6:30, an enemy wyvern patrol just flew over; they didn''t attack, and they seemed to be just doing a scouting pass. We counted a total of two regulars, and they were last heading south at around 150!" Alarmed about the enemy wyvern patrol but finding it within expectation, Reckmeyer took note of his targets: two "regulars"¡ªlingo for the common wyvern breed¡ªwith a last known heading of 150 degrees south. He looked over to his wingman, Rou, flying to his right and communicated to him that they were changing their patrol mission to that of a wyvern hunter. He turned on his manacomm again to speak. "Two enemy regulars, last heading 150. Got it! Anything else to add?" "That would be all. Fair winds, Galeas-4. Logging you out at 6:46. This is Roche Station, out." "Copy, 6:46. See you around Roche Station. Galeas-4, out." Switching channels to that of his main base back in Palmerie, Reckmeyer reports their station and departure time. As they pass over the almost tree-less La Roche island, they spot the lighthouse built atop its highest point and the modest line of fortifications built around it. All around the dugouts and artillery positions were the silhouette of the island''s garrison, who seemed like ants from their perspective flying over them. Those same people he saw turned to face them and waved their hands in greeting; he and his wingman returned the gesture and waved their hands back at them. As the two wyvern lords of squadron Galeas zoomed south past the Parpaldian-held islands, the men on La Roche waved them farewell, sending them off with pride and hopes as high as the heavens.
6:53, the skies south of Menda Point Meanwhile, several kilometers south of Menda Point and just narrowly missing the Parpaldian wyvern patrol that entered the area, two wyvern riders and their wyverns continued to fly south. Emblazoned with blue and white identifiers, the fact that their allegiance lay with the kingdom of Altaras was unmistakable. This squadron of wyvern riders, named "Daigu," had a special mission from Navy Command, but the troubled looks on their faces suggested that there had been a setback. "Dammit! Are you sure they weren''t there?!" The rider piloting the wyvern flying at the front of the formation, squadron commander Saia, couldn''t contain her frustration as she screamed at her manacomm. "Yes, ma''am! I checked every corner of the islands, at least before the swine on Kaskiy fired at us!" The one who replied, Akko, was the one flying behind Saia and the other member of Daigu. "Kaskiy" was the Altaran name for La Roche, given to the island after the Parpaldians occupied it, named it, and claimed it for their own. But the island nor its garrison was not what they were after. As Saia began to tear up in anger beneath her flight goggles, she hovered her hand over a pocket on her saddle, just beneath the flight instruments. It was a pocket with a clear film that allowed its contents to be visible, and inside was a monochromatic picture of a metallic ship: a cruiser. After turning off her manacomm, she cried out into the incoming gale. "Why can''t I do anything right?!" Saia had long dreamt of being a flyer. She grew up fascinated by the mechanical biplanes, first bought by Altaras a decade ago, flying over her hometown in the countryside. There was nothing more exhilarating than being one with the clouds, imagining herself in the pilot''s seat. But to get to be a pilot of those aircraft, that would entail first joining the wyvern corps¡ªin other words, joining the military. As a girl from the countryside, this was an exceptionally difficult thing to do. Women serving in the armed forces was not unheard of: there were stories and tales of women heroes in not only Altaras but all across the region. Regardless of that, there still existed a stigma that women are only meant to serve ''in the rear;'' the idea of women in frontline duties, such as that of a wyvern rider, was still frowned upon. Nevertheless, she persisted against the stigma and mental abuse from her superiors and peers; contrary to their expectations, she came out on top. But the peculiarity of a woman serving at the frontline as a wyvern rider only earned her the annoyance of her peers, the sidelined looks of her superiors, and the disappointment of her family. She got her dream but at an exceptional cost. Believing she could still earn their respect, she strived to achieve something great, but her efforts to be noticed were actively shot down by everyone. It was at this time that the gods appeared to have shined their light on her. Their special mission, handed down directly from Navy Command, was to find the cruiser in the picture, which was last seen heading towards the general area of Menda Point. Their mission was part of a bigger operation involving almost the entirety of the navy, and the magnitude of her role''s importance made her think that success here would land her her big break. With the other squadrons of Altaras''s tiny wyvern corps already preoccupied with other missions, Navy Command entrusted the mission to her squadron, Daigu. She could never forget the irked expression on her superior''s face¡ªprobably because he had no choice in her being chosen for this mission, as he handed her the mission details¡ªand she could never stop herself from giggling at the idea of seeing her superior''s annoyed face after he hears that she was successful in her mission. But right now, that was all in danger. They made a scouting pass of Menda Point and took a good look at the islands'' secluded bays, but the sight of the cruiser eluded them. The garrison on Kaskiy spotted them and fired at them with anti-wyvern munitions, which they evaded just in the nick of time, but they were forced to fly away. "What now, ma''am?" The voice of Akko echoed in her earpiece. What now, indeed? There was a possibility that the cruiser bypassed the islands and continued to sail northeast, but the latest sighting indicated that they were approaching the islands. Knowing the superior number and capabilities of the enemy''s wyvern corps, it was possible that the garrison on Kaskiy had already called on nearby enemy patrols and reported to them their last known heading, meaning that it was risky to try and go back to do another search. Feeling herself shrink at the lack of options and the voice of her superior echoing in her head, saying, "I was right. You were a mistake," she was about to lose it again when her manacomm started beeping. Beep beep beep beep! It was an incoming transmission. Wiping the snot off her nostrils and collecting herself, she turned on the manacomm. "Alqkiaos¡ªDaigu-1, do you read? This is Selma. We are entering the AO at coordinates..." It was Selma, the callsign of the naval task force central to the operation her special mission is a part of. It would seem that they''re finally approaching the vicinity of Menda Point. "Uh¡ªacknowledged, Selma. Proceeding to 29¡ã 48'' 22.57" North, 0¡ã 37'' 0.6'' East. Daigu-1, out." Saia responded to Selma, repeating the coordinates where the naval task force was. In a very high combat readiness situation short of actual combat, if conditions permit, it was common practice for wyvern patrols and the units they cooperate with to share information within visual sight of one another. While the adoption of the manacomm made this redundant, it was still being practiced. The coordinates where the naval task force was put them far to the southwest of Menda Point, so the two wyverns of squadron Daigu took a wide turn towards the southwest. "What do we tell them, ma''am?" Akko, having listened in on the conversation, asked his senior. There was little in the way that they could do about it, but they also just couldn''t tell them that the cruiser wasn''t there. They don''t know that. Finding an uncomfortable solution to this impasse, Saia resolved herself and replied to Akko. "Don''t worry. I''ll handle it." Slicing through the wind at awesome speeds, squadron Daigu settled on their new heading to the southwest as an atmosphere of unease overpowered the overbearing salty smell of the sea.
7:18, the oceans ~78km southwest of Menda Point Far to the southwest of Menda Point, a long array of heavy steel and creaking wood hulls tore through the unusually calm ocean waves of this unassuming late Jaisrak morning. A weak, cold wind was blowing from the southwest, pushing along the partially unfurled sails of the dozens of sailships and dictating the direction that the thick, black smoke exhaled by the steel-hulled ships blew into. This long singular line of warships seemingly stretching into the horizon flew the Altaran standard. Task Force Selma, consisting of 59 warships and 40 support ships and sloops-of-war, was steaming steadily towards Menda Point. Arranged in a manner where the biggest, most powerful warships are sailing in front, with the cruisers, ironclads, and then the rated ships following them in that order, they plowed at half speed through seawater and uncertainty. With the Rahmi Kaymakk, the most powerful battleship in the Royal Altaran Navy, leading the way, its sister ship, the Andras Kaymakk, followed behind. On board the Andras Kaymakk, Mirliva (Vice Admiral) Iskann stood on the bridge together with Binbasi (Captain) Bos, the vice-captain, the conning officer, and the other crew. Other than the constant hum of the ship¡¯s boilers, the clanking of steel under heavy footsteps, and the gawking of seagulls flying about, it was eerily tranquil. But this was prefaced with a tension that hung in the air, its only symptom being the stern look present on everyone¡¯s faces. ¡°Steer 047.¡± The conning officer said out loud, the tension awfully clear in his slow articulation. ¡°Aye! Steer 047.¡± The helmsman repeated the order word for word, the tense tone included. His hands on the ship¡¯s wheel moved it accordingly, and the ship responded with a very slight turn to the right. This was in response to a slight course alteration by the Rahmi Kaymakk, which was traveling ahead of them. Meanwhile, Captain Bos stared at the horizon roughly in the direction of where Menda Point would be. He remembers the emergency discussion from yesterday evening. The heavy atmosphere from that meeting¡ªfrom everyone having the same idea of being sent on this fool¡¯s errand by the king¡ªhad still not dissipated. He kept a calm and composed pose as was expected of an officer, but his hands and jaw shook uncontrollably in silence. Reports from both the lone wyvern squadron accompanying them and lookouts came back with ¡°Clear. No enemy patrols in the vicinity,¡± but there was only so much area their very few eyes could cover. It was not terribly difficult to assume the Parpaldians now knew they were coming and even less so to assume that they had prepared a fleet for them in kind¡ªin fact, that was one of the contingencies they had planned for. But as they approached the group of islands, Vice Admiral Iskann ordered the task force into a battle line, already having that irresistible gut feeling that they were about to face a Parpaldian response fleet. The strain on everyone was at its limit. Everyone¡¯s nerves were at their most sensitive. It was no surprise then that when the shout of a communications officer rang through their ears, it made them jump. ¡°Captain! Daigu-1 is on approach! 060!¡± Instantly recollecting himself from the jitters, Bos walked toward the starboard side of the bridge. ¡°Lookouts! Incoming friendly patrol at 060! Tell me if you have visual confirmation!¡± His orders rapidly made their way to the lookouts, who frantically adjusted their watch to the skies of the northeasterly direction of 060; Bos himself grabbed a pair of binoculars to join in the collective effort. ¡°There! I see them! Two friendly wyverns at 060, 20 degrees from the horizon!¡± One of the lookouts screamed. Everyone readjusted their view according to the lookout¡¯s report, and soon enough, they themselves started to see the distinctive dark silhouette of wyverns against the blue skies. With the blue and white identifiers of their wyvern corps confirmed by the more eagle-eyed spotters, everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief, though the tension nonetheless remained. The two wyverns of squadron Daigu closed in before turning into a circular holding pattern above the fleet to preserve their speed and energy, which they would exhaust a lot of if they had descended to sea level, hovered, and then flew out again. As Saia waved to the flagship from her wyvern, she called out in the manacomm. ¡°Daigu-1 to Selma, reporting in!¡± ¡°Selma to Daigu-1. It¡¯s good to see you!¡± To her and Akko¡¯s surprise, they heard the gruff voice of the vice admiral answering them. The shock of answering to an officer of such a high rank paralyzed her for a good moment, but she recollected herself just as fast, deciding to skip the pleasantries and get down to the mission. ¡°Report: target is confirmed to be in Menda Point! The garrison on Kaskiy is also well-armed with artillery, but I don¡¯t think they should be a problem!¡± Akko¡¯s eyes widened in an uneasy mix of surprise and agreement. They had never spotted the target cruiser in Menda Point, after all. Nevertheless, he elected to swallow his words and go with his superior¡¯s lie. Back on the Andras Kaymakk, hearing of the confirmation that the wounded cruiser of the Parpaldian squadron was in Menda Point, Iskann nodded his head in acknowledgment, but the wariness in his eyes was still there. With their mission proceeding as planned so far, the only thing left to do was to get to Menda Point and carry it out. He turned back to the bridge¡¯s audio-use manacomm to acknowledge the wyvern riders. ¡°Very good, Daigu-1. Thank you for the confirmation.¡± Saia stared blankly at her where she was looking at when those words reached her ears. Her heart had skipped a beat, confused by the information her mind was processing. After all this time training in the flight academy and working with the wyvern corps, she could not recall the last time her efforts had been rewarded with gratitude. But then, reality set in as the cold winds blasted her exposed lips and cheeks, for she remembered the teeny lie she had just uttered to get that reward. Almost as soon as her heart skipped a beat, it skipped another, this time in regret and guilt. ¡°Acknowledged, Selma. We¡¯re resuming patrol run, heading straight north. Daigu-1, out.¡± Her mouth moved on its own, driven by some desire to bury herself in the mire of patrol duty. ¡°Copy, Daigu-1, heading north. May the gods be with you. Selma, out.¡± As soon as the flagship uttered its last words, the channel went silent, replaced by the cascading sound of the wind. She yanked on the control mechanisms on her saddle, a movement the wyvern recognized to mean ¡°bank left;¡± Akko, following her from behind, mirrored her. Soon, squadron Daigu was headed north, leaving the battle line of Task Force Selma behind. 7:18, the skies just south of La Roche At around the same time, far away to the east, just south of La Roche, the pair of wyvern lords of squadron Galeas flew in from the southeast. The wyvern lords purred as they slightly extended their heads toward the direction of the island group, showing their excitement at seeing land again. Their riders, meanwhile, didn''t share the same sentiment as their reptilian comrades. "Well, that was useless." The younger of the two, Rou, made clear his disappointment as he reclined on his saddle. "Not from my perspective, it''s not. Fix your posture." Reckmeyer, ever the mission-focused when on patrol, chided his subordinate. He shared his sentiment, and he would have said the same thing had he been flying with his superiors, but as the metaphorical big brother, he believed that he needed to lead by example. Since they had returned to Menda Point, he needed to log the pass to both Roche Station and Palmerie. "Roche Station, this is Galeas-4..." As his superior logged their pass, Rou took the time to survey the surroundings. As part of the requirements of being in the wyvern corps, they needed to have sharp eyesight and sharper situational awareness. Still, there was only so much they could physically do, so to supplement their capabilities, their wyverns were also trained to seek out threats and report them to their riders. Possessing a much superior sense of smell and eyesight¡ªthey can even see in the dark, although limited¡ªthe wyverns could easily spot another wyvern at a distance greater than their rider, although it isn''t infallible. Through simple groans, growls, and turning their head to where they perceive a threat, they could communicate to their rider where danger might strike. Since his wyvern wasn''t behaving in a peculiar way, he surmised that there weren''t any nearby threats to look out for. Nevertheless, he kept his wits about him. "Oi, Rou!" Suddenly, the loud cry of his superior thundered through his earpiece, causing him to recoil back in pain. He screamed back. "Yes, sir?!" "Trouble''s brewing! The navy task force we''ve been briefed about has just pinged Roche Station. Looks like the heat is coming here!" The wyvern corps has maintained a watchful eye over a certain Altaran Navy task force believed to be shadowing Squadron 5, which had taken shelter in Menda Point and camouflaged itself from wyvern patrols. However, they lost sight of the task force late last night when a couple of Altaran wyvern squadrons actively denied them from shadowing it, so the wyvern corps could only assume where they were heading. Apparently, the navy had an idea of their own: much to their surprise in the daily briefing earlier, they had just been informed by the navy that they were sending a massive task force called "Nalina" to the vicinity of Menda Point. As luck would have it, too, they, squadron Galeas, were assigned the area around Menda Point with the orders to "supplement Task Force Nalina and defend them from aerial threats." Neither he nor Reckmeyer took the orders with the seriousness that demanded it since even their superiors in the wyvern corps themselves weren''t too sure that the Altaran task force was heading to Menda Point. But with the Altaran wyvern patrol passing over La Roche and the navy task force pinging the station, it now seemed believable that an engagement was going to happen. After cursing the lack of communication between the wyvern corps and the navy, all that Rou could do now was follow through on their orders. "Fuck! Are we really going to face off against an Altaran fleet?!" "Language!...and yeah, guess we are." Swallowing their intense feelings of anger and nervousness, squadron Galeos logged off their pass over La Roche and turned to the last known position of the Altaran fleet as per their briefing: far to the southwest of Menda Point.
7:41, the skies ~66km southwest of Menda Point Twenty minutes have passed since squadron Galeas logged their pass over La Roche. The two wyvern lords flew against the wind and descended just a bit from their routine patrol altitude. They were originally headed southwest, but at one point, their wyverns started turning their heads to the northwest, alluding to a possible foreign contact. Heading their wyverns'' groaning, they turned northwest. That was 8 minutes ago, and their eyes were still glued to the northwestern horizon, ready to call out any discrepancies they could spot. "Anything?" Reckmeyer checked in with Rou, hoping he might have seen something he didn''t with his younger eyes. "All clear, cap''n." Rou replied with dry enthusiasm, something that Reckmeyer couldn''t even chide¡ªhe, too, was feeling a bit fatigued. With the initial adrenaline thrill of knowing they''d be entering combat today having worn out, his body felt heavy, likely due to the level of hormones circulating in his body having careened off a cliff. Still, to justify to himself and his subordinate that their initial zeal was not for naught, he kept his eyes glued to the horizon. Then, he felt a distinct, subtle grumble emanate from below his saddle. It was his wyvern lord, growling and extending its neck forward. "What is it, buddy?!" He turned his attention back to the northwesterly horizon and squinted his eyes further. A slight, muddy discoloration to the hazy horizon. Not long after, billowing, black smoke. "Smoke, dead ahead, cap''n!" Rou cried out through the manacomm, informing him that he wasn''t the only one seeing it. Moments later, the billowing black smoke had turned into the size of a storm cloud; it was soon followed by the imposing silhouette of a mast, followed by the smoke stacks, and then finally, the defining steel bow plowing through the waves. And it was not just one: it was an entire line of ships in a battle line, heading northeast. Amidst all that, though, one detail stuck out: the banners of blue and white flying high above the ships. "I-I-It''s the Altarans!" Their words eluded them as the adrenaline started to circulate through their body once more. Their hearts started to beat faster and faster, the pores in their palms outpacing them at the rate at which they pumped out sweat. For a good few seconds, they just stared at the Altaran ships, which were growing in size by the moment. Reckmeyer snapped back first and instantly switched the channel on his manacomm to that of Palmerie Air Base. "Rapace, priority message! I repeat, prio¡ª" Out of nowhere, the deafening thunderclaps of sonic booms blasted his ears: bullets were now zipping past him and Rou en masse. It didn''t take long for them to see where they were coming from. "Shit!" Intermittent flashes erupted out of the decks of the Altaran ships, followed by the rat-a-tat reminiscent of circuit guns and the army''s rapid-fire cannons. "On me, Rou! Ah, fuck¡ª" Reckmeyer called out to his subordinate to follow his lead, but a frightening near-miss from a bullet cut him off. ??? "Two unknown contacts on the horizon, 112!" The resounding cry of one of the lookouts aboard the Andras Kaymakk rang through the ears of everyone on the bridge. The unease that continued to persist made them quick on their feet, prompting anyone with a pair of binoculars to walk to the starboard side and point them to the southeasterly horizon. It didn''t take long for them to spot the unknown interlopers, which were flying relatively lower than they expected. Captain Bos, with his pair of binoculars and aged pair of eyes, struggled to make out the wyverns'' identifiers, but he had his work cut out for him. "P-Parpaldian identifiers confirmed! They''re hostile!" Another lookout screamed, and all at once, everyone''s hearts caved. "This is it!" echoed throughout the heads of every man on the Andras Kaymakk. Jittery and overcome with shock, everyone on the bridge stood still; it wasn''t before the commanding shriek of Vice Admiral Iskann reverberated through the bridge that the crew got into gear. "What are you waiting for?!" Iskann turned to the signalmen and the communications officers and started barking orders. "Tell every ship about those enemy wyverns and to be ready for anti-air combat!" As the signalmen and communications officers acknowledged their orders and executed them with promptness, Captain Bos, as the master of the Andras Kaymakk battleship, took to the reins. "Condition red! All hands, action stations! Ready anti-air! Contact 112!" Whistles and bells rang all throughout the ship as designated sailors hurried to man the anti-air machine guns mounted on the battleship''s starboard deck. "Enemy wyverns, 600 enlac (3km)!" A lookout screamed, prompting the captain and vice admiral to pick up their binoculars and look at the incoming wyverns once more. They were now bigger from their perspective, and they could even make out the wyvern''s features. It was noticeably bigger, bulkier, and had darker scales than the regular wyvern, which indicated that these may be the rumored wyvern lords. Reports were scant on their definite capabilities, but there was one thing that was undoubtedly dangerous about these reptiles: they can turn around and safely report their position back to their scummy overlords. But while they were still coming, it was imperative that they try and ensure that these wyverns¡ªeven if they were the lord breed¡ªnever return home. "400 enlac (2km)!" Sailors rushed to get heavy boxes of machine gun munitions to the guns as their gunners ensured they were in the best shape to fire. In less than a minute, the guns went from being stowed away for storage to being fed, cocked, and ready to spit fire. "All starboard anti-air batteries ready, sir!" With all that was left was the order to let rip the engines of death, Captain Bos stared at the incoming enemy wyverns. They had come close to the point that he could now see the riders, who were staring back at them with a dumb look on their faces; Bos thought to himself that perhaps even these men from the other side were also having their jittery moments. Before he could lament about the sad fact that they had to fight one another, the roar of the lookouts pierced his ears. "200 enlac (1km)!" 200 enlac, well within their machine guns'' range. It wasn''t going to be that effective, and the spread will be atrocious, but it was do or die¡ªnow or never. At this very moment, his mind went blank, but his body, embodied with the mission they needed to carry out, moved on its own. "OPEN FIRE~!" His voice cracked, but before this embarrassing moment could be laughed on, the horrendously vicious staccato of machine gun fire buried it a thousand times over. Ratatatatatat! Flashes erupted all across the Andras Kaymakk''s starboard deck as volleys upon volleys of bullets were blasted into the sky. In a little over five seconds, more than a thousand bullets were airborne. The Andras wasn''t alone: flashes also sparkled from the Rahmi and the Saveh-class cruisers trailing behind them like there was no tomorrow. Bos kept his eyes glued to the pair of binoculars he was holding¡ªin fact, the eyepieces had dug well into his skin to create circular marks around his eye sockets. He watched as blistering hot tracer bullets zipped around the two enemy wyverns, which had begun to react with agitation. But miraculously¡ªor to them, infuriatingly¡ªenough, none of their machine gun fire was hitting the enemy wyverns. Nearly 20 seconds since they started blasting away, they were still yet to achieve any kills when both enemy wyverns suddenly executed a sharp banking maneuver to the left, instantly putting them out of their gunsights. The abrupt change in course caught even seasoned officers like Bos and Iskann by surprise, having never seen a wyvern perform such a brisk and snappy move. The enemy wyverns, having lost considerable energy and speed in such a maneuver, rapidly flapped their wings to regain speed as they flew farther and farther from the Altaran task force. The machine gunners, also caught off guard by the maneuver, readjusted their aim, but as the wyverns were now flying off in a direction more parallel to theirs, they now had to take into account target lead. Their machine guns continued to rattle dozens of seconds after the fact, but as the silhouette of the enemy wyverns grew smaller and smaller, the disappointing fact that they had failed to bring them down had set in. Now that the enemy wyverns were fairly outside their guns'' range, Bos gave the order to cease fire. "Cease fire! Cease fire!" Bos, Vice Admiral Iskann, and everybody on the bridge, their adrenaline finally spent, wore disgruntled expressions on their faces. The only thing that resulted from that engagement was the clouds of propellant smoke, worn-out machine gun barrels, thousands of spent casings on the decks, and an enemy that was now very much aware of their presence, force disposition, and location. Iskann leaned forward on the steel railings on the bridge and placed his arms onto them. He took off his service cap, closed his eyes, and tried to wipe the sweat and dissatisfaction off of his face with his hands, but to no avail. He had come to terms with the fact that no amount of experience and expertise could help him overcome the odds this time; with the enemy now well aware of their presence, it had become undeniably certain that they will respond to them in kind. Sure, they''ve formed into a battle line already, but the enemy knows what to expect; on the other hand, they don''t. With their objective in mind, there were still some tricks and specifics in the enemy''s wyvern patrol patterns that they could exploit to try and avoid further direction. Pulling himself away from the railings and taking an upright stance, he turned to face the bridge crew of the Andras Kaymakk, who looked to him with great expectation. "Fleet, change course to 303, maintain battle line!" As ordered, the Andras Kaymakk''s signalmen and communications officers got to work informing the rest of the fleet. Within half a minute, the battleship Rahmi Kaymakk, which was leading the Altaran line of battle, executed a sharp turn to the left. Keeping their line astern formation, the Andras, and then the Saveh-class cruisers, and so on followed the maneuver of the ship in front of them; before the hand struck 8, all ships of Task Force Selma were now heading northwest.
7:59, the skies ~61km northwest of Menda Point "All sectors seem to be clear." This simple line indicating that there were no abnormalities all around them zapped through a silent manacomm channel as two wyverns flying the Altaran identifiers glided through the clear azure skies. Flying in a staggered formation, the lead rider, Saia, flew ahead of the wingman, Akko. Upon receiving his superior''s report, he, too, broadcasted on the channel with a similar conclusion. "Copy. All sectors are clear." After the last grainy buzz that followed his words played out, silence once more gripped the atmosphere around them, interrupted only by the background sound of winds battering against their headgear. For the past 40 or so minutes since they left Selma to do their patrol, deafening silence had come to characterize the mood between the two. Saia, her lie earlier weighing heavily on her conscience, was hard at work trying to bury all her feelings under a mound of distractions; meanwhile, Akko, unsure of what to say to his superior, resolved to wait for her to try and break the ice, but for every minute of silence that passed, his shoulders grew heavier and heavier from trying to bear the awkwardness. Either way, for as much as this unbearable tension between them persisted and grew, so too did the amount of airspace they''ve crossed that there wasn''t any enemy presence. Sure, they''d rather not have to deal with the better-equipped, trained, and experienced Parpaldian wyvern squadrons, but both riders were feeling that things were going a little too well. "Hm?" Before they knew it, the once spotless blue skies they''d been flying in had become a touch more cloudy as the wings of their wyverns sliced through a group of dense, fluffy clouds like knives through butter. Suddenly, their consistent long-range visibility had dropped to intermittent breaks in the cloud formation. It was unfortunate that they ran into a sudden formation of clouds, and as wyvern riders, they knew that it was imperative that they try and make for the clear skies above this cloud layer to get better visibility. Leading the way, Saia and her wyvern climbed in altitude, following the column of clouds as Akko trailed from behind. Pain gripped their chests as breathing got a lot more difficult from the lower concentration of breathable air, but the wyvern riders persevered, having been trained to endure such conditions for a prolonged amount of time. Spotting a sliver of blue amidst the opaque ceiling of clouds, they flew towards it. Within seconds, they passed through the hole and were once more bathed in a shower of golden sunshine. As soon as they were out of the clouds, Saia and Akko instantly maneuvered their wyverns to execute a roll that put them back on level flight. "Wow..." A weakened breath escaped Saia''s mouth, but it clearly contained a strong tone of amazement. She had flown countless missions up to that point, but the breathtaking sight of a film of pearly white clouds beneath the endless expanse of the deep blue heavens was something that never fails to make her emotional. With her mouth agape at the scenery, for perhaps the first time in the last hour, all that was in her heart was a sense of touching awe. Everything grew silent and the pain in her lungs ebbed away as bittersweet memories of bygone childhood dreams of becoming one with the sky returned to life; if not for the stinging reality of their culture and social norms, she could just be content with being a rider for the wyvern corps if she could do something like this every now and then. "Conta...otted...elev...ock..." Amidst her dazed daydreaming, she was disturbed by the sound of someone screaming something incoherent. At first, she paid no heed to it, charmed by the allure of the escape, but she heard it again, although this time, it was a lot clearer. "Repeat... Contact... eleven... clock... Ma''am!" Her eyes widened as the word "ma''am" stung her ears. In an instant, she returned to her senses, her eyes, ears, and sensation on her fingers having returned to their usual snappy state. She didn''t completely hear what she was hearing, but she knew all too well the voice behind it¡ªabove all, she knew what it meant. Her eyes instantly turned to the eleven o''clock direction and sure enough, she immediately found what her subordinate had been calling out: two unusually large wyverns flying the Parpaldian indicators on a level flight, headed straight toward them. Fuck! She cursed herself for daydreaming on patrol and consequently putting her and her subordinate''s life in danger. It was a far greater shame than the lie she put out to the fleet. But there was no time to lament and regret what could have been; the enemy wyverns were beelining for them, but a split-second visual guesstimate of their speed meant that there was enough time to react, but most importantly: fight back. "Guns, guns, guns!" Saia instantly barked the order for guns, to which she and Akko instantly grabbed the standard issue Muish-built semi-automatic pistol every Altaran wyvern rider is issued with, which was neatly holstered on their saddle on their dominant hand''s side. In less than two seconds, both Altaran riders had taken, cocked, and aimed their pistols at the incoming Parpaldian wyverns. Since wyverns had no inherent capabilities that could be exploited for ranged attacks, scuffles between wyverns of opposing forces occurred in melee range; long ago, this was done by utilizing the wyverns'' naturally strong and sharp claws, but as time went on, they were supplanted with ranged weapons carried by the rider that continued to grow in sophistication. Today, any power that hasn''t managed to make the ultimate jump from wyvern to aircraft armed their wyverns with semi-automatic and even automatic weapons, typically those that could be operated with one hand so as to not burden the rider. Regardless of the technological development, the goal of wyvern-against-wyvern combat remained unchanged from ancient times, which was to inflict the most damage on the squishiest, weakest part of a wyvern: its rider. But due to combat being exhausting and taxing on the limited resources a wyvern can carry, it is often mandated in many wyvern corps that¡ªunless necessary, part of the objective, or remotely possible with limited effort¡ªwyvern riders are not to enter unnecessarily and dragged out engagements with opposing wyverns. This time, however, it would seem that the enemy''s goal was to dispose of them, so there was no other recourse but to fight back. Fortunately, the enemy wyverns were coming toward them at a relatively easy angle to face, allowing both Saia and Akko to discharge their weapons directly in the face of the enemy. But something was off. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Wha¡ª?! The enemy wyverns were closing in far faster than she had initially estimated: they couldn''t fire the amount of shots she was trained to unleash in such a scenario before they were gutted. Just then, she spotted the enemy wyverns extend the claws on all their limbs¡ªthey were now primed for a nasty melee takedown. Her gut instinct called out to her: it''s now or never. "Shit! Evade! Evade! Evade!" She barked onto the manacomm as she swiftly holstered her gun, took the control mechanisms to hand, and maneuvered her wyvern to get out of harm''s way; Akko did the same. Hardly a moment after she did so, she felt a surge of air brush against the exposed nape of her neck. She didn''t need to turn back to see where it came from: the enemy wyvern''s massive claws had just narrowly missed her head as it passed at tremendous speed where she was moments earlier. "Fuck! Fuck! That was too close!" Her heartbeat surged to the hundreds as adrenaline raced throughout her body. Her hands trembled uncontrollably as the fact that she almost died moments earlier took its toll on her psyche. But there was no time to be agitated. "Akko, you there?!" "Yes, ma''am! I''m alright!" The weight on her heart eased a little upon hearing the unscathed voice of her subordinate. Knowing that their numbers were still neck and neck, it was time for them to strike back. She looked towards her far right, instantly spotting the pair of enemy wyverns hugging the cloudscape and continuing on their southwesterly course. With a determined look in her eyes, she resolved herself. "Get your shit together! We''re chasing after them! Form on me!" Saia tugged on her wyvern, getting it to face the direction of the enemy wyvern before adjusting her stirrup-like mechanisms to tell it to increase speed. As her wyvern and Akko similarly hugged the level terrain-like cloud formation underneath, both of them flapped their wings at full force to get to as fast a speed as they could. At one point, they reached 150 km/h, but it was unsustainable for the wyverns to keep this speed lest they wanted to wear them down and force them to the ground. Nevertheless, their efforts were bearing fruit: the distance between them and the enemy wyvern squadron was closing. "Almost there!" The size of the enemy wyverns had grown to match that of their palms fully extended from their body¡ªin other words, they were getting close enough to fire upon with their pistols. Fortunately for them, the enemy wyverns didn''t make any sort of evasive maneuver whatsoever. At Saia''s command, they once again drew their pistols, cocked them, and pointed them right at the backs of the now-visible enemy wyvern riders. The harrowing barrage of winds made it difficult for them to maintain a steady aim, but it would seem that they were afforded all the time in the world. Just as they seemed to have steadied their aim, however... Ah! The enemy wyverns'' large wings extended upwards before instantly flapping, sending a powerful surge of air backward and right into their faces. This destabilized their aim and rocked their wyverns from their stable positions, but it also served the enemy wyverns: before they knew it, the enemy wyverns were about as distant as they were at the start of their chase, resetting all their progress. The mindboggling speed of the enemy''s wyverns baffled Saia and Akko, but it also crushed their hearts; after all, how well could they really fare against what were basically beasts that were superior in all aspects to their own, piloted by men as heartless and as ruthless as those Parpaldian imperialist pigs? But at the same time, they just can''t allow their enemies to have their way. Neither Akko nor Saia held any sympathies for the king, but the thought of Parpaldian boots dirtying the soil of their hometowns was something they could never bring to accept. After a brief moment consoling their wyverns, which are intelligent enough to assume what their riders are asking of them to do, they asked them to exert as much effort as they could one more time; in an instant, the Altaran wyverns broke into a dash once more. Unfortunately, for all their efforts, the distance never closed¡ªif anything, it only kept on growing. No matter how much the Altaran wyverns flapped their wings, they could never seem to gain on their Parpaldian counterparts, which on the contrary had ceased flapping their wings but were still getting further and further away. Before long, the enemy wyverns were about as tiny as half the width of their thumbs fully extended from their person. "Shit!" Just then, the enemy wyverns¡ªalready far enough for their silhouettes to be muddled by the distant haze¡ªturned sharply towards the left, disappearing on a course for the southeast. Accepting that they could no longer chase after them, the two ordered their wyverns to cease their flapping and return to their regular cruising state. Saia, herself exhausted from the ordeal, took the time to catch her breath. She closed her eyes and formulated their next move in her mind. There were two enemy wyverns, probably of the so-called "lord" breed based on their appearance and performance. They were last headed southeast, which may put Selma at risk... It was clear what they had to do next. As the only Altaran wyvern unit in the area, the fleet''s defense from air attacks was also their responsibility, in addition to their responsibilities as reconnaissance for the wyvern corps. Manacomm in hand, she turned the channel to the one used to report to the command in Le Brias, but before she reported on enemy activity, she turned her wyvern to a southwesterly course¡ªtoward Task Force Selma. 7:59, the skies above La Roche Meanwhile, on the eastern side of the area of operations, just above Menda Point, another pair of wyvern riders were also catching their breaths after a harrowing encounter with the enemy force. Flying in a circular holding pattern above the island of La Roche, they pinged the station there of their presence. "Goddamn... That was a close one!" Rou let loose his lips as his heartbeat remained high. For him, there were just not enough words to describe the kind of hell they went through. "You''re right. Who knew we''d go against all of the enemy''s big boy ships in one place?!" Reckmeyer, himself struggling to recollect his wits from the experience, shared his impressions. As significantly emotional as the encounter had been, they still managed to do what they were being paid for: their commanders back home now knew that the massive Altaran task force they had been tracking was in the vicinity of Menda Point with the possibility that they''re gunning for the islands now all but certain. The navy''s hunch to send its own task force to deal with this threat had paid off greatly. For now, all they had to do was just await the arrival of their fleet. Beep beep beep beep! It was coming from his manacomm. An incoming transmission. "Galeas-4, this is Roche Station. Be advised: we''ve received the ping of an entity identifying themselves as ''Nalina.'' They''re a fleet of 49 warships and 20 supports coming from the north with a course bearing of 200." It would seem that the fleet was finally entering the area. Reckmeyer and Rou looked at one another with exhilaration; a great battle was upon them. No longer do they have to deal with menial tasks of reconnaissance sprinkled with the occasional enemy wyvern encounters and enemy naval squadron harassment missions¡ªno, this was finally going to be a massive, all-out slugfest. Setting their sights on the incoming fleet, Reckmeyer acknowledged Roche Station''s call when his manacomm sounded once more. Beep beep beep beep! Another transmission, it would seem. Switching to the indicated channel, he heard a familiar voice past the grainy sound quality. "Akjkqwss¡ªGaleas-4, you hear me? Vicro-6, here." His heart skipped a beat. It wasn''t every day that he''d get to hear a voice so close to his heart in the midst of an operation, especially one as important as this one. "I hear you loud and fucking clear, Vicro-6. Tell me: what in the goddamned hell are you doing on this channel, Max?!" Dropping the formalities, Reckmeyer addressed the caller with his personal name, Max. Having grown up as buddies since primary school, they both entered flight school at the same time but were assigned to different units upon graduation. It had been roughly a year since they last saw each other, but they were still as close as ever. "I''m here to be the source of your problems, Recker: we just encountered enemy regulars at around uhh... 19 tacour (50km) west of Menda Point. We didn''t manage to bring them down, but we shook them off; we last saw them headed southwest." Reckmeyer and Rou, who were listening in, looked at one another. While they couldn''t discount the possibility that there was more than one enemy squadron operating in the area if they are to assume that they rendezvoused with the enemy task force and draw their flight path based on earlier reports, it makes sense that the squadron that they were chasing an hour ago could have encountered squadron Vicro. "Actually, to tell you the truth: my dumbass of a subordinate here accidentally dropped his gun into the ocean earlier, so we''re one gun short. Think you can handle engaging the enemy regulars if we were to switch?" Another message from Max came in. To Reckmeyer, the answer was as clear as the skies above him, but they, too, had a mission to fulfill. But then, surely there wouldn''t be any harm in trading tasks with another squadron, right? Pushing the button on his manacomm to speak, he gave his answer to Max. "You underestimate my powers, old friend... Anywho, we also have a task that needs doing: a task force from the navy, identifying as ''Nalina,'' is arriving from the north with a course bearing of 200. We''re the ones doing the ''honors'' to receive them. That should be simple enough for a wackjob like you, right?" The two friends shared snickers over the manacomm, but with pressing matters at hand, they quickly changed their tone to a more serious one. "Alright, enough of that. We''ll do it. Just tell us the details on the enemy task force, and we''ll receive them decker johns." By the slang expression "decker johns," Max was referring to the navy, referencing the long johns navy sailors typically seem to wear from the perspective of non-navy personnel. With their tasks set, squadron Galeas once more set out to chase after the enemy squadron, last seen heading southeast; on the other hand, squadron Vicro, informed by Galeas of the details regarding the force makeup and heading of the enemy task force, flew in from the northwest toward Menda Point.
8:05, the oceans ~39km north of Menda Point Just several kilometers north of La Roche, there sailed a huge fleet of 49 warships, accompanied by 20 sloops-of-war and other auxiliaries. Piercing through the waves at a gentle, steady pace, it was a tad bit smaller than the other major surface fleet in the area, but it was clear to any onlookers that this force comprised of a greater share of capital ships. Flying the imperial red and gold, these great warships of the Parpaldian Empire projected the might and majesty of the eastern regions'' unquestioned hegemon. Amidst these ships sailed the Carles D¨ªdac Gallaire, the lead ship of the Empereur-class, a series of Leiforian-built battleships that were the pride of the imperial navy. Atop its mast flew the standard of the Deuxi¨¨me imposrion (vice admiral), brandishing to all its status as the flagship of the task force, named "Nalina." The flag officer in question, a man by the name of Pommerau, stood atop the battleship''s bridge with a dignified pose, his arms crossed behind his back. He stared directly ahead at the formation of treacherous, jagged rocks that formed the outer reaches of Menda Point. His steely composure was an inspiring sight to the crewmen aboard the bridge, who were still unsure of the role they would play today, but this was nothing but a facade for a barely collected psyche that lurked not too far underneath the sweaty skin. Thoughts circled all across his head. The Altarans were by no means a pushover, but based on the wyvern corps'' reports before they abruptly ended late last night, they were still en route to Menda Point. He felt a worrying itch in his toe as he inched closer and closer to dismissing the Altarans as buffoons for their mistakes since he nor his commanders had the gall to conclusively be certain that their goal was indeed Menda Point. Even at this late of a stage in the operation, they cannot discount that the Altarans have another ace up their sleeve¡ªone that could jeopardize their own house of cards; after all, they, too, have sent the bulk of their capital ship force to answer the Altaran threat. But if the stars really did align and their enemies were as idiotic as they wanted to believe them to be, then today, with their greater number of big guns, they have a legitimate chance of smashing the Altaran Royal Navy once and for all; and with the damaged Squadron 5, which had taken refuge in Menda Point, successfully dodged the enemy''s patrols and ordered to return to base, they were also robbing them of their assumed objectives. It was too good of an opportunity, and it can''t be helped that such an opportune moment being this easy to grasp set off alarm bells in his mind. In that instant, he felt a frigid zing bolt across his spine just at the same time his ears tingled in response to an auditory stimulus. "Sir!" The strands of hair on his arms stood on their ends. He turned to face the source of the sound: it was a young officer wearing a uniform similar to the young lads that had come to his quarters yesterday. He had come up to the captain of the battleship, Batimeau r¨¦gler (captain) Luc, a man whose sleepy eyes betrayed the adept sense of seriousness he took his duties with. After conversing with the young man from communications, Luc turned to face him with his usual languid eyes. "Vice admiral! We received a transmission from a wyvern squadron identifying themselves as ''Vicro-6.'' It appears they will be coming in from the west, bringing details on the enemy task force. ETA 10 minutes." Pommerau raised his eyebrow, picking out a detail from the transmission that he found odd. "''Vicro''? I thought the wyvern corps assigned to us someone with the callsign ''Galeas''?" Luc scratched his head. Sensing the misgiving tone in the vice admiral''s voice, he tried to offer his sound opinion to try and calm or at least redirect the vice admiral''s suspicion. "That was all the transmission said. On the bright side, vice admiral, they told us where they would be coming from and when to expect them; with that much information on their course, I am of the opinion that we could afford to take their word for it." Pommerau groaned. There were a lot of things beyond his control and knowledge, which, as a self-identified control freak, greatly vexed him, but such was the nature of the fog of war. He agreed with the captain to take the squadron''s word for it but was still stingy with their chances. He turned to face the communications officer. "Tell the fleet: move to condition orange; expect unknown contacts to appear on the horizon between bearings 330 and 200 within the next 15 minutes!" The young officer saluted the vice admiral before making himself scarce. Soon enough, the ships of Task Force Nalina were put on medium alert as lookouts scanned the easterly horizon, and anti-air guns were checked and readied by their crews.
8:13, the oceans ~73km north of Menda Point Almost 8 minutes had passed since the order to move to condition orange had been given, and the hustle-bustle of men moving up and down, to and from their stations, seemed like a distant memory. Tension still wafted in the air as everyone else waited in silence for a cry from the lookouts indicating that they had spotted the anticipated "unknown contacts." At the moment the hands on the clock struck 8:13, they heard a screeching cry from a lookout aboard the battleship Duro, an Esthirant-class Leiforian-built battleship. "Contact! Two wyverns high above the horizon at bearing 272!" Other lookouts and anyone with a pair of binoculars swiftly turned to face the indicated bearing as communications shared the sighting with every ship in the task force. From the bridge of the Carles D¨ªdac Gallaire, Vice Admiral Pommerau scanned the indicated bearing with his own pair of binoculars. Just as he caught sight of the two reptilian silhouettes contrasting against the blue sky, more information came from communications. "Imperial identifiers confirmed! They''re friendly! They''re friendly!" Soon enough, he himself recognized the unmistakable glint of gold on the identifiers of the wyverns. Now that it was clear that the incoming wyverns were their own, he gave the orders that released everyone from nervous paranoia. "Fleet: revert to condition yellow and stand down!" Everyone in the Parpaldian task force breathed out a collective sigh of relief, but as their commanding officer dictated, they were not completely in the clear. As anti-air gun crews relaxed from their combat stances and munitions were properly stowed back in place, the fleet''s lookouts maintained a steady watch over the incoming squadron. Not long after they appeared, the two wyvern lords were already flying above the task force, entering into a circular holding pattern loosely centered around the flagship. Leading squadron Vicro, it was upon Max to contact the task force. Taking his manacomm and switching it to the appropriate channel, he pushed the talk button and started speaking. "Good morning, Nalina! Circling above you is Vicro-6, receiving you to this area of operations!" Coming off strong, Max was not one to mind how the flag officer, who was likely to be a lifetime of ranks above him, would respond to his call. Looking from high above the fleet, he gestured a friendly wave in the general direction of the flagship, which he could easily tell by the vice admiral standard that was flying atop its mast. After a good twenty seconds of dead air, the sudden buzz on the channel alerted him and his subordinate that someone was transmitting. "This is Nalina speaking. Good to see you, Vicro-6, although we were expecting one Galeas-4..." It was clear even from beyond the receiver that the man speaking was an aged and likely well-experienced individual. But that didn''t faze Max, who replied with the same bullish tone he always puts on. "Yes, you are correct to expect Galeas-4, but by the virtue of the corps'' commanders, we''re here instead; Galeas-4 is dealing with an enemy wyvern squadron in the area, so be advised that you''ve got two friendly squadrons in the AO!" The vice admiral and his officers, who were listening in from the bridge, could only scratch their heads at the lack of communication the wyvern corps sometimes has with them. But with two friendly wyvern squadrons, they have plenty of room to breathe¡ªnot to mention that they could monitor the enemy task force for them. Although speaking of the enemy task force... "Acknowledged, Vicro-6. Can you tell us more about the enemy fleet?" "59 warships and 16 auxiliaries sighted, although the missing auxiliaries may be nearby; they are last sighted headed northeast at bearing 024 at 0744 hours; they are in line ahead with a battleship¡ªpossibly a Royaut¨¦-class (Krall?k-class)¡ªas vanguard and the flagship, another Royaut¨¦, is the ship after it." Pommerau''s hands started to shake uncontrollably to the point he almost let go of the manacomm. All of the warships that they had been tracking were accounted for, in one location, and were already formed in a battle line. There was still likely a chance that it was part of a bigger task force that might trap them in a pincer, but there was now enough confidence to be certain that the Altarans were making this one, singular, moronic push with a basket filled with all of their eggs. In other words, the enemy was making the most fatal mistake anyone could make, and they were in a position to not only witness it in action but also to turn their idiocy into the most glorious victory the empire had known. In other words: this is it. Recollecting himself and forcing his hands to stop quivering, the vice admiral spoke. "Outstanding, Vicro-6. Your report has ensured that the empire will be victorious today!" Hearing the elation sprinkled all over the officer''s voice, Max and his subordinate couldn''t help but feel that they, too, were on the cusp of something great. His spirits ablaze, he decided to participate by assisting squadron Galeas in dealing with the enemy wyvern squadron. He let his intentions known to the task force. "Glad to hear that, Nalina! We''ll be returning to our duties and assist Galeas-4 in securing the skies for you! Proceeding east and swinging around Menda Point!" "Proceeding east. Acknowledged, Vicro-6! May the winds be against your enemies! Nalina, out." After waving one last time in the general direction of the flagship, the two wyvern lords of squadron Vicro increased their speed to their cruising speed, breaking out of the holding pattern and barrelling their way to the easterly skies. Behind them, the ships of Task Force Nalina continued to sail southwest, closing in on Menda Point.
