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MacNealy Air Force Base, Osean Federation — January 1, 2019

All right, settle down!  I know we all have a ton of questions that need answering, and we will get to them as quickly as we can, but I need people to settle down!  Right, are we all good?  Then let’s begin.

As you’re all no doubt aware, two days ago a massive hurricane somehow managed to envelop the entire Federation and effectively cut off all communications with the rest of the outside world.  We’ve received unconfirmed reports of some kind of natural disaster along Osea’s eastern and southern borders, and for some reason we’re also picking up Selatapuran distress calls several kilometers east of Basset Space Center.  However, that’s not why you’ve all been assembled here.

Your mission will be to cross the Ceres Ocean and attempt to reestablish radio contact with Yuktobania.  You’ll be passing by the old base at Sand Island first before heading towards Murska, where the Yukes will hopefully be able to pick us up on their radar and figure out how to get a more permanent form of long-distance communication back up and running.  Alternatively, we’ll also be investigating as to whether the disaster that just struck us also affected them.

We may be unofficially in a state of emergency, but we’re not in a war with anyone just yet.  Therefore, you are to maintain trigger discipline at all times and not to fire at any unknown signatures unless they start shooting at us!  Osea and Yuktobania have had a good thing going since the Circum-Pacific War ended, and it would be a waste if we threw all that away over some kind of miscommunication.  This is a humanitarian mission, not a military one.

That should be all that you need to know; get to your planes as soon as you can!

[UNKNOWN] — January 1, 2019

“Uhhhh…Wiseman, that coast we’re seeing…that isn’t Yuktobania, is it?”

Cyclops One looked down at the mountainous coastline, observing with slight confusion the castle and surrounding villages below.  “Hmm.  Long Caster, are you sure your radar’s working properly?  This place looks more Verusan than anywhere in Yuktobania I’ve been to.”

“I’ve double-checked my instruments, Wiseman, and the fact that only half of our sensors are working right now could be making some slight discrepancies, but I’m fairly certain this is accurate—we should be roughly four hundred kilometers south of the Pobeda Peninsula.”  The AWACS operator frowned, pushing his plate to the side and peering closer at his display.  “What the hell is this place?”

“We could be near Tigre Port—maybe we’re slightly off course from what your instruments are telling us,” Cyclops Four volunteered.  “At this point, though, we’d have the coast guard radioing us—maybe the disaster affected their ability to communicate?”

“If that were the case, Húxiān, why am I not seeing any modern infrastructure?  And why am I seeing a dragon of all things at twelve o’clock—”

“Wiseman, evade!”

“Sixth Wyvern Squadron to Control!  We nearly had a mid-air collision with one of the unknown objects!”

Marl Patima slowly felt the blood flow back into his veins after the black object barely managed to swerve out of the way, a surge of wind nearly sending him and his wyvern spiraling out of control.  Even as the knight grabbed desperately to his reins in an attempt to keep up with the foreign birds, the split-second sight of the craft up close continued to sear itself into his mind—clearly, it was a mechanical object of some kind belonging to an unknown nation.  The figure within was a clear sign of that, as was the unusual flag on its tail—blue and white, with six—no, seven stars in a circle.

Who were these intruders?  And what did they want with Qua-Toyne?

The knight quickly looked towards the objects as they slowly disappeared over the horizon, trying to figure out where they were headed—

“Sixth Wyvern Squadron to Control, be advised: we can’t keep up with the unknown objects!  They’re flying faster and higher than we can achieve, and they’re headed towards Maihark!”

“That definitely does not corroborate with anything in Verusa or Yuktobania, Wiseman.”

The LRSSG squadron leader nodded.  “Affirmative.  It looks like we’re dealing with an unknown third party somewhere in the middle of the Ceres Ocean—their ships look like Emmerian schooners, the towns like something out of the old Stovie fairy tales.”

“I think our presence might be causing a bit of stir amongst the locals,” Lanza observed.  “Look down at the castle walls!”

“They’re deploying their defensive measures, but I don’t see any AA units or SAM sites.  Should we try to communicate with them?”

“Hang on, let me try,” Long Caster responded, quickly leaning towards his microphone.  “This is AWACS Long Caster of the Osean Long Range Strategic Strike Group.  Does anyone copy, over?  I say again, this is AWACS Long Caster of the Osean Long Range Strategic Strike Group to all radio signatures, does anyone copy?”

“Hey, does anyone have a camera?  Might be useful to take some shots for HQ to analyze when we get back.”

“Already on it.”  Cyclops Four’s camera could be heard clicking over the radio.

“…this is the Headquarters of the Qua-Toyne Principality to the AWACS Long Caster, we receive your transmission.  You are currently within our airspace and above our cities.  State your intention within our lands immediately or we will consider you to be hostile!”

Lanza frowned.  “Damn, straight to the point.  Definitely haven’t heard of a Qua-Toyne before, though.  What are we doing, Wiseman?”

“Play it cool, don’t shoot until I say so—for all we know, Yuktobania might be going through some kind of civil war and we wouldn’t even know.  Let’s head back to base and report our findings, and let the diplomats figure things out afterwards.  Long Caster?”

“Roger.  Long Caster to Qua-Toyne, our aircraft was performing reconnaissance after a natural disaster on our homeland knocked out our sensors, and we seemed to have gotten off course of our original destination.  We’ll be heading out of your airspace as soon as possible and apologize for the intrusion.”