8:19, the skies ~71km west of Menda Point As ephemeral formations of clouds come and go in this empty patch of ocean to the west of Menda Point, a couple of wyverns adorned with the royal blue and white flew below these pockets of condensed air. Part of squadron Daigu of the Altaran Wyvern Corps, they were headed south, bringing with them their sweaty foreheads and palms, agitated hearts, and bad news. Leading slightly behind the right flank of his superior, wyvern rider Akko had kept his eyes glued on the southern horizon for the past 20 or so minutes. It was almost a quarter past eight, but the horizon seemed to have gotten a tiny bit hazier than usual, making it harder for even a sharp-eyed rider like him to make out the contours of a warship. But it didn''t take long for his patience to be rewarded. "Ma''am! Smoke on the horizon, bearing 171!" He alerted his superior, Saia, to what were clearly billowing columns of black smoke steadily becoming clear as they flew further south. Soon enough, the hazy horizon gave way to the solid shapes of ships; not long after that, they could make out even the colors they flew. After roughly an hour¡ªalthough it felt like an eternity for the beleaguered riders¡ªthey had finally made contact once more with Task Force Selma. To signal their presence and confirm their allegiance, Saia made the call. "Selma, do you read? This is Daigu-1. Be advised, we are approaching from... bearing 339! Do you read? Over." A couple of seconds after Saia made the call, a grainy buzz emanated from the manacomm''s speaker. "Copy, Daigu-1, we see you coming in. Thanks for the heads up." The fleet, still in its battle line formation, drew closer as the wyverns of squadron Daigu approached from the north. The flagship, the Andras Kaymakk, loomed from behind its sister ship and formation vanguard, the Rahmi Kaymakk. As the distance between them closed to about 400 enlac (2km), the Andras raised a signal flag indicating the approach of a friendly wyvern squadron. In response to this act, Saia raised and waved her hand at the fleet as a gesture of acknowledgment. Keeping in mind why they had come back, she was about to press the speak button on her manacomm when her ears were beset by the piercing scream of her subordinate. "Ma''am! Above you, 8 o''clock!" A sense of urgency instantly kicked in as she heard those words, and her fight-or-flight response sprang into action. At once, she turned her neck to her left and lifted her head up to where Akko had indicated the possible threat vector; when she opened her eyes, she was beholden to a terrifying sight: a gigantic wyvern with scales so dark it looked as if it had been born in the flames of a volcano, emerging from the cloud layer with its claws engaged. Its menacing eyes, enough to strike fear into the heart of even the bravest lion, were just like its ultra-sharp claws: aiming directly at her person. Dread overcame her faster than she could blink, but as a trained wyvern rider, her ingrained instincts were what kicked into gear instead. As she concentrated her power onto her hands, which were holding the control mechanisms, she barked into the manacomm. "Evade! Evade! Evade!... Ngghhh! " She groaned as her arms felt like they were about to tear off at the shoulders from pulling at her wyvern to get out of harm''s way. But it paid off, again: in the nick of time, she and her wyvern managed to roll out of the way of the incoming enemy wyvern, narrowly avoiding its extended deadly claws. As for Akko, he was fortunate to have seen the other enemy wyvern barreling onto him earlier, managing to not only get out of harm''s way but also unholster his gun. At the instant that the enemy wyvern flew past his position and his wyvern was able to stabilize itself, he cocked and aimed his pistol at the back of the enemy rider. Hardly three seconds after dodging death, he pulled the trigger with the intent of becoming these bastards'' grim reaper. Pam! Pam! Pam! The crisp rattle of gunshots echoed across the vicinity as Akko fired off a burst of three shots at the enemy wyvern rider that had just passed him. But without tracers and the speed of the enemy wyvern enabling it to rapidly create distance between them, it was hard to tell if he had hit any of his shots, much less do anything substantial. "Dammit!" He looked over to her superior, who also had her gun drawn but didn''t fire off any shots. She turned to face him, and while a considerable distance separated them and they couldn''t see each other''s faces clearly from the flight goggles they wore, it was clear to the both of them what they wanted to do next. Pressing the speak button on her manacomm with one hand and doing hand signals to Akko to follow after her with the other, Saia made up her mind. "Selma! Priority message! We''re going to chase after the enemy wyvern squadron that appeared just now and take care of them! We''ll be right back, over!" With the fleet at their backs, squadron Daigu picked up the pace as they chased after the enemy squadron, which was flying due east. Having been caught off guard and nearly dying at their hands twice, a desire to retaliate was seeping out of the depths of her heart. She felt her fingers sink into the rubber coating of the control mechanisms as her breathing got heavier and faster. There was an incredible urge to see to it that these pigs were shot out of the sky. Her sense of reason nagged at her, and her gut squirmed from within her: there was something off about what she was doing. But she found solace in her mission, which was to keep their surface elements safe from marauding enemy air units, which is exactly what they were doing. Content with this reasoning, she committed to the chase with Akko at her right flank. ??? Back at the fleet, shouts were ringing all across the deck and bridge of the Andras Kaymakk as their attention followed the enemy wyvern squadron, which emerged unspotted from a random cloud formation almost a minute earlier. "Enemy wyverns at 800 enlac (4km) and increasing! Course estimated at bearing 080!" Captain Bos and Vice Admiral Iskann observed with bated breath as the enemy wyverns and squadron Daigu flew off into the easterly skies. As soon as the enemy wyverns appeared, Iskann ordered the fleet to prepare to engage them, but as the anti-air batteries of the fleet were swiftly put online, the close-distance nature of the wyvern-on-wyvern engagement meant that they risked accidentally landing hits on their own wyverns. But above all, the engagement and subsequent chase happened no less than 400 enlac (2km) away from the closest ship of the task force, meaning that they were outside their machine guns'' effective range. In other words, they were never in the right position to start firing at the enemy. At that very instant that they put down their binoculars, they heard a loud buzz sound come from the bridge''s manacomm. "Selma! Priority message! We''re going to chase after the enemy wyvern squadron that appeared just now and take care of them! We''ll be right back, over!" The vice admiral walked over to the manacomm and pushed on the speak button. "Acknowledged, Daigu-1." Just as he let go of the button, Captain Bos rushed over to him, his usually stoic eyes wide open from unease. It appears that something had occurred to him, but it may be more accurate to say that he had remembered something important. "Vice admiral! We never informed Daigu of the enemy squadron we encountered earlier!" The concerns of the captain intertwined with the heated emotions of anxiety and mental exhaustion swirling in the vice admiral''s mind, producing ever more stress for him to process. As he wiped the sweat that had accumulated under his service cap with a piece of clean cloth, a response to the captain''s statement unwittingly left his lips. "They''ll be fine, captain. There can''t be more than one of them..." But just as the words left his lips, something flashed in his mind, and his eyes widened. It was certainly within reason to think that the enemy squadron that they encountered earlier and the one that just almost brought down their friendly wyverns were one in the same. However, considering the scope of the Parpaldian wyvern corps and their knowledge of its operational doctrine, it was by no means a stretch of the imagination that the squadrons from both encounters were of two different ones. It was a frightening and realistic possibility, one that Iskann wanted to beat himself over for not considering it soon enough. But before that, a matter of more pressing needs warrants their attention. As had been their battle plan, they are to try and deceive enemy intelligence and coordination by changing course after an enemy patrol had passed them. Briefly setting aside the two enemy squadron matters, he calls out to the communications officers and signalmen. "Fleet, change course to 131 and maintain battle line!" His orders were rapidly communicated to the other ships; hardly a minute later, the Rahmi Kaymakk made a hard turn to starboard, followed later by the Andras and then the succeeding ships in the line. While he held onto the railings as the heavy, hulking battleship listed to port from the inertia of its turn, Iskann handed control of the manacomm back to its designated officer. "Keep trying to raise Daigu-1 until they respond and warn them that there may be two enemy squadrons operating in the area." After receiving an affirmative from the officer, he turned to Captain Bos, who was similarly trying to remain upright and fight the ship''s list. "What''s our distance to Menda Point?" The captain then looked over to the vice-captain, who heard the vice admiral''s question and responded immediately. "14200 enlac (~71km), sir!" Bos turned back to face the vice admiral and repeated the vice-captain''s figure. "14200 enlac, sir." Iskann looked away to take in the view of the sea. It was a brilliant dark blue, a combination of hues that perfectly evoked both a sense of curiosity of what lies below the surface and a constant apprehension for what kind of sinister secrets lurk just underneath the seemingly tame waves. But it was also the right color to calm the noise that engulfed his mind. Still, as the task force settled on its new southeasterly course, he thought about the things he wanted to do once they got back to port¡ªthe things he would probably never be able to do anymore.
8:33, the skies ~36km west of Menda Point With the hour hand well past the halfway point between 8 and 9, the air in this random patch of ocean had gotten hotter; it was definitely the middle of winter, but since the general geographical area of the Altaras Strait was of a subtropical climate, it wasn''t all that cold. Slamming into this cold but not too cold air at a speed of 100km/h were two pairs of wyverns and their respective riders, with the pair that was clearly lagging behind being noticeably smaller in size than the pair they were chasing after. Daigu, an Altaran wyvern squadron, was chasing after a Parpaldian wyvern squadron, which consisted of the superior and more menacing-looking lord breed. "Come on! Come on!" Saia cried out as their wyverns flapped their wings at full force to inch closer and closer to the enemy wyverns. Tiny bits of air seeped into the looser parts on the sleeves of their thick, woolen aviator suits and pumped cold temperatures into their arms, but not even that could stop the endless drops of sweat flowing out of their pores in droves. Their wyverns were clearly feeling the toll of sustained flapping movements, but the piercing look in their eyes made known their determination to keep going. After all, it was not for naught: the dark silhouettes of the enemy wyverns were getting larger and larger, albeit slowly. Saia let go of the control mechanisms and reached for the semi-automatic pistol on the saddle''s holster. She placed her hand on it, wrapping her fingers around its grip and placing her thumb on the retention strap, ready to push it out of the way so that she could swiftly draw the firearm. She waited. For the enemy wyverns to get closer. For the opportunity to line a shot. For the chance to call her superiors and notify them of their kills. She will get the mission done. She will defeat these bozos that almost killed her twice. She will tell the fleet and her superiors that they''ve secured the air space around Menda Point. She will be redeemed of her shortcomings in finding that cruiser. She will be accepted by her peers, her family, and, above all, herself. She had even rehearsed what to say to her superiors. Eagerly awaiting that moment, she placed her other hand on the manacomm''s channel-switching mechanism. But for some reason, she can''t seem to feel its distinctive, signature knob. She took her eyes off the enemy wyverns and glanced at the manacomm, but intending to only spend a moment to look at it, she spent a couple, and then it turned into a second, and then two. Her eyes widened, the telltale signs of disbelief scattered all over her expanding pupils as her lips mouthed the words, "oh, shit." The red bulb on its surface was flashing on and off, indicating that a message was coming through, but it made none of the beeping sounds that notified her of an incoming transmission. She fumbled on its controls, finding the answer to why her manacomm wasn''t beeping almost immediately: the silent setting was toggled on. Perhaps in her rush to give chase to the enemy squadron, she accidentally switched to it when she let go of the speak button. "Goddammit, Saia!" As soon as she toggled it off, the high-pitched beeps of the manacomm blared out of her speakers. Beep beep beep beep! She set the machine to patch the message through, and immediately afterward, the frantic cries of a man beset her ears. "Ukjqpw¡ªead?! Daigu-1, please respond!" The channel in which the transmission was being made was clearly the one they used with Task Force Selma, but the voice calling out was different from the one they were conversing with earlier. She reached for the speak button to respond, but something caught her eye. Her eyes motioned upward back in the direction of the enemy wyverns. But something was different. Instead of two dark silhouettes, there were now four of them. Her mind instantly cranked to full gear to make sense of it. But her observations moved faster than her deductions, and she immediately identified the two wyverns they were chasing, which had both executed a sharp bank maneuver; in their previous positions were two additional wyverns, but unlike the pair that they were chasing, their backs weren''t turned towards them¡ªno, this new pair of wyverns were facing them head on. Oh... The realization hit her. There were actually two enemy squadrons, and now, they were caught right in the middle of their trap. As she blinked, she felt a tremendous force cascade against her entire body, followed instantly by a loss in sensation from her body below the neck. Moments later, when she opened her eyes, all that was in her sight was the endless expanse of profound azure. What a beautiful sky... These were the last thoughts that crossed her mind. Chasing after Parpaldian squadron Galeas, the two wyverns of Altaran squadron Daigu were unwittingly led into a trap. With the two squadrons headed east, another Parpaldian squadron, Vicro, was flying west at 200km/h in a course parallel to Galeas and Daigu. In a timed and coordinated maneuver, the wyvern lords of Galeas executed sharp banking maneuvers, making way for the incoming wyvern lords of Vicro, which had readied themselves for a powerful claw attack. Given that both Daigu and Vicro were moving at close to their maximum speeds and that there only existed a several-meter gap between Daigu and Galeas, the ill-fated wyverns and riders of squadron Daigu were left with virtually no time nor room to maneuver out of harm''s way, let alone respond. Hit with force equivalent to a high-speed car crash, Saia and Akko were thrown off their saddles, breaking their necks in the process due to the intense whiplash; their wyverns were fatally wounded when the Parpaldian wyvern lords'' claws dug deep into their torsos, and with the fatigue they accumulated making things worse, they simply fell out of the sky. In an action that barely lasted ten seconds, the lone Altaran wyvern squadron assigned to the area of Menda Point was brought down by the skilled coordination of two Parpaldian wyvern squadrons.
??? "Arghh, fuck!" Max shook his head as the sheer force of the impact from the claw attack he landed on the enemy wyvern stunned him; his subordinate, having brought down the other enemy wyvern, was also recovering from the shock. They had prepared for the attack, adopting postures that minimized the shock of the impact, but the sheer amount of force in the attack meant that it was still an uncomfortable experience for the two. "Oi! Stop whining, will you? You should take a look at the other guys!" Chiming in as they swung back to meet their fellow riders, Reckmeyer gave his friend a reassuring quip, pointing to the sinking carcasses of the enemy wyverns they had just brought down. Having recovered from the stun, Max returned the favor. "Yeah, yeah, yeah! At least I secured one more kill to my name! Eat shit, Recker!" "No, no, no, I let you have this one! Consider it a pity point considering the actual gap between our kill counts!" "Nah, you make it sound higher than it actually is when all you have is... what, like five?" The banter between the two friends went back and forth as they circled above the proof of their success, which was rapidly dying the waters around them a deep crimson. As much as these men made a mockery of such a horrific scene, it was rather impersonal from their perspective. In other words, this was nothing more than what they were being paid to do. Other than that, they had their own portfolio of interests and reasons for why they continued to fight. As their banter died down, Reckmeyer remembered their mission. "Ah, right! Max! We found the enemy fleet at around... 14 tacour (~37km) west of here!" "But it''s safe to say that they probably changed their course since then." Max had a point. Considering the change in heading of the enemy task force between the two encounters they''ve had, that was definitely the case. Devising a plan to cover as much of the ocean as possible, Reckmeyer set down what they were going to do next. "Alright! Judging from their speed and last known position, they shouldn''t have gotten too far from where they were. You guys fly west while we''ll go south! That way, we can check from two directions, and when push comes to shove, come down on them in a pincer!" "Sounds like a plan." With both squadrons on board, the plan was set into motion. The four riders waved goodbye at one another before separating to set off toward their respective headings: Max, leading Vicro, headed west while Reckmeyer, leading Galeas, flew east before swinging south.
8:53, the oceans ~50km southwest of Menda Point The 59 warships and 40 sloops-of-war and auxiliaries of the Altaran Task Force Selma were making headway east, having changed their heading from a southeasterly course several minutes earlier. Sailors on board, the battleship Andras Kaymakk, paced their way through her brightly lit steel innards as they tended to the functions of the hulking vessel. It was a sight that was not too different from the routine, but lurking beneath appearances was a tension that was growing worse by the minute. This was all the more pronounced at the bridge, where Vice Admiral Iskann and his officers stood huddled around the manacomm for the past 40 or so minutes with disconcerted looks on their faces. They looked on with bated breath as the officer in charge of the manacomm rebooted it for what must have felt like the hundredth time. He pushed the button to speak and uttered a few words. "This is Selma calling out to Daigu-1. Daigu-1, are you there? Do you read? Over." He let go of the button, producing a metallic flicker sound that was going to be the last sound the manacomm would produce. After around three minutes of waiting, the silence only persisted, and so did their anxieties. It was almost 9 in the morning¡ªalmost an hour since they last saw and heard from squadron Daigu. Iskann and his officers looked at one another, their eyes telegraphing to the others that they believe that the worst had happened. It wasn''t farfetched, too: if there were indeed two enemy wyvern squadrons in the area, they need not be the superior wyvern lord breed in order to best an opposing wyvern squadron. In combat, whether in the air, at sea, or on land, numerical superiority or inferiority matters a whole lot. Convincing himself that they were indeed defeated by the enemy, the vice admiral turned back to the officer in charge of the manacomm, who was awaiting orders. "Thanks, son. You can stop now." After returning the officer''s salute, he pivoted to face Captain Bos, who was looking at his direction with crestfallen eyes. It would seem that he, too, was convinced as to what happened to Daigu. But before they could solemnly return to their duties, the piercing shriek of a lookout echoed across the bridge. "Contact! Two enemy wyverns were emerging out of the clouds at 179!" On their starboard flank, two enemy wyverns dove out of a thin layer of low-lying clouds and were flying straight toward them. Not needing to confirm the sighting for himself, Iskann screamed at the top of his lungs. "Fleet, ready anti-air and engage those sonuvabitches!" While the signalmen and communications officers relayed his orders to the fleet, Bos, in command of his warship, barked orders. "Condition red! All hands to action stations! Ready anti-air, contact at 179!" Once again, the anti-air batteries on the Andras Kaymakk''s starboard deck were swiftly manned by their crews, and ammunition were brought to the guns from stowage. The rapid-fire machine guns were fed, cocked, and aimed at the incoming enemy wyverns. Within 30 seconds of the order being issued, gunnery officers notify the bridge that they''re ready. "Starboard anti-air batteries are ready, cap''n!" Lookouts on deck supplemented them with their own information. "Enemy wyverns 400 enlac (2km) and closing!" With the conditions met, Bos spit out spit and breath as he growled like a madman. "OPEN FIRE!" Ratatatatatatatat! The rampaging staccato of gunfire erupted all across the Andras Kaymakk''s starboard deck, sending thousands of bullets at supersonic speeds south. Anti-air machine guns onboard the other ships of the task force also opened the floodgates of fire down range, showering the southern horizon with thousands upon thousands of deadly, ultra-fast slugs. The unending flashes of machine guns letting rip were a sight to behold. From the bridge, Vice Admiral Iskann watched the scene unfold before his naked eyes. His attention was glued to the actions of the enemy wyvern lords, flailing alarmedly at the sudden onslaught of steel. He held no particular feelings for the riders of squadron Daigu, but the mounting feeling of inevitable doom for him and the thousands of men under his command lit up a familiar, warlike rage in his heart. Soon, his mind was filled with anticipation of seeing the enemy wyvern riders shred to pieces. He knew deep in his heart that the bastard king had sent them here to die. But as long as he wields the power that he does have, he will ensure that the pain in knowing the futility and uselessness of their actions here will be translated into physical pain for the enemy. ??? Fear was what gripped the heart of Reckmeyer and Rou, the two wyvern riders of squadron Galeas, fighting for the Parpaldian Empire. Much like their encounter hours earlier, the enemy anti-air was just as relentless and merciless. The sharp, stinging thunderclaps of a thousand bullets whizzing through every corner bombarded his ears while his entire body battled against the inertia from his wyvern lord''s ridiculous evasive maneuvers. "Arghh! Goddammit!" Reckmeyer cursed his luck. If it weren''t for his sudden dive maneuver which plopped him under the cloud cover, he wouldn''t have been in this situation. Although they wouldn''t have spotted the enemy task force had he not dived into the clouds, it wasn''t something he was particularly thankful for at the moment. Bullets continued to zoom all around him, heightening his fear of being hit by such things. As he and Rou flew in a wide turn to the east, he took hold of the manacomm in the heat of gunfire. "Vicro-6! Priority message! Come in, Vicro-6, dammit!" He screamed into the microphone so that his voice wouldn''t be drowned out in the cacophony of incessant popping of bullets whizzing by and his wyvern''s pained groans trying to evade them. But before he could get a reply from Max, he picked up the muffled clatter of slugs hitting something cushioned. An idea popped up into his head about what these sounds meant, and the sensation of powerful shockwaves reverberating through his saddle, coupled with his wyvern''s subtle screams, sealed the verdict. He immediately set his sights on his wyvern''s right wing, which, sure enough, had received five or six identifiable holes on the thin membrane-like skin, some of which were clearly bleeding. "Goddammit! I''m so sorry, buddy!" Reckmeyer teared up as he caressed a certain scale on the back of the base of his wyvern''s neck, a particularly soft spot that his wyvern found comforting if he touched it. While the toughness of a wyvern''s scale varies from individual to individual and depends on factors such as age, it''s generally accepted that they could easily repel bladed attacks and crossbow bolts; they could also repel bullets, albeit with less reliability. Of course, regardless of whether or not attacks could break through the wyvern''s armored scales, being hit is still painful for the beast. The toughness of the scales also becomes out of the question when it comes to the eyes, wings, and limbs, parts of the wyvern''s body that aren''t protected by scales. Hit multiple times in such a weak yet so critical part of the body, it was clear from its duller evasive maneuvers that Reckmeyer''s wyvern lord was in great pain. Fortunately, they were getting well out of range of the enemy task force''s machine guns, but they were still not in the position to celebrate. Desperate to get his buddy out of harm''s way and back home to receive medical care, he activated his manacomm once more and howled at the speaker. "Priority! Priority! Vicro-6, do you read?! My wyvern''s hit, and it''s dubious we could continue the mission! Please respond, for fuck''s sake!" The instant he let go of the talk button, he heard the grainy buzz of the speakers attempting to convert an incoming transmission. Then, the noise gave way to the voice of his longtime friend. "By the gods, you don''t need to scream! Don''t worry; we''re inbound at full speed! Give us your position!" Reckmeyer scrambled to check his map, which was tucked away in a leather pocket on the saddle, just underneath the flight instruments. But the snapping rat-a-tat of bullets zooming past him, some of which narrowly missed his head, forced him to lean forward and onto his saddle; his wyvern, despite being wounded on the right wing, reacted to the near-miss with a slew of erratic rolling maneuvers. Unable to check his map, Reckmeyer opted to instead give him what information he did already know about where they were based on certain facts. "We''re being fired at! I can''t check our position! But we''re definitely just a few kilometers southwest of where we brought down the enemy regulars!" "Copy! That should be enough! Go and get out of here! You can leave these scoundrels to us!" With a confident affirmative from Max, Reckmeyer no longer needed to stay on the battlefield for much longer. He felt his heart beat start to relax as he watched the peaceful expanse of seemingly endless ocean unfold before him. "I appreciate it, Max! I owe you this one!" Unable to find it in himself to hear the gloating of his friend, he switched the channel on his manacomm to the one used by their command in Palmerie Air Base to report their emergency exodus from the area. "Rapace, this is Galeas-4, reporting from..." Flying further and further away from the range of the guns of the Altaran task force, the two wyvern lords of squadron Galeas made their way northeast to Menda Point. After receiving acknowledgment from Palmerie Air Base of their situation and return, they would set course for the relative safety of the Parpaldian mainland and finally leave the battlefield. 8:53, the oceans ~20km northwest of Menda Point To the immediate northwest of the islands that constituted Menda Point sailed an impressive formation of 49 warships, accompanied by a slew of 20 sloops-of-war and auxiliaries. Unlike the Altarans, some of their capital ships were without smoke stacks and were thus not projecting billowing towers of smoke that gave away their presence. But this was more about the design of their ships'' magic-based propulsion rather than an intention to stay stealthy, for the sound of ringing bells and wailing alarms signaled to all a call to arms. Men aboard the warships flying the colors of the Parpaldian Empire rushed to their positions as nerves and tensions escalated to new highs. On the bridge of the battleship Carles D¨ªdac Gallaire, the flagship of this task force "Nalina," the staff officers of Vice Admiral Pommerau huddled around the officer in charge of the manacomm machine, who was in the middle of answering a call. "...Copy that, Vicro-6. Heading 015. Nalina, out." The officer let go of the talk button and turned to face the vice admiral''s staff officers, who were looking at him with anticipatory gazes. Curtly, he updated them with the latest news from their wyvern patrol shadowing the Altaran task force. "They''ve changed their bearing to 015 from 077 and have increased their speed." The staff officers then went to the vice admiral with this information, having already processed it, and now they were giving him their inputs on the developing situation. They all formed in a circle around a navigational map of the area around Menda Point to update the corresponding positions of the pieces of the relevant fighting units in the area. "It appears that they''re starting to make a headlong rush for Menda Point." One of the staff officers pushed a hastily painted red paperweight, signifying the Altaran task force, to a position that was slightly north of where it once was. "The position of the enemy, as reported by Vicro, puts them here. In five minutes, we can expect them to have crossed this point based on their speed." He pinned his index finger down on a certain spot in the ocean to the west of Menda Point. A few centimeters to the east of where he placed his finger¡ªa distance that translated to several kilometers in reality¡ªwas a red line drawn onto the map. It stretched in a roughly north to south direction, like a meridian located west of Menda Point, but it slightly curved in a concave that faced the islands. Seeing this placement, Pommerau glanced at their current position on the map, marked by a worn-out, wooden gameboard piece. "The Altarans are about to breach the line earlier than planned..." Having ascertained with near complete confidence that the Altaran task force didn''t know they were coming, they opted for a plan to open a naval battle in an advantageous position by timing their arrival so that they would be crossing the Altaran T. Under circumstances where the enemy knew they were coming, this would have been a terrible plan, but the stars have aligned for them to the point that it was now possible to execute. But the Altarans, despite having been forced to zigzag by their wyvern squadrons, were still moving faster than they had expected; at their current rate, they would be crossing the red line before they themselves could get into position, which, if they don''t remedy it soon, they will lose their initial advantage. Fortunately, it still wasn''t beyond a simple remedy. As alarms blared and bells chimed, the apparent pressure and strain of the rapidly developing situation were, at least for this moment, lost on the stern-faced Pommerau, who began issuing orders at decisive speed. "Fleet, form line ahead! Change course to heading 213 and increase speed to 16 knots!" His orders were transmitted to every ship in the task force word-for-word; not long after, the massive 49-ship fleet was scrambling to form into a single line with the Carles D¨ªdac Gallaire steaming ahead to form the vanguard. Course was then set for heading 213, and the magnificent steel behemoths of the Parpaldian Imperial Navy were headed to where the action would soon commence, their magic-powered engines of varying sophistication churning the requisite power to force a consistent speed of 16 knots.
9:07, the skies ~23km west of Menda Point A pair of wyvern lords glide through the air in formation, but they are traveling at a slower speed than their usual cruising speed of around 100km/h. This squadron, Vicro, maintained this speed and a modest altitude not too far from sea level, but crucially, they maintained more than an arm''s length in terms of distance from the Altaran battle line. They kept watch over the multi-dozen naval task force as it steamed northwards at close to full speed, and it wasn''t beyond the imagination to assume that they also watched them shadowing them from their four o''clock bearing. Squadron leader Max checked the mechanical watch on his flight instruments. It was 7 minutes past 9. His eyes dart back to the unfurled map in his hands, his experienced rider mind making mental estimates as to where they currently were based on geographic facts and mathematical calculations. He felt no rush in running and rechecking the numbers, as neither his wyvern nor the enemy fleet seemed to be poised to do something drastic any time soon. "Alright..." Having done a couple of recalculations, he was now confident in the results. After securing the paper map onto tight-fitting clips stitched into the saddle itself, he motioned towards the manacomm and pressed the talk button. "Vicro-6 to Nalina. No change to the enemy fleet bearing and speed. Over." He sent in his report, expected to be done every five minutes or whenever a noteworthy change occurs in this type of mission, to their friendly naval task force in the area. Seconds after his transmission, they answered back with a frank and brief reply. "Acknowledged, Vicro-6." The silence that followed the audio cutoff was deafening, but perhaps it may have just been the thundering barrage of wind. He turned his head around to check on his subordinate. He seemed to be doing fine. He couldn''t make out his eyes from the flight goggles he wore, but he could somehow tell that he was neither bored nor particularly invested in what they were doing. He thought of his friend Recker and his usual wingman, a younger rider by the name of Rou. Whenever he did, his chest would somehow become uncannily coarse, but his gut was telling him it wasn''t because he wished they were partners instead. He gazed at his manacomm, especially the red-colored button that was used to talk. He thought that maybe there was nothing wrong with small chatter with his usually silent partner. Maybe the guy had a reason for joining the corps. Perhaps he had a girl he fancied back in the city, or maybe he was a country boy since he seemed not to have the Esthirantine accent associated with the city folk. There was so much about him he could use to start a conversation. But is this really out of some desire to connect? Or perhaps the silence is just unbearably loud? Just as his eyes flickered in the sunlight, having probably decided on a course of action, the manacomm''s open receiver started receiving a transmission, which was promptly translated into audio. It was from Nalina. "Vicro-6, do you read?" Relegating all the self-reflection he was in the middle of to the back burner, he pressed on the red button. "Copy, Nalina, I hear you. What is it?" "Uhh... wait one." Dead air filled the channel once again. Max stretched his back, contracting his back muscles as much as he could to get some life and vigor back into his hunched posture. Suddenly, the manacomm''s speakers flared to life, spooking him in the middle of his stretching. He probably thought that they wouldn''t be back for another minute or two. He returned to his forward-hunched position to listen to the transmission. "Vicro-6, we should be roughly 11 tacour (~29km); ETA to contact with the enemy fleet, 25 minutes." His heart thumped in its beat after he heard this. A naval battle of epic proportions was at hand. While it was admittedly exciting, nervousness was what coursed through his system. In the context of naval operations, the wyvern corps'' primary mission was reconnaissance, and this was reflected in the curriculum it trained its riders in. Having never experienced naval combat before¡ªaside from the times enemy ships fired their anti-air and anti-wyvern weapons at him¡ªhe wracked his head for the naval surface combat protocols and operation procedures that were essentially glossed over back at the academy. But as he mentally prepared himself to be thrust into the heat of the fighting, the transmission from Nalina continued. This time, though, the person speaking was clearly older and carried in his tone an authoritative aura. "Good day, Vicro-6. This is Deuxi¨¨me imposrion Pommerau." Max gulped. It was the vice admiral. Even though they were from different branches of the military, conversing with such a high-ranking officer still sent him into a state of apprehension. "Allow me to express our deepest gratitude for your and Galeas''s excellent work this morning. What is at hand may soon become one of the most defining moments in the empire''s history, and it is made possible thanks to your and Galeas''s efforts. But considering the nature of the battle to come, we''ve determined that a point is reached where your presence is redundant." Max furrowed his brow in confusion. He was glad that a high-ranking officer (albeit from the navy) was praising him and his colleagues, but the point of the latter statement had him scratching his head. He knew where it was going, but it nonetheless left a faint sour aftertaste. "We can take it from here, Vicro-6. Your contributions to the empire may end here, but there is no doubt that Parpaldians will sing praises of you for generations to come." "We don''t need you here anymore, so go home," was what Max heard. His furrowed expression gave way to a grimace, something he knew that the vice admiral will never ever get to see. His mind explored all sorts of explanations as to why they want them to leave, such as a desire to hog the glory for themselves or maybe even a genuine concern for them given the predominantly surface-against-surface thinking of how warfare works in the navy. Nevertheless, he felt that he was in no position to challenge a vice admiral''s word and, in any case, as a wyvern squadron, there was little they could do to present a challenge against a fully armed naval task force. He accepted the vice admiral''s ''offer,'' and notified his subordinate to make preparations to leave the area. "I am honored to hear that. Fair winds to you, Deuxi¨¨me imposrion, and glory to Parpaldia! Vicro-6, out." Without staying to listen to the vice admiral''s reply, Max immediately changed the channel to that of his home base to report their status and flight plan. With a single, powerful swing of the wings, the two wyvern lords were sent zooming, accelerating to reach close to their maximum speed with every successive wingbeat. In a flash, squadron Vicro covered a kilometer, moving onto the next couple for every second. It must have been a terrifying sight to the Altaran fleet to watch the superior Parpaldian wyverns fly off into the distance in such a short amount of time. A few minutes later, the last wyvern squadron had vacated the area around Menda Point, leaving in their wake two battle lines of heavily armed warships, which were steadily making their way toward one another in what may have appeared to be an ominous tango of impending death.
Chapter 32: Battle of Menda Point Part 3 9:33, the oceans ~28km west of Menda Point Large formations of puffy clouds stretch across the sky; their uneven distribution allows for gaps for the mid-morning sun to shine its rays through in what could only be described as a show of bright heavenly grace shining through the darkness. But the shadows cast by these cloud formations were not the only gloom that persists, nor were they the ones that actually made a difference. Underneath the intermittent cloud cover sailed the warships of Task Force Selma, a Royal Altaran Navy battle formation headed east and destined for the Parpaldian-held islands of Menda Point. Lookouts aboard every ship took refuge in the shade offered by the clouds as if to find solace and a sense of camaraderie in their gloominess. "Spot the Parpaldian ogres yet?!" The cry of an officer rang across the upper deck of the flagship Andras Kaymakk, prompting lookouts on the deck to respond. "Negative, sir!" The officer, himself wearing a darkened expression on his face, dejectedly ran back to the bridge. There, he found Vice Admiral Iskann and his staff having a heated discussion. He was not the least bit curious as to what they were talking about, and he was not going to find out soon; as soon as he appeared on the bridge, the vice admiral and his staff set aside their discussion and turned to face him. "Vice admiral, sir! The enemy squadron is still nowhere to be found!" He reported to the vice admiral, who promptly dismissed him with a flick of the wrist. Iskann turned to face his staff, who were either wearing expressions of worry or dejection¡ªthe different stages of grief in action, he thought to himself. There was no blaming them, for he himself wore an uncertain look over his eyes. It had been more than 20 minutes since the enemy wyvern squadron that was shadowing them from out of anti-air range disappeared out of view; since then, they''ve been steadily making their way to Menda Point without incident. But despite the apparent absence of enemy forces and their mission proceeding as planned, they were not without their anxiety. Something just didn''t feel right. Meanwhile, his staff officers resumed their discussion. "The Parpaldians should already know that we''re here and, if they''re as smart as we give them credit for, know that we are making our way to Menda Point." "Exactly, which is why we should still be under the assumption that they''ve readied for us a response! That was part of our plan from the start, anyway!" "But squadron Daigu nor the wyvern corps informed us about any response force; the only obstacles we have in our way are the half-destroyed ships of the Parpaldian squadron we engaged yesterday and the garrison at Kaskiy. On top of that, the two enemy squadrons we''ve confirmed are nowhere to be seen¡ªhell, the one shadowing us has left for good!" Iskann''s temper was about to shoot through the roof, but he found it in himself to keep it contained and add to the discussion. "We cannot discard the possibility the Parpaldians have prepared for our arrival. We are just too big of a target to ignore." The atmosphere on the bridge¡ªand the entire fleet, for that matter¡ªhardly improved one bit. They were all under the idea that this mission was a horrible one from the start, and more of the sailors and officers were convinced of that notion after their encounters with Parpaldian patrols. They harbored dejection and fury for their monarch''s absolute word in their fate, which was likely to be certain at this point. The sloshing of waves, the low rumble of the engines, and the cries of sea birds. Everyone held a wish deep in their hearts that this scene was instead one of them entering their homeports. For a moment, these sensory triggers and the complete lack of action did give off that impression, but of course, it was simply too good to be true. "Contact! Multiple unknown silhouettes spotted on the horizon at bearing 048!" The piercing shriek of a lookout pierced the silent atmosphere like a cannon shot echoing across the deck. Hearing of this, other lookouts, captains, officers, and even the vice admiral and his staff took to the deck with their binoculars to scan the horizon. The prospect of several silhouettes of unknown origin suddenly appearing caused the dormant tension to suddenly blow out of proportion. Iskann himself could hardly keep the binoculars steady due to his hands quivering like there was no tomorrow. But he, like many others, managed to spot the silhouettes on the horizon. There were probably about three or five of them, but the haze on the horizon made it difficult to say with certainty what they were. In time, however, their shape, features, and even colorations began to pierce through the real ''fog of war.'' "Enemy colors confirmed! They''re Parpaldian warships!" A lookout screamed, his words sinking deep into the hearts of all who heard. This was it. The Parpaldian response¡ªa fleet of their own to face against theirs. They were all skeptical at first: perhaps it was a rapid response force haphazardly put together? Perhaps they don''t even have the firepower to challenge them? Perhaps it was also a small force, meaning they could easily overwhelm them with their sheer numbers? Questions like these wouldn''t stop circling their minds, but the more they observed the enemy ships, the more they wished they didn''t have to answer such questions. "At least 19 different warships have been confirmed! More are clearing the horizon!" "E-Enemy capital ships sighted! A-A-All five major enemy battleships are confirmed!" "Enemy fleet sailing in battle line formation toward bearing 184 at 16, maybe 17 knots! They''re going to sail right in front of us!" Lookouts and officers shouted. Their words cut deeper and deeper into the hearts of Iskann and his staff like they were daggers. Their faces showed a mixture of pained agony and a mourning lamentation for all the men they''d brought with them. Much to their chagrin, the Parpaldians, as it turns out, did in fact prepare for them, but they''ve come out in a far better position. It was clear that they''d brought with them an equally massive fleet to challenge their gigantic task force, but the most teeth-grinding aspect was that they''d brought to bear all five of their major capital ships. While slightly inferior in qualitative aspects, the Parpaldian battleships were still a great force multiplier¡ªand they''ve brought all five of them against their two. This was essentially a 1:2 force ratio; from the looks of it, they''ve also brought most of their secondary capital ships to the fore, which also outnumber their secondary capital ships by a margin. In a pitched engagement with both sides starting on equal footing, they might have been able to find a way to even the odds, but even there, the Parpaldians managed to one-up them. Based on their heading, speed, and battle line formation, the Parpaldians were sailing on a course perpendicular to theirs and one which would eventually have their ships deployed in front of their line. In other words, they were about to cross their T. With the two most powerful and important warships of their task force at the very forefront of their line, enfilade fire from the powerful and more numerous Parpaldian battleships could easily put either out of commission. They have severely underestimated the Parpaldian response, and they learned far too late to change the outcome. Iskann grit his teeth and clenched his fists. No hubris like the one he has displayed could be so determinant and decisive of an outcome¡ªespecially one that was likely to lead to the kingdom''s fall and destruction. His thoughts went to the thousands of men he had brought with him, their families and friends, and the people of Altaras. If only he could apologize to each and every single soul he had condemned for his decisions. "Vice admiral! They''re about to cross our T! What are our orders?!" The screams of his staff officers reached his ears before reaching his heart. The desperation in their voice and their placing of hopes in him had flipped a switch deep in his consciousness. "This is no time to lament what could have been and what will be," the voice of a long-dead superior cried out from his memories. He was right. As long as they were not in the water and the masts of their ships were not underneath the waves, their fates were not set in stone. Awash with determination, Vice Admiral Iskann snapped out of his sorry state and immediately set out to make changes to their plans. "Alright! Change of plans! We''re fighting those devils!" He grabbed a pair of binoculars, went to the port side bridge wing, and examined the enemy battleships. Through the slightly muddied magnification lenses, he ascertained that the enemy''s guns were yet to be trained on them. With this in mind, he turned to face his staff officers with a new plan. "Our main guns outrange theirs; we shall use this fact to our advantage and engage the enemy first!" He turned to the communications officers and signalmen, who were ready to hear his orders. "Fleet, condition red: prepare for anti-surface combat! The Rahmi and Andras are to target the devils'' flagship with our forward main batteries; prepare to fire simultaneously!" His orders were swiftly disseminated to the entire task force, at which point every captain had begun issuing orders for general stations; Captain Bos, captain of the Andras Kaymakk battleship, was no slouch either. "All hands to action stations! Clear Turret Koff for action and target the enemy flagship!" He shouted, with "Turret Koff" referring to the forward main battery. Whistles blew, alarms were blaring, and bells rang like there was no tomorrow. Sailors ran up, down, and across the deck to their stations as a heightened feeling of nervousness gripped the entire task force. Above deck, the Altaran battle standard was flown atop the mast of every ship, setting in stone their commitment to a battle. Meanwhile, gunnery officers aboard both the Andras Kaymakk and Rahmi Kaymakk battleships manned the optical rangefinders on their respective bridges, training them at the enemy battleship that was sailing at the forefront of the enemy battle line. "Target bearing: 050; range: 1000 enlac; speed: 17 knots!" Lookouts atop the masts corroborated the data with minor corrections, allowing the chief gunnery officers to calculate a firing solution. Taking into account the heading and speed of their ships, they soon produced the firing solution, which they would then promptly communicate to main batteries'' gunnery crews below deck by way of speaking tubes. The gunners then repeated it shortly after in acknowledgment. Other crew members got to work on the mechanisms that move the turret''s azimuth and the guns'' elevation. Topside, their efforts translated to the gun mount swinging steadily to port, brandishing their massive dual 343mm main guns. Back below the deck, crews loaded the heavy regular high-explosive munitions and their propellant onto the breech before shutting its lock. Not long after the orders were given, the forward main batteries of the Rahmi Kaymakk and Andras Kaymakk were now pointed directly at the enemy battleship. The Andras''s chief gunnery officer turned to Captain Bos with an apprehensive yet determined look. "Turret Koff is clear for action, cap''n!" Almost immediately after the confirmation, the officer manning the manacomm on the bridge let go of the talk button and turned to Vice Admiral Iskann. "The Rahmi reports that their guns are clear for action!" All attention on the bridge¡ªand perhaps from the entire fleet as well¡ªfell on the short-statured vice admiral. He had a hint of forlornness in his eyes, but further observation was put off when he blinked; the moment after, he opened his eyes and barked at the top of his lungs. "FIRE!" His orders promptly made their way down the chain of command, reaching the gunnery crews below deck in record time. The deck had been evacuated, and the rest of the crew readied themselves with plugged ears and squinted eyes. It was time. Seconds after the orders were issued, two bright flashes shone several milliseconds apart from the forward sections of the two lead ships of the Altaran battle line. Moments later, the shock wave of the blasts echoed throughout the vicinity as fireballs erupted from the bores of the main guns of the Andras Kaymakk and Rahmi Kaymakk. B-Boom! Their deafening booms made thunderclaps across the battlefield, signaling the beginning of a major naval engagement between Altaras and Parpaldia.