“Copy.  We’ll be observing your craft as they leave the airspace, just as a precaution.”

“Roger, out.” 

Lanza shook his head in amusement.  “Dragons, and now nations out of nowhere.  What the hell did we just get ourselves into, Wiseman?”

“Something a whole lot different than we’re used to, that’s for sure.”

Bright Hill, Oured, Osean Federation — January 4, 2019

“Qua-Toyne?”

“Yes, Mr. President,” Vice Chairman Edwards replied, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.  “The name doesn’t corroborate with any known locations, individuals, movements, or…well, anything or significance anywhere within Yuktobania or even anywhere else on Earth.  That said, the information and intelligence picked up by the LRSSG has been verified by our experts as legitimate, so we are definitely looking at an unknown nation that we know next to nothing about where Yuktobania was supposed to be.”

President Bartlett sighed in frustration.  “How about the situation with Selatapura?”

“From our readings, it appears the nation somehow managed to transfer itself from Usea to the western coast of Osea, right between Bassett and Shannon on the edge of Forster Bay.  Basically, the entire city-state’s been transformed into an island nation complete with the port, city center, financial district, and the space elevator itself—all intact and functional.  We’re in the process of reestablishing permanent communications with them and providing aid where necessary.”

“So…what exactly are we looking at?  What about these stories I’m hearing about our border with Belka and Sapin being a coast and Perbla just vanishing?”

Edwards grimaced.  “Mr. President, I think we might be looking at some kind of nationwide transference.”

“…tell me you’re pulling my leg.”

“Mr. President, none of our satellites are operational, none of the nations we know of appear to exist except for one—which somehow managed to travel over an entire third of the planet without…well, any kind of consequences—and we’re dealing with creatures straight out of an Emmerian bedtime story!  I… we can’t think of any other possible explanation for it—”

“Mr. President?”

The grizzled veteran turned to the door in irritation.  “Yes, Clements, what is it?”

“We just established contact with Pilgrim One—apparently, Captain Nagase somehow ended up right over the planet when the disaster happened.  She and her crew are unharmed, and are ready to head back to the ISEV at your command.”

“Copy, make it happen.  Give Kei my regards.”  Turning back to Edwards, the president shook his head.  “What about our overseas assets?  Did we lose our guys in the IUN?”

“Surprisingly, all of our IUN boys somehow managed to find themselves in Fort Grays and Comona—the two island chains are now roughly a few hundred kilometers off the coast of Redmill and Bana City.  Everyone’s been accounted for from all departments, and we’re currently figuring out what exactly to do with them now that their objectives are…well, pretty much gone.”

“Everything and everyone?”

“Yep.”

“So our nation, our people, and our military resources—and the space elevator of all things—all got sent here for some reason, and we have yet to figure out how and why.”

“That would be the case, Mr. President—”

“Er, Mr. President?”

“Clements?  You again?  What is it this time?”

The Brigadier General quickly pushed his way into the room, hurriedly reaching for the projector currently displaying all of the data regarding the current phenomenon.  “We just received an image taken from the cockpit of Pilgrim One—you’re going to want to take a look at this, sir.”

Edwards gasped as a new photograph appeared on the board.  “My god…”

The continent of Osea remained as intact as ever, but where Sapin, Ustio, and Belka used to be blue reigned as far as the eye could see.  A large continent dominated the western reaches of the Ceres Ocean, with a series of smaller islands along its southern shores.  For all intents and purposes, it was clear that what once was Verusa and Anea and every nation within it had quite simply ceased to exist. 

President Bartlett simply sighed.  “Yep, it’s a goddamned transference, isn’t it?”

Osean Broadcast Corporation — February 13, 2019/1639

The Osean Federation, Selatapura, the Qua-Toyne Principality, and the Kingdom of Quila signed a formal agreement today at the port of Maihark, officially establishing diplomatic and economic ties between the four nations.  This is the first major diplomatic agreement that Osea and Selatapura have taken since the New Year’s phenomenon that displaced both nations from our original reality.

In addition to setting up communications and trade between the four nations, Qua-Toyne agreed to export food and livestock to Osea and Selatapura in return for the technology required to meet and maintain the expected high demand.  The Kingdom of Quila also agreed to allow Osean companies into their territories in order to extract natural resources believed to exist within the region, in return for a share of the profits; Neucom Incorporated, General Resource Limited, and Gründer Industries have already submitted proposals for operations to begin as soon as next month.

Leading the Osean and Selatapuran delegates was former President Harling, who met with Qua-Toyne’s Prime Minister Kanata and Quila’s King Gur’mach in an exchange of greetings and invitations to visit each other’s nations.  Known for his pivotal role in ending the Circum-Pacific War and his humanitarian efforts in Usea following the Ulysses Disaster and the subsequent Continental War, the former President was viewed by many in Bright Hill as the ideal ambassador for Osea’s continuing policy of encouraging and fostering peace and cooperation amongst all peoples, both in our own world and in this new one.

In other news, bipartisan calls for the state of Selatapura itself to formally join the Osean Federation have increased among members of the nation-state’s Parliament, who stressed the need for closer ties and security in the face of a highly uncertain future and their pivotal role as the caretakers of the International Space Elevator—

Chapter Text

MacNealy Air Force Base, Osean Federation — April 13, 2019/1639

Right, people—it looks like we’re going to be entering our first armed conflict within the New World!  Settle down, and I’ll let you in on the details.

With the new treaty that we’ve signed with Qua-Toyne and Quila, we are now economically and financially dependent on them in order to not starve—therefore, any threat to them is by extension a threat to us.  And yesterday, their neighbor became just that—this, folks, is the Kingdom of Louria: an absolute monarchy located right along the western borders of Qua-Toyne, with visions of eradicating all non-humans amongst its neighbors and becoming the local power in the region.  We’ve received confirmation both from observers at the ISEV and in Maihark that several armies have crossed the border and are now in the process of pillaging the border town of Gim; the situation looks grim for the local inhabitants, and we’re fairly certain that what we’re seeing could easily be replicated throughout the island if Louria’s not stopped.  That’s where we come in—on both economic, political, and humanitarian grounds, we’ve volunteered to deploy our armed forces to halt the invasion and force the Lourian government to stand down.

The Lourian invasion consists of two fronts: a naval fleet along the coastline heading towards Maihark, and a ground offensive making its way to the capital of Qua-Toyne itself.  Our primary objectives will be to first neutralize these offensives before striking Louria’s capital of Jin-Hark—a naval fleet led by the Kestrel II will intercept the former, after which paratroopers and air assets will deploy into the outskirts of Gim and liberate the city.  Both groups will then converge at Jin-Hark, where elements of the LRSSG will have softened up the place for us; needless to say, we’ll be capturing the leadership and bringing them to Osea where they’ll likely face trial for whatever war crimes we uncover along the way.  Mage and Golem Squadrons, you’ll be transferred to the Kestrel II and deployed on all subsequent sorties from there; the LRSSG will also be stationed on the Kestrel while headed to Jin-Hark, so play nice.  

The upcoming naval battle is expected to be a simple affair of eliminating as many ships as possible—barring any unknown magical abilities, the sheer technological disparity between the Lourians and ourselves means that we have a significant advantage over the enemy.  However, this does not mean that we can simply underestimate them—no ship is to make it even close to our carrier fleet and give the invaders a chance of close-quarters combat.  Similarly, none of the enemy’s air units are to make even a single scratch out of the Kestrel or the Puffin—that’ll be up to you pilots to deal with.

Consider both the upcoming naval battle and the liberation of Gim to be a show of force, both for our allies and the Lourians—make it clear that we’re not to be trifled with and that we can be depended upon to defend our friends and uphold our values anytime we like.  Any questions?

Rodenius Sea — April 25, 2019/1639

“Whoah,” Cyclops One exclaimed as a single F-15C narrowly shot past his fighter and laid waste to yet another Lourian vessel, “Mage Two’s really going at it!”

“I’ll bet,” Húxiān’s voice spoke on the radio with no small amount of awe, “that’s got to be the fiftieth boat he’s splashed so far—isn’t he running out of ordinance at this point?”

“With these vessels, missiles are pretty much overkill—and besides, Trigger, aren’t you supposed to be sticking to your wingman?”  

If the rookie in the IUN squadron heard his commanding officer’s chiding remark, he showed no response even as he swooped around to make another pass—a barrage of machine-gun and PLSL fire caused a particularly large galley to combust and burst into flames, sending debris and unfortunate sailors flying across the battlefield.  Even as Wiseman turned his head to his periphery, he could spot Mage Two releasing a salvo of missiles on an unsuspecting wyvern carrier, clearly enjoying himself in what was quickly turning into a glorified turkey shoot.  Shaking his head in clear incredulity, the veteran pilot refocused his attention to his target: a flagship with several large sails and what appeared to be several important individuals aboard, judging by the bright colors they were wearing.

“Cyclops One, visual on target—Fox Three!”

A missile shot forwards gracefully from his plane and onto the doomed vessel, hitting its mark with perfect accuracy.  The results were near-instantaneous: the exploding payload caused the hull to rupture as the numerous containers of gunpowder within were ignited and combusted in a fiery reaction, a billowing fireball cracking the ship in half before sending it downwards into a watery grave.

“Splash one, Long Caster.  How’s the battle going?”

“Swimmingly.  We’re just pounding our way straight through the Lourian fleet—wait, hang on.  Several wyverns appear to have made it past our AA network and are now attempting to open fire on the Kestrel itself—eliminate the enemy air assets before they can cause any unnecessary damage to the carrier!”

“Copy, moving—”

Mage Two shot right past Wiseman’s fighter yet again in another reckless feat of piloting, narrowly avoiding a mid-air collision at roughly Mach 2 as the IUN pilot almost immediately began to shoot at the aforementioned wyverns.  Each creature couldn’t evade the deadly beams of light aimed at them and were struck almost instantly, hurling their riders off and writhing in pain before being knocked from the sky by the Kestrel’s CIWS systems—the rookie pilot simply blasted straight through the maelstrom of bullets and otherworldly carnage, a quick flourish smoothly shearing through the mess like a steak knife through a slab of meat.

“—nevermind, Trigger splashed the entire set of bogeys!  This guy’s good!”

Golem One, the leader of the IUN contingent, let out a dry, sarcastic laugh. “Yeah, showing off to the pros, eh, rookie?  What are you trying to do, get a transfer?”

“I think Trigger might be getting aspirational, boss.  That, or he really needs to get out for sorties a bit more.”