??? Several minutes earlier, atop the bridge of the Parpaldian flagship Carles D¨ªdac Gallaire, Vice Admiral Pommerau and his staff officers observed the Altaran naval task force, which was rapidly closing in ever since they appeared on the horizon. Like their enemies, they, too, were quivering in tense agitation of the incoming fight, but there was little doubt among the commanders that everything was proceeding according to plan. Most of the Altaran warships and auxiliaries in previous reports were accounted for and were about to enter their enfilading fire, just as they had anticipated. "Hmph. Let this battle be forever remembered as a symbol of the Altaran king''s folly!" One of Pommerau''s staff officers declared, unable to keep his haughtiness to himself. The others chuckled at this, seemingly in agreement, but there were some who laughed simply because they found his arrogance quite corny. "And may your statement be forever remembered in laughter, hahaha!" "I can''t find reason in declaring this battle for victory; as much as we are starting this battle with an advantage, the competition is still rather neck-and-neck, no?" Everything proceeding as planned did give way to a sense of complacency among the officers, but it was not beyond them to keep in mind that the Altarans still possessed the advantage in terms of raw firepower. This also meant that they knew that the main guns on the Altaran (former Muish) battleships, which happened to be leading their battle line, possessed greater range than their own, hence their crowding of the Carles''s bridge wing trying to watch the action on the enemy ships'' decks. But their bickering and jestering meant that they weren''t paying attention; it took the scream of a lookout to catch their attention. "Enemy battleships are turning their guns this way!" Laughter and snide remarks instantly gave way to silence as the officers on the bridge scrambled to point their binoculars at the enemy battleships. Through the stained optics, they could make out the familiar features of the Rahmi Kaymakk and the Andras Kaymakk, but most importantly, they could see the forward gun turrets on both capital ships turning to point their guns toward them. The Parpaldian naval officers, having never fought in a gunnery battle using battleships before, almost cowered at the sight of the massive 343mm bores staring at them with unfeeling darkness. Before long, flashes of light simultaneously popped into existence from the guns of both battleships, soon to be replaced by thick clouds of ashen smoke. "Enemy battleships have fired!" The Parpaldian officers, taken back by the commencement of hostilities by the Altaran side, quickly stood their ground as their reasoning kicked in. "Keep your wits about! It''s just a sighting shot! The chances of missing are high!" Pommerau barked to remind his faltering retinue of where they currently stand. It was only natural for the Andras and Rahmi, the ones with the most powerful and far-reaching guns, to open fire this soon, and it was expected that they''d target the lead ship, the Carles. If intelligence of Altaran protocols are to be believed, then there was little reason to panic, given that a sighting shot had a low likelihood of scoring a hit. But the enemy already firing their sighting shot did mean that they had the advantage¡ªa second salvo''s chances of a hit dramatically increased, given the corrections from the first salvo. Pommerau''s palms started to sweat profusely. Judging by the estimated reload rate of the Muish 343mm naval artillery and the time it takes for their shots to reach them, they should be able to fire off the second salvo around a dozen seconds after their sighting shots land, excluding the time taken to make recalculations of the firing solutions. It was imperative that they bring their own guns to bear before the Altaran shots landed. The vice admiral turned to the communications officers and signalmen and began issuing orders. "Prepare for anti-surface combat! The Carles, Mart¨ª, Esthirant, Duro, and Parpaldia are to target the enemy lead ship with their main batteries; prepare for a volley fire on my order!" Orders were quickly dispatched to the other four Parpaldian battleships, which all sailed at the forefront just behind the Carles. Alarms were raised as crews on the five battleships rushed to clear all the main battery turrets for action. Thanks to the Parpaldian line crossing the T of the Altaran line, they were able to bring all of their main battery turrets to bear, unlike the Altarans, who could only bring to bear their forward turrets. The usually sleepy Luc, captain of the Carles, had his back straightened and his face alive and well when he started issuing orders as the ship''s commander. "All hands, action stations! Clear Turrets A and B for action and target the enemy flagship!" Gunnery officers quickly rushed to the rangefinders mounted on the battleships'' bridges. "Target bearing: 236; range: 1.9 tacour; speed: 14 knots and increasing!" Corrections were made as the information was corroborated before they were passed to the chief gunnery officers to calculate firing solutions. Once they were done, they were communicated to the gunnery crews below deck by way of speaking tubes, who repeated the solutions in acknowledgment. The Leiforian-made magical guns on all five battleships were readied, and the mechanical controls for azimuth and gun elevation were manually operated by their crews to the values designated by their firing solutions. One by one, the four dual-mounted 279mm guns on both the Carles D¨ªdac Gallaire and Mart¨ª Ll¨¤tzer Gallaire, the four dual-mounted 305mm guns on the Esthirant and Duro, and the six dual-mounted 305mm guns on the Parpaldia turned their barrels to face the lead Altaran battleship, the Rahmi Kaymakk; although they were smaller in caliber to the Rahmi''s main guns, a gunnery match between twenty two guns and four guns was by no means a fair trade. Below their decks, magical high-explosive shells and their propellants¡ªboth of which have explosive filler made out of chemically inert, processed mana-sensitive substances¡ªwere steadily loaded into the gigantic breeches of the guns. As soon as the breech was locked behind them, the gunnery crews activated the mana circuitry on the guns'' fire control, priming them for action. One by one, messages from the chief gunnery officers of the five battleships made their way to the bridge of the Carles¡ªto the ears of the vice admiral. "Turrets A and B are ready, cap''n!" "The Mart¨ª, Esthirant, Duro, and Parpaldia report that their guns are ready to fire; they''re awaiting orders!" Captain Luc turned to Vice Admiral Pommerau with anticipatory suspense. "Vice admiral?" Pommerau stood still and silent; his pose was about as stoic as one could be. They managed to get their guns to bear before the Altaran sighting shots landed, and the enemy lead ship had now entered within the range of their guns. But he didn''t intend for their first salvo to be a sighting shot. No¡ªit was going to be the real deal. With twenty two shots in the ring, one of them¡ªif not even half¡ªwas sure to land a damaging hit on the enemy lead ship. It was a gamble, one that he was not too keen on making, but as a long-time patron of the casinos in Sios, he was no stranger to the odds. Booooom! The metallic floor and walls of the Carles''s bridge shook as the four shots fired by the Altaran battleships landed on the ocean all across the Carles, none of which were even close enough to splatter its decks with seawater. The thunderous booms of the enemy''s shots were a wake-up call to Vice Admiral Pommerau¡ªit was now or never. Before the jets of water had even dissipated, the vice admiral shouted at the top of his lungs. "FIRE!" Orders were instantaneously broadcasted to the crews of the other four battleships, who anxiously awaited the call; Captain Luc repeated the vice admiral''s order, shouting at the top of his lungs in a similar fashion. At almost the same time, the gunnery crews of the battleships pressed their palms on the guns'' activated mana circuitry, resulting in the breech of the guns surging towards them; outside, the muzzles of the twenty two guns of the Parpaldian battleships flashed brighter than the sun before ebbing away just as quickly as they appeared. Ginormous clouds of smoke appeared all across the Parpaldian battle line, temporarily obscuring the battleships from view. Boom! Boom! Boooom! The blasts from the Parpaldian line deafened everything else on the battlefield, answering the Altaran four-shot volley with a hilariously overkill twenty two-shot volley of their own. Unlike the Altaran sighting shot, this one was intended to score hits; the vice admiral closed his eyes as he repeated prayers to the goddess of luck over and over under his breath. ??? "Enemy battleships have fired all their main guns! We''re counting around twenty two shots fired!" Lookouts aboard the Andras Kaymakk screamed, their tone desperate. Vice Admiral Iskann and his staff officers took to the bridge wing with their binoculars, but their quivering hands and sweaty palms made it difficult to maintain watch. Residue smoke from the combusted mana-sensitive substances clouded the enemy battle line, but they needed no more confirmation that the Parpaldians did indeed fire a volley. Iskann''s eyes twitched, the number twenty two having engraved itself in his mind as he repeatedly mouthed the number like a child that found the number to be far too big to grasp. He turned to Captain Bos, who was faring better in trying to keep composed. "How long before we get to fire again?!" "Any time now!" Using stopwatches, their gunnery officers managed to record the time it took for their shots to land, which, along with other key corrections, allowed them to calculate more accurate firing solutions. The order was given for the Andras and Rahmi to ready another salvo as soon as their shots landed, but the enemy battleships firing their shots immediately afterward raised the stakes a hundredfold. Crews under the decks of both battleships worked to quickly get the new rounds into the guns, but each second that was spent in the absence of cannon fire exacerbated their nervousness. Just then, a rising column of seawater erupted in between the Rahmi and the Andras. Not long after, a blast of air from the column passed through both battleships in the form of a thunderclap. Boom! "Enemy shots are landing!" An officer on the bridge of the Andras cried out, but his words seemed unnecessary as everyone reflexively ducked behind the solid cover afforded by their ship. Lookouts and spotters stayed firm, counting and reporting every enemy shot that landed and where. A good deal of them splashed in a wide area around the Rahmi, their lead ship, but the prelude of deep sounds from metal hitting the waves gave way to a chorus of ear-piercing sounds. "Two hits confirmed on the Rahmi! White smoke spotted coming out of the forward deck!" Iskann, his officers, Bos, and many other men aboard the Andras emerged from their cover even amidst the threat of incoming fire to take a look at the Rahmi. At the moment the vice admiral laid his eyes on the ship, he caught sight of an incoming shell grazing the Rahmi''s mainmast, a fatal blow to its structural integrity. As he watched the mainmast tumble and fall on the bridge, the white smoke emanating out of the ship''s forward deck, where its forward main battery was located, momentarily disappeared. Then, it shined brighter than the sun. "Shi¡ª" Before he can complete his expletive, the flash expanded into a fireball and then contracted into a firestorm of sparks and black smoke¡ªall in a single moment. A column of fire blasted high into the air¡ªabout as high as the low-lying clouds¡ªas the shockwave, visible with the naked eye, swept across the entire battlefield. KABLAAAM! The immense power of the blast threw the men on the bridge of Andras back, blowing their service and sailor caps off of their scalps. As they reeled from the shockwave and the sounds of ringing in their ears, they found the Rahmi Kaymakk, proud battleship of the Royal Altaran Navy and arguably the strongest in the region, split in half¡ªboth of which were already listing beyond repair and rapidly disappearing beneath the waves; in its wake, a gigantic cloud in the shape of a mushroom loomed over the entire task force, casting its formidable shadow upon the Altarans like some sort of horrible premonition. The battleship Rahmi Kaymakk suffered two penetrating hits on its forward deck, specifically on the port side of Turret Koff. The resulting damage from the detonation of the enemy high explosives punctured the barbette and set off fires in the working chamber and lower decks. As misfortune would have it, the crew was in the process of transporting ammunition to the guns; seconds after the hits, the ammunition and their charges, which were dropped by the crew when they were killed or knocked unconscious, were set aflame. The resulting cascading secondary explosions set alight the magazine, leading to a catastrophic ammunition explosion. Flaming debris rained all across Task Force Selma as their crews stood paralyzed by the reality that their most powerful ship, the poster child of the Royal Altaran Navy, had been taken out of action in the opening action. Vice Admiral Iskann stared at the flaming wreck of the Rahmi, the emotion in his eyes a quagmire of surprise, regret, and resignation. His ears continued to ring from the blast while his heart continued to shake in pain. No one must have survived from the Rahmi, meaning that there were now a thousand souls added to their casualties. It was a crushing blow, not only to their fighting strength and to the image of the kingdom but also to his personal self-respect. How can a commander like him face his men, knowing he had purposefully led them to their doom? As enraged and saddened tears started to flow from his eyes, he felt a strong grip on his shoulders. He turned around to see the eyes of Bos, a familiar face in what was the epitome of a ''trying time.'' "Iskann! Snap out of it!" Bos''s voice was resolute and straight to the point, but Iskann, who had known him for a long time, could make out the haze of fear swirling in his eyes. This contrast between an iron-willed exterior and an uncertain and hesitant interior broke the emotional impasse within the vice admiral. A new question popped up in his head: How can a noble commander of the kingdom of Altaras be so shaken in the fatherland''s finest moment? His heart, still reeling from the shock of the Rahmi''s loss, took a leap forward and answered that question. "Right!" Iskann found his footing and turned to face his staff and the crew of the Andras, their faces awash with dread, fear, and inaction. He stood tall, and while his stature was shorter than average, everyone looked up to him. "Eyes on me, men! Don''t be disheartened by the loss of your comrades, for Umphtaf blesses their sacrifice! We will have time to mourn them later, but for now, we must satiate the thirst of Trallam, for he beckons the sacrifice of twisted metal and dead Parpaldians!" There were no war cries to be heard, but the call for Parpaldian blood was well received in the hearts of the Altarans, who craved revenge for the Rahmi. The crew''s eyes flashed with determination as they looked toward Iskann, awaiting their orders. Not a second later, the vice admiral started barking at them. "Fleet to conduct 180 deg change of front and maintain battle line formation!" The sailors quickly broke into a sprint as the orders were transmitted to the entire task force; Captain Bos issued his own orders to direct the Andras Kaymakk''s course. "Hard-a-starboard, steer 180!" The helmsman repeated the orders as he threw his entire weight onto the stubborn wheel to get it to turn. "Hard-a-starboard, steer 180, aye, cap''n!" The heavy steel hull of the Altaran battleship groaned as it was forced on the sharp turn starboard, a move mirrored by the cruisers, ironclads, and rated ships of Task Force Selma. Soon, the entire line had turned on its head and was now headed west. ??? The formidable blast wave from the catastrophic explosion that crushed the Altaran battleship reached the Carles D¨ªdac Gallaire. Its ear-shattering boom swept across the nooks and crannies of the Parpaldian flagship, making known to its crew¡ªand then the rest of the Parpaldian battle line¡ªthat the Altaran spear had been severely crippled. Not long after the blast, an almost deathly silence fell upon the battlefield, but it was immediately shattered by the piercing shriek coming from a lookout atop the Parpaldian flagship. "Enemy flagship is sinking! The Royaut¨¦ is sinking!" There was no hiding the glee in the man''s voice; soon, uproar overcast his victorious cry. "HUZZAH!" "The enemy flagship is sunk! GLORY TO PARPALDIA!" Men aboard the Carles D¨ªdac Gallaire came out to the deck to witness their triumph over the Altaran wretches, symbolized by a towering, ballooning cloud of smoke and flames emanating from the wreck of the rapidly sinking enemy battleship. Smiles adorned the faces of all onlookers¡ªeven the ones aboard the other ships as soon as the news spread¡ªand caps were thrown high into the air as if the battle had been won. But Vice Admiral Pommerau, himself unable to keep his lips from turning into a smile, knew that this was but the start. There was one thing that he knew that all Altarans shared: the capacity to develop a desire for revenge when wronged. They may have taken out their most powerful vessel, and that was a fact, but the fact that their entire battle line, including that vessel''s sister ship, the Andras Kaymakk, is still active remains true. Just as he regained composure and was about to tell everyone to calm down, an incoming report from the lookouts captured his attention. "The enemy battle line is performing a u-turn! They''re turning away!" Pommerau''s staff officers, having regained their composure from the slight moment of victorious cheer, took to the bridge wing to witness the maneuvers. The enemy battle line was in the middle of turning away from them, leaving behind the burning, sinking wreck of their lead ship. Observing this, they formed strategies in their head, which they promptly suggested to the vice admiral. "If this is the maneuver they''re taking, then they will be limited by the top speed of their slowest-rated ships." "Indeed! And we can move at our fastest speed and cut them off!" Pommerau added in his insight. "And since the vanguard of their line now consists of their weakest-rated ships, we can exploit that weakness and destroy more enemy ships in the process." He summoned the communications officer after concocting some slight changes to their battle plans. "Tell the fleet to enter Battle Formation Yvette and split into lines A and B; A will follow a course parallel to the enemy line on its northern side while B will follow a parallel course on its south! All ships are to maintain a speed of 16 knots when possible!" After handing a quick reply in "Roger!" the officer hightailed it back to the communications room where the vice admiral''s orders were transmitted to the rest of the task force. As was designated prior to the battle, each ship fell into their respective lines; soon enough, the Parpaldian battle line had split into two forces of roughly equal firepower. Courses were set for Line A and Line B, putting both battle lines on either side of the singular Altaran battle line.
9:45 The hands on the clock struck 9:45, and the Battle of Menda Point was in full swing. The Altaran battle line, thanks to the slower-rated ships at the vanguard, had slowed to a crawl as two Parpaldian battle lines cruised at a faster speed on either side. Both Parpaldian battle lines brought all of their guns to bear (save for the broadside types), while the Altaran line was forced to negotiate, having to fire on both sides. "Enemy capital ships are now out of main battery range!" "Fuck!" Sum, captain of the Vilatam-class ironclad Arirmuslu, sister ship of the Orhasli and Hudaden, which were both sunk at the Battle of Messina, cursed his luck. Not only did the devils manage to bring down the mighty Rahmi, a veteran of the Great War on the side of the Royal Muish Navy, with a lucky shot, but now they were proving to be more tactically adept despite the rumors of a decrepit Parpaldian navy filled with drunkards and corruptible scum. He had already lost a couple of men from shots that straddled the Arirmuslu and disabled a main gun, leaving him with only 15 operational. While he stared at the enemy battleships and cruisers with salty eyes, his vice-captain had other ideas. "Captain." "What?!" "The higher speed of the enemy line has opened up for us an opportunity..." The vice-captain pointed to the line of rated ships, mostly wooden-hulled and powered by sails, trailing behind the more heavily armored and faster capital ships. While the faster Parpaldian battle line enabled them to catch up to the Altaran vanguard, which were made up of their weaker ships, it meant that the Parpaldians'' weaker ships, which were at their rear, to line up nicely with the more powerful Altaran capital ships, which were trailing at the line''s rear. The captain''s eyes sparkled at the vice-captain''s suggestion. "You''re a genius!" Brimming with newfound hope and bloodlust for devils smitten under righteous Altaran firepower, he screamed at the top of his lungs. "New target! All guns aim for the enemy broadside sailship, the one with the red sails, at bearing 153!" The Arirmuslu''s rangefinders set their sights on a Parpaldian third-rate ship of the line sailing along their southern flank, which had distinctive red square sails on its midmast. Gunnery officers passed their firing solutions to the 248mm main guns, which their gunnery crews'' promptly turned toward the direction of the enemy ship. Soon enough, the last shell had been loaded into the breech of the last gun; they were now ready to fire. "The guns are ready, cap''n!" "FIRE!" At once, the guns of the Arirmuslu shout out their payload in a deadly outburst of fire. The gunnery crews, exposed to the elements since the guns lacked an enclosed gunhouse, shielded their ears from the blast. Once the blasts had faded, crews emerged from their gun shields to observe the hits. Hardly half a minute later, the first splashes erupted from all around the Parpaldian ship, which was powerless to answer in reply due to their guns'' inferior range. Moments after the closest hits splashed, they witnessed their first direct hit: two shells grazed the topmasts of both the main and mizzen masts, easily toppling them over. "Hits scored on the enemy main and mizzen masts!" A resounding cry from the lookout coincided with the fallen masts falling on the deck and the foremast, which was consequently bent from the weight of the other masts. The effect was rather immediate: the ship rapidly decelerated, forcing the ships trailing behind it to start to maneuver around the disabled friendly vessel. "Haha! Finish it off!" The vice-captain roared with joy at the sight of a disabled enemy ship, a sentiment that was shared by the captain. "For Land and King, men! Fire on the disabled enemy ship as soon as you''ve reloaded!" Corrections to the firing solutions were made and the gunnery crews set off to adjust their aim and reload the guns. Not too long after the order was given, the fastest crews set the first gunfire of the second volley from the Arirmuslu. The battle flags of Altaras fluttered in the blasts produced by the gunfire as shells were sent in rapid succession toward the abhorred Parpaldian imperialists. Altaran crew members with binoculars watched the enemy personnel aboard the doomed vessel screaming and running about as the second volley of shells landed its first direct hits on the hull. The opaqueness in their eyes, as they witnessed the scene of maimed bodies flying about and the sight of terrified faces crying, was made out of a mix of apathy and a sort of wicked catharsis. Before their last shell landed, the enemy ship''s aft was already towering above the water and rapidly sinking. "Woooooh! Hahaha!" "That''s right, you pigs! FOR LAND AND KING!" Cheers erupted across the length of the Arirmuslu, as well as from the other friendly vessels next to it. It was a celebratory mood, and there remained a banquet of Parpaldian hulls and bodies for their guns to devour and feast upon. "Onto the next target!" While the Arirmuslu and other Altaran ships blasted the weak rear of both Parpaldian lines, there was no changing the fact that the faster, more heavily armed Parpaldian vanguards were catching up to the Altaran vanguard and thus threatened to cut off their westward advance.
10:04 Leading battle line B on the southern flank of the Altaran line, the Carles D¨ªdac Gallaire was steaming ahead faster than the rated ships of the Altaran vanguard. Like the battleship Parpaldia, which led battle line A on the northern flank, they were on the verge of overtaking the foremost Altaran ship. Vice Admiral Pommerau was on the bridge wing watching the fledging enemy line when one of his staff officers approached him. "Vice Admiral! It would appear that our rear is being blasted to smithereens! Six rated ships have already been confirmed to be out of action!" Pommerau glanced at the staff officer before turning his attention back to the foremost Altaran rated ship. Moments later, he caught a glimpse of the bow of the Parpaldia emerging ahead of the enemy ship''s bow¡ªthey were now ahead of the Altaran battle line. "Then I reckon it''s about time we returned the favor." He turned to face the staff officer and the communications officer standing behind him with a rather unaffected expression. "All available ships are to turn all available guns and smash the enemy vanguard! Fire at will!" ??? "Enemy battleships are turning their guns our way!" The shriek of a lookout atop the masts pierced the tense atmosphere as every man who wasn''t unfurling the sails froze where he stood. On the poop deck stood the captain, whose face was as white as the sun''s glare. Drops of sweat peppered every possible space on his face and were indistinguishable from the splashes of seawater. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. "Cap''n?! Orders?!" One of his lieutenants screamed at him, but the paralyzed captain moved neither lip nor finger. They were on board the Cesaret, a 72-gun third-rate ship of the line. Commissioned thirty years ago, she was hopelessly outdated in this era of ironclad warships, but she was nevertheless kept afloat and in service to pad the numbers of the small Royal Altaran Navy. Today, she was unfortunate enough to have been at the very end of their battle line, and her slow speed bottlenecked the Altaran advance. The crew could only watch as the hulking steel behemoths of the Parpaldian navy loom over them outside the range of their own guns. Their massive cannons slowly turned to face them and their peers, worsening the feeling of impending doom that had taken root in their hearts. After all, if their most powerful battleship, the Rahmi Kaymakk, had been felled by such guns, what chance does a hopelessly obsolete ship like the Cesaret have? Then, clouds of smoke popped into existence in front of the enemy ships, clouding their silhouettes. "Enemy ships have fired!" Fear continued to grip the men of the Cesaret, and they were now quivering down to their knees. Seconds later, the soul-shattering force of a shockwave blew them back from where they stood. KABOOM! When the men came to, they found an imposing pillar of seawater looming above the ship, created by a shell that landed in the water just clear of the Cesaret''s bow. The shellshocked crew of the third-rate burned the sight into their psyche, and all hell broke loose. "Abandon ship! Every man for himself!" A terrified voice screamed, but it came not from the captain. It mattered not in the end. Their terror reached a breaking point, and the men of the Cesaret broke into a panic and ran for the sides of the ship. They paid no heed as to whether or not it was the captain''s orders but only that they wanted to be as far away from death as possible. "Wait! No! Get back here, you cowards!" The lieutenant barked, but it was in vain, for even the commissioned officers, still wearing their decorated uniforms, were joining in the rout. He turned around, hoping to get the captain to drill some discipline back into the crew, but all he found were a pair of shoes that were hastily taken off. "FUCK IT!" Giving up all hope, the lieutenant decided to join the rout, but before he did, a bright flash of light and a momentary sensation of intense heat stopped him. Less than a minute after the crew of the Cesaret lost all discipline and cohesion and abandoned ship, a round fired by one of the main guns on the Parpaldian battleships landed a direct hit on it. The resulting explosion easily knocked the ship out of action, destroying its masts and obliterating a significant portion of the upper gun deck; subsequent hits ultimately dealt so much damage that the ship practically ceased to exist, reduced to floating scrap. ??? Meanwhile, at the very rear of the Altaran battle line, sounds of cannon fire were also ringing as the most powerful Altaran vessels dominated the battle with their large caliber guns. Hopelessly outgunned, the Parpaldian rated ships tried to fight back with roundshot fired on the uproll, hoping to skip the shots to negotiate the distance, often to negligible results. Still, the stray roundshots had an effect: damaging masts, fixed equipment, and mauling several crew members unfortunate enough to have been exposed on the deck. On the bridge of the Andras Kaymakk, action reports of Parpaldian ships being taken out of action continued to flood in. However, the first reports of Altaran ships being lost were starting to make their way to the vice admiral. "Vice Admiral! It would appear that the enemy lines have reached our vanguard and have wreaked havoc!" The staff officers began to discuss the reports that were flooding in by the second. "Broadside fire from two directions! We''ve definitely done it!" "Seven ships have already been confirmed out of action! Their wrecks are serving to bottleneck our advance further!" They turned to Vice Admiral Iskann with suggestions for a new course of action. "Vice Admiral! We need to break formation!" Iskann closed his eyes. Receptive as he was to changes, it was still painful having to deal with mounting losses. It was imperative that they break out of the double broadside at once, and the Andras was in the right position to lead that charge. He opened his eyes with orders ready to fly off his lips. "Tell the fleet to set course for 180 and form a line behind the Andras Kaymakk!" The orders were rapidly disseminated to the rest of the task force as Captain Bos took charge once more with the battleship''s navigation. "Both engines full speed ahead! Rudders hard to port!" "Both engines full speed ahead and rudders hard to port! Aye, cap''n!" The helmsman pushed the propulsion controls forward before swinging his entire weight on the ship''s wheel to force it to turn to port. Not long after, the Andras Kaymakk began to list to starboard from the immense inertia as it swung its entire mass to the left; acceleration picked up and inched towards its 17-knot top speed. The Altaran battleship was partway through its turn when the southern Parpaldian battle line, realizing that the might of the Altaran Navy was heading towards them, began to concentrate their gunfire towards it. "Enemy ships are firing their chasers and broadsides!" The Parpaldian rated ships fired their guns¡ªchasers for those that were not able to turn in time and broadside deck guns for those that had already brought them to bear¡ªonto the approaching Andras Kaymakk. Under normal circumstances, this would have been shrugged off, but the range between the battleship and the rated ships was rapidly closing to the point where the force imparted by the roundshots'' impacts was starting to sting. Papapapapam! Papapapam! Gun crews aboard the Parpaldian rated ships continued to let loose even as the clouds of spent gunpowder started to chaff them. As the Andras Kaymakk began to drive a wedge into the Parpaldian line, the distance closed to less than a kilometer. Broadsides of roundshots fired by the rated ships rained like hail on the Altaran battleship, and while the majority harmlessly missed, some shots found their marks. Many of the solid iron balls simply bounced off the heavy steel armoring of the Andras, but where there wasn''t any protection, the roundshots were devastating. Launches, rangefinders, machine guns, and unarmored fixtures such as the masts and speaking tubes were destroyed, while a few unfortunate sailors on the deck were either mauled or wounded severely. Needless to say, the Andras was lashing back. Boom! Boboboom! The secondary 152mm guns in the casemate mounts opened fire in quick succession, dishing out its angered reply to the Parpaldian broadsides. The shells easily broke past the strong, overlapping wooden armoring of the rated ships, causing immense damage to their gun decks, rigging, and even masts. Meanwhile, behind the Andras Kaymakk, the Vilatam and Saveh-class warships, which had formed behind the battleship, were similarly ringing out cannon shot after cannon shot. As the reformed Altaran battle line steamed southward, they left in their wake a further three Parpaldian rated ships rendered out of action; in exchange, the Andras Kaymakk suffered minor damage in the form of several fixtures destroyed, several crew members killed, and a dozen more wounded, and four secondary guns damaged.
??? The situation at the former vanguard of the Altaran battle line was incredibly dire, however. As of 10:14, 13 rated ships were knocked out of action, but their wrecks continued to cause chaos as they blocked the path of advance of the incoming Altaran ships. The ensuing blockade has led to difficulty in maneuvering, especially in response to the new orders to follow the flagship on the new course southward. As all that happened, the thundering gunfire from the Parpaldian capital ships continued unrelentingly. "Vice admiral! The enemy flagship, the Andras Kaymakk, has broken through line B and is heading south! It appears they''ve reformed a new battle line!" Pommerau, without detracting his observation from the latest couple of Altaran rated ships blown to smithereens by another volley, issued new orders. "Tell the fleet to form line ahead; once that''s complete, hard to port while maintaining formation and speed! We''ll try and cut their southward advance from the west!" His orders were rapidly transmitted to every active Parpaldian warship; not long after, the separated A and B lines merged once more into a single battle line. With the sailors bolstered by high morale from the active leadership and results that were laudable and crystal clear, the warships of Task Force Nalina reformed their battle line formation seamlessly and without issue. Once again, the flagship Carles D¨ªdac Gallaire took the lead, followed by the other battleships, cruisers, ironclads, and then the rated ships. As the Altaran line struggled to steam in cohesion southward, the Parpaldian line was already reformed and turning to face them once again. In the wake of the 30-minute engagement, 25 ships¡ª16 Altaran and 9 Parpaldian¡ªwere already out of action, either sunk or left behind to be scuttled, with the number of men killed on either side already up in the thousands.
10:29 As the hands on the clock struck 10:29, the sun was nearing its zenith on this rather hot winter day in the Altaras Strait. The men of the Royal Altaran Navy task force "Selma" were understandably ridden in sweat, but a good deal of that came not from the heat. Hardly an hour or so ago, they had just came face to face with their nemesis: the Parpaldian Imperial Navy. But unlike the stories told by the newspapers, by the merchants, by their dignitaries, by their government officials, who all told of a derelict enemy that was too drunk on whores and alcohol distilled from the blood of their conquests on the continent to ever pose a threat to the Altaran nation, the foes that they came into contact with were by no means pushovers¡ªno, in fact, they were absolute demons. And the goddess of luck Salmar seemed to have been smiling on them too, when she willed the Rahmi Kaymakk, their most powerful ship, to be sunk in a soul-shattering explosion in the opening engagement. But even without Salmar''s help, they performed rather pathetically. He ordered a battle turn into a line that was slowed down by their rated ships. The enemy splits into two lines to shower them with powerful broadsides from both directions. They managed to only knock out of action nine enemy ships in contrast to losing 16 of their own. Whatever happened to their numerical advantage? Their "more powerful" ships? The indomitable, ironclad will of Altaran spirit and discipline? Wasn''t it supposed to win this war, just as His Majesty said? The Altaran battle line continued to steam southwards at full speed, but the men were just as tired as their war machines were worn and damaged. Sailors maintained their general stations albeit with heavy hearts and downturned eyes; officers maintained discipline, but the hit to morale by the compounding losses had made their expressions more visibly agitated; the flag officer Vice Admiral Iskann and his staff officers were hunched over the makeshift table, arguing in heated fashion about what to do next. "With 43 combat-worthy ships, we can still try to make it to Menda Point and achieve our original mission! Even if we all die, we will have done a service to His Majesty by fulfilling his orders!" "Not all of us share your death wish! And is bombarding some helpless island with a garrison of less than 50 before being killed in turn a better idea than facing the enemy fleet and doing a lot more damage there?" Iskann couldn''t control himself. "It matters not whether we have a death wish: we will die here whether we like it or not!" He exploded, laying bare his true feelings of resignation on the matter. His staff officers stood there, silent. Whether or not they believed they still stood a chance, it was frankly discouraging¡ªdepressing, even¡ªto hear such fatalist words from their own commander''s mouth. He placed his hand over his face. He had been disappointed in himself more times than before, but it was probably the first time he''d been remotely aware that that sentiment was shared by his own men. It was outright pitiful. Still, not only did he have pride to uphold, but he also had a task force to command just as His Majesty had decreed. "...But I agree. Disregarding our original mission to continue engaging the Parpaldian task force tops our priorities as of the moment." His eyes, once swollen with anger and a desire for retribution, were now filled with a silent acceptance of their situation. "We may have doomed ourselves with our¡ªsorry, my mistakes, and there may even be the work of forces beyond our control, but we absolutely cannot let the Parpaldians take our lives without making them regret their own." Iskann''s words were neither uplifting nor discouraging, but they served to hammer the idea in the Altarans'' hearts that the Parpaldians were not going to have their victory without shedding blood. An eye for an eye. Tit for tat. An extraordinary price for an extraordinary reward. The Andras Kaymakk, albeit damaged in some areas, pushed forward with the blue and white standards proudly raised. The men of Altaras would continue to fight for Land and King, but a growing pessimistic acceptance of their imminent fate was the one that was taking hold in their hearts.
11:06 As the sun neared its zenith, the battle lines of the Parpaldian task force "Nalina" and Altaran task force "Selma" were once again about to converge, with the former poised to cut off the southern advance of the latter from the west. While the Altaran task force was still reeling from the losses it suffered, the Parpaldian task force, on the other hand, enjoyed greater morale and a spirit that was barely fazed by their own losses. With them lay the rights to the title "Sinkers of the Rahmi Kaymakk," and that was exactly what rang in their hearts. What followed was a thirst to repeat that glorious action; after all, if they''ve done it before, surely they could do that to the other battleship? On the bridge of the Carles D¨ªdac Gallaire, Vice Admiral Pommerau and his officers watched the Altaran battle line on the horizon as it slowly got closer and closer. The guns of the line''s lead ship, probably the Andras Kaymakk, were already starting to turn towards them. But once again, their better coordination meant that they were at an advantage: they were poised to cross their T with the might the combined¡ªand more importantly, intact¡ªmight of five capital ships against their sole surviving battleship. Granted, the enemy''s main guns were more powerful and could reach further, but the disparity in aggregate firepower was immense¡ªand, sure enough, decisive. "This is it, brave warriors of Parpaldia!" Pommerau yelled out to the men on the bridge of their flagship as he turned around; all eyes fell on him. "You have already proven your mettle as the valiant sons of the empire in this battle..." He hesitated as if to backtrack on a speech that seemed to have sounded better in his head. "But if we slice the head of the Altaran ''hydra...''" He pointed towards the enemy flagship. "...and bring the trophy of this battle back to His Majesty, then you will have proven to history that you are not only the empire''s sons but that you are her favored ones!" He raised his fists into the air in a show of triumph; it was too early for one, but it clearly showed his confidence. As for the men present on the bridge, their eyes seemed to sparkle in excitement, their smiles a sign of gratitude for the opportunity of being able to have their names etched onto the record that will eventually tell of their victory at this place near Menda Point. "Glory to Parpaldia!" The vice admiral shouted, to which everyone else, enlisted sailors and officers alike, responded with... "GLORY TO PARPALDIA!" Pommerau immediately donned his game face and started issuing orders. "The Carles, Mart¨ª, Esthirant, Duro, and Parpaldia are to target the enemy flagship with all batteries; open fire on my command!" These orders were quickly transmitted to the other four battleships as Captain Luc of the Carles started shouting orders for the batteries to be cleared for action once more. As these massive gun batteries were readied, the enemy breathed their reply. Bo-bo-boom! The four 343mm guns of the Andras Kaymakk unleashed their fury upon the approaching Parpaldian battle line, signaling the restart of an interrupted exchange that was barely two hours in length. The high explosive shells flew across the skies in ballistic trajectories, negotiating the distance to their target in seconds. On the other side of its crosshairs was the battleship Parpaldia, the furthest of the Parpaldian battleships and the empire''s sole battleship that was built in a Parpaldian shipyard (although it wasn''t made with indigenous Parpaldian expertise and machinery, and definitely not armed with locally produced weaponry). Easily recognized by Vice Admiral Iskann thanks to its rather unique main battery placement (1 forward, 2 aft) and cruder-looking construction, he figured that if they were going down, he might as well wound the empire''s pride by damaging the capital ship named after it. Kaboom! The first shell landed in the water, straddling the masts of the Parpaldia. It was sufficient to say that these unnerved its crew regardless of their high morale. "Incoming!" The scream of a lookout sent spine-freezing chills down the officers of the Parpaldia, who were last posted in a broadside ironclad and were the least acquainted of the capital ship crews with their new ship. The sight of the might of the Royal Altaran Navy staring its gun muzzles down their direction was utterly frightening to them, almost as if they had forgotten that they were already fighting in a battleship themselves. Kaboom! Another round came and missed, but it came very close to hitting their port belt armor. While any other crew might have viewed this as some lucky miss, this was enough to spook the Parpaldia''s officers. "Eeeek! FIRE FIRE FIRE FIRE!" The captain screamed in a rather unmasculine manner before reflexes got the better of him, and he gave the order to fire. In any other circumstance, this would be shot down by the reasoning of his officers, but they too were almost to the point of pissing their pants, and so the order was carried out anyway; the gunnery crews below deck, not knowing the situation above, followed as they were ordered. Ba-ba-ba-bam! In the midst of a silent and prudent Parpaldian battle line, the sound of gunfire erupted from the Parpaldia. The Andras Kaymakk was already within range, but they were supposed to commence firing as per the order of the vice admiral. Attention quickly fell on the ship, especially from Pommerau. "What the hell are they doing?!" He almost fell over, trying to get over the bridge wing to take a better look at the Parpaldia further down their battle line. He personally saw the shots from the enemy flagship miss it, and it seemed unaffected, but he wondered if there were any problems onboard. Either way, the Parpaldia''s out-of-tune volley was the least of his problems¡ªif anything, he was being too conservative with their range. Moments later, as the Parpaldian battleships entered within 2km of the Andras Kaymakk, Pommerau felt that it was finally the time to commence their attack when... "Look! The volley fired by the Parpaldia is landing!" One of his staff officers pointed out to him as he temporarily blanked out. As he came to his senses and squinted at the Andras, he saw a column of seawater just shy of the enemy ship''s starboard side. Then, another one emerged from the ocean, barely straddling the bow. ??? On the Andras Kaymakk, the men and the officers were holding for dear life onto whatever solid thing they could grasp within reach. They were just about to finish reloading their second volley when the Parpaldia''s volley reached them. The first two rounds were near misses, but they were too close for comfort: it was only a matter of time before a round hits them. As the crew and officers of the Andras took cover, its gunnery crews were still hard at work below deck. Moments after the order to brace for impact was given, the distinctive colossal blasts of the aft 343mm cannons blared across the deck. Babam! But just as every man was about to uncover their ears in instinct, a deafening boom, sharper and louder than the roar of even their own guns, assailed their ears. The sound of such an explosion wasn''t alone: they felt the very steel foundations under their feet creak and wail, forcing them off of their balance and onto their backs, arms, and whatever. Men and officers alike groaned and screamed as the Andras Kaymakk was assaulted by a 305mm shell hitting the starboard aft deck, the detonation of which pulverized a good amount of the ship''s superstructure and deck infrastructure. As the agonizing sound of twisting metal and crying sailors continued, Captain Bos came to his senses and, upon recognizing that they were hit, immediately ordered a damage report. "We''re determining the damage as we speak, cap''n!" A large column of gray smoke rose from the starboard side of the ship, blanketing much of its aft, including the aft main battery. Minutes later, after the rest of the Parpaldia''s volley had been confirmed to have missed them, reports about the damage started coming in: the shell had apparently hit a certain part of the starboard aft deck at a near-horizontal angle, penetrated, and detonated. Several secondary battery guns, including a 152mm, were destroyed; the explosion significantly damaged the starboard side, and damage was reported as far as several decks below the main deck; fire had broken out on three decks, including the main deck, and while the aft barbette shows no sign of damage the magazine and its munitions remain under threat from the fire. "Commence firefighting measures! Lock down the affected areas! Continue to check for signs of imminent flooding!" Bos''s orders were promptly spread through the surviving crew near the affected area by way of speaking tubes as more men flooded to the scene to assist. Sailors donned whatever firefighting gear was available while the first to the scene of the carnage evacuated the wounded. They made use of the ship''s seawater pumps to try and get water to the affected area, where men with pressurized hoses desperately tried to fight the raging inferno. But as smoke continued to pour into the cramped halls of the Andras''s innards, the severity of the damage, coupled with the lack of firefighting training on a modern battleship, inadequate firefighting gear, and the chaos of the situation led to vexingly slow progress with damage control. ??? "Smoke from the enemy flagship! She''s hit!" Lookouts aboard the Carles D¨ªdac Gallaire screamed to get the attention of everyone else, but their actions seemed unnecessary, for the men and officers were already gawking at the sight of the enemy battleship, the sole major capital ship left in the enemy task force, aflame. A great column of gray¡ªlater black¡ªsmoke was rising out of the starboard aft section, completely blanketing the whole stern deck. While the hit seems to have entirely missed the main battery barbette, the flicker of red from the raging fires from the damaged section suggests that the situation onboard was dire. Pommerau couldn''t help but chuckle: yes, it was vexing that the Parpaldia didn''t heed his command, but their hasty decision to fire had brought upon them a sweet blessing. Eager to capitalize on this, the Parpaldian vice admiral turned to the communications officer on the bridge with eyes as sharp as a predator that had locked onto its prey. "All battleships, open fire!" As soon as his orders were transmitted, the battleships of the Parpaldian battle line¡ªsave for the Parpaldia, which was reloading¡ªfired their main guns in near-perfect synchrony. The thunderous cry of almost a dozen high-caliber guns firing in unison drowned out every other sound on the battlefield as the rounds that they fired arced across the sky, destined for the wounded Altaran flagship. ??? The resounding thunder of cannon fire reached the Andras Kaymakk in waves, not because they fired in succession but because of the different distances of their sources. Regardless, the reverberant echoes of the Parpaldian guns were but a supplement, for the officers on board the Altaran flagship were already watching the situation and well aware of the attack. Faced with this imminent threat to their survival, they immediately turned to Captain Bos, who was already issuing orders to the helmsman. "Rudders, hard to port!" "Rudders, hard to port, aye, cap''n!" the helmsman repeated in a fighting-for-life kind of desperation as he threw his entire body weight on the wheel to get the stubborn battleship to turn. Results were immediate, and the flagship listed to starboard as it made its turn to port, but the inertia from the maintenance of their battle speed worked against them. Men and officers struggled to hold on for dear life as the massive ship turned; firefighters, still fighting the fires that had broken out from the hit earlier, were temporarily hamstrung from their duties by the sudden maneuver. Iskann, his officers, and Bos looked at one another with pained looks, ones that said with terrified yet resigned expression: "This is it." Before long, the immense force of the shock waves of high-caliber shells violently hitting the water next to the ship was upon them. Boom! The men aboard the Andras cowered. Many shed tears as their guts told them that this was it. They''ve done all they can for Land and King, but the gods were not on their side this time. They felt each tumultuous boom echo within their hearts like the timer of death beating down to zero, and every silent lull in between was nothing but some sort of sadistic ploy to get their hopes up. Then, at one point, the thunderous bass of explosions turned into a mix of ear-splitting reverbs¡ªkablam! Men and objects were thrown about without discrimination as the mammoth steel battleship beneath their feet bent, twisted, and made all sorts of liquid motions. A 279mm high-explosive shell grazed the upper superstructure and forward smoke stack before landing on the midship deck on the port side and exploding; the resulting detonation destroyed some secondary batteries on the port side, but most importantly, it knocked the forward mast down onto the bridge. Some sustained fatal injuries, some were knocked out, but many more were left with non-life-threatening trauma and injuries; Vice Admiral Iskann was unfortunately included in the former groups. As the men on the bridge came to and found themselves under the rubble of a collapsed forward mast, they spotted a man wearing the distinctive uniform of the vice admiral. He was lying on the floor of the bridge in a pool of blood that was rapidly growing, and his lower half was pinned underneath the steel plate that used to be the mast''s top, which seemed to have impaled his gut. On top of him lay the lifeless body of who appeared to be the lookout who probably died when the mast fell. "Mirliva!" His staff officers cried out as they limped from where they had fallen towards the still-conscious vice admiral. "Medic! Get the medic up here this instant! The vice admiral is wounded!" Someone shouted. Captain Bos, himself impaled in the left arm by a piece of the fallen mast and bleeding, came to the aid of his friend. As he kneeled next to him and had his uniform get soaked in the vice admiral''s pool of blood, he gazed at Iskann''s eyes, which were starting to become a deathly white color; Bos couldn''t help but shed a tear, perhaps in sadness but the expression on his face leaned more towards a lingering regret. In a weakened and pained breath, the vice admiral managed to utter a few words that, even in the background of screams and explosions, he knew his friend would hear. "This battle is lost... Save who you can..." The last gust of warm air left the lips of the vice admiral. Bos momentarily grinded his teeth and, in his head, admonished his old friend. So, even in death, you play the commander? Is it because you know that your family will never learn of your last words? He entered and left the battle a vice admiral, consumed by the uniform he wore up to his final moments. For some reason, Bos found insult in this, but he set aside his feelings, confident he would see his friend soon enough. Weakened as he is from his injury, he stood up and faced the beleaguered staff of the vice admiral. "The vice admiral is dead! His final orders are to save the task force!" These vague orders had changed into something different from the interpretation of the officers, but the common interpretation was an abandonment of their mission and breaking away from the engagement. Just as they were about to swing to action, the ship violently reared into the sky¡ªtwo hits, both fired from the Esthirant''s 305mm guns further away, had hit both the starboard aft deck and the bow just shy of the forward main battery. As Bos and the officers came to moments later, damage reports started to come in; they painted a rather bleak picture. "The starboard aft section where we were hit earlier was hit again! Our firefighters have suffered many casualties! Flooding reported on multiple decks!" "Bow section is hit! Forward barbette is intact, but both main guns are out of action! Flooding is reported on deck 4!" The extent of the damage was starting to wear down the Andras Kaymakk as multiple guns were out of action, a chunk of the crew was either killed or wounded, and a starboard list was starting to form. Adamant as to the survival of his ship, Bos prioritized damage control over Iskann''s last orders, almost forgetting them completely. "Seal off the flooded sections! Flood the port ballasts!" The sailors immediately went to work, desperate to save their ailing flagship. The steel watertight compartments around the damaged areas were sealed tight while flood control mechanisms were activated to flood the ballasts on their port side. But as their speed steadily dropped from the huge amount of seawater they were taking in, the Parpaldian battleships, catching onto the worsening situation aboard the Andras, capitalized on this moment. Flashes and residue smoke erupted from all across the Parpaldian battle line as their secondary capital ships, their cruisers, and ironclads, joined in the frenzy once the Altaran flagship entered within range of their guns. Gradually, the list was fixed and stabilized, but Parpaldian shells continued to mercilessly fall upon them. Before long, another round found its mark on the Andras Kaymakk''s starboard aft side, worsening the existing damage. The additional blast damaged the sealed watertight compartments, which subsequently gave way to flooding seawater. "Captain! Our seals in the starboard aft decks have broken!" "Form another perimeter and seal those off!" Bos ran from the speaking tube to the starboard bridge wing, from where he could see the extent of the damage. He felt the ship start to swing to the starboard as the list returned, but his mind grew more anxious. They were still flooding the port ballasts, yet he could still feel the Andras''s starboard get closer and closer to the ocean. As if to confirm his worst fears, he heard the dreaded line from the speaking tube. "Captain! We''re about to reach our flooding limit!" Yet the list continued. Given these facts, there was only one destiny for the Andras, one that Bos hoped not to share. He ran back to his officers, whose dark expressions revealed that they, too, were aware of where things were headed. Wearing his usual resolute face, he gave their last order. "This is beyond us! All hands are to abandon ship!" Having received their orders, the officers simply nodded in acknowledgment before disappearing into the ship, navigating through the wreckage and dead bodies. Meanwhile, Bos turned to the staff officers who were under Vice Admiral Iskann. While it was clear they outranked him, there was sort of an understanding between the staff that they awaited orders from Bos, completely throwing the chain of command out of the window. But Bos honored the hierarchy and issued no such orders other than to abandon ship. "Our lifeboats have been mostly destroyed, so I humbly suggest you take to the deck and jump into the water!" With one final salute, Bos saw the staff officers evacuate to the deck. Before he oversaw the evacuation, he turned to the bridge manacomms, remembering his old friend¡ªnay, the vice admiral''s final orders. He took the microphone and pressed hard on the push-to-talk button, issuing a broadcast to the rest of the task force. "This is Captain Bos of the Andras Kaymakk! Our situation is unsalvageable, and we are abandoning ship! I repeat: we are abandoning ship! The vice admiral is killed in action, but his last orders are to abandon the mission! I rep¡ª" But before he could complete his broadcast, he disappeared in a flash of flame and ceased to exist altogether: a 305mm shell landed a direct hit next to the bridge, severing the Andras''s head once and for all in a powerful explosion. ??? "Woah, ahaha! There she goes!" Cheers of celebration ensued all across the Carles D¨ªdac Gallaire. Sailors, even those involved in gunnery operations, crowded the battleship''s deck as they clamored to see the Altaran flagship''s final moments¡ªeven their officers joined in this momentary break of discipline to witness their finest moment. Covered in raging flames and thick smoke, the Altaran flagship, the Andras Kaymakk, succumbing to overwhelming Parpaldian fire, was slowly sinking beneath the waves. Before long, the contour of its keel, rudders, and still-spinning screws became visible as the battleship''s stern rose high into the air. The sound of secondary blasts emanating from the sinking enemy ship was drowned out by the joyous shouts of thousands of Parpaldian sailors. "The enemy flagship is sinking! May the empire be eternally victorious!" "Death to her enemies! Wahahaha!" Pommerau himself couldn''t help but giggle and clap at this momentous occasion. Not only was he witness to the jewel of the feared Royal Altaran Navy sinking beneath the waves, but he was also the commander of the task force that carried out the act. The empire''s sworn enemy, the malevolent Altaras, had been dealt a crippling¡ªand above all, decisive¡ªblow in this war, and he was the one to do it. His eyes glittered as the thought of his name written in golden characters as the "sinker of the scourge of the seas" came to mind. His staff officers, the captains of the other ships, and everyone else on the Parpaldian line were up in celebration as news of the Andras Kaymakk''s sinking spread. But not to be carried away by this victory, Pommerau, still seeing the rest of the Altaran battle line intact, immediately called on his men to return to their senses. "Easy! Easy! Cheer for now, men, but we still have a battle to fight!" As the bridge of the Carles settled down, he pointed to the Altaran battle line. "You may have broken their spirits, but they will seek vengeance for their losses! Do not allow them to get that chance!" He turned to the communications officers present on the bridge and began issuing orders to the task force. "All ships are to engage enemy ships at will!" The vice admiral''s orders were promptly sent to the rest of the task force, most of whom had recovered from their momentary expression of glee and returned to their battle stations. In usual sleepy fashion, Captain Luc went ahead and began issuing orders to his men. "All batteries, target enemy cruiser at 346!" Gunnery officers took to their rangefinders and sent firing solutions down to the gunnery crews below decks; soon, the Carles plentiful array of guns took aim at the Altaran protected cruiser that was right on the trail of the now sunk Andras Kaymakk.