“It’s a shame the kid doesn’t talk that much—maybe if he asked nicely, he might actually get that sweet spot he always wanted with the Big Shots.”  Clown’s voice was dry and sardonic, but Wiseman could sense his fellow pilot’s amusement even as both pilots maneuvered in close coordination across several sinking Lourian vessels, sending ripples of water to splash on the beleaguered wrecks.  In a good mood, the ace decided to join in on the fun.

“Hmmm, maybe I could use an extra pilot on my wing.  Lanza, what would you say about having another rookie join our team?”

“Another one?  I thought you were already happy with Húxiān!”

“Hey, at least I don’t act like I’m constantly trying to kiss Wiseman’s ass unlike Mr. Trigger-Happy here—”

“‘Mr. Trigger-Happy’?  Now that’s something I’m going to have to remember to use on my wingman again later—”

“You do realize,” Long Caster drily interjected over the radio, “that while you folks keep roasting the poor fellow, he’s gone and splashed over thirty-two ships?  And that’s not even mentioning all the wyverns I’m seeing vanishing all over my radar—yep, there goes another one.   Good work, Trigger.”

A faint grumble could be heard on the radio, yet loud enough for every pilot present to hear. Wiseman’s eyebrows rose, his lips twisting into a grin.

“You did hear that, right?”

“Well, well, well—so he can talk after all!  He’s not a mute, folks!”

A chorus of lively cheers and raucous laughter echoed among the aces even as the battle raged on, the screaming and dying Lourians none the wiser.

Osean Broadcast Corporation — April 26, 2019/1639

In a public statement this morning, the Osean Department of Defense confirmed that the Kestrel Fleet engaged and successfully neutralized the Kingdom of Louria’s naval forces in battle.  A coalition of Osean and IUN forces were able to quickly establish naval and aerial superiority over the less technologically advanced Lourian vessels, which were quickly annihilated and surrendered after suffering overwhelming casualties.  Vice Chairman Edwards of the Osean Defence Forces’ Joint Chiefs of Staff stated that no lives within the IUN coalition were lost and that its vessels only suffered slight damage due to Lourian magic; the victory ensures that the coalition of Osean and Selatapuran forces will be able to make landfall and begin liberating the occupied regions of Qua-Toyne, as well as directly attacking military targets within Louria itself.

In other news, diplomatic relations were formally established between the Osean Federation and the Kingdom of Fenn, as well as the Gahara Thearchy.  A delegation aboard the OFS Puffin arrived at the two islands after several days at sea, and upon arrival they were greeted by the local authorities without incident.  Both nations are located on two adjacent islands roughly six hundred kilometers north of Maihark and 1,500 kilometers west of Cape Landers.  

Officials in the Osean Department of Foreign Affairs also stated that once satellite readings of possible nations within the continent of Philades are complete and the conflict in Louria has been resolved, diplomatic missions will be sent to the continent as well.

The IUN has formally invited Qua-Toyne and Quila to send representatives to its General Assembly as non-member observers in a formal statement issued this afternoon.  Despite calls for the institution to be disbanded in light of the vast majority of its members no longer existing in this reality, Ambassador Johnson insisted that the organization still represents an opportunity for nations of the wider international community to participate in peaceful cooperation, and that further contact with other nations in the New World will eventually result in more members:

“The conflict in Qua-Toyne, along with the rumors of countless atrocities in Gim, serve as a reminder of the importance of our mission even in these uncertain times: to ensure the basic rights and liberties of each individual are respected and the lives of each person or being are kept free from the horrors of war, regardless of whoever they may be or where they may originate—”

Chapter Text

OFS Kestrel II — May 3, 2019/1639

All right, folks—it’s finally time for our forces to liberate the town of Gim from the Lourians!  Airborne units are already en route to the city and will begin deploying into the town’s outskirts in about an hour, so I expect you to be in the air as soon as this briefing ends.

With the destruction of the Lourian fleet at sea and their advance force halted at Ejey by our helicopter divisions, the garrison at Gim is the only remaining military force within Qua-Toyne itself—once that has been dealt with, we will be able to focus on Jin-Hark and bring about a swift end to the conflict.  Our primary objectives in the upcoming battle will be to secure air superiority and eliminate all enemy weaponry that could be used to hinder our ground forces’ advance.  As per our previous sortie, the sheer disparity should mean that any resistance will be quickly eliminated.

Once the DZ for our paratroopers has been secured, the OGDF will deploy and move into the town itself—they will likely begin marking targets of interest for us to take out, but at that point they will likely already be able to handle all remaining threats on their own.

It’s a fairly simple operation—I’d be surprised if we actually take any losses.  Any questions?

Gim, Qua-Toyne Principality — May 3, 2019/1639

“This is AWACS Skykeeper to Golem and Mage Squadrons—you’re all cleared to engage the Lourians.”

“Copy that.”  Knocker’s eyes panned towards the field before the smoldering ruins of Gim, observing the still-visible carnage below.  “Damn, looks like we couldn't have arrived any sooner.”

“I think I can see bodies on the streets!  Are those civilians?!”

“There’s no point worrying about them, Brownie,” Mage One sighed.  “At least we’re here now, and we can put a stop to all this.  Golem One, how are we dealing with this?”

“Right.  We’ll establish air superiority first by eliminating all their wyverns, hopefully before they can deploy and attempt to attack us.  Head for the stables and take out everything in it—”

“And off Trigger goes again!”

“—eh, screw it.  Clown, get your ass moving!”

“What the hell do you think I’m doing?!  Trigger, wait for me, you idiot!”

Gunning hard on the engines, Mage Squadron’s most insane member shot forward on his Mirage and almost immediately began spewing missiles and machine gun fire at the wyverns parked before the makeshift barracks—in a majestic swoop, Mage Two proceeded to reduce almost every one of Louria’s prized beasts into gibs of wyvern flesh.  Clown soared in not too long after, a well-aimed GPB mopping up the remaining human survivors within the vicinity.

“Mage One here: all enemy air assets eliminated.  Moving to deal with the remaining ground defenses.”

Knocker nodded in acknowledgement.  “Copy.  Golem Squadron, let’s deal with the defenses facing our advance; Mage Squadron, head to the ones facing the border.  We might actually be well ahead of schedule.”

“In other words, Trigger needs to calm down?”

“…yeah, sure, why not?”

Clearing up whatever defenses the Lourians hadn’t already destroyed in their efforts to capture the city was a simple task of merely lining up the reticle with the designated targets and releasing the payload—without any radar targets to lock on to, the IUN fighters brought along simple bombs and rockets.  Each projectile quickly found their mark, a series of bright flashes marking another ballista eliminated or a defensive tower collapsing into the panicking soldiers below.  In a few minutes, the best pilots of the Old World had successfully rendered almost every asset capable of hindering the Osean advance ineffective, no better than the ruined buildings they were meant to defend.

“Sky Keeper to Golem One, we’ve received confirmation that the paratroopers assigned to liberate Gim will be arriving shortly.  Is the drop zone clear, over?”

“Affirmative, the DZ is clear and all major enemy defenses are no factor!  Tell our boys the path is clear!”

“Roger, I’ll spread the word.  Great job out there; remain at the AO for further tasking, but I’m not expecting anything else to happen—”

“This is the Osean 5th Paratrooper Division, ready to deploy!  You ready for some action, boys?!”

“Locked and loaded!  Woohoo!”

“All right, we’re over the DZ!  Go, go, go!”

As the carrier planes soared over the field, several dozen armored vehicles along with scores of infantry shot out of their holds and glided gracefully downwards as their parachutes quickly deployed.  From far above, the IUN pilots could see the numerous inhabitants and soldiers within Gim gawking at the otherworldly sight—

“Wait, what the hell is that—”

“Watch out for whatever that is!”

Out of nowhere, a glowing ball of blue light smashed onto a tank still in the process of floating to the ground, exploding in a blinding flash.  Knocker winced and raised his hand to block the blast, his plane complaining even as he maneuvered to avoid any possible shockwave.

“What was that?!  Where the hell did that come from?!”

“Hey, are those guys alright?”

“Affirmative!  There’s a huge scorch mark on the side of the tank and our electronics are fried, but we’re still alive!”

The squadron leader snarled, quickly switching his radio back on.  “Golem One to Sky Keeper, be advised: we may have magic in play amongst the Lourian defenders.  Attacks may have EMP capabilities, but we’re unsure as to what extent are they capable of further damaging the Osean ground units.”

“Copy, I’m relaying this information to HQ; try and locate where the attacks are coming from.  The mission remains the same: stop anyone in Gim from attacking our forces!”

“That’s our cue.  Brownie, you see anything?”

“Negative.” Golem Two looked at the smoking town below.  “ I’d guess any magicians would likely be deploying from a high vantage point or a defensive position we haven’t struck yet—hang on, another blue ball just emerged from the citadel, over at the main keep!”

“Crap, it’s headed towards the tanks again!  Somebody stop that magic shit before it does any more damage!”

“It’s no use, my missiles and guns aren’t doing anything!”  Clown angrily barked onto the mic, “Trigger, try and see if you have any luck—”

“Direct hit on another tank!”

“Fuck!  Trigger, you still have one of those GPBs?  Blow that damn keep to kingdom come!”

A lone Mirage shot downwards from the sky towards the keep, where a single man in robes could be faintly seen raising a staff in the air.  From the very tip, another blue ball could be seen coalescing and rapidly expanding—and as Knocker watched, it promptly shot forward, this time avoiding the landing tanks and instead soaring upwards to meet Mage Two.

“Trigger, incoming!  Evade, dammit!”

Through some inhuman feat of piloting, Mage Two’s fighter performed a barrel roll at literally the last second—the magical ball of pure energy shot right past the Mirage but slowly began to circle back around, slowly inching its way back to Trigger.

Sky Keeper’s voice burst through the radio.  “ Mage Two, Fox Three!  Now evade that damn magic beam!”

“Trigger,” Clown spoke up, “if that magic works like a homing missile, you might be able to confuse it with your countermeasures.  If that doesn’t work, then maybe you could try making it fly into a wall at the last second—use one of the ruins to avoid civilian casualties.”

“Tracking the GPB Trigger dropped,” Brownie nervously observed, “and it’s…impact!  Direct hit!”

“Affirmative, enemy mage splashed.  Nice one, Trigger—now use those countermeasures!”

“He’s dumping flares!”

A series of bright chaff and debris shot out from the rear of Trigger’s Mirage, the bright heat signatures causing the bolt to swivel and swirl uncontrollably in its course.  The plane arched and pointed upwards as its trajectory saw it curve just above the ground, sending a blast of supersonic air billowing through the surrounding neighborhood—Trigger soared upwards just as the bolt smacked onto the street below, exploding in yet another blinding burst of light.