??? Aboard the protected cruiser Saveh, fear gripped the crew. On the bridge, its captain and officers had watched their flagship, the Andras Kaymakk, subject to endless bombardment and receiving devastating hit after devastating hit. They tried to help by firing back at the Andras''s relentless attackers, but their less powerful array of guns did little to lift the siege of shells that befell their flagship. Before they knew it, the Andras was sinking right before their eyes, and the humiliating sight of its exposed keel burned into their memories. But before that, they received a manacomm broadcast from the Andras. It was from her captain, Bos. This is Captain Bos of the Andras Kaymakk! Our situation is unsalvageable and we are abandoning ship! I repeat: we are abandoning ship! The vice admiral is killed in action¡ª Unbeknownst to Bos, the manacomm died from extensive damage in the middle of his broadcast, cutting out Iskann''s final orders and leaving the entire fleet in shock at the death of their vice admiral. The officers of the Saveh were paralyzed by fear. Their gunnery crews, under orders to fire at will, continued to dish out round after round to the point that their stations were overwhelmed with fumes, but the bridge officers simply stood there, silent and terrified. But the countless thunderclaps of Parpaldian guns roaring to life snapped them out of their trance-like state, reverting them back into their senses. "What do we do, captain?! The flagship is gone, the vice admiral is dead, and the Parpaldian ships are firing at us!" The vice-captain implored the captain for action. The captain glanced in front of them. There, he caught sight of hundreds of men floating in the ocean amidst the Andras''s wreckage. The thought of breaking from combat to initiate the rescue of the Andras''s survivors was tempting, but he doubted that the Parpaldians, as much as they were signatories to the universal convention on the laws of war, would honor the papers they signed at such a time. Before he could reach a decision, the manacomm officer called out to him. "Captain! It''s the Serigbasi! They''re making a break for it!" "What?!" The Serigbasi, a sister ship of the Saveh, was the one sailing just behind them. The captain ran to the port bridge wing to look behind them, where he saw the Serigbasi turn to port and break formation. Before he could comprehend why, the manacomom officer reported additional broadcasts. "Captain! The Arismuslu¡ªwait, the Boyatwai¡ªno, they''re all reporting that they''re going to try and break away from the fight!" With their most powerful ships at the bottom of the ocean, their chain of command broken, and the bulk of Parpaldian firepower still active, Altaran morale finally caved, resulting in every ship of the task force that was still seaworthy trying to run away from the fight. Seeing the others trying to make a run for the open sea, the captain of the Saveh dropped everything and decided to join the rout. "Screw everything! Engines to full speed; rudders, hard to port!" Smoke flurried in greater amounts out of the Saveh''s smoke stacks as the protected cruiser turned to port, breaking away from their now non-existent battle line and leaving the survivors of the Andras to their fate. The Parpaldians, witnessing the disintegration of the Altaran battle line, doubled down their attacks; after all, why should they limit their victory when the enemy is yet to surrender, and there are plentiful targets to shoot at? The Carles D¨ªdac Gallaire, in particular, focused on its closest target, the Saveh. As it turned to port, it brought more of its guns to bear but, in turn, exposed its entire side to the Parpaldian flagship. After most of its initial shots missed from the Saveh''s sudden maneuver, a follow-up volley from the Carles found most of its mark on the comparatively squishy protected cruiser, reducing the ship to a smoldering wreck near instantaneously; right after, the Serigbasi, which was also trying to flee by turning to port, suffered the same fate after it ate several direct hits from the powerful main guns of the Parpaldia.
12:13 As the clock struck 13 minutes past 12, a tattered, burnt, and abused flag bearing the striking yellow rhombus on top of a black background flew atop the sole-standing mast of the ironclad Madisbur, which was sitting very low in the water due to sustained damage. Flying the flag of the Lamp, a world-renowned international philanthropic organization, which also doubled as an informal symbol for surrendering, the Madisbur, along with three rated ships and two sloops, a far cry from the initial size of Task Force "Selma," were issuing their intent to surrender to the Parpaldian navy. Roughly an hour later, as soon as their cohesion disintegrated, the fleeing Altaran ships, in order to get away from the action, set course west, cutting through the Parpaldian battle line, which was heading southeast. Unfortunately for them, most of them had unimpressive top speeds due to the majority of them still relying on their sails for propulsion; this meant that even if they did get a headstart, the Parpaldians, their battleships possessing greater speed than any of the surviving Altaran ships, eventually caught up to them. What happened was a repeat of the carnage earlier: after turning around and setting their course to parallel that of the Altaran line, the Parpaldian battle line hammered them with their superior broadside firepower. For their losses, the Altarans did bite back, scoring damaging¡ªand some, even critical¡ªhits against several Parpaldian capital ships, but their drastically reduced firepower, crumbling morale, and rapidly evaporating stamina and munition stores meant that they were never going to emerge victorious. After suffering catastrophic losses from vicious and relentless Parpaldian fire and seeing no avenue for escape, the captains of the surviving ships opted to surrender, raising the standard of the Lamp one by one. "Lamp standards are confirmed to be flying on all enemy vessels; they''ve also stricken their colors." After validating the reports for himself by examining the enemy vessels, one of the vice admiral''s staff officers reported to Pommerau with an openly disdainful tone in his voice¡ªhe even clicked his tongue towards the end. He handed a pair of binoculars to the vice admiral, who quickly ascertained the situation. "Hmm... It would seem so." Pommerau gave the binoculars back and turned his gaze downward for a moment as if to consider his options. Before he could reach a decision, another one of his staff officers came to his left side. He clung close to the vice admiral and whispered in his ear. "A suggestion, vice admiral... These demons have wrecked more than double a dozen of our own task force, killed off thousands of good men, and damaged several of the navy''s proud battleships. It would simply be a disservice to His Majesty that they are... ''let off the hook,'' so to say." But Pommerau immediately rebuked him, almost as if he had a reply prepared for this occasion. "Let us not. It would ruin not only my record but the empire''s image elsewhere; it''s already on uneven footing as it is with the trade wars and whatnot. Not to mention that it would taint the image of our glorious victory here! But above all that..." The vice admiral turned his gaze upward into the sky and swiveled his head around as if he were looking for something in the semi-cloudy heavens. "Have you not seen the footage of the battle at Messina...?" The staff officer''s brow curved upwards in disbelief. "''Footage''? But I don''t recall them sending war photographers or filmers with the Messina task force?" "They didn''t. It looked like it was also filmed from the air as if the gods were spectating the entire battle... But my main point here is that because the entire battle was caught on that footage, I hear from friends in government that it got difficult for the Palace to push their casus belli for this war..." Maintaining his gaze up at the sky, the vice admiral continued. "While I already disagree with disrespecting the sanctity of the act of surrender, we must take into account that our every action here may be watched or recorded by some entity that is obviously not acting in our interests and act accordingly; I''d rather avoid a scandal where footage of us attacking surrendering forces is circulated the world over." Shutting down that option, Pommerau turned to face the bridge and began issuing orders. "All ships are to cease fire and refrain from attacking the enemy vessels! Contact them and inform them that we are sending boarding parties to their ships to formally receive their surrenders! Emphasize the warning that we will not tolerate any harm to these boarding parties!" "Squadrons 9 and 10 are to conduct search and rescue operations! Other squadrons are to prepare to receive prisoners of war!" "Contact Prefect Command and tell them: 20 Sivsly!" The vice admiral''s many orders were promptly issued down the chain of command. Launches from the battleships carrying officers and a platoon of marines were dispatched to the half-sunk Altaran ships to receive their surrenders as ships of Squadrons 9 and 10 broke formation to begin searching and rescuing personnel, enemy and friendly alike. Meanwhile, back at the Prefect Command of the 1st Armee Corquexima, the simple message of "20 Sivsly," the Date of Proclamation of the Parpaldian Empire and the informal Parpaldian military code for victory, from Task Force "Nalina" resulted in bursts of cheers throughout the building. As word spread fast, the faster manacomm lines carried the word of the victory at Menda Point to the War Department and then the Imperial Palace, which proceeded to move forward with war preparations and scheduling press conferences for the emperor, respectively.
19:26, Royal Castle, Le Brias, Altaras Regretful tears, pained moans, and distraught grimaces defined the atmosphere of Altaras''s Royal Navy Command as news of the battle filtered in from intelligence sources in Esthirant, a stark contrast to the merry cries and delighted smiles of the Parpaldian War Department. They feared the worst, especially after the harrowing last messages of the Madisbur informing them of their intent to surrender, but when their operatives in Esthirant began flooding their channels of the extent of the disastrous defeat at Menda Point, they were utterly shell-shocked¡ªnot even their worst-case scenarios could trump such catastrophic losses. Of the original 59 ships and 40 sloops deployed for the mission, only 6 managed to survive, and still, they surrendered. Most of their capital ships¡ªtheir most powerful battleships, cruisers, and ironclads¡ªwere completely lost, and so too was a sizeable chunk of their rated ships, which would have been valuable platforms against the inevitable Parpaldian landings. Above all, should the ships they lost have been completely destroyed, they were looking at a mind-numbing 35,000 to 45,000 dead and wounded, a harrowingly devastating loss of life. Additionally, the wyvern corps reports a squadron lost after they''ve failed to contact their base and return home. Numbering less than 100 total riders and wyverns (not including their support crews, command, and so on), a squadron loss was immense; it essentially meant that there were now too many sectors for the corps to patrol all at once, which was a death sentence against the superior Parpaldian wyvern corps, which was more than three times their size. While things were undoubtedly gloomy in the halls of navy command, things were worse for Musir (Admiral) Erdil Gucer Nizam, Chief of Staff of the Royal Altaran Navy, who had been biting his lip for the past three hours. He, along with several commanders, was in the audience chamber of the royal palace, waiting for the king. As he stood there stiff-faced and sweating buckets, thoughts swirled in his head. He thought of positive things to try and get His Majesty to be in a good mood; in the end, he came up with a handful. Even if the bulk of their navy¡ªincluding the majestic centerpieces that were the Krall?k-class battleships¡ªwere gone, their torpedo boat squadrons and several squadrons of rated ships were still active. He would try and persuade him that even if the Parpaldians were to try and land, the navy still possessed the requisite strength to challenge such attempts. In other words¡ªand while very much a far-fetched string of logic¡ªthe kingdom is still not in danger. He imagined petting the heads of the little girls and boys in his hometown, an admittedly guilty pleasure he''d always had, and his breathing started to even out. But just as he regained control of the momentum of his blood flow, the doors behind the throne flung open in a thunderous bang. The commanders of the navy were instantly back to sweating buckets as the figure of King Taara XIV, disheveled and in nightwear, sent their blood pressure to the moon. The king''s face, flush with enraged red and aggressive curves, was like the mask of a ferocious demon, ready to maul their sorry mortal bodies. As soon as His Majesty opened his lips, a roar louder than that of any lion came barreling down upon them. "WHAAAAAAAT THE FUUUUUCK HAPPENED TO MY FLEET?!" Although it goes without saying, the king was mad. Extremely mad. He was so mad that decency had gone out the window, and his shouting had his spit flung all the way to the faces of the trembling navy commanders. "TELL ME THEY AT LEAST DESTROYED THE PARPALDIAN NAVY OR EVEN THE OUTPOST AT KRASKIY?!" None of the commanders, not even the usually stone-willed Gucer Nizam, had the guts to tell the king that none of such requisites were achieved¡ªfar from them, even. But their silent, weeping, downward-facing expressions were all the king needed to know that that was the case. Still red with fury, the king turned his attention to Gucer Nizam, the only individual in the group to maintain a forward-facing stance. "You! Off to Kuzan!" Their collective heartbeats caved into the earth upon hearing that statement. Kuzan was a special town built in the mountainous regions deep within the island, and it was an open secret among the political elite in Le Brias that this was where the king sent those he calls "useless people"¡ªpolitical enemies, unruly administrators and bureaucrats who did not adhere to his policies, and certain individuals that pissed him off. It wasn''t a particularly horrible place, but the isolated post and the treacherous nature of the underdeveloped mountain environment meant that being sent here killed one''s political career and social standing; no one posted in Kuzan that was ''forgiven'' by His Majesty had ever recovered their previous political prestige as other elites feared being considered "useless" by associating with them. To Gucer Nizam, this meant that he was effectively out of a job as the Chief of Staff, and his riches and estate would be confiscated by the state; his honorary title "Nizam" would also be struck off. Reduced to a status that was less than that of a lowly commoner, Gucer fell to his knees and¡ªfor the first time since his daughter''s birth¡ªwailed. Thoughts of his wife and daughter having to live in Kuzan''s communal housing destroyed his sense of reason, pushing him to try and appeal to the king''s empathy. "Y-Y-Your Majesty! Don''t do this to me! I have a wife and child I need to support! I will prove that the Navy is still of use under my command! Please, I¡ª" Slap! Gucer felt his red cheek sting with intense pain after the king went and slapped him with a rubber glove he kept with him. At that moment, he felt an undeniable sense of despair and anger begin to dance in his heart. "You dare ask me for clemency?! After you''ve sent 50,000 of my finest sailors and billions of the citizens'' taxes into the arms of Trallam, god of the sea and protector of the depths?! THE NERVE ON YOU USELESS SCUM!" The king then turned his back on him. Gucer imprinted the image of the king''s unkempt back into his head as he blamed himself for allowing His Majesty¡ª"No, he deserves not my respect," he thought¡ªto shift the blame for sending the task force to their doomed mission against Kraskiy. Who was it that ordered them to send most of their navy to engage the Parpaldians against all sane advice? The answer was clear; even the other navy commanders knew this, but they kept the answer within their hearts, fearful of the king''s unjust retribution. As the king walked away and ordered the Royal Guards to escort them out, he left them with one last message. "The Navy has proven itself to be a highly incompetent force; you have shown that you have definitely not earned the attention and incentives I''ve sent your way for the past decade. Fortunately, I''ve spared no expense towards the Army, who I know will not disappoint me." A stinging stab into their prestige, for the Altaran Navy and Army were bitter rivals for royal attention and preeminence in Altaran society. Far from ashamed, the navy commanders (and Gucer) were fuming. As the echoes of the Battle of Menda Point force open new cracks in the kingdom of Altaras, the Parpaldian Empire, reinvigorated by its overwhelming victory, rears its head and prepares its army¡ªthe bonafide conquerors of the southern half of Philades¡ªfor their full invasion of the island. Chapter 33: Like Waves Crashing Endlessly Cent. Calendar 05/02/1640, the skies above Le Brias, Altaras, 7:46 ¡°Two minutes into ingress. We should be above Le Brias soon enough.¡± ¡°Two minutes. Copy.¡± A couple of wyverns, the unusually large size of which indicates that they¡¯re of the lord breed, were flying just above cloud cover. They flew in a tight-knit formation, and their riders exchanged relevant information as they continued on their southward flight. It was only five days since the second month (Febrond) of this year had started. Plump, rolling clouds obscured the ground from view but they also obscured their ingress from observers on the ground. This mattered a lot because they were from the Parpaldian wyvern corps and the ground below was sovereign Altaran territory. ¡°Three minutes into ingress. It should be right below us.¡± The lead rider notified his wingman. Their so-called ¡°ingress¡± was a routine probing flight of the Altaran air defenses in and around Le Brias, primarily the timing of their anti-air response and, secondly the mapping of possible ingress and egress routes. Hinging on constant incursions into Altaran airspace, which also had the effect of wearing down the Altarans, multiple flights occur daily at no particular temporal pattern. It is thanks to previous flights that the Parpaldians had knowledge of where to best enter and exit Altaran airspace, how long these flight paths take, what terrain to expect, where the Altarans typically fire at them from, and so on. ¡°I see it!¡± As the blanket of clouds gave way to a wide-open break, the Parpaldian wyvern riders could finally lay their eyes on the Altaran capital. Wide streets filled with carriages and people and ornamented with fancy lighting that were still kept lit well into the morning. The unbelievably complex urban sprawl that allowed the city (actually a conglomerate of the main city and outlying cities) to occupy such a massive area, with the sophistication of infrastructure and social class becoming ever more gilded and fancy the closer they got to the city¡¯s heart being apparent even from the sky. They even spotted some tall buildings that stood out from the rest¡ªcommand centers of companies from the western regions that have chosen to set up shop in Altaras. The wyvern riders, who were both from Esthirant, could only compare the beautiful Altaran capital to what they thought was the richest city in the east. ¡°Wow... Was it ever this big? It¡¯s nothing like the maps during the briefings...¡± ¡°It¡¯s your first time here, huh? With how the war¡¯s going, you¡¯ll get used to it.¡± As their wyverns glided domineeringly over the city, the riders took in the breathtaking scope of Le Brias with their eyes. Their eyes zigzagged around as if to burn the particulars in their memories, but as they did, one of them stumbled on a peculiar sight at the northern extremity of the city. ¡°Oh?¡± Amidst the dense urbanized blocks of buildings was a wide area of about a few tacour (1 tacour = ~2.6km) across that only had a long, flat paved road in it that ran in the southwest-northeast axis. The rider immediately recognized that it was the Le Brias Airfield (though officially, ¡°King Taara XIII Airfield¡±) mentioned in previous briefings, a type of port that facilitated the entry and exit of aircraft; Esthirant, too, has one, but it isn¡¯t as big or as busy as Le Brias¡¯s looked like it was. ¡°Le Brias Airfield still has some aircraft, it seems.¡± He took note of how many advanced-looking aircraft there were that were either taxiing or parked in the apron. They were likely all from the west¡ªMu, Mirishial, Magearea, Agartha, and so on. But one particular aircraft caught his interest. ¡°That one... is humongous!¡± At the far end of the apron was a gray-colored aircraft with a body and wingspan about twice or thrice as big as the others. They¡¯ve never been briefed about what types of aircraft to expect other than the ones Altaras may have, but they¡¯ve been constantly warned to never engage aircraft from countries not party to the war to honor their obligations to Asheran laws of war. Still, he took note of the country of origin of these aircraft, particularly the massive one, which had striking red-colored disc insignias on the wings and body. ¡°Ah! That one¡¯s... from Japan, probably?¡± It was that new country to the east that appeared out of nowhere and was said to be involved in the destruction of the Lourian regime in Rodenius. They¡¯ve so far been friendly enough to pursue economic ties with the empire, but the last he¡¯s heard was that they were also part of the international regime that condemned the empire¡¯s war with Altaras. All in all, he and other grunts didn¡¯t really think much of them besides the fact that they may be a force to be reckoned with. But there was no time for such thoughts in the skies of an enemy capital. Ratatatatatat! Four minutes into the incursion, the first rattle of automatic fire rang out across the area, plunging the sleepy morning atmosphere into chaos. Countless tracer fires erupted from the many anti-air emplacements all around the city and raced toward the two Parpaldian wyverns, which stood out amidst the cloudless blue sky. ¡°Alright! They¡¯ve started firing four minutes and two seconds into ingress! Commence egress!¡± Initially startled, the Parpaldian wyvern riders quickly regained composure as they seamlessly changed their stance to face north. Owing to the crude nature of Altaran fire control and the high altitude at which they flew, the fire of machine guns and circuit guns, terrifying as they may look from other vantage points, hardly came close to their targets. The two riders turned their backs on the Altaran capital, leaving just about as soon as they arrived. But this wasn¡¯t the end of their incursion, for the anti-air gunfire was one of many cards the enemy may play. The wyvern lords plunged straight into the clouds, reducing visibility for the riders, but the wyverns¡¯ directional instincts and the riders¡¯ compasses ensured that they still knew where they were going. Then, after a couple of minutes of flying ¡®blind,¡¯ they reached the end of the clouds and emerged back into view. Below them were farmlands, plantations, and relatively developed towns¡ªthey were no longer in Le Brias, but they were still in Altaran airspace. Of course, that meant that they were still in the middle of their incursion. As they continued to make their way north, the lead rider felt a low rumbling beneath his crouched body. Grrrr... The ominous, almost faint growl of his wyvern lord was a tattle-tale sign that trouble was up. Sensing that danger was close, he turned on his manacomm. ¡°Heads up! Possible enemy regulars in the vicinity!¡± ¡°Copy!¡± A reminder that they were still not in the clear and that their enemy would try everything to ensure they never come home. But as a combatant, that was nothing special; in their place, they would be doing the same thing. The lead rider kept his wits about, scanning the skies around him for signs of the enemy. But before he could spot a trace, his wyvern began to act with increased hostility: its claws were engaged, and the tufts of sensitive fur on its scales were all visibly standing on end. It turned its head in the 11 o¡¯clock direction, which the rider promptly picked up on and turned toward. Sure enough, he spotted four dark, winged silhouettes against the white cloud backdrop, seemingly gaining altitude to try and match theirs. ¡°Contact! Four enemy regulars at 320; they¡¯re heading right toward us and increasing in altitude!¡± The four wyverns¡ªtheir blue and white identifiers showing that they were Altarans¡ªwere flying directly toward them, flapping their wings to gain as much speed and altitude as they could. The faces of their riders were covered with scarves, but those on the wyverns were clearly twisted and giving off an aura of bloodlust. They obviously wanted a fight, and the Parpaldian wyvern lords were also beginning to growl in their direction in apparent approval of their Altaran brethren¡¯s challenge. But it was not to be. ¡°Remember your ROE¡ªdo not engage! Maintain formation! We¡¯re giving them the slip!¡± In addition to the limitations of wyvern combat and accompanying doctrinal prescriptions, their mission was to probe and harass the Altaran air defense; engagement with the enemy wyvern corps was expressly forbidden unless the circumstances made an engagement inevitable. The riders, reining in their wyverns with promises of rewards and threats of disciplinary actions, denied the enemy¡¯s invitation to combat. The riders, engaging their flight mechanisms, instructed their wyverns to pick up the pace; with a single, powerful wingbeat, a huge volume of air was sent backward, propelling the Parpaldian wyvern lords to close their maximum speed. Frigid winds pummeled the riders¡¯ protected faces, and it was nigh unbearable, but it was a worthy price for the extra speed they¡¯d earned, which allowed them to be faster than the enemy regular wyverns should they try to give chase. The Parpaldian wyvern lords flew across the skies like thunderbolts, soaring through the air at speed and leaving behind nasty damage, even if psychological. To the Altaran wyverns¡¯ chagrin, the Parpaldians easily flew past and above them, never allowing them to keep up in the first place and leaving them in the dust. In an event that lasted hardly half a minute, the two sides, having never met in combat, disengaged almost as fast as they saw each other; within the next few minutes, the Parpaldians were well on their way back home and exiting Altaran airspace. Royal Castle, 9:10 Back at the capital, the incessant cacophony of bells big and loud being rang, and the staccato of machine gun fire had long ended, and most of the city returned to their usual business after the air raid warning was lifted at around 8:30 in the morning. At the Royal Castle, however, things were only starting to pick up as a new day in the war with Parpaldia ensured that there were always heated discussions, hoarse voices, bending backs, and dirty palms and knees from all the prostrating. Inside the command quarters nestled deep within the castle compound¡¯s main keep, its most fortified structure, King Taara XIV and his military commanders had gathered around a big table on which a map of the kingdom¡¯s territory was laid flat. It was the usual scenery of the king mulling over the island¡¯s northernmost peninsula on which Le Brias and much of the kingdom¡¯s administrative and economic functions lay. The sight of so many blue pieces, which corresponded to entire Army formations from regiments to divisions, crammed together in the small peninsula never ceased to be an unsettling sight for the commanders, but they were largely powerless to prevent an ¡°all eggs in one basket¡± scenario as it was the king¡¯s decisions that led them up to that point. After all, the last time someone disappointed him and didn¡¯t deliver what he wanted wasn¡¯t all that long ago¡ªthe former Navy Chief of Staff, the name of whom they best not utter in the king¡¯s presence, was only recently stricken from his position and banished. The commanders of the Army, especially Chief of Staff Kairnaka, not wanting to suffer the same fate, were prepared to bite off their tongues and force themselves to agree to the king. For hours now, they have been standing around him with straightened backs and stern faces, giving off the impression that they¡¯re in top shape. ¡°Hmm... This will not do.¡± The king muttered under his breath as he fiddled with the triangle-shaped pieces placed on the airfield on the map, which indicated the nearby airbase that was hosting two wyvern squadrons. The Army commanders¡¯ ears tingled, having been pre-conditioned to be attentive to the king¡¯s mumblings. They all quickly jumped toward the king to try and placate his anxieties. ¡°What¡¯s the matter, Your Majesty?¡± ¡°The recent incursions have not been plugged up...¡± The king uttered in his signature cheery tone, which hid a more frightening, condescending undertone. Naturally, to the Army commanders¡ªand by extension, everyone else present in the room¡ªthis was the critical signal, one that would determine whether they get a promotion (and thus a happy life for their families) or a one-way trip to Kuzan and the accompanying eternal social disgrace. But no one liked to play such a high-stakes game, especially if they were put on the spot, but this was, unfortunately, the fate that would befall... ¡°...I thought that two wyvern squadrons should be enough, hm?¡± ...Sad Kozen, chief of the kingdom¡¯s wyvern corps, on whom the king¡¯s attention¡ªand his terrifyingly short fuse¡ªfell upon. At once, his face became drenched in sweat. As the chief of the wyvern corps, which is under the Navy, he was in a very precarious spot: his forces had taken part in the Battle of Menda Point, but he was largely spared from the king¡¯s ire, all of which, unfortunately, fell upon the former Navy chief of staff. He knew there would never be another chance, so despite his forces¡¯ limitations in capability and strength, he must somehow convince the king that he had a solution hidden within his back pockets. But as misfortune would have it, he had none. The Parpaldian wyvern corps was simply superior in all aspects, and there was no way of bridging that gap in the immediate short term, especially not with the Muish-Mirishial-led international task force protecting the sea lanes around Altaras that was an arms blockade in all but name. Their biplane squadron, consisting of aging Great War surplus airframes bought from a third party that skirted Muish aviation export regulations, was the only one capable of putting up a fight against the Parpaldian lords and overlords but was¡ªin all honesty¡ªhilariously undermaintained, undersupplied, and pathetically small. His mind was on overdrive. It helped not that the king stared at him with empty eyes, making it impossible to tell if he was in a forgiving mood or that he had already decided on his fate. At that point, he had already finalized his options down to two: increase the wyvern squadrons stationed near the capital or try and argue otherwise. It was obvious to anyone which choice provided the higher chance of amnesty with His Majesty¡¯s temper, but his eyes twitched to no end as his logic gnawed at his mind, begging him to reconsider. Ultimately, his desire to survive trumped logic. ¡°I-I was mistaken, Your Majesty...¡± The words came out of his mouth piecemeal, presented in a way that maximized the ¡®grovel¡¯ factor. He subtly lowered his stature with respect to the king as he crossed his hands and bowed solemnly. ¡°You are in fact correct: two wyvern squadrons were never enough. I will shed blood and tears to get you more squadrons! The Parpaldians will never again break into our skies!!!¡± The wyvern corps chief put on a pathetic show in lip service, a move that the other commanders respected, yet they looked away in second-hand embarrassment. Their reactions mattered not, for the chief¡¯s efforts had bore fruit: the King, his face red with embarrassment from the flattery, chuckled in a light-hearted way that almost seemed devious. ¡°Bravo!¡± Taara suddenly clapped his hands, which got everyone else in the room to jerk in surprise. ¡°Now that¡¯s how you own up to your mistakes, gentlemen! They make no excuses and blame no one else but themselves for their error! I forgive honest mistakes but never incompetence!¡± For all his words, Taara¡ªand perhaps Chief Kozen¡ªwere the only ones smiling. Most of the commanders present were either too afraid or seething with rage at his remarks, none of which came boiling to the surface; they all stood still, silent, solemn¡ªsubmissive, even. Just as the king was about to dismiss the wyvern corps chief, an officer came into the room, walked up to the Army Chief of Staff General Kainarka, and whispered something in his ear. Kainarka promptly turned to face the king and relayed the information that had arrived. ¡°Your Majesty, the elements of the 6th Infantry Division have all arrived. They¡¯re currently disembarking from Le Brias Station.¡± In contrast to the old man Kainarka¡¯s sleepy eyes, Taara¡¯s eyes sparkled with delight at the news; the other Army commanders, meanwhile, tried their best to hide their dismay. Another division, a full 18 to 20 thousand men, had arrived in the capital, joining three other divisions, several artillery regiments, and other auxiliary battalions already stationed all around and within Le Brias. While this was indeed formidable on paper, this was a huge chunk of the Army just sitting in the capital peninsula, leaving the rest of the island rather under-defended. In other words, they had all of their eggs clumped up in one overcrowded corner of their massive basket. ¡°Now, let¡¯s get back to reconfiguring our defenses...¡± The king turned back to the big map in the center of the room as pieces that represent the newly arrived elements of the 6th Infantry Division were brought in by staff. - - - Meanwhile, off to the city¡¯s northwest quadrant, there was a planned extension of the city proper where a central park was the main feature; from this park, five major avenues radiated. It was halfway past the clock between sunrise and noon yet the sky began to turn dark once more as rain-filled clouds rolled in. Further west from the central park was a smaller, minor park situated on a hill that the Royal Altaran Army repurposed as an anti-air artillery battery due to its relatively high elevation and commanding view of the surrounding city. Amidst the star fort-like ramparts and sandbags, things were not looking swell for the men who manned the battery. ¡°Mulazim (lieutenant)!!! We¡¯ve got a problem!!!¡± A group of men wearing the Altaran regular uniform in varied states of haphazardness hurriedly called for their lieutenant. They were in a state of panic, and their faces conveyed all the necessary messages: something was horribly wrong. ¡°What?¡± Instantly judging the situation to warrant his immediate attention, the lieutenant followed his men without hesitation. As they exited his office and headed straight for the gun emplacements, his panicking men were too finicky to give him a brief account of what had happened. ¡°What the hell happened?!¡± ¡°W-We were just firing at the enemy wyverns as instructed by our Cavus (Sergeant), b-but then...¡± ¡°T-The gun... It j-just...¡± Frankly, it was getting annoying. He never knew he¡¯d be in command of such sissies, easily fazed by a non-threatening enemy wyvern flyby. Just as he was about to lose it, he heard a commotion coming from the direction of one of the gun emplacements. As they emerged out of the inner battery¡¯s earthworks, he was treated to what must have been an appalling sight: one of their precious rapid-fire machine guns, a Muish-built MY-99 famous for its high rate of fire, was smoldering. It was pointed upwards, but even from afar, one could easily tell that the barrel was bent; it wasn¡¯t on fire, but a great amount of smoke and fumes emanated not only from the chamber but from the barrel itself. What was vexing above all, however, was how the gunnery sergeant was ordering his men to fetch buckets of water to splash the gun and cool it. ¡°Quick, fetch some water from the nearby pumps! These things aren¡¯t circuit guns¡ªthey actually blow up in your face!!!¡± As for what led to this event, one need not look further than the gun emplacement itself: all around the gun platform were piles upon piles of smoking hot brass¡ªspent shell casings. Sure enough, the lieutenant was fuming, just like the precious machine gun that his men had unwittingly destroyed. He ran toward the cavus, pushing aside his men. Just then, the cavus noticed him and was about to salute him... Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. ¡°Ah, mulazim¡ª¡± But the lieutenant grabbed him by the collar, his face red with rage. ¡°You motherfucking dolt!!! Do you realize how lucky we are to have been given these machine guns?!¡± He screamed right in the cavus¡¯s face, pelting the poor soldier¡¯s face with spit and bad breath, courtesy of the lieutenant¡¯s garlic-filled breakfast. The cavus tried to reason with him. ¡°B-But we were told in training that these are just like the circuit guns!!! And we have plenty of those, right???¡± ¡°They fucking aren¡¯t, dumbass!!! And no, we only have one of these machine guns!!!¡± Just as the cavus, who was frightened to tears, was about to scream his apology, their conversation was rudely interrupted by the sound of popping. Pam! It was the machine gun; the chambered bullet, left in the machine gun along with the belt of bullets left unattended by the gunners when it had overheated, cooked off due to the high temperatures in the barrel. Not long after, the other soldiers from earlier returned to the scene, bringing buckets filled with water with them. ¡°Get clear!!!¡± They screamed as they sequentially threw their buckets¡¯ worth of water onto the still-smoldering machine gun. It was a pathetic sight, one that the lieutenant never imagined would see in his career. Was this how bad their conscription was? After all, most of the men with him had been conscripted within the last few months. Then and there, the lieutenant started to get certain thoughts: if this was the general state of the military, then it was no wonder that they lost horrendously at Menda Point. He was tempted to conclude that they were going to lose to Parpaldia, whose exploits in the Philades continent and the tales of their army¡¯s successes against the Northern Alliance all those years ago were known far and wide. But the Parpaldians were not invincible: tales also abound of military disasters and blunders. Above all of this was the fact that this was going to be Parpaldia¡¯s first attempt at conquest over the ocean, and if there was any room for error, he could only hope that they¡¯d blunder more than they would. Tired from all the frustration, the lieutenant simply closed his eyes and walked away, but not before issuing a couple of orders. ¡°You and the rest of your crew! Come see me at my office! The rest of you, go and dispose of that machine gun!¡± In the wake of a probing run by the Parpaldian wyvern corps, they revealed cracks in the Altaran military¡¯s capacity to fully defend its capital, although such cracks were not big enough for the Parpaldians to immediately notice. Cent. Calendar 07/02/1640, several km east of the port of Le Brias, Altaras, 6:24 The fifth and sixth days of Febrond passed with similar incidents: continued probing runs of the Parpaldian wyvern corps over Le Brias and the Altaran Army and wyvern corps responding in kind. Just as Taara had hoped, the addition of another wyvern squadron, which constantly had a flight of two regular wyverns above the capital as a defensive combat air patrol, helped to ward the Parpaldian wyverns from venturing too deep into Altaran airspace and gave the city¡¯s air defenses room to breathe; however, news of incursions above cities as far south as Hajjisler became more commonplace, further stretching their already thin air defense network. But incursions from Parpaldian wyverns had become the one thing to expect daily and soon enough, the sound of bells and wailing air raid sirens had become common experiences for not only the regular folk but also the military. The threat of a Parpaldian invasion still loomed over them, but not as many people were holding their breath now compared to before; fatigue from the continued incursions gave way to complacency, and by the seventh day, most people in Le Brias were already expecting the bells and sirens to sound at around this time. Unfortunately for them, the war was about to escalate. It was early in the morning. It was still winter, so the sun had only begun to start peaking from above the horizon. Altaras is located in the subtropics, so while snow didn¡¯t fall upon the capital, a substantial amount of fog had set in. The city of Le Brias was only beginning to wake up from its slumber, but its gas-lit and magic stone-lit streetlights shined eerily amidst the fog like it was a scene straight out of a mystery fiction. The fog was thickest around the gigantic port, which is largely closed to international traffic except for Altaran-flagged ships. While the port isn¡¯t expecting any traffic, uncannily enough, 62 hulls were parked roughly 3 tacour (~8km) east of the breakwater. Unbeknownst to the Altaran port authorities, these ships were not here to make a port call in the regular sense. Flying the colors of the Parpaldian Empire, all 62 ships¡ª20 warships and 42 auxiliaries disguised as transports¡ªbelonged to the Imperial Parpaldian Navy. The thick fog helped block the ships from view as they stopped in front of the harbor opening, but the rising sun was bound to eventually give away their location to the Altaran defenders. Standing on the bridge of the Carles D¨ªdac Gallaire, the flagship of this task force and the newly decorated veteran of the Battle of Menda Point, was Deuxi¨¨me imposrion (Vice Admiral) Pommerau, also a veteran of the battle that smashed the Royal Altaran Navy for good. With War Plan Intr¨¦pide in full motion and the War Department pressured by the Senate and the Emperor to ¡°keep things going,¡± the Navy had once more prepared another task force¡ªsome of which kept the relatively unscathed ships that participated in Menda Point¡ªto fulfill its duty in the invasion: a diversionary attack on the port of Le Brias. With that said, Pommerau, having no time for R&R, was once again the commander of the diversionary attack force, but riding the high from their unprecedented success in Menda Point, he wasn¡¯t the least bit unhappy with this. He paced back and forth on the bridge, anxious about the enemy discovering their presence before his ships were in place. He held his hands behind his back and timed his paces with the passing of seconds¡ªprecious moments of lost opportunities, as he believed them to be. After all, there was only a few seconds difference between the time his fleet in Menda Point fired their first volley and the time the enemy could have fired their second¡ªthe crucial few seconds that scored them the sinking of the Rahmi Kaymakk. One, two, three seconds passed. It was utterly agonizing hearing the back-and-forth banter of gunnery officers and their crews and the groaning of the turret¡¯s heavy steel moving into place, all of which were muffled out by the clacking of his hard leather soles on the floor mimicking the ticking of the second hand. ¡°Vice admiral!¡± Just then, the voice of one of his staff officers pierced past his muffled hearing. The trance was instantly broken, and Pommerau¡¯s head was back in the game. ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°All ships have confirmed, ¡®¨¦clair¡¯!¡± That was the codeword that the ships were ready to move to ¡°tonnerre.¡± Pommerau¡¯s eyes lit up¡ªit was finally time. With a resolute quick adjustment of his officer cap, he relayed to him the orders he had been waiting to say. ¡°Relay to all ships: tonnerre! Tonnerre!¡± Communications officers promptly repeated the vice admiral¡¯s orders over the channel broadcasting to the fleet, after which captains and gunnery officers relayed them to their crews. Shouts of ¡°tonnerre!¡±¡ªthe word for ¡°thunder¡±¡ªrang out across the decks of all the Parpaldian ships, which was followed not long after by what sounded like real thunderclaps. Bababam!!! Bababam!!! The Parpaldian warships, which had all trained their guns on pre-planned targets¡ªsea forts, torpedo pens, coastal artillery emplacements¡ªall opened up in a flashy show of explosions and thundering shockwaves. In concert with the rays of the rising sun dispelling the fog, the thunderous roar of the Parpaldian naval batteries scattered the remaining traces of fog. As soon as the guns were fired, they were immediately prepared for reloads with their magazines prepared for a long day of firing. Today, what will wake up the citizens of Le Brias won¡¯t be the deep groans of bells or screeching of sirens, but the staccato of Parpaldian naval artillery. - - - ¡°Shit, shit, shit, shit!!!¡± A man whose receding hairline indicated he was in his mid-50s kept cursing to himself as he hurriedly put on his officer uniform. Minding not which button went into which hole, he then strapped his readied gun holster, took the basin of water prepared near the sink, and splashed his face with it. Without even drying himself with a towel or fixing his wet and unkempt hair, the man burst out through the doors of his quarters and immediately ran for the command center. He had been awakened from his long slumber fighting the hangover from the officers¡¯ gala last night when the sound of distant thunder reached his ears. Soft enough as they sounded through the thick walls of the fortress he was in, he immediately knew that they were not the work of a thunderstorm. As he ran past soldiers too busy to give due respect to him, suddenly, the entire fortress was beset by rumblings reminiscent of an earthquake. Boom... Boom... He pushed himself against the wall as the magic stone-lit lights hanging from the ceiling swung from side to side. This fort was doing its job holding out well against such immense forces, but a good commander knows not to rely too much on the thickness of his fortress¡¯s walls. Soon after, he managed to reach the command center, where he found most of his officers had already gathered. ¡°Mirliva (brigadier general)!!!¡± They greeted him with salutes and relieved faces. ¡°We¡¯re under attack!¡± ¡°No shit! Give me the situation report!¡± ¡°At around 6:25, lookouts on Bulwark 4 reported flashes¡ªand then later, sounds of gunfire¡ªroughly 1200 to 1800 enlac (~6 to ~9km) to the east! They were in the middle of the fog, but after it had cleared, we confirmed them to be Parpaldian warships! We last counted 50 of them!¡± The brigadier general¡¯s face turned pale. A naval force as big as that had enough firepower to level his fort, Fort Ruvek, multiple times over in a day¡¯s worth of sustained bombardment. They had been expecting an invasion for a while now, but to think that the Parpaldians are so brazen to try and actually mount a landing before the formidable defenses of Le Brias itself. While there were other fortifications in the area, it was their duty as the men of the sea fort that was protecting the mouth of the harbor to ward off this menacing threat. ¡°Inform command of this! What¡¯s the status of our fort?!¡± As personnel hurriedly contacted the command center further inland of this new threat, officers gave their reports on Fort Ruvek¡¯s status. ¡°All bulwarks are holding and intact, but we¡¯ve confirmed considerable damage to batteries Koff and Baff, and they¡¯re out of action; batteries Alum, Tsa, and Dah are currently in action!¡± Amidst the distant rumbling of enemy gunfire, they could also hear the sharper sounds of their high-caliber coastal artillery roaring to life. Now that he was here, it was time for him to coordinate their defense. After wiping some of the residual water from the edges of his eyelids, the brigadier general got to work issuing orders. But before he could, one of the communication officers in the chamber called his attention. ¡°Mirliva! We got a reply from the castle!¡± Ever since the loss at Menda Point, the military command of Altaras¡¯s armed forces was moved from their respective headquarters to the command center underneath the royal castle with His Majesty reasoning that it ¡°streamlines command and control.¡± ¡°What did they say?!¡± ¡°They¡¯re diverting ammunition and cannon, and they¡¯re deploying the wyvern corps to attack the enemy fleet!¡± The officers breathed a collective sigh as they thanked their higher-ups¡¯ decisive speed. This was a no-brainer, for an invasion was likely imminent. ¡°Good! Tell them we will hold out for as long as we can!¡± Fort Ruvek, along with a dozen other sea-facing fortifications around the port, continued to hold firm against the Parpaldian naval bombardment. Cent. Calendar 08/02/1640, town of Astaran, ~60km south of Le Brias, Altaras, 6:05 The next day, further south along the capital peninsula¡¯s eastern coast was the nascent town of Astaran, a fishing town that was just starting to develop its cargo port. At six in the morning, the sun was just beginning to rise, and the early morning fog clinging to the coast was slowly dissipating. The port was empty, for the fishing trawlers had already set sail to catch the day¡¯s haul, leaving behind the rest of the town to set up their market stalls, yet to be filled with all sorts of freshly caught ocean bounty. Amidst the town¡¯s modest market district stood a single-story cafe of blues and purples, sticking out like a sore thumb in both appearance and substance. Unlike the market stalls, which mostly sell seafood, the cafe dealt with sweet pastries prepared the night before and coffee, the beans of which had been procured well before the week started. As such, the cafe was already open for business, contrary to the rest of the market; however, in the same juxtaposing fashion, the cafe was bereft of customers, unlike the dozens of marketgoers lining up at the stalls awaiting the fishermen to return with fresh bounty. But it would be a lie to say the cafe was without a soul: a woman in a black dress wearing a white frilly apron, a youthful, rather chic appearance running contrary to her wrinkles and blemishes barely hidden by thick makeup, sat in one of the ornate wooden chairs next to the cashier, her attention directed at the tinted glass panes of the cafe¡¯s door. Dressed as a servant, she was the owner of the cafe and its sole employee, in charge of its accounting, procurement, operation, and above all: survival. She minded not that the marketgoers ignored her cafe, for the customers she established this cafe for were the city folk coming to Astaran for its pristine beaches untouched by the stench of industry. However, ever since the kingdom had moved into a state of war, the pool of people looking to go to the beach had dried up¡ªby extension, so had her source of income. ¡°This is getting outta hand...¡± She mumbled to herself as she pulled out a Leiforian-made cigar from a stash behind the cashier, a rare item that she was supposed to be saving but had become a guilty pleasure as of late. She held the tip of the cigar close to one of the lit candles on the cashier¡¯s counter and rotated the tip around the flickering ember as she waited for its edges to blacken. Just as she had finished preparing her cigar and was about to put it into hand, she heard the jingling of brass from the chimes mounted on her door. She turned to look at who had come in, expecting a customer, but the grimace that appeared on her face was more than enough to show her lack of delight. ¡°Azis...¡± She grumbled as she took the first puff of her newly lit cigar. The exotic flavor tingling her olfactory senses was not enough to numb the bitterness of her untimely encounter with this man. ¡°Yener.¡± The man known as Azis called her by name in a not-so-subtle affectionate manner. ¡°Lovely to see you, too...¡± Azis took the seat closest to the door¡ªand the farthest from Yener¡ªand started browsing the menu that was placed on the table. ¡°Can I have the¡ª¡± ¡°We¡¯re closed, darling~¡± Yener cut him off, making a cutesy flying kiss as she blew out the smoke she inhaled. ¡°I thought Lovely¡¯s opens at¡ª¡± ¡°We don¡¯t serve heartbreakers here, darling.¡± Yener stood from her chair, walked up to Azis, and crossed her arms as she looked down at him with amused eyes. ¡°Best you pack up that lovely smug look on your face and hightail it outta here.¡± ¡°Heh.¡± Azis chuckled, placing the menu gently down on the table as he averted his gaze away from Yener¡¯s. ¡°Where¡¯s Toran?¡± Toran was Yener¡¯s younger brother and someone she knew Azis didn¡¯t personally know of. ¡°Toran? So you plan to cheat on your new girl with him? I never took you for that type...¡± ¡°What?! No! I¡¯m just looking for him!¡± ¡°So it ain¡¯t an affair... Thinking of bribing him, mmm?¡± Azis, a civilian official working for the military as head of the local district¡¯s recruitment office, was looking for Toran, the head of the local constabulary in the small town of Astaran. From Yener¡¯s perspective, such a pairing seemed fishy, especially as the war seemed to be amping up with the recent Parpaldian naval bombardment and imminent landings at the capital. ¡°No! Just... Get him for me, please?¡± ¡°Why bother looking for him here? Go find him at the station!¡± ¡°But he isn¡¯t there! Well, actually, the entire station¡¯s deserted...¡± ¡°What?¡± Yener¡¯s eyes widened as her heart skipped a beat. The town¡¯s entire constabulary¡ªa measly 10-strong officer corps plus her brother, the head officer¡ªbeing gone is unheard of. A major brawl between rival fisheries in the past got all eleven officers scrambling to stop the fight from escalating, but there didn¡¯t seem to be anything happening in town to warrant their disappearance from the station; the fishermen are all currently out at sea, too. As she pondered more possibilities, something interrupted her train of thought. Boom... The echo of a distant explosion, likely the sound of cannon fire, had rung out. It didn¡¯t faze her or Azis¡ªthe local shore battery conducts frequent drills, after all¡ªbut the echoes didn¡¯t stop coming. Boom... Boboboom... Boboom... Singular cannon shots turned into cascading volleys firing at infrequent intervals. Such a cacophony only lightly piqued Yener¡¯s curiosity, but to Azis, it was a cause for alarm. ¡°The guns at the shore battery can¡¯t reload and fire that fast... And they only have four guns!