“Yeah, good work, Mage Two!  Looks like that takes care of all the remaining defenders!”

“OGDF forces calling HQ, be advised: we’ve landed on the DZ and repaired the damaged vics; we are now en route to the city gates!  Hey, Steve, play that thing on the loudspeaker, will you?”

To all Lourian soldiers in the town of Gim:

This is a message representing the Osean Ground Defense Forces on behalf of the International United Nations and the Qua-Toyne Principality.  We are here to officially expel all Lourian forces from Gim and all other territories of the Qua-Toyne Principality currently under illegal occupation by the Kingdom of Louria.  We have successfully eliminated all ground and aerial assets capable of damaging our equipment, and our technology is capable of rendering any attempts at resisting futile; we therefore call on all remaining forces within Louria to surrender immediately to our advancing forces.

All those who surrender will be treated in accordance with international law, and will be returned to the Kingdom of Louria following the direct resolution of the ongoing conflict.  In order to signal your intent to surrender, please wave a white flag above your current position and lay down your weapons—your lives will be spared, and you will not be harmed in any way.  This offer will remain open, but any attempt to resist or retaliate will be met in kind.

I say again, this is a message representing the Osean Ground Defense Forces…

Bright Hill, Oured, Osean Federation — May 5, 2019/1639

Taken from government records detailing a meeting between Osean and IUN government officials regarding the future of both the Osean Federation and the International United Nations in the world of Elysia.  

Present at the meeting were all major leadership members of both organizations, along with Ambassador Anders on behalf of the Osean Foreign Department and Captain Kei Nagase on behalf of the Osean Aeronautics and Space Association.  Captain Nagase participated via videolink due to her duties aboard Pilgrim One, which as of writing was in orbit over Elysia performing reconnaissance and observation on several continents west of Rodenius and Philades.

During the meeting, several points were raised regarding the current situation faced by both entities:

• The ongoing efforts by the IUN-PKF to resolve the conflict in Qua-Toyne and Louria
• The use of magic by Lourian forces during the liberation of Gim
• The future of Pilgrim One and its crew in light of its original objective being rendered moot
• The limbo status of non-Osean and non-Selatapuran individuals in Osea during the Transference
• The ongoing integration of the recently-annexed City of Selatapura into the Osean Federation; on a related note, concerns expressed by Qua-Toyne and Quila regarding the purpose of the IUN following the aforementioned annexation
• The formal requests by the the Kingdom of Fenn, the Kingdom of Calamique, and the Kingdom of Gahara to send observers to the IUN following the opening of diplomatic relations and trade with the aforementioned nations
• A formal request from the Kingdom of Topa to be admitted into the IUN almost immediately after diplomatic relations were established
• Reports of nations with significant levels of industrialisation and technology beyond the Philades continent
• Confirmed reports of a “Parpaldian Empire” within the Philades Continent itself, believed to have near-homogenous control of the entire region and to be highly aggressive and imperialistic in their approach to foreign policy
• Rumors of an “Ancient Sorcerous Empire” or “Ravernal Empire” capable of wielding magic and technology arguably on par with the Belkan Federation prior to the War of 1995
• The confirmed presence of [REDACTED] within the Osean Federation prior to the Transference, and the possible presence of other individuals of interest within the Federation itself

Information gathered by a mixture of intelligence operatives, observers within both the OSDF and the IUN-PKF, diplomats and embassies of the Osean Foreign Department, and scientific data from Pilgrim One was gathered and deliberated over in order to devise a long-term foreign policy for both the Osean Federation and the IUN.  Several members emphasized the importance of maintaining peace and not succumbing to the expansionist policies it pursued prior to the War of 1995 and the Ulysses Disaster, while others argued that the highly aggressive behavior of the nation-states within Elysia mandated a strong military in order to dissuade would-be rivals from interfering with Osea and its partners.  A variety of proposals were brought up and were heavily scrutinized by those present, before several were agreed upon by general consensus:

• To continue plans to establish a constitutional monarchy within the Kingdom of Louria after the successful conclusion of the conflict in Qua-Toyne, and to offer IUN non-member observer status as part of any future peace agreement
• To admit the Kingdoms of Fenn, Calamique, and Gahara as non-member observers to the IUN and to send observers to the Kingdom of Topa to examine the ongoing situation and determine why it has requested immediate membership
• To order Pilgrim One to return to Selatapura via the ISEV and begin construction on a second Pilgrim craft, its purpose being to continue its predecessor’s current mission of observing and studying Elysia and its surrounding solar neighborhood
• To complete the ongoing census in order to establish a full picture of the current population of the Osean Federation and to identify and provide Osean citizenship to all non-Oseans and non-Selatapurans within the nation
• To begin research into the Ravernal Empire in order to determine the full extent of its technological capabilities 
• To begin research into the potential of magic and psionic energy within the Osean Federation and its armed forces
• To begin mass production of the Advanced Dominance Fighter series and begin testing of the Connection For Flight Interface on OADF fighters
• To begin looking into a possible expansion of Arsenal Birds’ range beyond their current limit of 1,500 kilometers as well as its offensive capabilities
• To commission a feasibility study on constructing more advanced aerial vessels for diplomatic and military purposes beyond Rodenius and Philades
• To deploy the OFS Admiral Andersen along with a sizeable naval and aerial escort to the Parpaldian capital of Eshirant in order to formally establish diplomatic relations with the Parpaldian Empire  

All legislation and motions pertaining to the policies adopted by the Osean Federation and the IUN as a result of the meeting are to be introduced to their respective departments within twenty-four hours of the meeting’s conclusion.

Chapter Text

OFS Kestrel II — June 15, 2019/1639

It is now time to take on the capital of Louria itself!    The Osean battle plan will once again rely on our air force to eliminate any assets that the Lourians may attempt to use against our naval and ground forces.

The LRSSG will first secure air superiority over the city of Jin-Hark, before moving to neutralise AA and ground units defending the city walls.  Ground forces advancing from Gim will proceed to break through the eastern gate and secure all administrative buildings in the capital, while a team of special forces will infiltrate the castle itself and capture the King, whom we believe to be the mastermind behind the invasion of Qua-Toyne.

The technological disparity between us and the Lourians remains as wide as ever, but our scientists believe that the enemy’s magic capabilities could cause significant damage to your planes.  Be wary at all times, and do not underestimate these people—for them, the survival of their kingdom and their way of life is at stake…

Jin-Hark, Kingdom of Louria — June 16, 2019/1639

“This is Long Caster to all callsigns: you are cleared to engage the Lourians.  Pick whatever dish you like, cause we definitely aren’t going to pay for it!”

“Copy that, Long Caster.  Strider and Cyclops Squadrons, start dining!  Engage at will!”

Húxiān grinned savagely as her commanding officer quickly swooped down towards the harbour.  “Got several Lourian vessels down at the harbour—looks like three schooners and two wyvern carriers trying to flee.  Hey, you got any LASMs by any chance?”

“Way ahead of you, Cyclops Four.  Use your lasers to take out anything that survives the blast.”

“Wilco—firing…now!”

Two anti-ship missiles burst through the wooden surfaces of the ill-fated wyvern carriers, setting off a chain reaction of magical, biological, and chemical explosions that almost instantly consumed the mouth of the harbour in a giant, bright emerald fireball.  Wiseman and Húxiān veered sharply upwards to dodge their fiery handiwork, admiring their results while already locking on to their next targets: a pair of ballistas being hauled towards the piers, their crew already starting to run away from their would-be executioners.

In a matter of minutes, a series of explosions had rocked the city surrounding the castle, the King residing within no doubt observing his armies collapse all around him.  To the north, several Chinooks buzzed noisily through the smoke and flames, its passengers seeking a quick end to the conflict with their target in their custody.

“Long Caster, this is Basilisk Team.  We’re approaching the AO and are preparing to deploy into the designated LZ; are we cleared to land?”

“Affirmative—all enemy AA and ground units are either combat ineffective or busy elsewhere.  You’re cleared to begin operations, but keep an eye out for—”

Húxiān’s eyes widened.  “Magic!  They’re shooting magic at the helicopters like AA rounds!  Evade!”

“Watch out for the magic yourself, Húxiān!  There’s a glowing ball on your six, closing fast!”

“What?  Shit, evading!”

Basilisk Actual groaned as he slowly pulled himself out of the wreckage of the downed Chinook.  “That’s definitely one for the books…is everyone alright?”

“I think we got a few injured near the front, boss!”

“Basilisk Team, report!  This is Long Caster—what is your status?  Are you alive?”

Quickly reaching for the radio of a nearby Osean, Basilisk Actual barked angrily into the receiver.  “We’re alive, but we have casualties in need of medevac!  Squads One to Five, what’s your status?”

“We managed to dodge most of the magic that they sent, but Three was also hit!  They were able to make an emergency landing, but they’re also taking contacts from the local garrisons!  What are your orders, boss?”

“Waste the magic bastards and then proceed with the mission!  We’ll try and hold out here until the regular forces arrive!”

“Wilco, out!”

“Got a visual on the mages—they’re at the top of the keep, Boss!  Are we cleared to hit them?”

“Negative, negative, Lanza—any bombs or missiles we drop on them may bring down the castle itself and bury our HVT.  Use your guns or lasers to take them out!”

“Already on it,” Cyclops Four spat out, slowly manoeuvring to face her reticle at the keep itself, “firing at their shields!”

“Oh, no—”

“Jaeger, what is it?”

“Wiseman, the GPB we dropped on the gate ended up blocking the path for our forces to enter the city.  They’re going to have to go around while their engineers remove the rubble.”

Long Caster’s voice quickly responded.  “Copy.  Your new objectives are as follows: eliminate any mages that try to fire on the remaining Chinooks, destroy the northern gate without causing too much damage, and take out any ground targets that Basilisk Actual designates for us.”

“Copy.  You heard him, people—let’s fly!”

“Basilisk 1-4 to Long Caster; we’ve entered the throne room, but the HVT is nowhere in sight.  We’ve got two civilians in here, though—females, by the looks of it.”

“What?  We haven’t seen any carriages or thermal signatures to suggest the King might have left the castle—”

“Shit, behind the pillars!  Open fire!”

A dozen figures clad in silver sprung out at the operatives, immediately grappling with several Oseans for their rifles or attempting to stab them—the other soldiers were quick to respond, a series of sharp staccatos swiftly bringing down their assailants.  

“Bayonets, bayonets—get your hands off my gun!  Sand, pop him!”

“Forward!  Forward!  Glory to Louria!” 

“No nades, no nades!  We might hit the women!”

“Do not let these Oseans break through—”

“Oh, shut the hell up!”