¡± Sweat started to drip down his now pale face. He turned to look at Yener, who was now also starting to be alarmed. As soon as they decided to check out what was going on, the door of her cafe flung wide open. ¡°Yener!!!¡± One of the fishermen¡¯s wives came running in, her face a ghastly white and startled. ¡°Where¡¯s Toran, your brother?!¡± ¡°I-I don¡¯t know! Azis here says he and the rest of the constabulary are not at their station!¡± Azis interjected into their conversation. ¡°Why are you looking for him? What¡¯s going on?¡± The woman¡¯s eyes were on the verge of tears, her lips alternating between curving and straightening as she struggled to find her words. ¡°T-T-The Parpaldians!... The harbor!... Come, quick!!!¡± Sirens blared inside Yener and Azis¡¯s heads. Without hesitation, they followed the woman as she dashed out of the cafe and toward the port. Much like them, everyone else in the market had caught wind of what was happening and were similarly making their way to the port, curious about what was happening. As soon as they cleared the town streets and reached the piers at the port, they could only gasp in horror at what they saw. Dozens of ships gathered at the mouth of Astaran¡¯s harbor, but they were unlike the fishing trawlers everyone in town had been anticipating. These were larger, bristling with guns of all sorts and flying a myriad of flags¡ªall of which were the flags of their enemy. One of the larger ships, a big floating fortress made out of metal, fired their guns. Boom!!! ¡°Eeek!¡± ¡°Look out!¡± ¡°Run!!!¡± People all along the port ran for dear life at the sound of gunfire, but the enemy¡¯s guns were not aimed toward them: off to the far left¡ªnorth of the port¡ªthe single shore battery protecting Astaran, already on fire, received more of the enemy¡¯s shots. As soon as the enemy shells hit, a powerful explosion took place, instantly eviscerating what was left of the smoldering battery in a towering jet of flames. KABOOOM!!!!! ¡°Get down!¡± Azis screamed as he threw his entire body onto Yener¡¯s to shield her, right in time as the mighty shockwave of the explosion ran over them. ¡°Are you okay?!¡± ¡°Y-Yes...¡± Seeing that she was unharmed, he quickly got back on his feet. But before he could dust off his pants, a man called out to him. ¡°Oy, you! Is my sister alright?!¡± He looked up to see a man in the uptight gray uniform worn by the constabulary, only that he had a big gold star pinned on his left breast¡ªthe mark of the head officer. ¡°Toran! Where in the gods¡¯ names have you been?!¡± Yener shouted at him in anger as she struggled to get back on her feet, still seemingly shell-shocked by the blast. ¡°I¡¯m sorry... We got a tip that an armed party of suspected Parpaldian saboteurs had taken over the lighthouse, so we all set out, but we turned back as soon as we saw the ships at the harbor...¡± Toran¡¯s exasperated face watched over the harbor, which now had more vessels in the water than earlier. In front of the larger ships were hundreds of smaller boats, each appeared to be carrying an assortment of men, horses, supplies, cannons, and engineering equipment, all of them approaching the port. Azis looked on with a flabbergasted expression on his face. ¡°N-No... This isn¡¯t... This shouldn¡¯t be the case...!!! I thought... No, the military said they were landing at... Le Brias...¡± The townsfolk of Astaran, with their single shore battery silenced and the town garrison redeployed to the defense of Le Brias up north, could only watch helplessly as the might of the Parpaldian Imperial Army made landfall at their port and nearby beaches like waves crashing endlessly. Cent. Calendar 10/02/1640, town of Kan Garasi, ~80km southwest of Le Brias, Altaras, 16:31 But the eastern town of Astaran wasn¡¯t the only town that witnessed the Parpaldian Imperial Army in amphibious action: on the southern end of the western coast of the capital peninsula was another fishing town with a sizeable port, Kan Garasi. At almost the same time as the landings at Astaran, a larger force made landfall at the Kan Garasi¡¯s port. Unlike Astaran, Kan Garasi was protected by two shore batteries, one of which was hidden and camouflaged in a nearby cliff face; fortunately for the Parpaldians, thanks to the efforts of military intelligence and their recruited local allies, they were able to know where the second shore battery was and silence it ahead of the landings. The town¡¯s constabulary and people were docile enough to allow them passage and control without needing extra ¡®convincing,¡¯ which made their landings even easier. But since this was the Parpaldian Imperial Army¡¯s first rodeo at amphibious operations and overseas military campaigns, things didn¡¯t exactly move as smoothly as they planned. Such was the headache of Entoupercheur (Colonel) Marius, commander of the Parpaldian Imperial Army forces landing in Point Margaux¡ªtheir designation for Kan Garasi. While he and his command element, the Naval Infantry, and a few companies worth of infantry and cavalry have already landed, the majority of his men and supplies have yet to leave the hulls of their landing ships. At the town¡¯s constabulary, which they had commandeered as their temporary headquarters, Marius was overseeing the landings, the construction of an airfield, defenses, and base elements, and the movements of scout cavalry and naval infantry to secure key outlying villages and hills around Kan Garasi. Everything¡ªeven the success of this operation¡ªdepended on how fast he could get men and material out of their ships. Unfortunately for him, Parpaldia¡¯s organizational divides and adversity toward inter-service cooperation meant that the rate at which his men and supplies landed was not under his control: it was under the commander of the navy squadron attached with him, Batimeau r¨¦gler (Captain) Daucourt. A ruffian of an officer, his temper mirrored his short stature (probably due to his dwarven blood), and the man grew out his beard to its full extent, contrary to the Esthirantese culture of clean-shaven jawlines to which Marius was an avid subscriber. ¡°Batimeau r¨¦gler Daucourt...¡± Marius grumbled as he slowly turned to face the officer. ¡°Ah?¡± Daucourt replied in a coarse tone as he stroked his largely unkempt beard, much to Marius¡¯s disgust. Under normal circumstances, Army and Navy officers never saw eye to eye with communique handled by their respective command units¡¯ messengers and communications units, but the involvement of Naval Infantry, which was under the Navy, in Army operations necessitated that Marius and Daucourt shared the same space, breathe the same air, and (begrudgingly) tolerate the other¡¯s proximity. ¡°It¡¯s already day two of our landing... Optimally, we should already be marching toward Kagis, but due to unfortunate circumstances bordering on force majeure...¡± Marius cleared his throat, averting his gaze from Daucourt¡¯s steely, almost animalistic glare. ¡°More than two-thirds of the needed artillery and land dragons needed for the assault are still suffering all manner of seasicknesses aboard those ships of yours...¡± Just as he said these words, Daucourt spat what he was chewing onto the spit bucket next to his feet before returning his attention to Marius. ¡°Can¡¯t help it. If you wanna speed things along, we are more than happy to allow those beefy muscles of yours...¡± Daucourt pointed out Marius¡¯s flimsy, thin build as he subtly put forward his bulky biceps. ¡°...to help unload your horses and dragons out of my hulls.¡± Muffled snickers could be heard at the other side of the room, infuriating Marius further. The Parpaldian Imperial Army, unmatched and mighty as it was in the continent, was completely alien to the quirks and challenges of amphibious operations. The same was true for the Navy, which up until recently still held the doctrine of fleet-in-being for its blue water fleet, with its riverine fleets seeing more experience as veterans of the conquests on the continent. The Naval Infantry fulfilled its role and duty with excellence, landing ahead and securing key infrastructure, but the larger regular forces were a tad too unwieldy for the small launches prepared for the venture; due to Kan Garasi¡¯s small port, most of the transport ships were forced to unload their load onto these launches outside the harbor. To make matters worse, the unstable Febrond weather refused to cooperate, what with strong winds kicking up two-meter-high waves out of nowhere¡ªthey¡¯d already lost a company¡¯s worth of supplies, horses, and ammunition when their launches capsized at the mouth of the harbor when a sudden gale blew in and kicked up very high waves. ¡°Oh? You¡¯re one to talk of muscles, you brute! You¡¯re clearly too strong for your own good when you can¡¯t even pilot a launch properly! I will never forget that sickening drunken show you call a ¡®boat ride¡¯ when you personally ferried me and my staff!¡± Insulted, Marius had taken off the gloves himself and started openly hurling snide remarks. ¡°Hah! What can I say? Your wife¡ªVivienne, if I recall; she didn¡¯t stand out like the other women¡ªtold me she liked it rough~¡± A vein popped in Marius¡¯s face as he exploded in anger. ¡°Why, you...!!!¡± He flew into a fit and grabbed the short Daucourt by the shoulder. A brawl was about to break out when a loud, deafening roar thundered around the room. GroooOOOOOHHHHH!!!! Everyone, including Daucourt and Marius, was instantly thrown into a defensive stance as they looked around for the source before their conscious minds kicked into gear. Wait! Their minds collectively screamed as soon as they recognized the roar. Marius and his staff officers exited the constabulary and looked up into the reddening evening sky to see the silhouettes of three flying lizards flying the Parpaldian colors. ¡°Huh? The wyvern corps is here...¡± Puzzled by the sudden appearance of the wyvern lords, Marius was about to run to where the airfield was being constructed when his attention was called by one of his staff officers. ¡°Entoupercheur!!! Forgive my late report, but the engineering corps reports that the airfield is now ready to accept wyverns! The wyvern corps have also sent confirmation that their first squadrons should be arriving here at Point Margaux!¡± Marius breathed a sigh of relief. ¡°Ah, I see. Say that earlier, will you?!¡± To the background of repeated apologies, he looked back to the splendid sight of the wyvern lords lining up for a vertical landing at the airfield in the distance. Even if his forces were behind schedule, the presence of the wyvern corps¡¯ squadrons opened up new avenues to make up for lost time and opportunities. As various strategies swirled in his mind, Marius chuckled under his breath. ¡°This changes things...¡± More than two months since the war began and two days since the first Parpaldian soldiers set foot on Altaras, the first wyvern squadrons began to fly in from mainland Parpaldia as the ground campaign started to get rolling. Chapter 34: The Parpaldians March Forth Cent. Calendar 10/02/1640, Fort Bai, Le Brias Harbor, Altaras, 16:31 Going to the beach... was never a dull experience. Five years ago, the tone behind the voice that echoed this thought would have been one of youthful hopes and expectations of getting to swim in the ocean under the full brunt of the summer sun. But now, the tone was more of an ¡°I¡¯ve just had my 20th near-death experience just now¡± kind of feel, a sentiment that echoed among the young men of Ardean Company of the 117th Naval Infantry Battalion. But none of them had that sentiment dug deep in his heart as one La Pr¨¦nom Recrue (Private First Class) Eli. Having grown up in a quiet fishing village on the eastern Parpaldian seaboard, the sight of the beach and the smells, memories, and ideals associated with it was one thing that claimed a big part of Eli¡¯s heart. No matter where he went, even during his training inland for the Parpaldian Naval Infantry (a river-focused force), he¡¯d always long for the beach. But now, he had come to a point he never thought to ever reach in his life. I wanna get outta here. Fuck the beach. He muttered to himself in an almost apathetic tone. He had been lying on the crest of a gigantic dune, the coarse particles of sand digging into whatever exposed skin there was and sapping their moisture¡ªand whatever energy he had left¡ªafter being in the same spot for hours on end. He was not alone, but being with someone who also wanted out of there didn¡¯t help the situation at all. The only things that stayed in place longer than his limbs were his hands, which still maintained an iron grip over his standard-issue rifle, and his open eyes, which were surveying the situation on the other side of the gigantic dune. For as much as their officers claim that things were ¡®working out,¡¯ he and some of the men, mostly the ones who are still alive, felt as if nothing had been right the moment they hit the beach three days ago. ¡°...Hey.¡± His lips were dry, but he nonetheless mustered what energy he had. This was directed to the other soulless marine lying on the sand next to him, La Pr¨¦nom Recrue Ignace. ¡°...Nnn?¡± Ignace replied with a weak groan. ¡°...Got an extra kick?¡± ¡°...Gimme the whole deal. Y¡¯know these ain¡¯t handouts.¡± ¡°Fuck... A kick for my dinner biscuits... And my share of the morning clam soup tomorrow.¡± ¡°...Sold.¡± With a deal set in four sentences, Ignace reached for a hidden pocket on the reverse side of his coat and pulled out a coin-shaped object wrapped in blue. Eli immediately swiped it off Ignace¡¯s hand, much to the latter remarking, ¡°Y¡¯know that stuff ain¡¯t good to take regularly, right?¡± which the former simply ignored and just tore through the wrapper. Inside was a white disc that looked like a mana stone, but the smooth texture and the easily scratched surface hinted that it was a hardened plant product. Holding the white disc in both of his palms, he whispered magic chants into it, and soon enough, subtle traces of white smoke started to emanate from the disc. Eli immediately took a whiff of the smoke, and the effects were instantaneous: he was suddenly roused from his slump, and his attention and energy levels shot through the roof. ¡°Nghhh... That¡¯s the shit.¡± What Eli got from Ignace was a disc of copp, a processed mana-infused byproduct of a plant raised in the hinterlands of the far Philadean north. While it doubled in function similar to a mana stone for personal use in the primitive communities of the far north, it had far lower mana density for its size compared to the regular mana stone. But this wasn¡¯t its main use in the more industrialized southern Philades: when the mana in the copp is cast, the resulting spell causes the other plant products in the copp to react and disperse as smoke, which contains very potent stimulants. The history and perception of copp as a stimulant is varied among the countries and cultures of Philades, but it was banned for consumption within the Parpaldian military, though enforcement hasn¡¯t been heavy-handed. ¡°...That¡¯s the 10th kick I¡¯ve given you the past three days. What the fuck happened to your shit?¡± Ignace groaned again, but Eli was too preoccupied getting more out of the copp. Seeing that his projection of disappointment wasn¡¯t getting through, he gave up. ¡°Fuck it... Just ask the others next time. I need my own kicks too, y¡¯know?¡± Just as Eli discarded the spent copp and returned to their original mission of keeping watch, his enhanced attention got him to notice the minute movements occurring far away. He quickly notified Ignace, who had better eyesight. ¡°Oy, I see some suspicious movement in the town to your 1 o¡¯clock.¡± ¡°What? You mean that town? Where?¡± ¡°See that red clock tower? Toward its bottom left, there should be a street running almost parallel to our line of sight. I think I saw some enemy soldiers moving some baggage.¡± Ignace squinted his eyes, trying to follow Eli¡¯s instructions. From their towering dune, which was several hundred meters away from the sea to their east, a flat plain stretched out towards the west. But it had neither plains nor farmland, but rather man-made buildings as far as the eye could see¡ªthese were the southern outskirts of the capital of the kingdom of Altaras, Le Brias. Ignace found the street Eli was pertaining to and focused his attention there. Sure enough, he could make out the white and blue uniforms of Altaran Army soldiers moving what appeared to be field guns. They weren¡¯t familiar with tactics or strategy, but their officers were, and they knew that this was something they should be made aware of ASAP. ¡°...What do you think?¡± ¡°...What do I think? Shit, it ain¡¯t our job to think! Get down there and inform the r¨¦sedier (captain) that we got enemy tubes moving into the town! I¡¯ll maintain watch!¡± ¡°Fuck!¡± With a hup and puff and a stinging pain reminding him that standing was getting too tough, Eli descended from the dune and made his way to their officers to inform them about the concerning developments. - - - Several hundred meters east of the westernmost dunes that demarcated the Parpaldian beachhead was Fort Bai, a minor Altaran shore fort situated on the base of an isthmus that stretched to the northeast. The isthmus served as a natural breakwater for Le Brias harbor. At the very end of the isthmus was a rocky island on which a gigantic sea fort, Fort Ruvek, stood, guarding the entrance to Le Brias harbor. At the commencement of the Parpaldian Imperial Navy¡¯s offshore bombardment of Le Brias harbor defenses on the 7th of Febrond, three infantry battalions of the Parpaldian Naval Infantry simultaneously landed ashore on the base of the harbor isthmus, attacking and besieging Fort Ruvek from its only land connection and assaulting and taking Fort Bai on the isthmus base. Since then, the brave men of the Parpaldian Naval Infantry held onto and dug into Fort Bai, gallantly holding out against repeated onslaughts from the home divisions of the Royal Altaran Army on the doorstep of their capital. Inside the main and only enclosure of Fort Bai was an open space at the center of which stood a very tall flagpole, which flew the imperial red and gold of the Parpaldian Empire. At the base of this defiant flagpole was a simple tent under which the commanding officer of the 108th Naval Infantry Battalion, Avileuxpercheur (Lieutenant Colonel) Thibault oversaw their operation. Looking over a map of the Altaran capital while standing next to their bulky field manacomm apparatus, he pondered today¡¯s developments with his officers. ¡°The 119th has ordered Celeste Company to withdraw after it reported it has about 55% fighting strength left; I suggest we¡¯re to substitute our Droz Company in their place.¡± One of his officers reported, removing a peg signifying Celeste Company on the map and placing a peg signifying the 108th¡¯s Droz Company on where it once stood. Before he let go of the peg, he looked up to Thibault, who then motioned his hand in approval. ¡°Send the order out.¡± ¡°Roger.¡± His signals officer, operating the manacomm apparatus next to the map, replied. Thibault played with his short beard as he went deep into thought. A sort of controlled anxiety lingered over his eyes, his tongue-clicking becoming more frequent by the minute. Unable to mentally piece things together, he decided to lay them out. ¡°So that makes about... only four companies above 70% strength? Am I right?¡± He asked his officers, scratching his head in impatience. His officers glanced at one another before turning their eyes to the map and then giving their collective reply: ¡°Correct, sir.¡± This was exhausting, thought Thibault. As soon as he was about to groan in annoyance, he closed his lips and turned a would-be-groan into a long and drawn-out ¡°Hmmm.¡± He expected another mission where they were expected to ¡°go expendable¡± when the war plans for the Altaras invasion were brought into effect. After all, this was the mission of the Naval Infantry: move ahead of the Army, secure a foothold on the other side of the waterfront (often a river or a lake), and smash forward enemy elements. But much like the rest of the Parpaldian military, the Naval Infantry had absolutely no experience fighting overseas. They have drilled for such scenarios, but the art they¡¯ve mastered was crossing and traversing lakes and rivers. But that was not where their troubles and anxieties ended: instead of landing ahead of the main invasion force, Thibault¡¯s 108th, along with two other battalions, were to land on the outskirts of Le Brias, the heart of enemy territory, and conduct a fake yet convincing attempt at a landing to draw Altaran attention away from the true landing points further south. Preparations to make the landing convincing were overboard. A fully-armed navy fleet, most of which were veterans of their victory at Menda Point, would shell Le Brias harbor defenses and support their landing. The entire wyvern corps, now freed from their duty of patrolling the Altaras Strait, would provide air cover atop the fleet and the landings on top of their relentless incursions that test and strain Le Brias¡¯s air defenses. But things hadn¡¯t added up since the plan was put into motion. Ocean conditions during the landing weren¡¯t the best; one of the 117th¡¯s companies lost half its strength when their landing boats were caught in a rogue wave before they had even hit the beach, something that probably never would¡¯ve happened with a river or lake. The offshore bombardment from their battleships didn¡¯t manage to knock out Fort Ruvek¡¯s south-facing shore guns in the opening action, which caused further casualties before they were eventually silenced. Lastly, the mad Altaran king had apparently deployed multiple infantry divisions and artillery formations to the capital beforehand, meaning that their force of less than 4,000 was going up against what was essentially the entire Royal Altaran Army. Good geography and ample naval gunfire and wyvern support enabled them to hold their positions, but in just three straight days of fighting their men were already utterly exhausted¡ªand the Altaran artillery hadn¡¯t even deployed in force yet. He desperately wanted to pull out and preserve as much of his force as humanly possible, but their mission in Fort Bai was not to end until he received the message from Deuxi¨¨me imposrion (Vice Admiral) Pommerau that the true invasion beachheads further south were stable. Taking his officer cap off and placing it as gently as he could on the table, Thibault¡¯s stomach began to growl. The sun had hardly set and he was already feeling famished. Just as he was about to excuse himself and inform his officers, the signals officer raised his voice. ¡°Avileuxpercheur! The 117th reports they¡¯ve spotted Altaran artillery moving into the town of Massuf! Field guns are confirmed but they¡¯ve also reported signs of circuit and machine guns and large-caliber artillery!¡± Hearing this, Thibault bit his lips hard, almost to the point of shedding blood. At this point, he doubts lasting into the next day. Giving up on his dinner, he began preparations for a pre-emptive offensive to spike the guns. Cent. Calendar 10/02/1640, Astaran Constabulary, Astaran, Altaras, 17:14 Meanwhile, further south of Le Brias on the eastern seaboard of the peninsula, the Parpaldian Imperial Army had commandeered the fishing town of Astaran and is using its port to enable more ground forces to make landfall. As the sun set and night loomed, landing operations were called off for the day and the commanders gathered at the town¡¯s local constabulary, which functioned as their temporary headquarters. Standing before a map of the local area with his corps of officers, Entoupercheur (Colonel) Gilles oversaw a review of the day¡¯s developments. ¡°A few hours ago at around 1455h, the 110th (Naval Infantry) reported that they have reached and secured a small village and its shore battery on the left side of the mouth of the Alistan River 20km southeast of here. They added that they are yet to secure and cross the nearby bridge, which is around 2km upriver from their position. However, the primary cause for concern is that they reported spotting scuttled ships blocking the entire width of the Alistan River.¡± The last sentence drove a metaphorical nail into the chests of everyone in the room. Pained groans, expletives, head-scratching, and exasperated sighs could be heard as they discussed how to proceed with this setback. ¡°So much for securing riverine ports... How the hell are we getting ships up the Alistan and into the Sa¡¯arak now?¡± ¡°That isn¡¯t even the first problem. Our unloading is still behind schedule! This town¡¯s port is just too small! We need more ports, and we needed them yesterday!¡± ¡°If we don¡¯t fix this problem soon, Group West will arrive at Kagis and we¡¯re not there to plug its eastern side!¡± The officers lamented this new development. Just like everywhere else, their situation hadn¡¯t developed in the way that was planned, and while that was to be expected it didn¡¯t help at all that they were stuck on enemy territory thousands of tacour from home soil across the unforgiving ocean. This was their first expeditionary deployment overseas and it was getting increasingly painfully clear that they were not in their element. But Gilles was not one to feel remotely discouraged by this. If anything, to him, adversity just seemed to be a lot less boring than things going according to plan. With a low voice, he loudly exclaimed. ¡°This isn¡¯t the end of it yet!¡± His voice thundered across the room and past its brick walls, startling even the half-asleep guards posted within the constabulary premises. With everyone silent and their attention focused solely on him, Gilles turned to face an elven individual wearing a middle-aged face and drab overalls. ¡°You! Have you carried out my request?¡± His commanding tone shook the elven man to the core, causing him to sweat profusely as he replied as curtly as he could. ¡°Yes, sir! The cove you pointed out was indeed unusually deep¡ªour rider has even spotted a large, Muish-looking fishing trawler anchored inside! Based on the size of the trawler, our rider claims that the cove could accommodate four of our larger landing ships at once!¡± This sudden news of a big deepwater cove both calmed and confused the officers. With faces of mixed emotions, they turned to Gilles, whose usually intimidating face harbored a satisfied smile, for an explanation. ¡°As you already know, we¡¯ve always had the port problem since the first landings. We¡¯ve considered and explored every option available that could rectify this problem¡ªthe securing of riverine ports along the Alistan River, the building of additional piers at the port, and so on. Another option I considered was if we could make use of this uninhabited cove.¡± Gilles pointed to a section of the eastern coast that had the shape of a cove roughly 8km north of Astaran. ¡°I was sure that it was shallow since the cove didn¡¯t have a town built next to it but I figured I should have the wyvern corps check anyway.¡± The officers all looked at one another and nodded, satisfied with the answer. The discovery of this unmarked cove presented them with a possible solution but it also presented them with new problems. ¡°The mysterious reason that it¡¯s not being used aside, we must secure this cove as soon as possible.¡± ¡°The sooner we get there the better but we also can¡¯t afford to send them now. It¡¯s already dark and the possibility of running into a big enemy formation is high.¡± ¡°We can probably afford to wait the night and start tomorrow morning. I suggest that the wyvern corps divert a wyvern from the main axis to scout the path to the cove.¡± Having settled on the decision to secure the cove, the commanders of Group East revisited plans for the main western advance on the road toward Kagis to draw some of their units from the fighting to head north. Cent. Calendar 13/02/1640, the outskirts of the village of Sahwi, ~50km east of Kan Garasi, Altaras, 10:37 A few days later, back on the western side of the capital peninsula, elements of the Parpaldian Imperial Army¡¯s Group West were steadily advancing toward the city of Kagis, which was situated on the Sa¡¯arak River, the major waterway that runs into the heart of Le Brias further downstream. Two days ago, on the 11th, Group West¡¯s main fighting units dedicated to the Kagis axis were now on the island, and the beachhead at Point Margaux was stabilized, allowing their operation to finally pick up the tempo. Leading the charge down the major road toward Kagis was the 12th Infantry Regiment, supported by a cavalry battalion and a couple of artillery companies, and behind it trailed engineering units and the Parpaldian Imperial Army¡¯s dedicated siege artillery. Forging ahead of the regiment¡¯s main infantry units were the light infantry, skirmishers armed with carbines that screen the main force¡¯s advance. Leading a company of light infantry was one R¨¦sedier (Captain) Nathaniel, a hotheaded figure who figured going straight to the point would solve all of the world¡¯s problems. His company is currently deployed on a hilly treeline running north to south, bisected by the main road connecting the coastal town of Kan Garasi to Kagis. The treeline provided a better view of the rolling hills, which were more common in this part of the peninsula, and one of these had a small yet sprawling village built on top of it. This was the village of Sahwi, sitting atop one of the taller hills within siege artillery range of the city of Kagis, their advance¡¯s main objective. Taking Sahwi was instrumental in taking Kagis, and this much was common sense among even the lower-ranked officers. However, for as much as Sahwi was a small village, it sat in a perfectly defensible location, which warranted caution and a large force to take, their battalion commander warned. Being the impatient man he was, the captain had other ideas. ¡°Are we really going in without the rest of the battalion, r¨¦sedier?¡± One of the platoon commanders gathered around him asked, his furrowed brow drenched in sweat and excelling at exemplifying the doubts plastered all over his face. But Nathaniel paid little attention to such trifling details, something his subordinates¡ªand superiors alike¡ªhoped didn¡¯t apply to his analysis of the tactical battlespace. ¡°Population: 150; 38 families recorded according to the 1637 census. Notable buildings include the local constabulary station manned by two officers, the post office, and a family-run temple. Intelligence indicates at most a platoon of infantry garrisoned here.¡± The r¨¦sedier spoke aloud as if reading from a report, his gaze still fixated upon the small village. To his subordinates, the confidence in his voice indicated that he had made his decision, and thus, their queries were answered¡ªor at least they felt like they need not ask any further. Nathaniel turned around to face them, his platoon commanders, with a resolute expression and gleaming eyes. ¡°It is said that battles are won by officers who take the initiative when the situation calls for it. Given this situation, I can confidently tell you that we are in that same situation! While our battalion lags behind us, the village of Sahwi, an important piece in taking Kagis, is laid bare in front of us! We must seize this opportunity and take the village for the empire!¡± His mind set on the prize that is Sahwi, his platoon commanders felt there was little they could do to stop him. - - - Ratatatatatat! Pop! Pop! Pop! The saw-like buzzing of automatic gunfire cascaded throughout the hills, interlaced with the incessant popping of single-action rifle fire. Smoke from burnt powder and mana stone residue wafted in the air as the light smell of sulfur combined with the strong smell of spilled blood overwhelmed many to tears. What had been a quiet, hilly countryside an hour ago had descended into a scene of carnage, at least to the Parpaldian light infantry. ¡°Medic! I¡¯m shot in the leg! Argh...!!!¡± A light infantryman groaned in pain as he clutched his left leg. Blood gushed from the wound on his leg, dyeing his dirty white breeches a deep scarlet red. A medic, wearing a band brandishing the yellow diamond mark of the Lamp on his right shoulder, crawled to the wounded infantryman on his knees and elbows. ¡°Keep your head down!¡± The medic put his arm on the infantryman¡¯s head to push him under the cover as bullets flew over them. He uttered a prayer in silence, apologizing to his fallen comrade, whose lifeless corpse served to cover both of them from the hail of automatic gunfire. Off to the side was the captain, Nathaniel, leaning against the fallen bark of a great tree. He watched as the medic screamed instructions at the wailing infantryman, who was starting to panic from the pain of his wounded leg. He watched as the corpse of one of his men was used as a cover; its unmoving face, long deprived of emotion, twitched not from the several bullets that had just peppered its body. But this wasn¡¯t the only corpse around him: from his surroundings alone, he could count twelve of his own men dead, four of whom he could still hear to be groaning. The others, those who could still hold their carbines and fight, were either digging deeper into the ground using their bare hands to try and get out of the hail of bullets or were clinging for life behind what little cover they could find behind trees. Roughly an hour ago, Nathaniel made use of the three platoons under his command: Ardean Platoon would approach and enter the northern edge of the village by following a treeline that followed a hedgerow; Balzac Platoon would provide long-distance support fire from an irrigation channel that ran parallel to the village on its western side; lastly, Celeste Platoon would follow the treeline along the main road before pivoting and entering the village¡¯s southern edge, combining into a pincer of the village with Ardean Platoon. They would all be attacking the village¡¯s western side from the west. The battle opened with Balzac Platoon successfully assuming their positions along the irrigation channel. Once Ardean Platoon and Celeste Platoon had advanced far enough along their respective axes, Balzac Platoon began firing on the Altaran sentries posted on the village houses¡¯ rooftops. The village garrison was successfully drawn into the firefight, but Balzac Platoon¡¯s success was limited due to the irrigation channel¡¯s lower elevation hampering their line of fire against the higher buildings of the village. But that wasn¡¯t the worst part of the battle: as if reading their planned axis of advance, Ardean Platoon ran into traps on the treeline approaching the northern edge of the village, killing a couple of infantrymen. Then, as if expecting them, the Altarans brought a field machine gun within sight of the tree line, its deadly automatic fire maiming nearly a fifth of their platoon. The rest of the platoon took cover, but their brief respite was interrupted when several Altaran soldiers emerged from another hedgerow to their north, catching the beleaguered platoon in a deadly crossfire. From his last exchange with the other platoons, he learned that Balzac Platoon couldn¡¯t take out the machine gun; the machine gun was within the town and was thus obstructed from Balzac Platoon¡¯s line of fire. Celeste Platoon, meanwhile, was a bit better off but was struggling to wear down the town¡¯s fortified southern entrance. That was all fifteen minutes ago. Since then, he¡¯s seen three more of his men fall from gunfire, one of whom was Ardean Platoon¡¯s commander, the same unremarkable man who asked him if he was serious about assaulting the village. The platoon was down to about half its original strength, something that he¡¯d undoubtedly receive punishment for. In any other case, this was his blunder and no one but his own. Clutching his carbine in his hands, thoughts of charging the enemy in a defiant last stand filled his head. Whether it was out of fear of facing the music from his superiors or a desire to project to the enemy the indomitable will of the empire, he wasn¡¯t so sure. Guilt and duty wrestled for control of his conviction, but the deciding factor, himself, hesitated. As he continued to hesitate, he started to bite his lip, fighting against the indecision to finally commit to the charge. ¡°Meeeeen!!!¡± He shouted, hoping the impetus would drag his hesitant self to commit. Some of the infantrymen still clinging to cover turned their attention to their r¨¦sedier, but some were too afraid to even turn their attention his way. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. ¡°On the count of three, we shall charge across the gap and storm the village! Fear not, for I will lead the charge! I will be the first into the fray and be the first to fall! Glory awaits us, not only here in Sahwi, but in Kagis and, eventually, Le Brias!¡± His men looked at him with disbelief and denial, but Nathaniel was not one to mind such trifling details. ¡°On the count of three! Three!!!¡± Bullets from two directions continued to pound their position, peppering the ground, corpses, and trees. ¡°...Two!!!¡± The surviving infantrymen of Ardean Platoon held their carbines close as they waited for the go signal. For as much as they feared death, they feared the ramifications of failing to follow their officers¡¯ orders. As for Nathaniel, he hesitated to get himself to count down to the last number. He kicked the dirt and fallen leaves in frustration as if to get himself to commit. Then, as his lungs drew air, they puffed them out in one burst of life. ¡°ONE!!!¡± ¡°WAIT!!!¡± Interrupting his scream with a louder scream was his vice commander, who now operated the manacomms after the signals officer fell in battle earlier. ¡°R¨¦sedier!!! Celeste Platoon is reporting a breakthrough! They¡¯re now fighting inside the village!¡± Nathaniel stared at him with disbelief, but his instincts rebuffed his doubts when he noticed that the gunfire had also died down. Slightly peaking out of the fallen tree trunk he was taking cover under, his eyes darted to where the machine gun was. To his delight, he spotted its three operators seemingly abandoning their post as they appeared to be coming under fire from the southern direction. The other enemy infantrymen firing at them from the village also appeared to have gotten disoriented; they were likely receiving orders to redeploy to plug the southern breach. In any other case, it appears that there were far fewer guns firing at them now. Seeing his chance at redemption and breakthrough, he promptly turned back to face his men. ¡°Our comrades have broken through the south! The Altaran is distracted; we must seize this golden opportunity to finally smash those bloody rats!¡± This time, his men, also seeing what was going on, nodded with fiery resolve. Then, with renewed vigor and fighting spirit, the adamant r¨¦sedier screamed at the top of his lungs. ¡°ON ME, MEN!!! CHAAARGE!!!¡± Carbine on hand, R¨¦sedier Nathaniel sprung onto his feet, turned about-face, and with the village of Sahwi before him, broke out into a headlong rush for the nearest houses¡¯ yard walls. The incredible radiance with which he ran into the fray was unmatched¡ªliterally, for his own men struggled to match the fervor with which he broke into a sprint. Some of them didn¡¯t even budge from their positions: expecting a bayonet charge, they were in the middle of fitting their carbines with bayonets when their r¨¦sedier up and charged. Whether or not he had forgotten to give the order, Nathaniel¡¯s lonesome charge was followed by the rest of Ardean Platoon. With the Altarans in disarray, almost no one saw the dozens of Parpaldian light infantry charging up the sloped treeline. By the time the defenders did, it was too late. ¡°NO QUARTER!!!¡± Nathaniel spat, his infectious tone reverberating amidst the lull in gunfire. He vaulted over the low yard walls, catching two confused Altaran defenders right in the middle of contacting their superiors. He quickly dispatched the one to his right with a single shot from his carbine straight into the young man¡¯s neck. Grabbing the handle of his officer¡¯s saber with his free left hand, he turned to face the other soldier. Before the Altaran could unholster his revolver and ready its hammer, Nathaniel ended him by slashing across his chest, neck, and jaw with a powerful swing of his saber. As the young-looking Altaran defender fell to the ground, the other Parpaldian light infantrymen of Ardean Platoon started vaulting over the low yard walls before rushing into the houses and streets of the village. The grunting of men struggling in hand-to-hand combat, the clashing of steel, and the ringing of gunshots became the chorus of the high noon, interwoven with the occasional scream of officers repeating the r¨¦sedier¡¯s orders, ¡°NO QUARTER!!!¡± The ferocity of the fight for the village was by no means clean¡ªsome unfortunate villagers were in the village when Nathaniel¡¯s light infantry company attacked it¡ªbut before the clock struck 1 in the afternoon, the last Altaran defender was struck down. Sahwi, Altaras, 16:32 Several hours later, as the sun neared the horizon, the hustle and bustle of a massive army could be heard by the resting light infantrymen of Nathaniel¡¯s company outside the village. Pipers and drummers dictating the marching rhythm of the army and the constant shouts of officers and neighing horses ensured that the afternoon silence of the Altaran countryside was a distant memory. Still, the tired and recuperating infantrymen that held Sahwi budged not from their positions, for they knew this was no enemy army: it was the rest of their battalion, if not the entire regiment itself. At the village post office where Nathaniel and his officers were gathered, the company manacomm began beeping, indicating an incoming transmission. After a brief back and forth, the vice commander turned his attention to the r¨¦sedier. ¡°R¨¦sedier! It¡¯s the avileuxpercheur (lieutenant colonel)! He¡¯s asking for you to go to his headquarters just outside the village!¡± Nathaniel, who sat on a chair facing a row of a couple of disarmed Altaran defenders and several surviving villagers, old and young, men and women, who stood facing the wall with their hands tied behind their backs, pondered for a bit in silence. He was by no means the sadistic type, having only arranged their prisoners of war in this manner to keep them on edge. He brooded over his past actions and what it meant now that the avileuxpercheur knew of their situation. Yes, he was the type to face adversity head-on, but he was also a man who knew fear. But knowing there was nowhere to run, what with the rest of the regiment trickling into the rapidly forming Kagis siege lines by the hour, he resolved to face the music. ¡°Mmm. Tell him I¡¯m coming.¡± He stood up, holstered his saber and revolver, and put on his cap. Before he left the post office, he left a few words with the other officers, modulating his voice so that the POWs could hear him. ¡°Spare them your frustrations, but let them know what the Army did to the Rieman POW revolt during the campaigns against the alliance.¡± ¡°Ahh, so those are what the nutcrackers, pliers, and this bucket are for?¡± ¡°We had to settle for that method since we don¡¯t have any horses. That would¡¯ve been way more merciful, but oh well.¡± By the time their conversation was over, some of the Altaran POWs were sniffling and weeping. The Altaran and Parpaldian tongues were distinct languages, but decades of contact meant that even the folks in the rural countryside could understand a few of the other side¡¯s words. They didn¡¯t understand everything, but they understood enough to know what they meant. ¡°I don¡¯t wanna be here anymore, mother...¡± ¡°Where are the King¡¯s men? Why have they forsaken us...?¡± ¡°I was never even supposed to be in the Army...¡± Fearful of what awaits them, the captured Altarans murmured curses, farewells, regrets, and cries under their breath. - - - R¨¦sedier Nathaniel made his way down the stone road south of Sahwi. Hours ago, his men under Celeste Platoon fought a hard battle along this road, the signs of that battle still fresh as the smell of blood and burnt powder lingered in the air. But now that felt like it was a thing of the past: columns of soldiers wearing the imperial red and hold were marching up the road as battalion banners led the earth-shaking advance of land dragons dragging massive artillery pieces toward rapidly advancing earthen works along the axis of the village. The fact that they were already hunkering down and preparing for a long siege of the city of Kagis comforted him: had they not attacked and taken Sahwi earlier, they would probably still be preoccupied with taking the village right now. Still, he thought that with the forces of Group West, taking Sahwi might have ended in less bloodshed. More than thoughts of what could have been, what swirled in Nathaniel¡¯s head as he made his way to the new field headquarters of his battalion were excuses. Sahwi was lightly defended, so he acted on the initiative. They were in a precarious position in their previous position, so taking Sahwi increased their chances of surviving a possible sortie from Kagis. Either way, before he could even consider everything that may be hurled in his direction, he found himself already standing before the entrance to the battalion field headquarters. The guards on standby, seeing his rank, immediately permitted entry. Stepping inside the newly set-up field tent, which was still devoid of belongings and furnishings, he found the avileuxpercheur conversing with his signals officers who were operating the battalion¡¯s manacomms. ¡°R¨¦sedier Nathaniel reporting in, avileuxpercheur!¡± Nathaniel announced his presence with a sharp salute, a gesture the avileuxpercheur didn¡¯t return. Without turning to face him, he simply dismissed Nathaniel. ¡°Yes, we do have something to discuss, but a strategy meeting in half an hour requires my attendance. You¡¯ll have to wait until after.¡± Underneath the nonchalant tone of the avileuxpercheur, Nathaniel sensed a hint of cold ruthlessness. For the first time since the battle earlier, he felt sweat drop across his forehead as a piercing chill ran down his spine. Now there was really no running from facing the music. With great fear and wavering resolve, Nathaniel took his leave and sat on a flat-topped boulder next to the tent. Royal Castle, Le Brias, Altaras, 19:49 Meanwhile, that night, back at the Altaran capital, the sound of cannon fire and sporadic small arms fire echoed throughout the pitch-black city. Fighting continued on the outskirts of the main port between Parpaldian landing forces and the bulk of the Royal Altaran Army, as the massive Parpaldian fleet outside the harbor consistently provided gunnery support. The city¡¯s streets were completely devoid of life save for the patrols of Altaran constabularies and Army regulars enforcing a strict curfew. At the royal castle, King Taara XIV and his commanders had their nightly emergency meeting about the state of the war. It had been more than a week since the war entered its homefront phase¡ªsince the first reports of fighting on Altaran soil came in¡ªand the days and nights have been nonstop since then. Still, even a week after the war became a ground war, there remains no consensus between the Altaran high command on where the war must be fought. Though, strictly speaking, the so-called ¡®divide¡¯ existed only between the king and his commanders, who all held consensus among themselves as to where the real enemy was. But, representative of the distribution of real power in Altaras, the king¡¯s position had the same weight¡ªif not greater¡ªthan that of his commanders. Still, the so-called ¡®divide¡¯ was by no means an impasse but rather a simple disagreement; King Taara held the final say in what the armed forces would do, and his commanders, fearful of the king¡¯s record of banishing those who disagreed with him, were too timid to truly challenge His Majesty¡¯s decisions. Nevertheless, the disagreements continued. ¡°With all due respect, Your Majesty, we simply cannot ignore the reports of Parpaldian landings in Kan Garasi and Astaran! If we don¡¯t stop them there, they can easily march up to Kagis, take and control the Sa¡¯arak River, and threaten Le Brias!¡± The Royal Altaran Army¡¯s deputy chief of staff, substituting for the sick Chief of Staff Kainarka, remarked. The other commanders present bit their lips, wanting to chide the newbie to know his place in front of the king but not wanting to get in His Majesty¡¯s crosshairs. ¡°And what do you suppose we do with the real threat on the other side of this city?!¡± King Taara lashed back at the relatively young officer. The dark circles around the king¡¯s eyes accentuated their size, making them appear bigger than they actually were. ¡°What are a couple of fishing towns compared to the majestic jewel of the Orient?! The blood of hundreds of the kingdom¡¯s bravest have been spilled on the beaches, pavement, and waters of this wonderful capital fighting the Parpaldian devils!¡± Taara¡¯s commanding voice echoed across the chamber as he walked along the perimeter of the central map table toward the dissentious deputy chief of staff. ¡°But Le Brias is equally at stake with the fall of those fishing towns! We mustn¡¯t let the enemy take more¡ª¡± At that point, Taara was now standing in front of him, his enraged eyes and furrowed brows intimidating the deputy chief to silence. ¡°I agree; the enemy mustn¡¯t take any more ground! That is why no man is to leave the capital! The enemy is right outside the gates! We fight them here! Do you understand?!¡± The deputy chief stood defiant, but his resolve was on its last legs. He glanced at the other commanders, hoping to get their support, but all he saw were their disapproving and apathetic gazes. For them, they were either content with the king¡¯s hostile gaze not turned upon them or silently advising the young officer to yield to the king¡¯s remarks. Realizing that he stood alone against the mightiest person in the kingdom, the deputy chief of staff lowered his head in defeat. ¡°O-Of course, Your Majesty! You are absolutely correct: I have been egregiously shortsighted in my analysis! F-Forgive my transgressions, O Great King!!!¡± Taara stared at him with contempt, doubting whether or not he was really sorry for his actions, but the thought of punishing him hardly crossed his mind. The other commanders, meanwhile, silently breathed a collective sigh of relief, but they were equally as disappointed that the war situation wasn¡¯t going to improve. Just as they were to move to discuss troop deployments, the doors to the command room flung open. ¡°Father!!!¡± Into the room entered the three princesses, Semira, Alila, and Lumies, in their clean, white evening gowns. Their hair, typically dressed and styled, was laid down, and their faces, always covered in makeup, were bare and wearing worried expressions. Leading the charge was the youngest Lumies, as usual. ¡°Forgive our sudden intrusion, but we bring terrible news!¡± Lumies opened with a preface, which the elder Semira followed with an unfunny punchline. ¡°The enemy has reached Kagis! Our friends in the city, the Erlikaia family, have just contacted us!¡± The commanders looked at one another with confused looks. To them, this concerning development was news, a fact that was unsettling in and of itself. The king, also hearing this for the first time, looked at his own daughters with a cold, piercing look of doubt¡ªperhaps even suspicion. ¡°You make a bold claim, my daughters, especially in this time of crisis. What makes you say this when the Army hasn¡¯t even reported a single thing about Kagis to me? ¡± The sharp tone in their father¡¯s question struck the princesses, causing Lumies and Semira to hesitate as they realized their mistake in not substantiating the Erlikaia¡¯s claims. However, an unfazed Alila stepped in, matching Taara¡¯s unyielding expression. ¡°I have friends with local machine guilds in Kagis. They tell me that the garrison has enlisted their assistance in replacing the garrison¡¯s manacomm after it was destroyed in a surprise wyvern raid. I¡¯ve asked for further details on the current situation should you need more.¡± Seeing the confidence in his middle daughter¡¯s posture, Taara was convinced. He turned his prying eyes to his commanders, who promptly felt embarrassed that they were in the dark regarding a major development. Once more, the Army deputy chief of staff spoke on behalf of the others. ¡°W-We will look into this matter at once! Give us two hours!¡± ¡°One hour! Not a single second later!¡± Taara hissed, his patience clearly running out. ¡°A-As you command, Your Majesty!¡± The commanders mobilized the military¡¯s information-gathering apparatus to gain more info on Kagis. Taara walked towards his daughters with a tired yet grateful look in his eyes. ¡°You always best my own appointees. Your mother would have been proud.¡± Saying his piece, he nudged his three daughters toward the doors, beckoning on the royal guardsmen posted on the doors to escort them back to their quarters. ¡°It is already evening. We can continue any discussions tomorrow.¡± ¡°But Father¡ª¡± ¡°No, no, no. I will join you shortly once the situation at Kagis has been confirmed.¡± The princesses reluctantly followed their father¡¯s orders, returning to their quarters with the guardsmen by their side. With his daughters out of the picture, King Taara returned to the meeting and awaited his commanders¡¯ report on Kagis. Cent. Calendar 15/02/1640, Kagis, Altaras, 15:45 Two days after the Parpaldians completed the first siege works on the west side of the city, Parpaldian siege artillery regularly peppered the city¡¯s bastion walls and the city itself. The onslaught only grew worse as the Parpaldians bought more pieces into the fray by the hour. The Altaran garrison of over 3,000 responded with their own artillery numbering around 24, but corruption in procurement and maintenance, coupled with some of the artillery pieces being dragged to Le Brias before the Parpaldian landings, all ensured that their response was too little to be effective. An initial sortie of 500 men and 100 horsemen was organized on the first day of the siege two days ago, aiming to spike as many of the artillery pieces as they could, but the timely maneuvers of Parpaldian light infantry and dragoons crushed that sortie and killed many of the horsemen, pulverizing any hope for an easy win. On the third day, Parpaldian siege artillery pieces were ringing once more, but the walls of the city held firm, and so did its defenders. High-explosive ordnance shaved away at the sloped glacis of the bastions, but a good percentage of the shots fired landed on the trenches below the glacis and on the city buildings beyond the walls. The garrison and brave volunteers worked to save people from collapsed buildings and fight fires that broke out. It was only the third day, but the relentless attacks were only but a prelude to what was to come. Still, the city held, and while its defenses had seen better days, its food stocks and the water and supply lifelines afforded by the Sa¡¯arak River running to the city¡¯s east ensured that they would continue to stand¡ªhopefully not for eternity but until the rest of the Altaran army relieves them. Nevertheless, the people inside the city are constantly reminded that they are still in danger. ¡°Enemy wyverns, possibly the lord type, inbound from the west!¡± Lookouts atop the city clock tower, the tallest building in the city, cried out into their manacomm as three bat-shaped silhouettes manifested in front of the setting sun to the west. The silhouettes, sporting a larger build than the regular wyvern breed and the bright red identifiers of the Parpaldian wyvern corps, swooped down onto the city below them. ¡°Sound the alarm!¡± Altaran soldiers ran for the bells, sirens, and all the other alarms around the city. By the time the Parpaldian wyverns were above their heads, the entire city was crying out a cacophony of wails and chimes. ¡°Ready the anti-wyvern mortars and machine guns! Engage as soon as you¡¯re ready!¡± All along the city and garrison walls, teams of five manned either a Muish MY-99 machine gun or a domestically-produced high-angle mortar with anti-wyvern explosive shells. Unveiling them from their crude tarps and loading them with their respective munitions, the ones that could get their weapons online earlier promptly got to work. ¡°OPEN FIRE!!!¡± Ratatatatatat! Bababam! The staccato of automatic gunfire and scattered magically chanted explosions overpowered the chorus of bells and sirens. Bright, mesmerizing machine gun fire filled the late afternoon skies as giant flowers of fire and shrapnel burst and bloomed in between. The sight was one to behold, especially as the sun began to lay low, but the display was more aesthetic than it was practical: the machine gun fire was all over the place and the fuses on the anti-wyvern explosives were too short to have them detonate higher in the air. As a result, the Parpaldian wyvern lords were largely unfazed by the latter and armored enough to shrug off stray bullets, but the tantalizing show of heavy arms fire scared the reptiles from descending any further. ¡°Keep firing! Don¡¯t let them get any closer!¡± As the enemy wyverns loitered in the air, the city garrison continued to pump more ammunition into the sky with no return. - - - Meanwhile, at the garrison headquarters, a towering castle keep left over from an older era, the garrison signals unit is working with the local guilds to restore the garrison¡¯s damaged manacomm unit. ¡°Any progress?¡± The garrison commander, a man of average build with thick eyebrows, checked with his signals unit and the local guildsmen. One of the senior guildsmen responded to his inquiry. ¡°We should be good to go. We¡¯ve restored the damaged communication nodes before the attacks, and we¡¯re just about to restart the unit to see if it goes through.¡± With the sound of gunfire and explosions in the background, the guildsmen and signal officers refitted the mana cell, a Mirishial-manufactured battery filled with mana, into the manacomm unit, restoring power. The senior guildsman, taking the microphone to hand, tried talking into the piece. ¡°Ingram here. Testing reception; acknowledge?¡± A couple of seconds later, a succession of remarks came out of the receiver. ¡°Node A. Received and acknowledged.¡± ¡°Node B. Got you! Acknowledged.¡± ¡°Node C. Acknowledged on this end. Looks like we¡¯re clear, master!¡± With an exasperated yet triumphant look on his face, the senior guildsman turned to the garrison commander. ¡°Your manacomm is ready, commander.¡± The commander was grateful for the guilds¡¯ help, but the echoes of explosions behind him made him feel there was little room for formalities. With a forced smile, he thanked and dismissed the guildsmen and promptly issued orders to the signal unit. ¡°Send out distress signals to everyone¡ªhigh command in Le Brias, the wyvern corps at Le Brias Airfield, Hajjisler, any station our lines pass through!¡± Just as his signal officers went to work broadcasting distress signals, an officer came barging into the signals room. The terrified look in his eyes was more than enough to make the garrison commander¡¯s heart sink to the ground. ¡°We got a situation! Another enemy army was spotted to the east!¡± Leaving the signal officers to do their job, the garrison commander followed the officer out onto one of the turrets connected to the keep that was used for observation. From there, one could see the plains extending out to the east on the eastern side of the wide Sa¡¯arak River, which formed the eastern flank of the city of Kagis. On the closest point on the opposite side of the river was a fortified suburb connected to the main city by a modern bridge spanning the width of the Sa¡¯arak. The spectacle was jaw-dropping, especially underneath the slowly reddening sky, but what spoiled the vista for the Altaran garrison was the sight of rows upon rows of armed infantry donning the Parpaldian red and gold marching across the plains to the far east, their cavalry and land dragons dragging massive siege artillery across the dirt. ¡°Oh fuck...¡± The garrison commander sighed in indignation at their worsening predicament. From what he could see alone, he could count an army in the 10,000s and that was on top of the other enemy army that was besieging them from the west. He had no doubt their walls would continue to hold firm and that their food stocks would last, but if the enemy army to the east takes the fortified suburb and takes control of the Sa¡¯arak, then their days are numbered. The Kagis garrison, facing a stranglehold in all directions by the indomitable Parpaldian Imperial Army, continued to send pleas for relief to anyone listening. Kagis granary, 22:07 After the enemy wyverns had retreated, having seemingly done nothing but fly around the city in circles, the sun cast its last light on the battlefield before disappearing beneath the ground, silencing the guns on both sides as Parpaldians and Altarans alike retired to their beds for the night. Naturally, not everyone went to sleep: hundreds of souls lay awake in the dark of night as they stood guard on the vestiges of their fortifications, wary of the other side trying to conduct night raids while they slumbered away. Inside the city, the garrison patrolled the streets with mana stone-powered lanterns, their bright light piercing the veil of darkness. A couple dozen soldiers were out on patrol, but a handful were concentrated around important structures, such as the cultural hall, which serves as the evacuation center for the city¡¯s homeless and those whose homes were destroyed, and the city¡¯s massive granaries. Standing guard right outside the entrance to the granary¡¯s control center was Nefer (Private) Ergu. Unlike the other regulars, he was a night person, so he didn¡¯t mind being on night guard duty. Still, he squirmed around restlessly with his rifle slung on his shoulder. The reason why he appeared so restless could be found in his hands: on one hand, an unlit roll of tobacco, and on the other, a match that had gone out. This was his last match, and it had gone out on him before he could light the roll. Unable to think of an alternative, he turned to his buddy, Nefer Derin, who stood guard on the other side of the entrance. Unlike him, Derin wasn¡¯t a night person, so the man slept while slumped against his rifle, which he used as a stand to prop himself up against. ¡°Oy! Oy! Wake up, you dumbass!¡± Ergu called out to Derin in hushes, which was enough to jolt the slumbering night guard. ¡°Ah! N-No, I wasn¡¯t asleep, sir!¡± Derin promptly got his rifle up on his shoulder and stood straight, thinking that an officer had walked by. ¡°No, you fucking idiot, it¡¯s just me! Get me a match!¡± Derin grumbled, annoyed that his sleep was cut short. ¡°Ah, fuck off. Don¡¯t you fucking wake me up unless an officer¡¯s coming.¡± Throwing his box of matches Ergu¡¯s way, Derin then assumed his previous position and resumed his sleep, but not before leaving a few words. ¡°I swear, you¡¯ll get us in fucking trouble.¡± Desperate for the high, Ergu hurriedly put the tobacco roll between his lips and lit up a new match. As he watched the end of the roll catch fire and begin burning, he took in a big dose of nicotine as he deeply breathed in. The sensation of jolting energy surged through the entirety of his body¡ªit felt as if his entire being was being lit up in excitement. Satisfied, he exhaled, the puff of smoke disappearing into the darkness. His thoughts went elsewhere as the idea of the war as a whole came to mind. He wasn¡¯t particularly invested in the war, having never bought the idea of the so-called ¡°inevitable struggle¡± against the Parpaldians, but the invasion presented a threat to both his survival and his family. His sisters, mother, and younger brother were both back in his hometown on the southern end of the island, which he heard was far away from the main fighting here in the north, so his only imperative now was surviving this siege, then this war, and then coming home... hopefully. As he inhaled another puff, his ears began to ring. Thinking it might be something in his ears, he swallowed, picked his ears, and swung his head around, but the sound did not go away. Then, it started sounding as if it wasn¡¯t coming from his ears¡ªin fact, it started to sound a lot like a long, monotonous whistle. His suspicion fell on his mate, Derin. ¡°Goddammit, would you fucking shut up? The entire fucking city will know you¡¯re tone-deaf!¡± Derin, also annoyed, barked back. ¡°That¡¯s my fucking line, dipshit! If there¡¯s anyone who could whistle like this, it¡¯d be you!¡± ¡°What? No, it ain¡¯t me!¡± ¡°Huh? Then who could it be?!¡± The two men immediately got suspicious of the whistling sound and took their rifles into their hands. Thinking that someone else was making the whistling sound, the two pointed their rifles into the darkness. ¡°Whoever¡¯s making that sound, show yourself!¡± No response. Except for another one of their comrades shouting back at them. ¡°You fuckers hear that shit too?!¡± They recognized the voice as one of their platoonmates, who was also posted with them at the granary, albeit at the southwest gate. ¡°Fuck! Look alive, men! Sounds like we got a situation!¡± Their mulazim (lieutenant) shouted back. All this was happening while the whistling sound got louder and louder to the point it started to become painful for their ears. Just as it seemed to reach its peak, the whistling sound pulsated twice¡ªtwo high-pitched whistle-like bursts of sounds echoed in quick succession, temporarily overwhelming the Altaran night guards around the granary. ¡°Urgh!!!¡± ¡°Argh!!!¡± The guards grunted and groaned as they desperately put their hands on their ears. But in the brief moment that they heard the short bursts, some of the men, including Ergu, noticed that the whistling sound was coming from a certain direction. ¡°Wait!!! It¡¯s coming from above us!!!¡± As soon as he and the other guards turned their gazes up into the cloudless, star-dotted sky, they noticed a very subtle, jet-black silhouette seemingly frozen in place against the dark backlight of the heavens. ¡°Is that...?¡± Before Ergu or any of the other soldiers could discern what it was, the silhouette zoomed out of their vision, disappearing behind the dark contours of the towering wheat silos of the granary. For a moment, it appeared as if it had wings like those of a falcon or wyvern, but it was too dark to tell. At the same time that the silhouette disappeared the whistling sound faded away. ¡°Huh...? Did you see that?¡± ¡°Yeah. What in the goddamn fuck was that?¡± ¡°Maybe it was one of those manticores¡ª¡± Before Derin could finish his sentence, a bright orange light lit up the entire city, blinding them. Immediately afterward, the men were assailed by powerful gales coming from the granary, bringing with them a resounding thunderclap. KABLAM!!! Multiple fireballs sprouted out of the granary complex, spreading flowers of flame all across the brick silos and almost entirely engulfing them. The Altaran night guards who stood on guard were frozen in shock and disbelief at what was going on. As the seconds passed, fires continued to spread across the complex, and smaller explosions continued to occur. As the rest of the city and the garrison woke up to the sight of a massive conflagration consuming their one and only granary complex, Altaran officers appeared on the scene and began helping the dazed night guards up. ¡°On your feet!!! We¡¯ve gotta get out of here! The granary¡¯s lost to the flames! It¡¯s going to explode!¡± Memories of the Barezan complex tragedy in Le Brias surfaced in their heads; the fear of being caught in something like that was enough to spur the fallen night guards onto a sprint. As the Altaran soldiers ran from the blazing fires consuming the granary, they also ordered the people gathering around the granary to run. ¡°Run!!! Run away!!! Get away from the granary!!! Remember Barezan!!!¡± Upon hearing of the word ¡°Barezan,¡± the awakened city folk, fearing the imminent explosion like the one that leveled the complex in Le Brias, turned and ran for their lives. The soaring inferno towered high above the city like a lit torch casting luminescence over the battlefield; its far-reaching embers may even be visible as far away as Le Brias itself. It served as a signal of a concerning development not only in the siege of Kagis but also in the war as a whole. Chapter 35: Stranglehold Cent. Calendar 17/02/1640, Kagis, Altaras, 14:07 The mighty wind of a thousand hurricanes swept all that stood firm and cast down all that resisted. The mighty goddess Astarte herself ripped open the heart of the city, mercilessly raising it high into the dark heavens. She then cried out, ¡°This will make a splendid offering.¡± But there were no favors to be had, no blessings to be given, no prayers to be answered. ¡°Our leaders have forgotten us,¡± the prophet cried, ¡°and woah unto us, for the gods have gone blind to our plight and turned deaf to our pleas!¡± This excerpt from the work of an unnamed writer who wrote of the suffering that the city of Kagis had endured during the Parpaldian invasion of Altaras was but one of the many people whose emotions were moved by the tragedies that occurred in the city in that dreaded week. The tales that described the events surrounding the siege of the city were almost mythical in their telling yet unnervingly vivid in their recountings. The citizens of Kagis who lived through the ordeal all give varying accounts, but the picture they all painted was not for the faint of heart. After the destruction of the city¡¯s granaries on the night of the 15th of Febrond, the circumstances of which are still disputed by the Altaran authorities, hysteria plagued the city. According to King Taara XIV¡¯s war reforms, the fortified cities of the kingdom were mandated to have their food and water systems centralized to ensure the stability of the cities in wartime. This had the unfortunate effect of having most of Kagis¡¯s food supplies being stored in the city¡¯s granaries, which suffered a near total loss in the blaze that erupted on the 15th. The city still had plenty of water to take from the Sa¡¯arak River, but their food supply of grains and non-perishables, which are said to be capable of feeding the population through months of siege, essentially disappeared overnight. With elements of the Parpaldian Imperial Army having dug their heels on all sides of the city, the formidable ramparts of Kagis had turned from a safe haven keeping the enemy at bay to an unbreakable cage destined to starve them to death under its unyielding shadow. With only enough food to last through a few days for 20 families, far under the number of families that called the city home, the population got on its feet to either plead with the city government to do something or fight with fellow neighbors for what little food remained. In the ensuing chaos, the city¡¯s embattled garrison was forced to turn their arms against fellow Altarans after a full day of bloody grappling with Parpaldian regulars at the gates. On the second day since the granaries¡¯ destruction, gunfire rang across the battlefield as Parpaldian siege batteries hammered into the city¡¯s walls and buildings. Crumbling houses and exploding ordnance maimed many city folks. Still, the number of civilians that the Parpaldian guns killed that day barely matched the number of civilians who died at the hands of their fellow civilians, from exhaustion and starvation, and at the ends of the bayonets of unwilling garrison soldiers. Two days weren¡¯t enough to kill people due to starvation. Still, the lack of sleep during the night for fear of another strike similar to the one that destroyed the granaries, the excessive use of energy running from artillery strikes, and the enforced levy on the city folk to help with the city¡¯s defense all took their toll on the starving population. Some were taken to fish discretely in the river, but many of them were captured by roaming Parpaldian patrols. The city¡¯s singular chicken coop didn¡¯t last through the first day; people were even desperate enough to hunt the few crows and pigeons that flew through the city. But when all was consumed, some resorted to feeding on dead horses, cows, or rats. Rumors abounded of people nourishing themselves on the flesh of dead neighbors and kin. Despite all the suffering unfolding before their eyes, the city garrison kept to their vows to defend the kingdom, but the sight of rows upon rows of Parpaldian infantry regulars and their large battalion flags marching toward the city walls by the thousands pushed the defenders ever closer to the limit. ¡°Four battalions approaching Sector Tsugul!¡± ¡°At the ready, Tsugul Company! Fire at will!¡± Men of the garrison screamed at the top of their lungs even as their stomachs growled with increasing ferocity. Sector Tsugul, encompassing Kagis¡¯s southwestern walls, had been the main axis of the Parpaldian Imperial Army Group West¡¯s attacks. The savagery of the Parpaldian siege batteries¡¯ bombardment had leveled a section of one of the south-facing walls, which was previously destroyed in a gunpowder explosion years ago and was poorly repaired afterward. Men of Tsugul Company stood ready not only atop the ramparts but also behind the rubble of the collapsed section. As the sound of small arms fire started to echo from Sector Tsugul, the garrison commander was receiving one of the city officials at the command post in the citadel. ¡°Sir, please! Where is His Majesty¡¯s relief army?! You said they¡¯d be coming! We can¡¯t hold on for much longer!¡± The city official, a man in his 30s and sporting a unibrow, was almost to the point of groveling as he made his plea with the garrison commander. Drops of sweat coalesced on the tips of his mustache¡¯s hair stands, which he subconsciously licked in desperate hunger. The garrison commander, having exhausted all of his uniform tops, was now in his loose white undershirt. It was rather undignified for an esteemed man of His Majesty¡¯s Royal Army, but the response he gave was solemn and curt. ¡°They are! But we must remain steadfast and resist these cockroaches!¡± ¡°But where are they, sir?! Can¡¯t they at least give us a timeframe?! The walls are being pounded by the hour, and your men barely held the southwestern gate in the last attempt!¡± The city official collapsed on his knees down onto the wooden floor. Whether it was because he was pleading, he was at his wit¡¯s end, or due to extreme hunger and exhaustion mattered not; the show of desperation tugged on the commander¡¯s consciousness. He weakly clung onto the fabric of the commander¡¯s slacks, his breathing too weak to be heard. ¡°The city council... considering... surrender...¡± The commander¡¯s eyes widened in shock. The word ¡°surrender¡± had been in his mind lately, but as a gentleman of the King¡¯s Army, he couldn¡¯t find it in himself to raise the banner of the Lamp. Not when His Majesty may have sent a relief force that could show up at any moment. ¡°Goddammit! Fine! I¡¯ll go contact them again!¡± The commander spat out in frustration, but the city official cried neither a whimper of relief nor exasperation. As the commander went ahead to the signals room, he sent for several of his men to drag the collapsed city official out of the room. Royal Castle, Le Brias, Altaras, 19:34 That night, the command room inside the royal castle was bustling with activity: officers came to and fro the signals room and the main command room as staff routinely made rounds to replenish ink, paper, and refreshments. The commanders of the Royal Altaran Army and the Chief of Staff, under the direction of King Taara himself, were brewing something big. Unbeknownst to the beleaguered defenders of Kagis to the south, however, the bulk of the Army garrisoned in the peninsula wasn¡¯t moving to save them. ¡°Hmm... Good, good.¡± Taara mumbled to himself as he kept a watchful eye on his commanders and their staff while they placed colored pegs signifying Army elements before a rigidly drawn red line on the big map that stretched around a beach to the south of the Le Brias port. Topside, tens of thousands of men, artillery, and war machines were being gathered in multiple staging locations in the urbanized sectors on the capital¡¯s southeastern outskirts, preparing to march on the beach all at once. ¡°80% of the expected fighting force have reported that they¡¯re in position. 50% have reported their supplies have arrived.¡± A signals officer reported to the Army Deputy Chief of Staff; the Army Chief of Staff, General Kainarka, was still out sick. ¡°Good time and good numbers, General.¡± Taara, overhearing the report, had nothing but praise for the young man. But the deputy couldn¡¯t bring himself to either smile or express his gratitude; the situation in Kagis described by the garrison commander in the last message relentlessly clawed on his consciousness. There were many reasons to challenge the King¡¯s decision to prioritize the landings in Le Brias over relieving Kagis, but there was sadly no room for dissent¡ªit was either he did the wrong things or the wrong things happened to him. Just as he had set his thoughts aside, another signals officer came running to him. Unlike the previous officer, he had a bothered expression on his face, an omen that the deputy chief of staff¡¯s head immediately registered. The signals staff officer, wary of the King¡¯s watchful eye, leaned in close and whispered in the deputy chief of staff¡¯s ear. ¡°...Kagis reports that their situation is critical¡ªthe population is unruly, food stocks depleted, and city council is considering surrender...¡± The deputy¡¯s heart stiffened. With the city granary wiped out and the recent sortie a disaster, he knew how terrible the situation had gotten. He estimated that they could at most hold out a week under such grueling conditions, but it appears that even that estimate was grossly optimistic. Kagis, a major city on the Sa¡¯arak just upstream from the capital, was on the cusp of falling to the enemy. They needed to relieve them now¡ªno, yesterday! But the King also has a point: if they don¡¯t defeat the enemy landing at the beach, they have the means to inject fresh reserves right outside their gates and directly put pressure on them. Dismissing the signals officer, the deputy chief of staff discreetly approached King Taara¡¯s side. ¡°Your Majesty, If I may touch on the topic of sending a relief force for Kagis again...¡± Taara, annoyed but obliging the deputy¡¯s wish to be discreet, bluntly replied. ¡°No. We¡¯re on the cusp of victory over the enemy at the harbor. Focus on the preparations.¡± The deputy chief of staff silently clicked his tongue. ¡°With all due respect, I believe two regiments should be enough to send south to relieve Kagis! We can both push the enemy out of the harbor and break the siege! We¡¯ve already told you what happened the other day! The Parpaldians wiped¡ª¡± Taara, however, was having none of it. ¡°Oh, please... Don¡¯t tell me you buy those reports! A whistling demon coming in the dead of night and destroying the granary, wiping out the city¡¯s food stocks? They cannot be serious! I do not doubt that their situation is serious, but they¡¯re probably exaggerating! Surely, they can hold for a week!¡± As it turns out, the King didn¡¯t believe the reports. But no one could blame him; the garrison commander¡¯s description of how the granary was destroyed felt too embellished. Something clearly happened, but even the deputy chief of staff had trouble believing that the destruction of the granary was as total as the garrison commander claimed. His own doubts over the circumstances in Kagis hamstrung his efforts to persuade His Majesty. ¡°We¡¯ll push the Parpaldians to the sea tomorrow, then we¡¯ll destroy their armies at Kagis before the end of the week.¡± Turning his gaze away from the deputy chief of staff, Taara walked away, unilaterally ending the conversation. Unable to convince himself¡ªlet alone the King¡ªof the severity of the situation in the south, he resigned himself to the preparations for the final assault on the Parpaldian beachhead at the harbor. Group West Camp Headquarters, ~2km west of Kagis, Altaras, 20:00 Inside a massive tent guarded by armed sentries, the commanders of the Parpaldian Imperial Army¡¯s Group West convened at the behest of Entoupercheur (Colonel) Marius to discuss strategy. Sitting on the highest chair at the meeting table overlooking the rest of Group West¡¯s officer corps and their makeshift map of operations, Marius commenced the meeting with a brief cough. ¡°Brief me on the situation.¡± At his command, his officers laid out the current state of their operation. ¡°Regarding the siege, the latest siege artillery company arrived earlier today and has completed their deployment. We are bombarding the city walls according to the schedules set, but the consistency and timely supply of ammunition from Point Margaux remains a bottleneck. Enemy walls remain standing; we tried sending three battalions forward to pressure a half-collapsed section on the south sector, but they failed to break through. Casualties today amount to 500 dead and wounded.¡± ¡°As of today, 90% of our combat-capable units are committed to the siege, with an additional 5% committed to the garrisoning of Point Margaux and the safeguarding of our supply lines. The remaining 5% are probing and scouting enemy positions to the north.¡± Marius clasped his hands together as he bit his lips. He wasn¡¯t comfortable with where his units were. Their force disposition was untenable and highly susceptible to a concentrated effort by a bigger Altaran force, which isn¡¯t impossible since they were on their home turf. If even an Altaran regiment with cavalry and light artillery support were to test his supply lines and get in between Point Margaux and Kagis, the entire invasion would be in jeopardy. Reinforcements are inbound, but he doesn¡¯t trust that bastard of a Batimeau r¨¦gler (Captain), Dacourt, and the Navy to land them in the numbers and at the speed needed to shore up a remotely defensible frontline. If he were to draw a dotted line on the map connecting Kan Garasi, Point Margaux, and Kagis, it would hardly be representative of their force disposition along that path. In short: he had massive holes the enemy could easily slip in. Honestly, it only makes it all the more baffling that there are hardly any reports of enemy harassment of their supply lines¡ªif at all! ¡°What¡¯s Group East¡¯s status?¡± He asked, but his officers simply sighed apologetically. ¡°Pardon us, sir, but we¡¯re yet to hear from their liaison.¡± Marius, too, sighed in disappointment. Cooperation between individual Army groups wasn¡¯t commonplace or expected. Truth be told, relations between the wyvern corps and an army group are tighter and more solid than relations between two army groups. Personality politics among commanders, inherent flaws in the organization, and rampant hostile regionalism amongst units were among the factors why cooperations was the last thing on their minds. ¡°How¡¯s the Altaran situation in the north looking?¡± ¡°Our light infantry and cavalry deployed to the north have only encountered company-sized enemy units and they¡¯ve been defensive, to put it mildly. ¡®Passive¡¯ might be a better term to describe their disposition; they hardly leave the comfort of their town garrisons and fortifications. Casualties are very light¡ªless than a hundred combined for all units.¡± Marius then turned to the wyvern unit commanding officer attached to Group West, who promptly gave his report. ¡°Our scout runs paint a similar picture: Altaran units as far as 8 tacour (~20km) north of Kagis are on the defensive. To add, for some reason, we have not encountered a single Altaran wyvern unit in the past few days.¡± Marius and the rest of the officer corps collectively scratched their heads. The Altarans have been unexpectedly passive. Had they been even a little bit more proactive in their defense, their invasion would have undoubtedly been put on the back foot. For all their shortcomings, the enemy was even more flawed. They understood that they couldn¡¯t count on the enemy being stupid all the time, but it was nonetheless tempting to remain content with the status quo. ¡°The situation seems stable enough for now. Let¡¯s go back to the siege.¡± His officers followed up on their report about the state of the city. ¡°Based on intelligence from intercepted outgoing communique from the city and rumors from high-level contacts elsewhere, the situation inside the city is critical. They have likely run out of food, and there are mentions of resorting to unsavory means of sustenance. Dissent from the population affects administrative efforts from the city leadership. The garrison remains well stocked on munitions, but mounting casualties and popular dissent are likely to be negatively affecting their performance.¡± Upon hearing this, the entoupercheur let out a silenced sigh. He wasn¡¯t a fan of sieges and the toll it imposes both on the combatants and the non-combatants. What makes sieges deadly is the longevity of the suffering that everyone has to endure. Fortunately (for them, at least), they had the means to speed up the process. ¡°That sounds tragic, but it sounds like your band of nocturne is a success in concept, don¡¯t you think?¡± Marius turned to the wyvern unit commander, who let out a wary smile. ¡°I never had my doubts.¡± Everybody at the table nodded in satisfaction at their attached wyvern unit¡¯s success. Only the wyvern unit commander, however, actually knew how massive their success had been; the Army commanders, including the entoupercheur himself, only gave him the greenlight to deploy their ¡°band of nocturne¡± but were not fully aware of what the means they¡¯ve used were. Nevertheless, there was no denying that the massive explosion at the center of the city the other night and the subsequent stories of ¡°whistling demons¡± were the wyvern unit¡¯s work. They have a veritable weapon on their side and a siege that is more or less in the bag. There was nothing more they could ask for. ¡°At their current state, I give them three days.¡± Marius confidently declared. The other officers, however, thought that Marius wasn¡¯t creative enough to exploit their advantageous position. ¡°Umm, Entoupercheur, why don¡¯t we just offer them terms for surrender as early as tomorrow morning? Given the chaotic state inside, I am certain that offering them a ¡®way out¡¯ would break their fragile spirit.¡± Hearing this, Marius couldn¡¯t help but chuckle as his cheeks and ears turned red from embarrassment. ¡°Why didn¡¯t I think of that?¡± was written all over his awkward smile. ¡°Yes, yes! Let¡¯s draft the surrender terms and present them to the city garrison by daybreak!¡± At the flick of his raised palm, Marius¡¯s aids went and fetched writing materials. While they were waiting for them, some officers raised concerns about the surrender plan. ¡°Entoupercheur, do we inform Group East of our intention to offer terms of surrender to the city?¡± The question caused the air under the tent to stiffen. Every officer at the table turned to the entoupercheur for an answer, bringing the weight of the consequences of making the decision upon him. Marius paused to look at the dangling mana stones brightly shining down from above. Even as his aids brought him their writing supplements, he did not budge from his posture. At this point, one must understand one of the factors that hampered the Parpaldian military¡¯s execution of its mission: the deep divisions of imperial regionalism present in its organization. Once a small militarist state centered in Southern Philades, the Parpaldians expanded northward, absorbing once independent kingdoms, duchies, and principalities under its yoke through a mixture of military conquest, intermarrying, and alliances. As the empire expanded, its military structure still bore vestiges of a feudalist past, and formations from newly annexed and absorbed territories were haphazardly attached wholly to the existing Esthirant-centered formations. Even as the military caught up with the rest of the empire in modernizing its doctrine and organization, the historical boundaries of the once-independent states that now make up Parpaldia¡¯s numerous states still existed in its military formations. The leadership was no different: the aristocracy of both the native Parpaldian states and the subsequently annexed territories were inherited into the modern officer corps. While reforms did away with regional restrictions on enlistment, the existing bureaucracy still favored the status quo of major military units recruiting from their regional home base. All of these factors meant that soldiers and officers alike tended to be more loyal¡ªand thus more receptive to advice and orders¡ªto comrades who came from the same region. This doesn¡¯t necessarily mean that they provide for hostile relations conducive to fanning the flames of widespread internal violence; all of them claim to be fighting for the greater empire at heart. Returning back to the situation at the Group West camp, it¡¯s worth noting that the majority of Group West¡¯s units are from South Philades¡ªMarius himself was from Esthirant. Group East¡¯s units and commanders, however, are from Southeast Philades, with the major capital being the city of Duro. The former state that was home to Duro had been absorbed early in Parpaldia¡¯s history, but its regional identity still rings true among its people even to this day. While by no means harboring hostile intent toward Group East and its commander, Entoupercheur Gilles, whom he doesn¡¯t know personally, Marius also doesn¡¯t feel any attachment toward him. If anything, Gilles¡¯s unknown personality fueled a sense of wariness and rivalry; they were both gunning for the capture of Kagis, after all. The War Department hadn¡¯t been thorough in its orders: they were deployed to achieve War Plan Intr¨¦pide¡¯s objectives and cooperate with fellow commanders ¡®where necessary.¡¯ There wasn¡¯t an overarching ¡°theater command¡± apparatus with which to coordinate these army groups; they were functionally independent, answering only to the War Department and the executive Chiefs of Staff when either party deemed it necessary to intervene. In essence, at this point in time, it was up to Marius whether or not to cooperate with Group East. The only ¡®order¡¯ conditioning his decision were the words, ¡°where necessary.¡± Should Kagis accept his terms of surrender, was it necessary to have Group East¡¯s cooperation in taking the city? Based on the disposition and condition of his forces and the city¡¯s critical condition, it wasn¡¯t difficult for Marius to come to an answer. ¡°To the victor go the spoils,¡± he murmured. With this decision in mind, he lowered his head and faced the officer who brought up the question. Clicking his tongue and making a difficult face as if to signal some administrative or operational difficulty, he responds curtly. ¡°We will not wait for Group East. We¡¯ll hand the city the surrender terms on our own.¡± Slamming the topic shut for good, Marius motions his fellow commanders to begin drafting their surrender terms. Not a single motion for objection was raised after that. Cent. Calendar 18/02/1640, West Gate, Kagis, Altaras, 6:37 It was the break of dawn in this mid-Febrond day. Winter was still well underway and while the latitude was too low for snow, a cold fog hugged the low hills and plains of northern Altaras. At the city of Kagis in the center of the capital peninsula, the fog wasn¡¯t all that thick but it nevertheless obscured vision for more than about a hundred enlac or so (~500m). To the defenders of the city, this should¡¯ve been an opportune moment to strike the Parpaldian invaders. But their morale, food, and numbers were so low that another sortie, unless it yielded success no less than a complete enemy rout, would probably break them. The city was all but ready to give up, its walls having turned into a prison rather than a refuge. Atop the ravelin that lay beneath the curtain containing Kagis¡¯s West Gate stood one of the Altaran defenders, a man by the name of Kurit. He belonged to a platoon of men that defended that particular ravelin, but that platoon long ceased to exist¡ªsave for him and a couple of wounded souls, almost everyone had been killed. Despite it all, they still held out, but with their last bit of rations having been consumed the other day, they were considering two options: surrender or suicide. Neither option felt honorable, but so was staying alive... ¡°Mmm...¡± Kurit grumbled as he struggled to stay awake. His other platoonmate was supposed to be on watch starting hours ago, but seeing as the man was drooped against the hardened earthen ramparts with bloodied bandages to his arm, he thought it was better to let him sleep some more. He was probably having some good sleep; it had been more than 20 hours since he last said something, after all. ¡°Sleep sounds nice...¡± He murmured to himself. The cold air seeping into every corner of his bath-deprived body made it unbearable to stay awake. He clutched his chambered rifle like a long pillow, its frigid steel barrel a familiar feeling amidst this hopeless fight. He imagined draping himself in a warm cotton blanket, the particular blanket he used to cover his dead platoonmates under the ravelin¡¯s inner earthen walls. Sleep sounded nice, but whether it was sleeping in a prisoner bunk in the Parpaldians¡¯ prisoner camp or sleeping deep in the earth was something he had trouble deciding. Still, he pinched himself awake, for it wasn¡¯t his call where he¡¯ll sleep. As he relentlessly fought in this tug-of-war of sleep, a peculiar movement far within the fog alerted his senses. ¡°Huh?!¡± Out of reflex, he lowered his head, wary of Parpaldian sharpshooters. The renewed fear of death jolted him awake, and his concentration was focused on a set of objects flapping inside the fog. ¡°Flags...? Formation banners, maybe???¡± Possibilities ran across his mind, but his hand reached for the controls to activate the local alarms. He needed to decide soon whether to sound the alarm, to get the defenders on the walls, to load and ready their guns... to beat back the Parpaldians another day. With his hands on both his rifle and the alarm controls, he was ready to fight. But then... ¡°Wha...!!!¡± As the flags approached his ravelin and the fog thinned out, it became easier to ascertain what they were. The majority of the flags bore the symbols of Parpaldian Army formations, but the lead flag, the biggest of them all, bore the eye-catching mark of the Lamp. The widespread symbol of international and racial empathy, coexistence, and peace, the Lamp served one more purpose in times of war: a sign with which to commence parlay, often leading to surrender. Kurit¡¯s simple mind couldn¡¯t fathom what else it meant for the Parpaldians bearing the symbol of the Lamp, but he easily reached the conclusion that they couldn¡¯t obviously be asking to surrender to them. As the flags drew closer, he started to see clearly the group of ten men holding the flags aloft as they marched to his ravelin. At the helm of the formation just after the Lamp¡¯s flag bearer was a well-dressed officer riding a horse. Realizing what this entourage likely came for, he relaxed his grip on his rifle and alarm controls. ¡°This is it, huh...¡± Turning away from the approaching Parpaldians, he turned to the ramparts of the curtain wall behind his ravelin. Bringing a whistle to his lips, he raised his hands as he blew hard on it. After a couple of seconds of sounding the whistle, a couple of silhouettes appeared atop the curtain walls. Mustering what energy he had left, Kurit shouted at the top of his lungs. ¡°Do not attack!!! Messenger party! The Parpaldians have sent a messenger party!!!¡± As there was only a short distance from the ravelin to the curtain wall, his shouting was heard by the defenders there. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°Okaaaaay!!! Sending someone to receive them!!! Hold on!!!¡± As the Parpaldian messenger party arrived before the glacis of Kurit¡¯s ravelin, the city garrison hurried to bring one of their officers to receive them. - - - After the garrison commander and the city council were notified of the Parpaldians¡¯ message, they convened at the city hall to discuss how to respond. At the council room, members of the city council and the mayor sat on one side of a long wooden table; opposite them sat the local garrison''s military officers and the garrison commander. Despite being members of the local elite, the city council members and the military officers looked dirtied, starved, and had drooping bags underneath their eyes. The siege had only been less than a week, yet they looked as if they had been holding out for months. The suspended air in the room was occasionally perturbed by the sound of jostling, scuffling, and screaming at the city hall facade¡¯s gated gardens, which had been host to crowds of desperate city folk clamoring to get their concerns heard. Their cries of hunger and pleas for food and medicine cut through the still morning air, but the few garrison soldiers staffing the city hall gates and the bureaucrats inside the building had conditioned themselves to ignore them. But the high-level executives inside the council room started to listen to the cries again, for a new development had presented itself. Placed squarely on the table in between the two sides was a piece of parchment, inked with a simple letter containing a list of terms¡ªthe Parpaldians¡¯ terms for Kagis¡¯s surrender. ¡°Well?¡± The garrison commander curtly asked the mayor, who sat directly across him, for his opinion. He had just finished presenting the terms to the mayor and the city council. Having read the message earlier, just after his men received the Parpaldian messenger party, he already knew the terms. With a deadline for their answer at three in the afternoon, the Parpaldians are giving them an ultimatum to surrender control of the city and for the city garrison to submit themselves as prisoners of war. The city¡¯s population, infrastructure (military and otherwise), ammunition, weaponry, food, water, currency reserves, and so on are to be put under Parpaldian control, jurisdiction, and protection provided they are ¡°transferred in the current state during which the terms are offered.¡± In exchange, the Parpaldians promised ¡°fair and empathetic¡± treatment of prisoners of war and the distribution of rations to the city population. In the event that they refuse any or all of the terms or fail to give a reply by the designated deadline, the Parpaldians will no longer entertain subsequent pleas for parlay and ¡°thoroughly and exhaustively¡± seize control of the city ¡°by any means necessary.¡± To indicate their agreement to the terms, they are to raise the flag of the Lamp atop the city clock tower¡¯s spire or send a messenger bearing the seal or signature of both the city council and the garrison commander to the Parpaldian camp. The commander clenched his fists as drops of sweat rolled down his neck. Yesterday, one of the council members present informed him they had been talking about ¡°surrender.¡± He was convinced that the city council and the mayor were weak at heart and had been looking for an ¡°out¡± since before the granary explosion. He bit his lip in frustration as he inwardly cursed the Parpaldians¡¯ perceptiveness. ¡°I think... there is no room for discussion on this one.¡± Clutching his hands together, the mayor replied. He looked straight into the garrison commander¡¯s expecting eyes as if to tell him he was aware of the commander¡¯s perception of him. As vague as his answer sounded, though, everybody in the room understood what he meant and what his decision was. Still, not everybody agreed with him. ¡°Bah!¡± The garrison commander barked out as he slammed his fists onto the table. ¡°I understand that you wish what¡¯s best for your estate, mayor,¡± the garrison commander hissed as he pointed his finger at the mayor, ¡°but this isn¡¯t your estate¡ªthis is the city of Kagis!¡± The mayor, tired and having none of it, broke posture and leaned his back toward the chair, crossed his legs, and laid his hands wide out on the table. ¡°Okay. We may have only known each other for a couple of months, so I¡¯ll let you know I¡¯m easy to talk to.¡± He pointed to the parchment containing the surrender terms and tapped his finger on it over and over. ¡°Convince me this isn¡¯t worth taking over your plan of holding out!¡± The garrison commander opened his mouth to speak, but the mayor proceeded to extend his finger right up to his face. ¡°I haven¡¯t had a single communique from the governor, the home ministry, His Majesty, or even the fucking fairy godmother about what the situation is outside this city! All I know is that we have no food and a garrison half-dead, half-barely capable of pointing a rifle at a game twenty paces out and hitting it!¡± He stood up from his seat, leaned forward, and looked right into the commander¡¯s defiant eyes. ¡°I have NO clue what His Majesty¡¯s telling you, but I haven¡¯t seen a single half-witted drunkard from his so-called ¡®relief army¡¯ show up ever since the gates were locked shut! Again: convince me this isn¡¯t worth taking over your plan of holding out!!!¡± The garrison commander gulped. He was in trouble. Truth be told, he had nothing to show for it. No relief force, no supply train, no partisans, no defectors¡ªabsolutely nothing. He didn¡¯t even have a written¡ªmuch less verbal or hearsay¡ªpromise that a relief force was coming. His days of reassuring the mayor and the city council that the King was likely assembling a relief force had come to make him pay for the price of empty promises. Above all, he had been put in a spot where his speaking the truth would undoubtedly set in motion the war¡¯s unraveling of Altaras¡¯s era of greatness. He glanced around. His own officers looked down on their laps, their hands placed neatly on the table and without a single hint of running to his aid. The council members, meanwhile, glared at him as if to put all of their disappointment in His Majesty¡¯s men¡¯s ineptness on his shoulders. Nevertheless, he wanted an out. Even if the others had given up hope that His Majesty was coming for them, he hadn¡¯t. He wanted them to believe that there was still hope. He wanted to give His Majesty a chance to show them that he cared for Altaras¡¯s sons and daughters. His mouth finally opened. ¡°I-I-I¡¯ll contact His Majesty again for a guarantee that a relief force is coming a-a-and a set time!!!¡± He stammered, much to his embarrassment. ¡°Give me until two past noon! If I don¡¯t hear from His Majesty until then, I¡¯ll agree to your decision!¡± The mayor clicked his tongue. He wasn¡¯t impressed. In fact, he pitied the commander for waging his image just to prove a point¡ªa futile endeavor. If the commander thought he was weak at heart, he thought the commander was dogmatic to a fault. ¡°Fine. But I won¡¯t wait for your notice; once the clock strikes two and you or your men are not here with His Majesty¡¯s guarantee, Kagis will fly the Lamp.¡± The garrison commander, feeling awfully embarrassed by the meeting, got up from his seat, turned around, left the room, and slammed the doors behind him. He didn¡¯t utter a single word. His officers sighed in despondence and left the room in order; only some of them paid respect to the mayor and the council members. Main citadel, Kagis, Altaras, 13:58 From the city¡¯s main citadel, one could easily discern one of the many faces of Kagis¡¯s clock tower, which towered above most of the city¡¯s buildings. Only rivaled in height and awe by the imposing chimneys of the city¡¯s factories, the clock tower had a spire that extended from its covered gearhouse and doubled as a flagpole. At all circumstances, the flagpole flew the glittering blue and white banner of the kingdom, signifying to all¡ªespecially the Parpaldian invaders¡ªthat Kagis remained a bastion of Altaran resistance. Even amidst this grueling siege, the royal blue and white defiantly flew in the wind. But that was all set to change once the clock¡¯s hour hand strikes two. ¡°Come on... Come on... Please, Your Majesty...!!!¡± The garrison commander wheezed as he pounded his fists on the silent manacomms. He had been fretting for more than six hours in his office ever since the letter he personally penned was communicated through the line to the Royal Castle in Le Brias. When not a single reply came forward, at one past noon he stormed the communications room and began demanding follow-ups from his communications officers. But for the entire day, not a single word from His Majesty came out of the receiver; there were only the apathetic responses from the operator in Le Brias confirming their message had been received and that it would be ¡°relayed to His Majesty and the Chiefs of Staff.¡± ¡°Dammit... Dammit it all!!!¡± He whimpered as he laid his head on the manacomm¡¯s body. He was starving, sleep-deprived, and out of hope. He and his officers¡¯ stomachs growled in hunger, the only sound that filled the room besides the commander¡¯s sniffles. ¡°We¡¯ve... We¡¯ve done what we could, sir...¡± His communications officers consoled him as they took their caps off in defeat. ¡°It had been an honor to fight for Land and King under your command, sir.¡± The garrison commander turned his tear-ridden eyes to the side. There, through the window, he could faintly make out the silhouette of the clock tower. The howling of the wind settled down, giving way to the deep groans of the tower¡¯s bronze bells being rung. Bong... It was now two past noon. The agreed deadline of His Majesty¡¯s guarantees had come. His Majesty¡¯s guarantees, however, had not. The clock¡¯s minute hand flicked to the side. It was now a minute past two in the afternoon. The agreed deadline had passed. From the citadel, still flying the banners of the Royal Altaran Army, the surviving soldiers of the garrison looked on as the banner of blue and white atop Kagis¡¯ spire was lowered. In its place, the flag of the Lamp, an ominous banner with a single upright yellow rhombus superimposed on a dark background, was hoisted atop the spire. ¡°For Land and King...¡± The garrison commander uttered as he watched the unfamiliar banner wave atop Kagis¡ªhis city. ¡°I would gladly die for our land¡ªfor Altaras... but it appears that His Majesty wouldn¡¯t...¡± A chill ran through the officers in the room. This was the first time they heard their commander speak somewhat cynically since the city came under siege. They¡¯d rather not believe it out of fear of reprisal, but their silence was telling. On the 18th of Febrond of the year 1640 of the Central Calendar, the Altaran city of Kagis, a major railstop and industrial city strategically situated in the upper Sa¡¯arak River, surrendered to the Parpaldian Imperial Army¡¯s Group West hardly a week into its siege. Rumors abound regarding the unbelievably impossible short duration of the siege¡ªtreachery, sabotage, a new Parpaldian wonder weapon¡ªbut the effects of the siege¡¯s outcome would soon become apparent to the rest of the Royal Altaran Army up north. Group East Camp, ~1.5km east of Kagis, Altaras, 14:26 Meanwhile, to the city¡¯s east, the artillery batteries of Parpaldia¡¯s Group East were preparing for the day¡¯s afternoon barrage when their spotters abruptly stopped the preparations. As artillerymen and their officers cried out in disbelief, news began to spread throughout the ranks and trenches. Information found its way to the formations¡¯ officer corps, who then relayed the information all the way to the top. Mere minutes after confused Parpaldian regulars started to emerge from their trenches in droves, the sound of horse hooves hitting the dirt resonated across the camp. Speeding across the earthworks and tents were three horses with the lead horse¡¯s rider wearing the decorated uniform of the entoupercheur. ¡°Make way!¡± The rider, Entoupercheur Gilles, commander of the Parpaldian Imperial Army¡¯s Group East, cried out as he clutched his reins. Stunned and confused regulars and officers alike ran out of the colonel¡¯s way, saluting him when they reformed posture. Gilles and two of his staff officers were riding their horses to the frontmost trenches, a mere cannon shot¡¯s distance away from the glacis of eastern Kagis¡¯s bastions. As their horses galloped through the mud-ridden paths in between the trenches, he looked up and stared at a sight he had not been expecting to see. Not at least anytime soon. ¡°What is going on???¡± He murmured to himself. Off to the distance at the main city on the western bank of the Sa¡¯arak, the conspicuous clock tower of Kagis, which had been flying the Altaran flag since he first laid eyes on it, was now flying the flag of the Lamp. Under the international laws on warfighting, a city flying the Lamp signifies the city¡¯s intent to parlay and thus must not be fired upon. But his guts told him it meant something more than that. The news that reached him first was the city¡¯s clock tower flying the Lamp, which his artillery formations reasoned was why they decided not to proceed with the planned afternoon barrage. As soon as he got on his horse to go and confirm for himself, an officer ran up to him with another set of news: a party from the city garrison flying the Lamp had come to the trenches to hand over their formation¡¯s banner. He ground his teeth in frustration. That act could only mean one thing. As he approached the frontmost trenches, he spotted a gathering of infantrymen. With his hands on the reins, he had his horse move toward the group of dirtied red coats; his staff officers followed him close behind. The infantrymen, hearing the approaching sound of hooves hitting the dirt, turned to see their commander making his way toward them. They moved aside, clearing a path for him as they straightened their backs and saluted him. Gilles and his staff officers dismounted their horses. One of the officers stayed behind and held the reins of all three horses while Gilles and the other officer walked down the path the infantrymen cleared for them. At the end of the path was a group of men wearing different uniforms; all of them wore their drab-colored combat uniforms, but the one standing in front holding a folded banner was the only one wearing an officer¡¯s cap. Every single one of them looked into the distance with defeated faces. Entoupercheur Gilles and his staff officer stood with their backs straight in front of the Altaran party. ¡°Men! Salute!¡± The Altaran officer barked in his native tongue. His men behind him promptly and stiffly saluted the Parpaldian officers. Gilles and his staff officer responded with a replying salute. ¡°As per the terms you presented, which the city executive and our commanding officer have agreed to, we present to you our banner in surrender!¡± The Altaran officer spoke in rigid Asheran common, but the Parpaldian officers caught every single word. Gilles and his staff officer looked at each other with confused looks. ¡°What did he mean by ¡®our terms¡¯? Did the others negotiate with the enemy without my knowledge?!¡± Gilles hushingly mouthed to his staff officer in Parpaldian so as to not let their enemies hear them. Amidst the disbelief in the entoupercheur¡¯s eyes lurked accents of rage. ¡°This is my first time hearing of this, entoupercheur! I haven¡¯t even heard a single one of our officers mention the word ¡®surrender¡¯!!!¡± The staff officer went on the defensive. Seeing the disbelief and fear in his expression, Gilles believed him. His gut told him this was probably not his officers¡¯ doing. Turning back to the Altaran officer wearing his poker face, Gilles accepted the banner. Not knowing what these ¡°terms¡± were, he interpreted the act to be the city garrison surrendering and decided to employ Army standard procedure in receiving POWs. ¡°Please inform your men not to attack us and allow us to process you. We¡¯ll commence shortly.¡± News of Kagis¡¯s formal surrender spread through the siege trenches of Group East, evoking a mixture of joyful cries and confused remarks from enlisted soldiers and officers alike. As they processed and disarmed the garrison of eastern Kagis, Entouperchour Gilles called an emergency meeting of his officer corps back at the main camp. In the presence of the rows of confused looks from his officers, Gilles uttered his suspicions out loud. ¡°This has to be Group West¡¯s doing.¡± His officers reacted with agreeing nods and scoffs. ¡°Of course! They just had to take the easy way while we whittled away at the walls!¡± ¡°We were so close to breaking through, too! They would¡¯ve given in by nightfall!¡± ¡°Maybe they were responsible for that explosion some nights ago! They¡¯ve had saboteurs inside the walls all along!¡± ¡°We must¡¯ve gotten those southerners quaking in their boots with how close we were to taking the east, so they resorted to negotiations to ensure they take the glory for taking the city!¡± ¡°You¡¯re right! Those goddamned Esthirantese just want to take all the credit!¡± Disgruntled and dismayed about the city¡¯s unexpected surrender, the Group East officers resorted to blaming their Group West counterparts¡¯ slyness. With Kagis taken, the other opportunity for glory left was taking one of the East¡¯s most heavily fortified cities¡ªthe Altaran capital itself, Le Brias. The endless sprawl of densely-built buildings and streets interlaced with bastions, redoubts, defense lines, artillery batteries¡ªall of that stood in between them and the glittering skyline of built-up posh buildings and Muish and Mirishial brick skyscrapers. A high price in blood and steel awaited them, one that was astronomically higher than the price they paid for Kagis. They will get the men and bullets to pay that price in the coming weeks, but they had hoped to have taken Kagis for the pride of their formations¡ªthe pride of their homeland. Gilles understood their disappointment, but he was already looking beyond Kagis. With a determined look on his face, he addressed his officers. ¡°I understand your grievances, but Kagis was never the goal. Remember your men¡¯s valiance in fighting the enemy here, but we must proceed with this war. While Group West will proceed to indulge in its price, we will commit to our mission and our duty to Duro¡ªto Parpaldia!¡± Standing up from his seat, Gilles tightens his belt and dusts his boots. He then takes his saber from the compartment and sheathes it as he hands out new orders. ¡°Continue processing the POWs, then send them to Point Jeanne for internment. Make preparations for the march north! We¡¯re advancing by daybreak tomorrow! We¡¯ll discuss our advance shortly. I have to deal with some correspondence...¡± Reminded of the goal of the war, the officers of Group East set aside their grievances and prepared to break camp to continue the northward advance into Le Brias¡¯s defenses. Royal Castle, Le Brias, Altaras, 15:16 Back at the Royal Castle, aides of the Chief of Staff moved about the command room as they moved pieces on the big map according to reports that were flooding in. Curiously, they were focused on the movement of pieces on the beaches south of Le Brias port. All around the map stood the watchful eyes of the Chiefs of Staff and Army commanders meticulously following the aides¡¯ moving of pieces. Standing immediately behind them were aides armed with pen and paper, jotting down the remarks issued by their superiors. To the side stood King Taara, who watched over his military commanders. He put a finger on his lip as he hummed in patience, taking in the scenery of his underlings carrying out his orders down to the letter with a sense of pride. Perhaps some fatherly joy, even. The Army deputy chief of staff, once a voice of youthly dissent among Taara¡¯s cadre, was now submitted to being engrossed in his work carrying out the King¡¯s wishes. He watched as aides made minute movements on the red pieces near the beaches¡ªParpaldian naval infantry holding a thin beachhead on the harbor. Immediately to the left of the big pieces stood multiple dozens of slightly bigger blue pieces¡ªthe Altaran infantry battalions and artillery companies pounding their weight onto the thin Parpaldian beachhead. What they were observing was the King¡¯s plan¡ªa concerted counterattack on the Parpaldian beachhead near Le Brias to push them into the sea¡ªbeing set in motion. Commencing at 1430 hours after a day¡¯s worth of artillery barrages and wyvern aerial bombardments, the Royal Altaran Army pushed into the beleaguered Parpaldian Naval Infantry defense lines surrounding Fort Bai. Fierce responses from the Parpaldian Navy battleships and cruisers softened their advance, but their immense numbers and the exhausted Parpaldian defenders ensured they kept going. All of these started to reflect as successes on the map. Then, one of the aides took away a red piece standing on a red line south of Fort Bai as they moved a blue piece into where it stood. ¡°One of our battalions has reached the sea! They¡¯ve taken the southern defense perimeter!¡± The deputy chief declared, but his tone was heavy. The aides¡¯ movements continued unabated. Their long-sought victory was starting to appear before them, but only a few of the commanders looked satisfied. Taara smiled in victory, but he kept it under the shadow of his hand. Minutes later, more and more blue pieces reached the water line, replacing the red pieces which once stood there. Some of the red pieces were taken away, while some were put into the water, indicating that they were retreating into the sea. Then, only the red piece standing on Fort Bai remained. As the commanders prematurely let out sighs of relief, an aide went and whispered something into the Army deputy chief of staff¡¯s ear. Bam! The deputy chief slammed his palm onto the map board, surprising everyone in the room. With everyone¡¯s attention on him, he declared out loud. ¡°The last Parpaldians holding out in Fort Bai... have surrendered.¡± A muted cheer echoed across the command room as commanders and aides alike reveled in their victory. The seriousness of the situation kept their celebration to a minimum, but there was no denying the joy and relief in people¡¯s expressions. Taara, too, was elated. But the face on the deputy chief of staff remained undeniably grim. As everyone celebrated their victory in Le Brias harbor, the deputy chief followed up with another announcement. ¡°...But so too has our garrison in Kagis.¡± Cheers instantly turned into deaf silence. Elation gave way to shock and horror. Hope evaporated as fear set in. ¡°The council of Kagis and the garrison have accepted the terms for surrender offered by the Parpaldians. The flag of the Lamp flies above the city.¡± The deputy chief added, his voice cracking at the last few words. Their victory had come at a cost greater than the men and material lost at the beaches of Le Brias. A major city harboring one of the rail lines connecting Le Brias to the rest of the island and one that was upstream the Sa¡¯arak from the capital was now under Parpaldian control. It was a strategic blunder of catastrophic proportions. But this was something everybody had long since expected once reports of Parpaldian landings at Kan Garasi and Astaran came in. Everyone in the room knew that Kagis was where the Parpaldians were really headed. Everyone except King Taara. Their disbelief-filled eyes turned to the King for both excuses and orders, but all they found was a despairing figure covering his face. ¡°Hmm...¡± Taara¡¯s restrained hum was soft, but it nonetheless sent shockwaves across everyone. They more or less expected an outburst, but this restraint was probably more terrifying. As they awaited his statement, he thought long and hard about both recent and past events. He wasn¡¯t necessarily deranged; he knew he had repeatedly stepped out of line. The Barezan incident, the action in Sios, the rhetoric with Parpaldia, his micromanaging of the war¡ªhe had an awareness of how demanding he had been. But he was desperately obsessed with controlling how everything would pan out: he wanted his people to agree with him on Parpaldia¡¯s real imperialist movements; he wanted Sios to realize their shared danger being under Parpaldian hegemony; he wanted the world to know Parpaldia was a menace; and he wanted his outcomes for the war. Ultimately, however, his shortcomings as a single old man who molded the kingdom¡¯s administration to his whims were taken advantage of. Had his Grand Minister been here, he¡¯d have someone to hide behind. That was also something he had reflected on as ¡°going too far¡±: after one of his aides ¡®confided¡¯ in him the truth after many ¡®persuasions,¡¯ he learned that the Grand Minister did not act on the conspiracy against his wife, the late Queen Yasmin, despite being aware of it. A dug-in anti-Parpaldia proponent, he harbored grievances toward the late Queen, who was a former princess from a Parpaldian state. While sitting on the knowledge that something was about to happen, the old Grand Minister sat beside him while disguised extremists slugged his helpless wife in the chest. The old laws for treating defiant ministers would have sufficed, but he was furious. He stripped the Grand Minister of all titles and possessions, sent him to an isolated royal possession in the mountains that was now a glorified holding camp called Kuzan under a 999-year house arrest setting, and even forbade the man¡¯s name from being mentioned in court. He tried to have all the documents mentioning his name be blackened out; if he could not kill the man, he¡¯ll have to settle with killing off memories of him. Perhaps he had gone too far back then, just like he had gone too far brushing aside the authority of his military commanders in this war. His reason clashed with his fury and anger at the situation, but seeing how giving into fury and anger had worked for him thus far, he begrudgingly elected to see reason. There was no way his military commanders¡ªor any of the people he had brushed with¡ªwould forgive him, but earning their forgiveness wasn¡¯t something he saw as urgent, let alone important. The unique circumstances of the kingdom¡¯s survival being at stake were convenient in setting those aside. He took his hand off his face, revealing to his commanders an expression of restraint¡ªof reason. ¡°Kagis... was unfortunate. We could have prevented it, but alas it wasn¡¯t to be. I¡¯ve exercised my authority too liberally, I¡¯ve realized... These are the consequences that have come out of decisions we¡¯ve made thus far, and it is unfortunate that I¡¯ve had a hand to play in making those decisions.¡± Everyone else in the room listened intently, particularly in the King¡¯s choice of words. ¡°I... will not impose on you any longer. I grant you leave to use the command of the Altaras¡¯s forces and her resources as you fit. I¡¯m sor¡ªregretful that I couldn¡¯t bring a victory for us today.¡± With that, he turned for the exit and took his leave. A mixture of emotions wafted underneath the silence. They were grateful he didn¡¯t lash out at them or give them punishments. But they were also furious that the King left them to fix the mess his orders had created. The Parpaldians had just completed their stranglehold on the peninsula, which unfortunately hosted most of their Army¡¯s regular formations. They had the mass to contest the Parpaldians¡¯ stranglehold, but with how quickly they took a city as well-fortified as Kagis, the commanders held the fear that the unstoppable conquests they had in Philades were translating immensely well in their backyard. They dreaded contesting this Parpaldian Army. But above that, they held an even deeper fear of the King¡¯s vengeful fury should they fail to turn the situation around. Setting aside the victory at the harbor, the commanders quickly prepared to deliberate on how to respond to the developing situation down south. As materials were prepared for the meeting, the Army deputy chief of staff and some of the Army commanders discussed a matter of pressing concern. ¡°The King may want quick results... I¡¯m thinking of an immediate attack on the Parpaldians in Kagis. They¡¯d have to still be garrisoning the location. If he¡¯s given us leave on ¡®everything,¡¯ we could probably use that.¡± The deputy chief of staff floated the idea, to which the others agreed. ¡°The Hell Chariot? I agree. Fortunately, unit Qader has been kept in a constant state of readiness for this eventuality. I¡¯ll notify the commanding officer.¡± ¡°Good. I¡¯ll leave the mission details to you.¡± With a few brief exchanges, the Altaran response to the Parpaldian conquest of Kagis was set in order. Kagis City Hall, Kagis, Altaras 20:56 The sun had long set, and night once more prevailed on the battlefield, but the sounds of men working continued to be heard. The clamoring of hungered city folk and Parpaldian soldiers repeating shouts of ¡°one at a time¡± in Altaran took center stage as the first ration wagons entered the city to the relief of the people. While this took place, men of Group West took great care examining every nook and cranny of the city while their officers took a catalog of what the city held for them. The Parpaldians did not explicitly give any guarantees that they would not loot the place, but they behaved surprisingly civilized during their takeover of the city. ¡°We¡¯ve taken custody of five Altaran soldiers hiding out in the rail depot. No reports of violence.¡± One of the staff officers reported to Entouperchour Marius, who sat behind the mayor¡¯s table inside the vacated mayor¡¯s office. There were once trinkets, prized possessions, and gemstones belonging to the city and the mayor inside the room, but whatever the mayor or his staff couldn¡¯t personally carry with them, Marius had confiscated as loot. As the last of the valuables were carried off by his men, his command unit moved in with their supplies, equipment, and manacomms. Marius leaned his back on the puffy leather cushioning of the chair, raising his boots into the air before perching them atop the table. ¡°We¡¯ve already processed the garrison and sent them to Point Margaux. To think those bastards haven¡¯t been honest with us...¡± Marius spat. Kagis was a big city and the fact that there may be stubborn enemy soldiers still in hiding somewhere annoyed him. ¡°Indeed, sir... Err, moving on; our scouts came in with reports¡ª¡± While the staff officer was giving his report, a resounding kaboom tore through the mayor¡¯s office, jolting everyone and stopping them from their work. Moments later, another boom followed. Marius instantly recognized it as an attack. ¡°Shit! Artillery? Are we being shot at?¡± He turned to his staff officers for answers. ¡°We¡¯ll look into that...¡± Just as they were about to set off, one of the signals officers manning the manacomms that were already set up in the office cried out. ¡°Sir, it¡¯s the citadel! They¡¯re taking artillery fire!¡± Marius and his staff officers were dumbfounded. How could the citadel, situated in the south, be under artillery bombardment? Judging from what they know of Altaran capabilities, there would have to be an artillery emplacement within at most ~1 tacour (~2.5km) of the city, but that places them within their territory of control. Their scouts should have noticed if a forward enemy artillery unit made its way deep into Parpaldian-held territory. However, no such reports came in. Furious and confused, Marius gave new orders. ¡°Have the light infantry and cavalry canvas the area within a tacour south and southwest of the city! Find those batteries!!!¡± Orders were promptly sent out as the echoes of explosions rocked the city. - - - Meanwhile, roughly 1.8 tacour (~4.5km) to the north of Kagis, one of the Parpaldian light infantry companies scouting in a forward position for Group West had camped for the night. They set up their camp inside a grove with thick foliage atop a low-lying hill overlooking surrounding rural farmlands. While most of the men dozed away, a couple of sentries maintained overwatch. The cold Febrond night was relentless, and their warmers, mana stones cast with a heat spell crudely wrapped in cotton cloth, were simply not enough. They looked up to the sky to find a waning full moon, its bright glow casting aside the glow of other stars, making it appear as if it was the only one watching over them. Even with eyes adjusted to the night and the bright moonlight above them, they could barely see what was out in the distance, let alone what was in front of them. But then, out of nowhere, they spotted a series of flashes erupting all along what they thought was the horizon. ¡°Huh?¡± The flashes were continuous and consistent, appearing every half a minute or so, and there were multiple of them popping up along a limited span on the horizon to the northeast. ¡°You seeing that?¡± The sentry asked his comrade, who was also on lookout duty. ¡°Yeah. Maybe it¡¯s enemy artillery? Doubt it¡¯s one of our own.¡± Sure enough, they could hear the cacophony of gunfire off in the distance. While they weren¡¯t loud enough to startle the rest of the company awake, they undeniably sounded like they came from large caliber guns. ¡°We¡¯ll have to report this in...¡± Several minutes later, the flashes disappeared for good. With their report came orders to investigate, and the light infantry company set out under the cover of darkness. Proceeding to the direction where the sentries had spotted the flashes, they stumbled upon the railroad connecting Kagis and Le Brias. The company meticulously searched the vicinity of the railroad for the enemy artillery pieces, but all they could find was the lingering smell of burnt gunpowder. While the enemy unit responsible for the surprise bombardment remained elusive, their 15-minute barrage of Kagis¡¯s citadel left around 80 Parpaldian soldiers dead and wounded and five field guns destroyed, taking up a non-insignificant portion of Parpaldian casualties in the siege of the city. That was on top of around 50 dead and wounded from the city folk, the majority of whom were caught in the collapse of buildings hit by stray shells. They were lucky the magazine was relatively unharmed, but the feeling was lost on a Group West that had learned not to get too complacent with their new conquest. Chapter 35.5: Smoke in the Fog Cent. Calendar 23/02/1640, outside the port of Astaran (Point Jeanne), 6:52 It was a cold winter morning in the northeastern fishing town of Astaran. Around two months into the war with Parpaldia, their army landed in the kingdom and took the town for themselves; weeks later, it was now the busiest port on the northeastern coast with dozens of Parpaldian transport ships unloading men, supplies, cannons, and war animals to shore up their presence. As all this hustle and bustle was going on, the Parpaldian occupiers were lenient enough to allow the town¡¯s native population to continue with their daily lives. For most of the residents, this meant being able to continue with their livelihood as fishermen. The horizon to the east was dyed a somber orange as the sun was about to burst forth from its slumber. However, the morning fog that had set in was still pretty thick, so the powerful glow of the rising sun was somewhat stymied. At the town¡¯s fishing port, a lone fishing boat was setting out and clearing the breakwater. At the helm was its captain, who maintained overwatch and had his hand over the wheel. It was already 6:52 in the morning, an arguably very late time for the fishermen who were going for the morning catch, so no other fishing boat was leaving the port. However, the port was by no means empty¡ªon the other side of the port where the Parpaldians had built a makeshift unloading facility, a couple of transports were docked and were in the process of unloading their cargo. Outside the harbor, however, were dozens more of these transport ships, anchored some distance from one another and waiting for their turn to unload their cargo. These hulking vessels, some more than thrice the fishing boat¡¯s size, loomed in the fog as the boat made its way out into the sea. ¡°Hmmm...¡± The captain glared at the Parpaldian vessels. They were massive but unprotected. Unfortunately for their side, the Royal Altaran Navy had been dealt a massive blow roughly a month ago, and there was now virtually no challenging the Parpaldians at sea. But... ¡°Seems about the same...¡± The captain muttered to himself as he squatted down onto the floorboards, dislodged a loose plank on the corner, and procured a dark metallic brick from underneath. It was about the size of the plank¡ªroughly a whole arm¡¯s length¡ªand was mostly inconspicuous apart from one of the faces on its long side, which was filled with raised squares in a grid pattern. The captain pushed some of the squares in sequence as if they were buttons before hovering his finger over a circular button near the top of the brick. It was labeled with two scripts corresponding to the common Asheran script and the local Altaran script but they said the same thing: ¡°Press to Talk.¡± ¡°Alright...¡± Just as he was about to press it, however, something caught his attention. ¡°Wait! That ship...¡± As his boat was entering the open ocean, he spotted a lone transport ship anchored at the tail end of the ¡®line¡¯ of vessels waiting to enter the port. It wasn¡¯t exactly alone¡ªthere appeared to be a warship further behind it¡ªbut the key fact about it was that it wasn¡¯t there yesterday evening, the last time the captain had set sail when he was trying to go for the night catch. ¡°Damn!¡± He quickly set aside the brick and produced a map from the same place he got the brick. It was a map of Astaran and the local area but it differed from the usual maps due to its elaborate grid system that corresponded to accurate coordinates. Skilled in navigation due to his extensive time as a sailor, he found his position and the position of the new ship in no time. He promptly took note of the coordinates and re-entered the sequence on the brick before pressing down and holding the press-to-talk button. ¡°Anglerfish, 244.¡± The captain uttered into the brick before letting go of the press-to-talk button. Less than a minute later, a voice came from the brick. ¡°Swordfish, 154.¡± Hearing this, the captain sighed in relief. It was almost as if he had been hoping for such a reply. Pressing the button again, he started talking. ¡°Prior positions unchanged, but be advised of ONE pufferfish at coordinates... and ONE sunfish at...¡± The cryptic conversation between the captain and the mysterious voice continued as the fishing boat disappeared into the fog. Onboard the Army transport ship Mouette, 7:06 Knock knock ¡°Come in.¡± Captain Guiscard permitted the person knocking on his quarters¡¯ door to come in. The damp wooden door swung open, revealing a figure dressed in a white uniform carrying with him a tray. The neutral expression on the young man¡¯s face betrayed the almost heavenly sight of the items on the tray. It didn¡¯t take long for the visual stimulation to be joined by his olfactory senses as the starchy smell of buttered bread and the aromatic fragrance of hot coffee wafted into the room. Guiscard almost reflexively moaned in delight at the smell, but his uneasy throat got the better of him and he let out a cough instead. ¡°May I perhaps offer hot tea instead, captain?¡± The concerned cook took notice and tried to be understanding, offering to change his captain¡¯s breakfast drink for something more accommodating to a cough. ¡°No need.¡± The captain refused his offer, dismissing him with a wave of his hand. With that, the cook promptly placed the tray down on one of the corner tables before making himself scarce. Once the door was closed, Guiscard stood up and went to inspect the tray. It was only seven in the morning and he had just woken up, but the beckoning smell of melted butter and beautifully roasted beans were like opium in their allure and ecstasy. He took in his right hand a silver fork and his left a silver knife from the tray. He plunged the cold metal stakes of the fork into the plump-looking bread prepared on a porcelain plate. The slender stakes easily sunk into the body of the bread and glistening drops of buttery oil oozed from the holes the fork pressed into. It was an appetizing sight to watch, even in the terrible lighting conditions offered by a weak, flickering magic bulb. Unable to contain his panging hunger, he promptly sliced roughly an eighth off the bread, dipped it into balsamic vinegar seasoned with shredded garlic, and put it in his mouth. Immediately, the explosion of flavors cast away the languidness and fatigue from his body as his mouth winced at the sourness of the balsamic vinegar. His mouth was watering at the seams and he wanted more. In no time, he finished the bread, much to his disappointment, but the coffee was more than enough of a rewarding end that it washed his troubles away. ¡°Ahhh...¡± He sat back in his cold, wooden chair with the cup of coffee in hand. He took one more sip before deciding to get to work. On his desk were two piles of documents: one was a mound of small papers with brief and succinct sentences containing sighting reports and maneuvers, all of which were correspondence with the Ignace, a Navy broadside ironclad escorting them; the other was a pile of more formal-looking correspondence with complete addresses and titles¡ªcorrespondence with the Army Maritime Transport Establishment back in Esthirant. He placed his cup of coffee on top of the former pile as a paperweight and turned his attention to the other pile, particularly a specific letter on the very top. He looked at it more closely. He hadn¡¯t seen it before, which meant they had just received it the night before while he was asleep. It wasn¡¯t that long; it was mostly about the weather and the situation at relevant ports in Altaras and back home, but what caught his attention was a very short footnote. Guiscard turned to his right, where a map of the Altaras Strait and the northern part of the island of Altaras was pinned onto the wall. His eyes wandered to Hajjisler, a major Altaran city just south of the ¡®base¡¯ of the peninsula Le Brias was situated on. Home to a population of 300,000 and two infantry regiments of the Royal Altaran Army, it was a tough target and thus ignored by the Parpaldian Army, which focused on a fast, northern blitz to Le Brias. Nevertheless, the military maintains overwatch over activity there, including its port, which is detached from the main city further inland. Hajjisler¡¯s port had a naval base, but the major capital ships homeported there were all sunk at Menda Point, so the Parpaldian Navy deemed it to be a ¡®low-level threat.¡¯ Even with the naval base there still intact, nothing had happened up to this point, so Guiscard and the other captains weren¡¯t exactly restless commanding the Army¡¯s transport ships back and forth between Parpaldia and Altaras. However, this single footnote in the letter from Maritime Transport shook him awake. He had never received notice about activity in Hajjisler before, but the way it was seemingly haphazardly added to the letter makes him want to believe it¡¯s minor and thus not a cause for concern. After all, the Navy seems to think they¡¯re not a threat, and with how they¡¯ve acted as if the Altaran seaboard was their backyard, he has all the reasons to believe them. However, with the withdrawal of most of the 1st Armee Corquexima (1st Fleet) from their diversionary attack on Le Brias and returning to Esthirant to recuperate and resupply, their supply lines were vulnerable. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. And yet... ¡°Hmm...¡± What worried him was that Point Jeanne, their designation for Astaran, the site of the Army¡¯s eastern beachhead and the major port for logistics on the eastern side of the peninsula, was only up the coast from Hajjisler¡¯s port. If there really was a cause for concern from the ¡°unusual activity¡± in Hajjisler, his ship and the dozens of other transports at Point Jeanne were in danger. As he pondered for possible courses of action, the lighting in his quarters suddenly went from dim white to bright yellow. A colored magic bulb near the ceiling had turned on; not long after, a piercing buzzing sound rang out. It was a signal that his crew was calling for him to come to the bridge and typically only used for situations where they immediately needed his judgment. ¡°Here we go...¡± Donning his captain¡¯s cap, he quickly made for the bridge. - - - Arriving on the bridge toward the Mouette¡¯s stern, Captain Guiscard found his bridge officers waiting for him. ¡°Captain!¡± The officers simultaneously saluted their captain, to which their captain responded with a prompt salute. ¡°Why was I summoned?¡± ¡°Correspondence from the Ignace.¡± One of the officers handed him a small piece of paper, which read, ¡°Be advised: smoke trail from unidentified source spotted at 098, distance uncertain. Strongly recommend engines on and all crew on station.¡± Guiscard¡¯s eyes widened as big as the full moon. The hairs on his neck stood straight on their ends. The footnote from Maritime Transport flashed before his eyes. ¡°Turn the engines on and prepare to cut anchor! Get all crew on station, now!¡± ¡°Roger, engines are already hot and ready to move! Notifying all crew!¡± The officers promptly rang bells, signaling the crew to man their stations. Most of the crew were already awake, but the shift had only turned an hour ago so the crew working the last shift were still in bed. Down in the crews¡¯ quarters, officers were ringing bells and banging on the doors. ¡°General stations! General stations!¡± Half-asleep crewmen hurriedly jumped out of their beds, donned their uniforms, and rushed out of their quarters. The sound of ringing bells, shouting men, and thundering footsteps could also be heard in the soldiers¡¯ quarters. Filled to the brim with a battalion¡¯s worth of soldiers¡ªreinforcements for the Parpaldian Imperial Army¡¯s offensives into Le Brias¡ªthe transport Mouette was also carrying half a dozen artillery pieces, two companies¡¯ worth of horses, three land dragons (sedated for the journey), and crates of weapons, ammunition, and various foodstuffs and supplies. ¡°What the hell...?¡± Parpaldian Army soldiers jolted awake by the sudden commotion had started wandering into the corridors and onto the deck. It was a slow, cold, and sleepy morning, and they were only waiting to be received by the port, so they were puzzled by the crew frantically running about. Meanwhile, back on the bridge, Captain Guiscard was standing on the portside rails and facing the 098 direction, which was roughly to the southeast. The Mouette¡¯s bow was pointed south and the Ignace was anchored some distance away to the northeast, covering their rear. ¡°Dammit! Where¡¯s the smoke?!¡± Guiscard frantically searched for the smoke trail the Ignace was referring to. However, the morning fog essentially obscured their sight. Their lookouts weren¡¯t high enough to see past the fog, so the only way they could know where to spot the smoke trail was from cues from the Ignace. ¡°Can¡¯t see shit! Has the Ignace figured out their distance yet!¡± Guiscard barked at his communications officer, who hurriedly operated the ship¡¯s manacomm. After some time, he got a reply from the ironclad. ¡°They lost visual of the smoke trail! Distance yet uncertain!¡± ¡°For the love of¡ª¡± He started to freak out, but he bit his lip to try and maintain some semblance of cool. He desperately continued to search for the smoke trail, but the thick blanket of fog stood in his way. Sweat poured from all over his body as the faint hum of the ship¡¯s Mirishial-built magic engines whirred in the background. How he wished he could call on the wyvern corps, but he didn¡¯t have the authority to request their help; the Ignace should have the authority, but for some reason¡ªperhaps the wyvern corps was too preoccupied with prior missions or they were taking their sweet, sweet, sweet time to respond¡ªthe skies were devoid of the all-dominating cries of their wyverns. Then, while sweeping the general southeast direction, the fog slightly parted. ¡°There!¡± One of the officers who was also watching the direction screamed out. On the still blurry horizon, they could make out a smoke trail. Below it was the dark silhouette of a small boat barely bigger than their largest launch and its bow was coincidentally directly pointed toward them. It flew no visible flag, and it didn¡¯t resemble any vessel they¡¯d seen before, so neither Guiscard nor his officers could identify what it was. However, the Ignace seemed to know what it was, for the manacomm was ablaze. Their communications officer was white from fear and was panicking. ¡°F-F-From the Ignace!!! Torpedo boat at 098 at distance 0.5 tacour (~1.3km) and undertaking hostile maneuvers! They¡¯re ordering us to undertake immediate evasive maneuvers!¡± Guiscard¡¯s face was white with horror, but he nonetheless responded with the right urgency. ¡°Cut the anchor!!! Engines to full power!!!¡± ¡°Engines to full power, aye!!!¡± The helmsman repeated his orders as he threw his body into pushing the engine power controls to their maximum while crewmen severed the anchor. Immediately, the magic engines started to whir louder and louder as the ship underneath their feet began to wobble and move. Behind them, the Ignace was already moving, turning hard to port to point its starboard broadside toward the direction of the incoming torpedo boat. Its broadside gunports were hurriedly opened and gun crews moved to get them into position, loaded and primed. However, all of this action felt frustratingly slow with the torpedo boat already heading toward the Mouette at combat speed. Guiscard glared at the incoming torpedo boat. Relics of the Western powers¡¯ pre-Great War arsenals, torpedo boats were sold rather liberally to the powers in the East¡ªRiem, Parpaldia, and Altaras. He was no expert on how they were used, but the reigning principle of navies in the East was the dominance of big fleets of capital ships; torpedo boats may have been seen as a radical way to break the capital ship fleets, but the primarily continental focus of Parpaldia likely doomed further efforts on radical naval concepts like the torpedo. Nevertheless, Parpaldia does possess dozens of such boats and there are well-known strategies to counter them (courtesy of Mu and Mirishial), but they are so obscure that even captains such as Guiscard only had a rough idea of what they looked like. Thirty seconds had passed since the engines were brought to max power, yet the ship was only beginning to crawl from where it was anchored. Guiscard gripped the rails hard as if to beg the ship to move faster. Then, he saw the torpedo boat launch two objects from its bow, which splashed into the ocean. As soon as the splashes had cleared, the torpedo boat turned its bow away from them, revealing its long side profile. ¡°They¡¯re in the water!!!¡± One of the officers screamed, prompting horrified looks from the crewmen working on the bridge. Before they could react, the deafening sound of cannon fire cackled from behind them in staccato. Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! The Ignace had started firing a rolling broadside, producing a thick cloud of smoke on its starboard. The distance between the two Parpaldian ships and the torpedo boat was close enough that the shots the Ignace fired landed not long after, but the shots all missed the small and speedy torpedo boat. Meanwhile, the two deadly torpedoes it launched were now headed straight for the Mouette¡¯s long port broadside. The wakes they created were visible from the bridge and they were moving faster than the Mouette could turn. ¡°Captain! Your orders?!¡± His terrified officers begged their captain for a plan of action. Guiscard wasn¡¯t paralyzed by fear, but he knew it was too late to do evasive maneuvers. It was painfully clear from the point they spotted the torpedo boat and how close it was that the Mouette would be lost. With less than half a minute of a window to act, he decided to commit. ¡°We¡¯re not surviving this strike! Abandon ship!¡± Without any hint of resistance, his officers acknowledged his order. Quickly, they sounded the whistle, and crewmen started to run for the lifeboats. Just as officers started informing the soldiers and the other passengers of their situation, the ship was violently thrown back. KABLAM!!! Two gigantic columns of water jutted out of the ocean from the Mouette¡¯s port side, dwarfing the transport. Men, horses, furniture¡ªeverything that wasn¡¯t nailed down was thrown into the air before falling onto the walls or the floor. Guiscard himself was thrown back into the bridge, slamming his left arm hard into a metal fixture. ¡°Grrrrr!!!¡± He winced as he felt immense pain in his arm. It must have been broken. But then the pain was soon joined by intense ringing in his ears, possibly from the explosions. Still disoriented, he could faintly hear the shouting of his men, the wailing of horses, the agonized cries of land dragons, and the creaking of metal. However, he started to feel the energy ebb away from every corner of his body and it got harder and harder to lift himself up from the floor. Before long, even the pain started to dissipate. The last thing he felt was the cold embrace of water steadily swallowing his body from his legs to his head. - - - ¡°Is it just me or did you also hear that?¡± ¡°What the hell¡¯s going on?¡± Engineers under Parpaldian logistics units working at the makeshift port in Astaran (Point Jeanne) were disturbed from their menial duties by commotion out at sea. First, they heard the rolling popping of gunfire¡ªprobably a ship firing a broadside¡ªwhich was not much cause for concern since they were in a combat zone, but still off-putting. But then a powerful, heart-thumping explosion rang out from where the gunfire came from. The sheer magnitude of the explosion was strong enough to rock the wooden jetties of Astaran¡¯s fishing port. Altaran civilians and Parpaldian soldiers started to congregate at the town¡¯s harbor front wondering what was happening. ¡°There! Look at that one!¡± One of the engineers pointed to the transport ship furthest out, which had two massive columns of water right next to it and collapsing onto the ship. It was visible even with the fog, which was clearing up as the morning sun rose from the horizon. As the water cleared, they could make out the ship¡¯s profile listing heavily to port. ¡°Fuck. We gotta call this in.¡± While some of the engineers ran back to their control facility to report the incident, some stayed to watch. In those two minutes that the engineers ran back to the control facility, the transport completely rolled over to its side before disappearing beneath the waves. - - - At around 7:39 in the morning of the 23rd of Febrond, while awaiting its turn to dock and unload its cargo at Astaran (Point Jeanne), the Parpaldian Imperial Army transport ship Mouette came under attack from an unidentified torpedo boat¡ªlikely a torpedo boat of the Royal Altaran Navy. Two minutes after being struck by two torpedoes, the Mouette capsized and sunk. Of the 67 crew, 1,000 soldiers, 50 horses, and 3 land dragons onboard the Mouette, only 10 crew and 49 soldiers were recovered from the ocean by the nearby broadside ironclad Ignace. News of the incident made its way back to the military command in Esthirant within the day. Before His Majesty Emperor Ludius could react, the Navy Chief of Staff already made leadership changes in the Navy Command and the War Department, promising the Emperor to ¡°make the rest of the campaign flawless.¡± As part of its mandate, the Imperial Communications Office limited exposure of the incident in Parpaldian mass media. The next day, on the 24th, the War Department issued a directive that prevented elements of the Army Maritime Transport fleet from sailing without the escort of a Navy squadron. The Navy and the Wyvern Corps were ordered to launch a retaliatory strike on Hajjisler Naval Base, as well as to commit some forces to reinforce maritime supply lines and actively seek out and destroy surviving elements of the Royal Altaran Navy. The ramifications of these additional commitments to the Navy, Wyvern Corps, and Army Maritime Transport on the Army¡¯s offensive into Le Brias will soon be made apparent... Chapter 36: The Noose Tightens Cent. Calendar 26/02/1640, outside Fort Sheraya, ~30km south of Le Brias, Altaras, 8:29 It was now the 26th of Febrond, Year 1640 on the Central Calendar. The war had been going on for about two months and a little over a week since the Altaran city of Kagis fell to the hands of the Parpaldian Imperial Army. While the Army¡¯s Group West led by Entoupercheur (Colonel) Marius consolidated their holding on Kagis, Group East, led by Entoupercheur Gilles, who was considerably bitter over losing out on the fame of taking a major Altaran city, went ahead and marched north toward the capital Le Brias around ~80km to the northeast. With the Sa¡¯arak River to their left flank, Group East marched at a steady pace as its vanguards clashed with disparate Royal Altaran Army counterattacks and retreating actions. After three days of tireless march, on the 21st, the first elements of Group East reached the first series of defenses of Le Brias, which was encircled by a deep, multi-layered network of fortresses. The two major formations under Group East, the 86th Infantry Regiment and the 121st Infantry Regiment¡ªboth of which are from the Duro region¡ªrespectively began their attacks on two of the outer defense line¡¯s major fortresses, Fort Sheraya and the fortified town of Nizur. Nizur was situated on a hill surrounded by thick forests and was supported by a minor fort to the south on a tall outcropping jutting from the ground. The 121st, supported by the Wyvern Corps, managed to take the outcrop fort. There, a siege artillery battery could reliably support a siege of the town. By the 26th, after a 4-day long siege (the siege only began after they took the outcrop fort on the 21st), commanders of the 121st had commenced negotiations with the garrison commanders in Nizur for surrender. Fort Sheraya, located 5km west of Nizur, was a different story. A lonely fort situated on a hill, it was surrounded by prairie and some farmland, but what truly set it apart from Nizur was that it had its northern flank secured by the Sheraya River, which ran east to west and was a tributary of the larger Sa¡¯arak. The river was by no means uncrossable since at times it was shallow enough for a person to wade through, but its large width, tall banks, and uneven sloping meant that it would be difficult for an army to cross without assistance. Upon arriving at Fort Sheraya, the 86th Infantry Regiment immediately had its infantry and artillery attack the fort to try and draw attention from elements crossing the river north to encircle the fort completely. The attack cost them a hundred troops, but they successfully got four companies across the river and established a consistent supply line to them. However, unlike the 121st at Nizur, the 86th¡¯s siege of Fort Sheraya wasn¡¯t as fruitful. Sorties from the fort, harassment attacks from probing Altaran units, the sudden withdrawal of the Wyvern Corps from providing air support, and an ammunition mishandling incident that resulted in an explosion that took out three of their cannons, had all cost them 400 troops in just five days of siege. Unfortunately, things were about to take a turn for the worse. It was 8:29 in the morning and while the sun¡¯s warmth provided ample optimism, the sound of muffled popping sounds in the distance was more than enough to get the blood pumping for Avileuxpercheur (lieutenant colonel) Michel, commander of the 86th. Even from the command tent at the center of the regiment camp, he could tell that the popping sounds were none other than gunfire. He already knew what they were and why, which irritated him more. Michel was outside his command tent, already dressed in his uniform, issuing orders to signal officers, who would then communicate them to the different battalion commanders who were already away mobilizing their troops. ¡°Orders to the 95th and 96th: battle formations along the river, facing north! 95th will provide a company to respond to a potential flanking sortie from Fort Sheraya! The 97th will remain in position along the innermost siegeworks! The artillery companies are to take firing positions on elevated positions Droz and Etienne! Lastly, tell the 98th to expedite withdrawing its companies from the north of the river!¡± ¡°Yes, sir!¡± The signals officers got to work operating their bulky manacomm sets to send the orders out. As Michel bit his lip and watched the signal officers get to work, one of his officers, mounted on a horse, approached him with another horse in tow. ¡°Your mount, sir!¡± Without uttering a word, Michel swiftly took the reins from the officer, climbed onto the saddle of his mount, and then raced out of the camp with his officers, personal guards, and a signals officer with a personal manacomm set. They were headed to a hill some distance to the east which had a commanding view of the surroundings and was occupied by one of their light infantry company skirmishers. It was consistently under threat from Altaran probing attacks, was closer to the river, and was considerably small in area so they didn¡¯t set camp there, but it was nonetheless a defensible observation post. As his group rode out, he ran the situation in his mind one more time. At around 10 minutes past 7, reports started to come in from the 98th Infantry Battalion that scouts of their four companies deployed to contain Fort Sheraya¡¯s northern flank were engaging Altaran light cavalry; minutes later, they received reports that the scouts retreated and the enemy cavalry was harassing the entrenched infantry. 30 minutes into the engagement, the enemy cavalry was still engaging them, giving him the impression that a larger formation loomed behind. Without the Wyvern Corps¡¯ reconnaissance flights, which decreased from twice a day to once every two days due to orders from up top to concentrate on naval operations, he was forced to rely on scouts. However, given that they were now essentially a stone¡¯s throw from Le Brias, the density of urban terrain and enemy forces meant they had little room to maneuver. If it was really a larger formation coming to engage them and relieve Fort Sheraya, they were not in the best position to fight them. Sensing his hunch grow ever stronger, Michel decided to ask for help. He turned to his signals officer, who was riding alongside him. ¡°Contact the 121st and Group East HQ! Tell them we are under attack from a massive enemy formation¡ªperhaps a regiment or more¡ªand we urgently need reinforcements!¡± The signals officer let go of his horse¡¯s reins, letting the animal gallop by itself while he transmitted his commander¡¯s orders to their recipients. Some minutes later, they reached the hill where their skirmishers were. Michel descended from his horse, handed the reins over to one of his officers, and ascended toward the hill¡¯s summit. Two skirmishers guarding the southern approach to the hill emerged from their positions and saluted their commander. ¡°Where¡¯s your commanding officer?¡± Asked Michel as he motioned them to relax. One of the skirmishers turned toward the summit and whistled. Moments later, an officer holding his pistol in his hand emerged from the crest and descended to meet them. ¡°Avileuxpercheur, sir!¡± The officer saluted Michel and his officers after hurryingly shoving his pistol back in its holster. Michel beckoned him to walk with him as the officer dismissed his men to return to their positions. ¡°Can the developments north of the river be seen from here?¡± Michel asked the officer, pointing to the rough direction from which the echoes of gunfire were coming. ¡°Yes, sir. We¡¯ve already sent reports back...¡± Hearing this, Michel glanced at his officers. His small eyes betrayed his awesome glare, which his officers immediately felt. They shied away and turned their lines of sight elsewhere, as if to feign ignorance. Michel let off a silent sigh under his scarf. There was a better time for discipline. Surmounting the crest, they arrived at the summit. The hill sat at the edge of a forest so the treeline extended up to the summit, denying them a view to the south and southeast but allowing them a commanding view of Fort Sheraya and beyond. Standing at the top, he motioned his hand to his officers, who promptly handed him his telescope. He pointed it toward the northwest, roughly where the popping sounds were coming from just to the side of the silhouette of Fort Sheraya. Despite it being a quarter before 9 and the weather being immaculate, a slight fog hung above the ground north of the river. Complicating matters were treelines on hedgerows which blocked some of their line of sight. Nevertheless, he was able to make out small yet dense clouds of spent powder¡ªbe it gunpowder or crushed magic stones¡ªwafting amongst the trees. Still, neither he nor his officers could make out the sight of their soldiers or the enemy, but it was clear that there was fighting going on. Meanwhile, visible from the hill without the use of telescopes were the mass marches of the 95th and 96th battalions. Formed up in lines in the tradition of line infantry, the men rocked the earth with their concerted footsteps to the tune of their respective battalions¡¯ drums. Behind them, the regiment¡¯s artillery companies towed their field guns and lance-pois types (¡®Mod¨¨le 1620 mitrailleuse¡¯ rapid-fire volley guns) using their horses. As per his order, the two battalions will form battle formations on the southern side of the river, which has a treeline about a stone¡¯s toss from the banks, while the artillery companies will take their firing positions on two positions slightly elevated above the plain behind the infantry. Michel took a pained gulp as he watched his battalions march toward the tree line on the river¡¯s southern banks. The sunlight was strong yet a cold wind blew from the north, but what really chilled the drops of sweat running down his back was not the elements. A faint yet choking sense of dread started to come over him. He remembers the time he helped out in the stable with their family¡¯s stable hands back home. It was already Martsid and the air was beginning to warm, so they started to bring the horses out of their winter stables. It was something they¡¯d always do, just as predictable as the seasons or the constellations that appeared above them every spring. But then disaster struck: a sudden cold snap came over the eastern Parpaldian seaboard, setting back that year¡¯s planting season. The empire¡¯s internal ministry, which handled agriculture via a dedicated agency, and the climate institute at the Imperial University of Esthirant were yet to issue that year¡¯s planting recommendations so many farmers were yet to plant, but ranchers who were rearing animals¡ªcattle, sheep, domesticated beasts¡ªwere affected by the snap. Thinking that spring was upon them, they started to let their animals back into the pastures and dismantle winter dwellings, but then the snap occurred and lasted for a week. Many animals died from the cold, and ranchers fell into ruin; most of Michel¡¯s family horses also didn¡¯t make it, forcing their military house to marry into a rival house to get them to forgive the debts that compounded from the lost horses that year. Michel learned then that things will always go wrong when you least expect it, and his experience in this war with Altaras has so far confirmed it. The other group¡¯s takeover of Kagis under the noses, the ammunition blast that rocked his siegeworks, and now a possible counterattack from a larger enemy formation. He heard about how the press back home was touting the war as a landslide victory against the Altarans. Oh, how little did those pesky pretend sleuths capture the actual circumstances their fellow countrymen were suffering in this war... - - - It was now 11:30. Almost time for lunch. But the panging in their stomachs wasn¡¯t remotely strong enough for Michel and his officers to detract from observing the situation. By now, their battle lines had formed all along the southern banks with their artillery firmly entrenched behind them. But what was different now was that on the treeline on the opposite bank, almost a dozen or so enemy battalion banners flew just beneath the canopy, shaded yet clearly visible. The number of battalion banners was more than twice the number with his regiment, hinting to Michel and his officers that there were at least two enemy regiments present¡ªperhaps even an entire infantry division. That means they were outnumbered almost three to one. Fighting had already commenced. The retreating companies of the 98th had crossed the river southward an hour ago, prompting the 95th and 96th to provide covering fire against the pursuing enemy light cavalry and skirmishers. Their intense barrages whittled the loose formations of the enemy vanguard, but the crossing more than took its share of Parpaldian lives. It wasn¡¯t impossible to imagine that the bleeding, dying bodies of his men were still somewhere in the river. But they were in no position to rescue them, for the ruffled enemy vanguard retreated behind the looming masses of the main enemy formations. With the enemy taking positions on the northern banks of the Sheraya, Michel didn¡¯t wait for them to form ranks and promptly issued the orders to the 95th and 96th to fire. Three and a half hours since they heard the first popping sounds, the incessant noise of thousands of rifles firing resounded across the battlefield. Thick clouds of spent powder wafted amongst the armies¡¯ respective treelines, obstructing the view of the river from any perspective. While they nevertheless maintained visual overwatch of the situation, Michel and his officers continued to receive updates via manacomm through their signals officers, who had relocated to the hill. ¡°Enemy ranks advancing past the northern treeline! They¡¯re about to ford!¡± The signals officers reported. Michel and his officers turned their attention to the river. Beyond the veil of smoke, they spotted the bright battalion banners advancing to the river, and beneath them were masses of enemy soldiers in drab overalls marching in formation. Consequently, their battalions intensified their fire, showering the advancing soldiers in a hail of bullets; their artillery companies, ordered to open fire once they saw the enemy fording, commenced bombardment of the river. Even from the hill, they could see dozens of enemy soldiers falling onto the ground and river water every second as bullets and cannonballs descended upon them. But it was not enough to stop the enemy battalions from fording the Sheraya. ¡°Enemy soldiers cresting the banks!¡± The signals officers screamed. As if in reflex, Michel screamed back new orders. ¡°Tell the 97th to divert two companies to shore up our right flank!¡± Signal officers immediately relayed his orders. Sometime later, two companies from the 97th, which held their positions on the siege trenches before Fort Sheraya, started to emerge from the eastern end of their trenches and out into the field. They marched toward the eastern end of the battle lines to help shore up against a flanking maneuver, but new reports started coming in. ¡°Enemy formations on the left flank have engaged the 95th! They¡¯re reporting casualties!¡± Despite the ferocity and volume of their fire, the all too numerous enemy battalions managed to take the southern bank on their left flank, returning fire against their battalions as they did so. Already they could witness some companies of the 95th back away from the treeline. They continued to fire volleys into the pressing enemy formations, but their lines too were starting to be whittled at. Sweat started to pour from even Michel¡¯s palms. There was so much sweat he had trouble gripping his telescope. What do they even do at this point? The 98th, which retreated from the north earlier, was in no shape to serve as reserves, and they couldn¡¯t draw any more from the 97th, which held their siege lines against Fort Sheraya. His officers, too, couldn¡¯t come to an idea about what to do. Slowly, one by one the companies of the 95th and 96th backed from the treeline. Some daring officers ordered pointless bayonet charges against the advancing enemy, pitting their sections of the battle line into an intense melee. Their actions temporarily stabilized the line, but more and more Parpaldian lives were being spent as a consequence. Still, they did not reverse the trend, and despite continuing artillery fire from their companies, the 95th and 96th battalions continued to give ground. Michel was gasping for air. He did not want to order a retreat, but the situation was deteriorating. At this moment, he should be choosing between whether to accept military defeat or organizational punishment for retreating, but his pride and coping had him insisting there was still a way to reverse their fortunes. It was as if he was back there at his family stable back in Duro, knowing of the coming snap yet unable to find it in himself to convince his stable hands not to let the horses out. Horses...? Speaking of horses, he had been hearing the sound of hooves hitting the dirt prevailing amidst the loud noise of gunfire for a while now. As it got louder, he returned to his senses and turned to look behind him where the sounds were coming from. There, cresting the hill summit was a man in officer¡¯s clothing galloping towards him on horseback together with a couple of others. He instinctively put his hand on his holstered pistol, but he recognized the banner flown by the other horseman, letting him put his guard down. No, rather, seeing the banner in fact relieved him, for it was a banner that didn¡¯t belong to his regiment but to that of the 121st Infantry Regiment. Stopping his horse short of a skirmisher motioning him to stop, the officer dismounted from his horse and asked the skirmisher. ¡°I¡¯m from the 121st! Where is your avileuxpercheur? I need to speak to him!¡± Before the skirmisher could reply, Michel called out to them. ¡°I¡¯m right here!¡± Descending the hill, he approached the officer from the 121st. ¡°Avileuxpercheur!¡± The officer saluted Michel as he approached him. ¡°You¡¯re from the 121st? Why didn¡¯t you tell me you were coming?¡± Michel asked, his voice rough from thirst and exasperation. ¡°W-We did, sir. But we didn¡¯t hear back from you.¡± Michel turned to his officers, his cheeks red with annoyance. They were flustered and appeared to have an excuse, but they once again shied away from his glare and spoke not a single word. He turned his attention back to the officer from the 121st. ¡°Well? Where are my reinforcements?¡± ¡°We have a company of land dragons and a battalion at the bottom of the hill near the river! They¡¯re all we could spare at the moment!¡± The officer said, pointing to the bottom of the hill behind him. Michel¡¯s eyes glittered. He felt his knees almost buckle at the immense sense of relief that came over him. A company of land dragons and an infantry battalion hardly made the numbers equal, but if deployed in the right place they could save their precarious situation. With this renewed vigor to continue the fight, he had already configured in his head where the 121st¡¯s reinforcements would go. ¡°Alright! Go tell your men that this is where they¡¯ll go!¡± - - - The fight for the treeline on the southern side of the Sheraya was reaching a tipping point. Parpaldian infantry in their crimson and gold overcoats continued to hold their ground as if having dug their heels into the bedrock, refusing to yield to the relentless Altaran onslaught. In many cases, this was how Parpaldian soldiers perished: with their boots still planted onto the ground and their bodies merely bending over or back. The Altaran infantry, some still wearing the old standard white uniforms with most wearing the new standard drab colors, steadily pressed on with each volley. Like the Parpaldians, many perished without stepping back, but the sheer number of two regiments¡¯ worth of men was enough to muscle their way forward. The air was thick, not only with fervor and fighting spirit but with spent powder that made it hard to breathe. Under the tree canopy, the residue and smoke had nowhere to go but linger. The sun¡¯s rays shone through the breaks in the canopy, filtering like rays from heaven through the carnage. Despite the hostility of the situation to the psyche and senses of the men, both sides knew where the enemy was coming from and thus they knew where to point the muzzles of their rifles. But things didn¡¯t remain that way. ¡°Kaymakam! (lieutenant colonel)¡± The piercing scream of an officer shouting his rank caught the attention of an Altaran battalion commanding officer. His battalion was the battle line¡¯s leftmost, which was on the line¡¯s eastern end. As planned by the miralay (colonel), the thinned-out Parpaldian line would be shored up with reinforcements to their line¡¯s right flank, which faced their (Altaran) left flank. Even then, in no short time, they will force the Parpaldians into a rout, hopefully securing a victory against the invaders. But something was about to throw a wrench into such hopes. ¡°The Parpaldians brought beasts!!!¡± Screamed the officer as he pointed toward the east. ¡°Beasts?! What beasts?!¡± He screamed back. Then, as if in reply to him, the thunderous roar of wild beasts echoed throughout the battlefield. The roar of the beasts was more than enough to silence the fierce fighting in the treeline, forcing many of the soldiers to look to the east where the roar emanated from. There, some distance from the kaymakam¡¯s leftmost formation, were four gigantic beasts, some as massive as the trees they were felling with every thundering stomp. Then, as if to hammer to the ants that were the Altaran soldiers who it is they should be fearing, the beasts opened their beaks, larger than any field gun they know, and let out another thunderous roar. Grooooooooooohhhh!!! Whether or not they realized that they were Parpaldian due to the crimson and gold banners flung on the sides of the beasts¡¯ humongous shells, the Altaran soldiers, having never seen such tremendous monsters before, turned their rifles toward the beasts. ¡°Monsters!!!¡± ¡°Fire fire fire!!!¡± ¡°Eek!!!¡± Without forming a new line to face their new opponents, the Altaran soldiers fired disparately at the four beasts. To their horror, their rifle bullets disintegrated into crystal-like mist upon hitting the beast¡¯s rugged and thick scales, producing little damage, if at all. All that their disparate attacks did was agitate the beasts, who produced another thundering roar in anger. GROOOOOOOHHHHH!!! The beasts¡¯ stomps got stronger, their pace got faster, and their eyes got madder. But now that they know that their puny rifles did fuck all against the gargantuan monsters, the plummeting Altaran morale crumbled altogether. ¡°Our guns are no use!!!¡± ¡°Run!!!¡± ¡°It¡¯ll eat us all!!!¡± The companies of the leftmost battalion were the first to crumble. The kaymakam grew desperate to maintain order. ¡°No!!! Hold your line, you scoundrels!!! You dare turn your back on the invaders¡ª¡± GROOOOOHHHH!!!!! Interrupting his speech was one of the beasts, whose enraged eyes stared daggers into his. The gigantic monster advanced like a tortoise, but every stomp crushed a tree in its path, pulverizing its thick, well-aged bark into cinders. It felt as if it was making a beeline for him, what with him and his officers flying the conspicuous battalion flags. The sight of such a frightening beast making his way toward him turned him pale. He could even feel the pants in his crotch area turn hot from... he¡¯d rather not imagine an esteemed officer like him doing something so unsightly. Still, if he were to choose between the beast or his life, there would be no debate. ¡°Run!!! Retreat!!! Back across the river!!!¡± The kaymakam, his officers, and the battalion flag officers made a beeline for the river. The sight of their battalion officers running with the flags crushed the battalion¡¯s morale, turning a disparate breakup of the line into a rout of the left flank. ¡°The kaymakam is making a run for it! He¡¯s leaving us! Run, you shmucks!¡± ¡°Fuck! We¡¯re not dying here!!!¡± ¡°Wait for¡ªAck!¡± One unlucky Altaran soldier, who had turned his back to try and run, is hit squarely in the back of the neck, killing him instantly. Without turning back, the soldiers of the disintegrating left flank could feel a hailstorm of bullets descend upon them. Parpaldian soldiers from the main line, seeing their land dragons come into the fight, are reinvigorated and restart pouring volleys back into the treeline. Meanwhile, joining them were Parpaldian soldiers from the 121st Regiment, taking cover behind their land dragons and taking potshots at the fleeing Altaran soldiers. In essence, the Altaran left flank was exposed to a crossfire from two sides, with one side involving four gargantuan beasts. As the Altaran left flank crumbled, their regiment commanders only now started catching wind of the situation. ¡°What?! The Parpaldians brought beasts into the left flank?!¡± The Altaran miralay (colonel) couldn¡¯t hide his horror at the report. But from where he was, he could clearly see his men fleeing in a rout across the river. There were also the terrified screams and the unfamiliar roar of beasts echoing in the distance, past the cacophony of gunfire closer to where he was. He ordered the second leftmost battalion to reform battle lines facing the beasts. However, consequent reports further turned his complexion pale. ¡°The beasts are impervious to rifle fire?!¡± Reports of the Parpaldian conquests against the Philadean Northern Alliance raced across his mind. There were descriptions of entire battles being won because the Parpaldians brought gigantic ¡°tortoise-like¡± beasts to the battle, which the Parpaldians used to terrifying effect; in some cases, the mere sight of the beasts rampaging their way toward the enemy line was more than enough to trigger a general rout. Little illustrations exist of the beasts, likely because the Northern Alliance doesn¡¯t have access to advanced magic or non-magic photography, but whatever witness accounts they have do support the ¡°tortoise-like¡± descriptions. From the Parpaldian side, all they know is that they have more or less 200 of these beasts across the empire and that they affectionately refer to them by a rather impressive name: the land dragon. Due to the scarcity of details on the land dragon and their military uses, the Royal Altaran Army has no strategy to counter them. After all, Parpaldia is the only power that employs them; they were apparently selectively bred from species of gigantic yet docile beasts from an undetermined island within Parpaldian territory. The miralay thought: if the Parpaldians did bring with them land dragons, it was inevitable that his men, having never seen them before, would be frightened. With the land dragons, the still-intact Parpaldian guns, and the reinvigorated Parpaldian battle line pushing back on them in a crossfire, he prudently concluded that there was little time to think of a counter strategy if he didn¡¯t already have one. Unable to count on any reserves and with the risk of his battle line being destroyed, he made the tough decision to withdraw back to the northern side of the river.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. ¡°Commence retreat back to the northern side!¡± Orders were quickly disseminated and the battalions that would cross first and the battalions that would fight to keep the enemy at bay were designated. Fortunately for them, at this time of the day¡ªroughly noon¡ªthe river current was its weakest and the depth shallow enough to cross on foot. For roughly two more hours, the fighting continued as the Altarans crossed back onto the northern side, sustaining moderately heavy losses as the last battalions struggled to cross back under persistent Parpaldian fire. By three in the afternoon, as the sun was starting to hang low in the west, both sides ceased firing at one another and the battle settled into an exhausted stalemate. 86th Infantry Rgt HQ, 18:40 The sun had now set and darkness reigned over the area, save for the torches and campfires lit in Fort Sheraya and the camp of the 86th Infantry Regiment. Now, though, they were joined by numerous torches and campfires lit in the camp of the larger Altaran formation on the northern side of the river. The stalemate earlier produced an uneasy peace, but the fierce fighting had caused an untold number of deaths on both sides, and the three regiment commanders and the fort garrison commander all came to the agreement to stay off one day of fighting to gather their war dead and give them their funeral rites. Parpaldian and Altaran patrols frequently crossed paths with one another on the river banks and on the southern side, giving each other deathly stares as they gathered the bodies of their fallen comrades. Nevertheless, officers from both sides managed to enforce the agreement, whether by word or by bayonet, and everyone was able to get right into recovering their respective fallen without incident. The 86th Infantry Regiment commander, Avileuxpercheur Michel, himself tired from a full day of watching the battle, stood watch over rows upon rows of coffins gathered at the camp¡¯s makeshift marching ground. More and more coffins were being brought in by the cartload as his HQ personnel went around tallying the number of dead and confirming their names, families, and hometowns. Those who weren¡¯t helping with the recovery or eating dinner were by the coffins of their fallen friends, comrades, and brothers, their sobbing echoing into the night sky. Some of them were airing their regrets, their dashed hopes, or repeating the promises they had made with the fallen before they were killed today. It was a heartbreaking sight, one that gripped even the avileuxpercheur¡¯s heart. As it stands, they were expecting 800 to 1,000 dead, a big chunk of the regiment¡¯s fighting force. With that many dead, it wasn¡¯t anything but a miracle that they were able to force a stalemate with an army twice their size. The reinforcements from the 121st also sustained casualties, but they were hardly more than a dozen¡ªand that was already counting their wounded. The agreement for a one-day ceasefire was a godsend, but with the Altaran side proposing that, he could only surmise that they were bringing in additional reinforcements by tomorrow. If he wants to continue their offensive¡ªnay, if he wants his force to survive, they must be reinforced ASAP. ¡°Your dinner is ready, sir.¡± One of his personal servants called out to him with a bow. Despite being tired, weary, and starving, Michel didn¡¯t have an appetite. The fact that he had just lost around a thousand men was weighing on him, more so the daunting task of keeping the other 2,000 or so men in the fight. Still, he¡¯d be worse for the wear if he ignored his body¡¯s needs. As he followed his servant back to his tent, a signals officer ran to him. ¡°Avileuxpercheur! Avileuxpercheur! It¡¯s Entoupercheur Gilles! He¡¯s currently waiting for you on the manacomm!¡± Michel¡¯s eyes widened at the mention of Entoupercheur Gilles. During the battle, he had asked for reinforcements from him, but only the 121st responded. While the silence did irk him, it was already within expectations that the entoupercheur wouldn¡¯t respond, at least not immediately. Though now if he had something to say to him, it must¡¯ve been very important. Temporarily setting aside his dinner, Michel followed the signals officer back to the manacomm. - - - An hour later, Michel and his officers ventured to the outskirts of their camp perimeter. There, they stood in the cold winter night with thick coats, looking toward the south. During the day, they would be looking at a forest, but at night they couldn¡¯t see a damn thing. Only the gods knew what lurked in the forest, but whatever may come their way, they¡¯d first have to deal with his personal retinue of guards, who stood at guard in front of him and his officers. Michel took his pocket watch out of his coat. He held it up in the air so that it would catch light from the torches of the camp behind him. He could barely make out the clock¡¯s hands: it was ten minutes to seven in the evening. Just as he put the watch back in his coat, one of his guards cried out. ¡°I see a torchlight in the forest! Dead south!¡± The guards readied themselves and gripped their rifles as they fixated their gazes on a faint orange glow emanating from the forest. It was moving amongst the trees, disappearing and reappearing behind the silhouettes of their thick trunks. Not long after, the glow became numerous, with around a dozen or so embers hovering in the dark. Then, they started to hear the sound of numerous hooves hitting the cold dirt. ¡°Cavalry...¡± One of his officers muttered. Before long, the torches got close enough for them to see the illuminated figures of their holders: cavalrymen with thick coats wearing caps meant for dragoons. Their colors and design were Parpaldian, but just to be safe... ¡°Le moineau!¡± Cried out Michel¡¯s guards. ¡°...et l''¨¦cureuil!¡± Replied the cavalrymen. Hearing the designated phrase, the guards and the officers relaxed their grips on their guns and collectively breathed a sigh of relief. The cavalrymen that had appeared before them were the ones they were expecting. Michel went forth toward the cavalrymen, followed by his officers and guards. As he approached, some of the cavalrymen dismounted from their horses and met them halfway. Now that they stand face to face, Michel and his officers saluted one of the cavalrymen. ¡°We¡¯ve been expecting you, entoupercheur!¡± Hearing this, Michel¡¯s guards turned to him in shock. Like a punchline in a bad joke, the cavalrymen they saluted took off their scarf and their dragoon cap, revealing the face of Group East¡¯s commander, Entoupercheur Gilles. Michel¡¯s guards, taken aback by this revelation, hurriedly set aside their rifles and saluted him. Following their commander¡¯s lead, some of the other cavalrymen behind Gilles also revealed themselves to be part of his officer corps. ¡°Forgive me for imposing,¡± Gilles said as he motioned them to be at ease. ¡°If I may, entoupercheur... Why risk your life to come all the way here?¡± Michel asked him as he beckoned Gilles and his officers toward the camp. While walking side by side, they conversed. ¡°When I received word of your request and then the subsequent reports about your regiment¡¯s... precarious situation...¡± Gilles looked down on the ground. It was almost as if he felt the gravity of their situation. ¡°I just had to rush here myself.¡± Michel¡¯s heart skipped a beat. It sounded like he had botched the situation and his superior had personally come to try and fix his mess. He hung his head and tensed his fists, and his face was red all around. He felt as if all the shame in the world had concentrated on him. ¡°...I see.¡± Gilles sensed the guilt and shame in Michel¡¯s weak reply. Whether it was out of respect or he just didn¡¯t have it in him to chide him, he simply stayed silent. Then, he changed the topic. ¡°I did not rush here myself; reinforcements are on the way.¡± Michel did not budge. He continued. ¡°We expected that the Altarans would counterattack, but we underestimated their speed. We¡¯re actually preparing a massed offensive beginning with Fort Sheraya and punching all the way to Le Brias¡¯s inner defenses, but now that the Altarans attacked and they have seen how precarious our frontline is, I decided to move the timetable on that offensive forward.¡± Gilles reached out to Michel to stop him. Looking him in the eyes, he gave him a light tap on the shoulder. ¡°You managing to hold your ground against an enemy division saved our asses.¡± Even though he didn¡¯t say how grateful he was for Michel¡¯s actions, Gilles still managed to impart a sense of gratitude. For Michel, that was more than enough to get some weight off his shoulders. The price his men paid for their campaign¡¯s success was by no means light, but now he could confidently start to say that their sacrifice wasn¡¯t in vain. As a frigid wind blew through the Parpaldian camp, hope for a victorious end to the war continued to burn bright in their hearts. Cent. Calendar 01/03/1640, 4th Infantry Div Camp, north of the Sheraya River, 23:10 The situation couldn¡¯t be any different north of the Sheraya River. Being ferried by train from the capital to this fortress on the outskirts, the men of the Altaran 4th Infantry Division have seen better days. Originally garrisoned in the city of Madibur on the island¡¯s western side, the King, via his commanders, ordered their entire formation to be ferried to the capital where they could fight against the awaited invasion on the capital¡¯s harbor. But that never came, instead, they fought three battalions¡¯ worth of enemy marines while a division¡¯s worth of enemy troops invaded from the south, cutting off the peninsula from the rest of the island. The sheer number of troops the King had ordered to be concentrated in the capital strained their supplies, which were now effectively cut off by the Parpaldian ¡®siege¡¯ of the peninsula. Only by the time the critical city of Kagis fell to the enemy did the King and his commanders send them south. It was by no means too late, but it certainly felt as if the King and his commanders were always multiple steps behind the enemy. Their commanders brought them to the outskirts of the capital¡¯s defenses, a lone fortress named Fort Sheraya, where a Parpaldian regiment was currently laying siege to it. At first, things went well. Their vanguard light cavalry chased out some cornered Parpaldian siege forces on the north side of the Sheraya River, after which their main battle lines were drawn along the northern bank. At their miralay¡¯s command, they crossed the river. While they sustained some casualties, they managed to successfully reach the south side and start pressuring the smaller Parpaldian line. They had cannons at the back, but they weren¡¯t nearly enough to prevent them from wrestling the treeline from the Parpaldians. Weird enough, the Parpaldians didn¡¯t have their wyverns out, which were a constant sight back at the capital. For once, they may actually win. They may actually break the invaders¡¯ attempt to swallow their kingdom¡ªtheir home. But then, as if the gods themselves brought them down to the mortal realm, the beasts of war emerged. They were cruel, heartless, and monstrous. They roared to life thunderclaps and willed earthquakes from beneath their feet. As if that wasn¡¯t enough, they bore the enemy¡¯s banners and shielded the enemy¡¯s soldiers from their fire. No rifle, whether en masse or alone, could break through their immortal scales. Fearing for their lives, they ran for the northern banks of the river where there were no enemy soldiers, no enemy banners, and no monstrous beasts. They had a day to rest and recover their fallen brothers, but it didn¡¯t feel enough. For days now, they stood at the treeline north of the river. They dug trenches, traps, and redoubts from where they could fire on the enemy trenches, traps, and redoubts on the southern side. There was no sign of the beasts to be found, but the sheer volume of fire from the enemy positions was enough to counter any of their attempts to attack; in turn, their machine guns could mow down any attempt by the enemy to cross. It was a stalemate, but one that felt could be broken any day. It was now nighttime. The calendar had just moved, and it was now the third month of this year, meaning that the war had been going on for three months. As short as that sounded, it felt as if they¡¯ve lived multiple lifetimes. While the rest of the division caught sleep back at the camp, some of the battalions had to sleep in the trenches to guard against a potential night attack by the enemy. In one of the trenches, a squad of soldiers, including their officer, were wide awake. They were supposed to take shifts, but none of the soldiers could be bothered to get some shuteye. Perhaps they had bad dreams, or perhaps they were feeling a bit rebellious. Huddled together in the cold dirt and mud with the rustling of tree canopy above them blocking the night sky, the faces of the soldiers were all despondent. For as much as they thought dire of not only their situation but the kingdom¡¯s, they too held ¡®dangerous¡¯ thoughts. ¡°I¡¯m tired of this shit. I wanna go home. His Majesty can go fuck himself and fight the Parps.¡± One of the soldiers muttered as he buried his face in his blanket. The other soldiers looked at their officer, who didn¡¯t bat an eye at what he had just said. Confirming that they wouldn¡¯t get any reprisals for it, they too openly aired their thoughts. ¡°Fucking right. I missed the New Year celebrations with my family because of this... I haven¡¯t seen them in months.¡± ¡°I could only hope that my wife and kid managed to escape to my parents in the mountains. If the Parps haven¡¯t already burned Madibur down, that is...¡± ¡°Look, there are rumors that Kagis is still intact! They surrendered, too, so there¡¯s probably a chance they spared Madibur if they surrendered...¡± ¡°Personally, though, I don¡¯t give a shit if the banner¡¯s ours or theirs. I just want to go home to my love.¡± After airing their pent-up frustrations, the soldiers turned to their officer, fearing a reprisal. The officer, however, simply stared into the darkness of the canopy above them as he shared their sentiments. ¡°I miss... food.¡± They heard an audible growl ring out from the officer¡¯s stomach. While the soldiers may have varying degrees of attachment to their homes, one common thing they shared was a disdain for their rations, which had been reduced to two pieces of hard crackers and a small piece of frozen meat per soldier per day. Water was also a problem; unable to rely on the Sheraya, they were forced to procure barrels of water from the next town, which was only enough to give each soldier half a pint of water per day. Of course, there wasn¡¯t enough around to clean themselves, either, so a terrible smell lingered in the trenches and the camps. Their situation here in the middle of nowhere was no better than the shanty towns they were forced into while they awaited the King¡¯s orders in the capital. The soldiers continued to grumble, unable to think of anything positive to talk about. But then, out of nowhere, their eyes were showered with light. ¡°What the¡ª?!¡± ¡°Who¡ª?!¡± It took a while for their eyes to adjust, but once they did they saw each other, the black and brown soil of the trenches around them, and the colors of the leaves of the trees above them. However, beyond that lay a very bright sky that was almost to the point of white. It was almost as if the sun had been opened up just above them, its bright rays shining through the gaps in the canopy. ¡°Something ain¡¯t right!!!¡± The officer remarked, still shielding his eyes from the brightness. Grabbing their guns, he and his men climbed up to the top of the trench. Up there, they could see the entire landscape around them¡ªthe river, the trees, Fort Sheraya, and the camp¡ªas if it were the middle of the day. Make no mistake, however, it was supposed to be the dead of night. The next sign that something wasn¡¯t right was that other than the sky above them, the sky was completely pitch black. ¡°Over there!¡± One of the soldiers shouted as he pointed to the sky. It was still too bright to look up at the sky directly, so they had to squint and cover some of the sky with their hands. Still, they could make out whatever their comrade was pointing to: a shining star slowly falling out of the sky. Soon, they spotted more of them, all falling to the ground at a leisurely pace and shining brighter than the sun at midday. ¡°What the hell are those...?¡± As they looked on from behind their hands in confusion, they heard a symphony of roars echo throughout the area. Kyuuun!!! ¡°Wait...!!!¡± Unlike the roar of the beasts they heard earlier, it was higher pitched and softer. But more telling than that, however, was the fact that they knew the roar all too well. ¡°Wyverns?!¡± The officer cried out. Instinctively, they held their guns to the sky, but it was still too bright to look at the sky directly. Just then, the silhouette of a wyvern emerged from behind the blinding glow of one of the falling stars then dipped below it. Not long after, several more wyverns emerged from behind the falling stars, diving straight toward the division camp. ¡°Fuck fuck fuck!!!¡± The officer panicked as he watched the wyverns dove toward their camp. An overwhelming sense of dread came upon him as he jumped back into the trench to sound the alarm. - - - Minutes earlier, with only the stars to light up the night sky, 10 of Parpaldia¡¯s wyvern lords flew in complete darkness. Under normal circumstances, this would have been unthinkable; while wyverns can fly in darkness, it was difficult for their riders to navigate in the dark. Even with precise instruments, they could never spot another wyvern, let alone an enemy wyvern, in the dark, so it was commonplace for wyvern operations to be limited to daytime. However, Parpaldia had an ace up their sleeve: another wyvern, which led the formation, was a different breed. Absent for much of the week due to developments elsewhere, the wyvern corps, after enough pestering from Entoupercheur Gilles and wrapping up their mission at Hajjisler, are finally back to supporting the Army in Altaras. With enough rest, they were able to spare enough wyverns for Gilles¡¯s planned offensive, which had them mount a surprise night raid on an encamped Altaran infantry division near Fort Sheraya. ¡°This is Ardean. We¡¯re right above the target.¡± The rider of the lead wyvern communicated to the formation through his manacomm. ¡°Roger, Ardean. Dropping flare bombs...¡± The 10 riders of the wyverns following the lead wyvern each dropped a pumpkin-sized box into the air by pushing it out of their stowage just behind their saddle. Moments after the boxes were dropped, parachutes unfurled from their tops, slowing their descent. The deploying parachutes pulled on a mechanical switch near the top of the box, activating a mana circuit that started a chant. Then, almost simultaneously, all of the stones inside the boxes flashed into life, shining brighter than the sun. The stones, which were what the Parpaldian riders called flare bombs, illuminated the immediate area as if it were midday. The big parachutes had reflective film on the inner side, acting as a reflector that focused the intense light from the mana stones toward the ground below. It must¡¯ve been blinding for the poor enemy soldiers still awake below them, but for them and their wyverns, they could finally see their target illuminated in full detail. ¡°Flare bombs active! You have two minutes!¡± The rider of the lead wyvern cried out through the manacomm. The 10 riders looked down on the camp below. They had already been briefed beforehand about which targets to strike with their wyverns¡¯ flame attack, but since they didn¡¯t have a map of the camp, all they were given was what to strike¡ªammunition dump, barracks, the stables, and so on. It was up to the discretion of the riders to discern what these targets actually looked like, so they took a good while to try and pick out what their target was before committing to the strike. 25 seconds after the flare bombs lit up, the first wyvern lord banked into a downward course straight for the camp; the other wyvern lords quickly followed. Each assigned their targets, they pointed their wyvern lords toward what they believed were their targets and communicated with them to ready their flame attack. As they got closer, the enemy soldiers started to run amok, and the sound of bells rang all across the camp. They finally realized it was an attack, but it was too little too late. The first wyvern lord to dive spread their wings out as a form of air brake. Then, riding on the inertia, they opened their once-closed mouth, spitting out a lot of mucus-like liquid. Once the liquid was out of their mouth, it caught fire, turning into a fireball. As the wyvern lord started to fly back into the sky, the fireball hit the huddled tents of the camp¡¯s barracks, spreading the burning viscous liquid all around. The fire from the liquid quickly caught onto the tent fabric, spreading the fire across the barracks in no time. ¡°Fire!!! Put it out!!!¡± Chaos reigned over the Altaran camp as soldiers, some half-awake, were either running for their lives, running for the armory to get their guns, or trying to fight the blazes with dirt or water. But they weren¡¯t done: more of the Parpaldian wyvern lords descended, pitting their fireballs all around the camp. As fires continued to rage, the camp¡¯s defenses, initially stunned by the flare bombs, finally went to work. However, they had difficulty zeroing in on the fleeing enemy wyverns due to the overwhelming brightness of the flare bombs. ¡°Dammit! I can¡¯t look at ¡®em directly!¡± Before they knew it, the enemy wyverns were too far away to attack with small arms. Still, for some reason, the sound of gunfire filled the night. Soldiers who were awake and on their feet quickly rushed to the armory and ammunition stores to fight the blaze but found the fires yet to reach them. Miraculously, the enemy wyverns didn¡¯t land a direct flame attack on either, but the sound of intense gunfire continued. Attention quickly turned to the south where their trenches facing the river were. - - - Back at the trenches, the officer and his squad were back inside, only poking their heads out to watch the carnage at the camp unfold. Bells and sirens rang into the night, masking the wails of their burning comrades and the desperate cries of their other comrades trying to fight the blaze. It was a terrifying scene, but it was something they expected from a wyvern attack. Still, to think the Parpaldians were so adept with their wyverns to dare to pilot them in the dead of night... If this was their first time, it was a total game-changer. If they had mastered it, then they were totally and truly fucked. ¡°Wyverns at night... They must be mad enough to fly them in the dark!¡± ¡°Without their little falling stars, they shouldn¡¯t be able to find their way back! It was probably a suicide mission!¡± ¡°It won¡¯t be the first time they¡¯ve surprised us, though, so I wouldn¡¯t hold my breath...¡± Slowly, the bright falling stars waned before completely going out. In no time, darkness reclaimed its rightful place and night returned to the battlefield. It was dark again, but it was by no means pitch black: the raging flames from the enemy attack continued to burn, turning an increasing portion of the camp into cinders. They were like a massive bonfire, lighting up the surroundings. ¡°Shit... I wonder what¡¯ll happen from here on¡ª¡± Just then, interrupting the officer¡¯s statements were several loud thuds on the trench¡¯s mud walls. ¡°Wha¡ª?!¡± The officer and the other soldiers quickly took notice and turned to the source of the thuds. They cast their gazes down onto the floor as what had caused the thuds rolled down from the walls. Their eyes were yet to readjust to the dark, but as soon as they saw the fruit-sized and fruit-shaped objects, they instantly recognized what they were. ¡°GRENADES!!!¡± The officer screamed out. Their knee-jerk reactions kicked into gear and every man ran deeper into the trench. However, before they could get far, explosions rocked the trench. Kaboom!!! The powerful blast sent the men tumbling, but some were less fortunate: the shrapnel and the blast wave tore through their backs, killing them instantly. Their bodies served to dampen and shield the others, leaving them with concussions, ruptured eardrums, and other painful effects. ¡°Ughh...¡± ¡°Dear Astarte...¡± The men gasped for air as they groaned, fighting the pain that had beset them from all corners of their bodies. The officer, who survived but was struggling with a ruptured eardrum in his left ear, was screaming in pain. As he writhed on the floor of the trench, he crawled up to the trench wall and pinned his back onto it. Turning around, he caught sight of the silhouettes of several men surmounting the trench and dropping in. It was too dark to make out what they looked like, but he knew then and there they were the ones who dropped the grenades. ¡°Blasted... Parp swines!¡± He cried out in defiance. He reached for the pistol on his right hip, but before he could pull it out of its holster, one of the silhouettes ran up to him. At such a close distance, he could now take a look at his would-be killer: a man with calculating, unyielding eyes, wearing a drab uniform devoid of the crimson and gold the enemy regulars wore and pointing the muzzle of an unfamiliar gun on his chest. BAM! Click click With a quick pull of the trigger and a double flick of the arm, the Parpaldian soldier dispatched the surviving enemy officer. Behind him, his fellow soldiers did the same with the surviving enemy soldiers, dispatching them with one shot to the center mass each. ¡°There!¡± An enemy soldier cried out from deeper into the trench, away from view. It appears that the reinforcements have finally come. The Parpaldian soldiers turned their guns back in front of them as they swarmed forward in file. Earlier, when the flare bombs were deployed and they were in their holding positions, they had covered their eyes with blinds so that they would still be accustomed to the dark, unlike their enemies. Coming toward the corner where the voices were coming from, the foremost Parpaldian soldier primed a grenade and threw it around the corner. The reacting screams came, then the detonation. Kaboom! Without delay, the Parpaldian soldiers rounded the corner one by one, swiveling their guns into the killzone and emptying them without stopping¡ªwithout a hint of mercy. BAM! Click click. BAM! Click click. BAM! Click click. The confused enemy soldiers, their eyes still unaccustomed to the dark and their ears ringing from the blast, couldn¡¯t lift a muscle to resist. In less than 10 seconds, another enemy squad lay dead, bleeding, and motionless in the trench. Elsewhere, Parpaldian soldiers in unusual getups¡ªdrab gray uniforms, boots built for surmounting the hardiest mud, bandoliers brimming with grenades, some with eerie-looking body armor with sharp edges and hexagonal plates protecting the neck, chest, abdomen, and groin area¡ªsurmounted the trenches with lighting speed and terrifying violence. Every turn and engagement is opened with grenades before seamlessly switching to the back-to-back discharges from their guns. Their small formations followed extremely coordinated approaches and movements, always allowing for as many guns from their comrades into the firing arc. By now, the dry and flat sound their guns made had become signature, but most especially was the double click heard in between each shot: BAM! Click click. These Parpaldian soldiers, part of an elite Mirishial-trained and Great War surplus-armed unit called the stormtroopers, effectively cleaned house. Fulfilling their novel role as shock troops meant to break through fortified impasses by way of violently swarming the cracks, they opened the path for the more numerous Parpaldian infantrymen to push through. As the last stormtroopers made their way to the end of the trenches, the battalions of the 86th Infantry Regiment and other formations flooded into the still-burning camp of the Altaran 4th Infantry Division. ¡°NO QUARTER!!!¡± A battalion commanding officer screamed as his men marched past the trenches. His order, supposedly issued only to his battalion, resounded throughout the formations, and soon every Parpaldian infantryman took the order into their minds. A bloodbath ensued. The Altarans still outnumbered the Parpaldians, but the surprise of the combined wyvern-trench assault meant that only a fraction of them were actually armed and ready to oppose them. Gunfire rang throughout the night as clouds of spent powder joined the billowing black smoke of the burning camp. Guns weren¡¯t the only weapon deployed en masse; swords, axes, bayonets, cutting knives, butchers¡¯ cleaves¡ªall sorts of blades clashed and slashed as men descended into madness and barbarism. Feelings of anger, regret, rage, and revenge swirled in the heads of Parpaldian and Altaran soldiers. The weeks of rations, endless cold nights, seeing their brothers and friends die and burying them¡ªit all came to a head in this battle. But some weren¡¯t willing to give themselves into such barbary; some Altaran soldiers dropped their weapons, spread their arms into the air, and got down on their knees in surrender. However, only one thing echoed in the minds of the Parpaldian soldiers: no quarter. - - - ¡°Fuck fuck fuck fuck! What the fuck is happening?!¡± The garrison commander of Fort Sheraya fell to his knees as he watched a massive Parpaldian army on the northern side of the river fall upon the burning camp of the 4th Division¡ªtheir supposed relief force and hope for a victory. He was at an utter loss for words on how to describe tonight. First, the sky turned brighter than day, blinding their watchmen for a good minute. Then, the Parpaldians swooped in with their wyverns, setting fire to the division camp. After that, as the sky returned to normal, gunshots and screams rang out from the river; there were flashes erupting all across their trenches on the northern side. Before they could get a fix on what was happening in the trenches, the flashes stopped, and then soon after they saw masses of troops crossing the trenches, marching for the burning camp. With a horrified look on his face, he turned to an officer standing next to him. ¡°Contact command back at the royal castle! Tell them what¡¯s happening!¡± The officer affirmed his orders, turned around, and ran back to the signals room, leaving the garrison commander to struggle against his quivering legs to stand back up. With his meager force of 200 men, there was little they could do against such a massive enemy army. At this point, the thought of surrender lingered in his mind. There was little hope that another relief force would come to their aid, much less so within the hour. If the enemy wants to take the fort now, they will get it in no time. Still, while the commander contemplated options, the best thing they could do at this moment was inform their top commanders back in Le Brias of what was going on. Cent. Calendar 02/03/1640, Royal Castle, Le Brias, 4:26 Beneath the Royal Castle, the top military commanders of the Altaran military gathered to discuss the ongoing crisis that had developed from the outer perimeter of the capital¡¯s defenses. Commanders, officers, and staff personnel alike had all rushed to the complex beneath the castle to take over from the skeleton crew as word reached them of the developing crisis. Over the course of the four to five hours since the first reports came in, there was already a report summarizing most of what had happened. After the night battle¡ªalthough the garrison at Fort Sheraya described it a ¡°massacre,¡± instead¡ªat the Sheraya River, the Parpaldian Imperial Army¡¯s east army group continued their march northward, penetrating as far as 10km with enemy cavalry supported by enemy wyverns overrunning towns and minor forts 20km away from Le Brias proper. Here, the enemy continued their use of ¡°falling stars,¡± which lit up the sky brighter than midday and stunned any onlooker, to enable wyvern operations. As of 0400 hours, the enemy has widened this penetration to about 6km, catching some of their smaller elements off guard in their camps. ¡°Five hours in and they¡¯re still pushing?! It¡¯s almost morning; they¡¯ll run out of steam! Rush in some of the regiments we have in reserve and push them back!¡± The deputy chief of staff of the Army roared. Having only managed a handful of hours of sleep last night, he had bulging eyes and dark circles around them. Quickly his commanders gathered around the massive map of the peninsula at the center of the room and pointed axes of advance for their reserves using poles. As the details were ironed and finalized, staff personnel on the side took notes to swiftly hand over to the signals officers to disseminate to the reserve commanders. ¡°I think it¡¯s about time, sir...¡± One of the commanders remarked to the deputy chief of staff. Despite the lack of sleep, the deputy chief of staff had a clear mind and an ironclad resolve. His eyes were weary, but the nod he gave in reply was sharp and clear. ¡°Right! The pieces are in place, after all, so all that¡¯s left now to get the counteroffensive going is to get His Majesty¡¯s clearance!¡± The situation may have been grave, but the expressions on all the commanders¡¯ faces around the map were brimming with confidence and conviction. They gripped hard on the map edges, bit their lips, and wrinkled their bows. The Parpaldians may have been setting the momentum all throughout the war, but they were not going to let them dictate the dance for long. - - - Meanwhile, somewhere in the main palace complex of the castle, three girls in sparkling white nightgowns rushed through the decorated stone halls. Their bare feet made soft, hardly audible thumps as they ran, gripping the hems of their gowns so that they wouldn''t accidentally trip on them. Behind them followed their ladies in waiting and maids, who called out to the girls in hushes but maintained their pace. ¡°Your Highnesses! You mustn¡¯t run in the halls barefoot!¡± ¡°Dear goodness, that¡¯s not the crux of the problem: they mustn¡¯t run in the halls in their sleepwear!¡± ¡°Truly! Oh, how Her Majesty would¡¯ve fainted at the sight of her beloved daughters behaving so slovenly!¡± They shared a collective muffled sigh as the three princesses of Altaras¡ªSemira, Alira, and Lumies¡ªall ignored their hushed warnings and continued their sprints. They then reach a massive doorway with huge, bulging wooden doors. On both sides stood guard two Royal Guardsmen, unflinching in their gaze and unyielding in their statue-like posture. The three princesses stood in front of the doors but hesitated to go further. ¡°Are you sure about this, Lumy?¡± Asked Semira, the eldest of the princesses and the closest to the door. ¡°I am! My contacts in the Army warned me about a Parpaldian breakthrough!¡± Lumies, the youngest, replied, pointing to the door and telling her sister to hurry. As Semira turned to the guardsmen and ordered them to open the doors for them, Alira, the middle sister, broke her silence and spoke up. ¡°...Wait!¡± She said in her soft voice, but that was more than enough to freeze even the guardsmen in their animation. Before the other sisters could ask her why, a loud crash thundered from behind the thick doors. Then, the sound of breaking glass. Finally, the deep screams of what sounded like a madman. ¡°Ngghhh! Grrraaaaahhh!!!¡± The violence of the screams was unfamiliar to the sisters, but they all recognized the voice: it was none other than their father, King Taara XIV. ¡°Why... WHY?!?! These imbeciles can¡¯t be assed to do anything... RIGHT!!!!!¡± They heard more crashes, more furniture being upturned and destroyed. The guardsmen, the ladies in waiting, the princesses¡ªthey were all frozen in a mixture of shock, sorrow, and a panging sense of denial. How could their king, a symbol of the people, the land, and centuries of Altaran dignity and might, be reduced to such a sorry state? Finally, as the crashes died down, they heard pained cries. ¡°Yasmin!!! My love!!! Our kingdom is being forsaken by its own ungrateful children!!! Why did you leave me to rule this kingdom alone?! Why did you leave me?! Why?!?!¡± As their father wailed and whimpered, Semira turned to Lumies and Alira. ¡°It appears the news has reached him.¡± Lumies sighed in exasperation as she buried her face in her palms. ¡°Curses! He¡¯s gotten more mad! Now he won¡¯t hear me out on my plan to escape Le Brias...¡± Lumies spat out her thoughts candidly. This touched a nerve with Semira, whose eyes turned white like a cat¡¯s and cheeks flushed red with vexation. ¡°Is... Is that what this is about?! You were hoping to change his mind again?!¡± Semira raised her voice with her frustration oozing from every word. Lumies, in kind, raised her voice too. ¡°And is that a bad thing to bring up?! We¡¯ve had so many chances to escape¡ªto continue to fight this war on our terms! What good does it do to us¡ªour kingdom¡ªby staying cooped up in this place?! Our father is supposed to be smart, he should¡¯ve known that! That is if he hadn¡¯t gone coo-coo in th-¡± SLAP! A dry, resounding clap echoed throughout the halls. The ladies in waiting and Alira looked on in surprise at Semira¡¯s extended hand and Lumies¡¯s fallen figure, her white nightgown spread out on the floor. She had her hand on her left cheek, which was swollen red. Before any of them could process what had happened, Semira opened her mouth and out came an outburst of fury¡ªthe ugly climax of countless agitating back-and-forth arguments and fruitless mediation between her sisters and her father. ¡°All you do is antagonize our dear father and go against his wishes!!! Why don¡¯t you try to be more understanding of him?! Why don¡¯t you love him more?! You¡¯re always thinking about you, you, you¡ªONLY YOU!!! This is why he always locks you up; he knows you don¡¯t love him back, so of course he doesn¡¯t love YOU!!!¡± At the tail end of her outburst, she swallowed and instantly she felt the bitter whiplash of the cruelty of her own words. There on the floor lay her youngest sister, Lumy, with Ali kneeling next to her. Ali¡¯s upward gaze met hers and she could see the anger in her usually silent, unfeeling little sister. It was as if she was saying with her gaze, ¡°You went too far.¡± Meanwhile, Lumy, whose face won¡¯t turn her way, had tears running down her reddened cheek. Before long, she could feel the warm yet bitterly frigid touch of her own tears rolling down her cheeks. Feelings of annoyance and frustration had overcome her, and now it was regret and a desire for forgiveness. Unfortunately, they did not translate down to her lips all that well. ¡°L-L-Lumy, I-I... No... I didn¡¯t...¡± Her lips overlapped with her tongue and the words couldn¡¯t come out right. Before she could untangle them from one another, Lumies stood up from the floor, her left hand still on her swollen left cheek, and walked away. She uttered not a single word, her gaze never meeting hers. Alira followed her, and so did their ladies in waiting. As she watched the backs of her two sisters get more distant and the wails of their father beyond the doors got louder, tears flowed out of her eyes like a dam bursting at the seams. She covered her face in shame as she cried, her ladies in waiting trying to console and wipe the tears from her jaw and neck.