With a final gurgle, the last of the Royal Guards collapsed onto the castle floor in a pool of their own blood.  Basilisk 1-4 sighed as his men swept the throne room once more for any unpleasant surprises—he glanced towards the two women, who were now cowering behind the throne in sheer terror.

“Somebody calm those civvies down and ask them where the hell King Hark is!”

Osean Broadcast Corporation — June 17, 2019/1639

In a public statement this morning, the Osean Department of Defense confirmed that the capital of the Kingdom of Louria, Jin-Hark, was captured by IUN ground and naval forces in a fierce battle yesterday afternoon.  King Hark Louria XXXIV was also captured and is now in IUN custody, and he will likely face trial for the atrocities committed by his armies in Gim and western Qua-Toyne.

IUN forces faced fierce resistance from the Lourian defenders, and strong magical attacks were able to disable vehicles and cause severe injuries amongst the Osean and Selatapuran forces—however, elements of the Osean Air Defense Force were able to destroy the enemy’s mages before they could cause any more disruption to the general advance.  With most of Louria’s armed forces either captured or destroyed, Vice Chairman Edwards of the Osean Defence Forces’ Joint Chiefs of Staff stated that the Kingdom’s capitulation appears to be all but inevitable at this point:

“We call upon all remaining soldiers within the Kingdom of Louria to lay down their weapons and cease fighting; we will treat them with the dignity and respect afforded to all prisoners of war under international law.  We believe that the process of negotiating peace with the Kingdom will be as swift and successful as this offensive proved to be, and we are looking forward to working with the Lourian government towards reconstruction and reparations towards the peoples that they wronged—”

In other news, the OFS Admiral Andersen arrived at the Parpaldian Empire’s capital of Eshirant yesterday, where Ambassador Harling was received by Director Kaios of the Departments of Foreign Affairs.  Despite several minor misunderstandings, the two parties were able to successfully smooth over their differences; they were later joined by Lady Remille of the Royal Family, who welcomed the Ambassador to the Empire and formally opened diplomatic relations with the Osean Federation.

A separate diplomatic mission also made contact with the Kingdom of Altaras, an island nation to the south of Parpaldia and east of Louria.  A formal invitation was extended to both Parpaldia and Altaras to send delegates as non-member observers to the IUN; both offers were quickly accepted by the two nations, and their representatives will be accompanying the respective Osean delegations back to Oured.

The Kingdom of Fenn has announced that its upcoming naval festival will be taking place as planned; in an official statement, the Fennese government confirmed that it would take measures to ensure that—

Chapter Text

OFS Kestrel II, Amanoki, Fenn Kingdom — July 30, 2019/1639

I’m going to make this briefing quick, as we’re expected to be in the AO as soon as possible.

As we are all no doubt aware, the Kestrel II and its escorts are currently in the Fennese capital of Amanoki, where several naval fleets from across the New World are attending a local festival—some kind of expo where the local powers can show off their military might.  Needless to say, Osea thought it was a good idea for us to show off our own naval capabilities by deploying the carrier fleet responsible for Louria’s destruction, as well as an opportunity to make contact with ‘bigger fish in the pond’, as Harling put it.

While this approach has proven to be a success, and we have in fact established secure lines of communication with a few major powers in the region, we also appear to have attracted some unwanted guests.  The OFS Puffin was patrolling the waters to the north of Amanoki when they sighted over fifty pirate vessels, likely heading south to launch a raid on the capital itself—the Puffin has successfully held off the vast majority of the enemy fleet but is now at risk of being overwhelmed through sheer numbers, and now requires our assistance in order to pull back and regroup with the rest of the Kestrel II force.

Reports so far indicate that the enemy has only a limited amount of aerial assets and AA weaponry, with magical assets being limited to propulsion and increased accuracy.  Be prepared, regardless—we do not want to risk any unnecessary casualties, especially with representatives from all over the continent watching us.

Any questions?

Twenty kilometres north off the coast of Amanoki — July 30, 2019/1639

“This is the OFS Puffin to the Kestrel !   Give me an ETA on that air support, because those ships are still going no matter how many of them we sink!”

“Hey, Sky Keeper, isn’t that our cue?”

“Way ahead of you, Mage One.  OFS Puffin , this is AWACS Sky Keeper—I’ve got two fighter squadrons en route to you now, callsigns Mage and Golem.  ETA: one minute.”

“Good to hear your voice, Sky Keeper!  This is Captain Robin Airey of the OFS Puffin —we’ve sunk over ten of the fifty vessels we first sighted, but we aren’t equipped to deal with this many vessels and in such rapid succession.  Can you give us some breathing space?”

Clown frowned.  “Knocker, Trigger and I can swat the vessels closest to the Puffin while you hit the key points of the enemy formations.  If we can block entire parts of the pirate fleet from advancing with a few wrecks—”

“—we could split up the entire group and force them to hold back while the Puffin retreats.  Good idea, let’s make it happen.”

“Trigger, on me!”

“Are those the winged wyverns of Osea?!  Those aren’t beasts at all—they’re mechanical monstrosities straight out of Mu!”

“That one!  It’s got the markings of a demon on its tips, and it’s sinking the other vessels with the wrath of a demon itself!”

“Hey, Captain—we’ve got three more of those armoured ships on the horizon!  They’ve got more reinforcements inbound!” 

Captain Ruffle grimaced as an explosion rocked the side of his vessel, before another blast saw the frigate right next to his shatter and burst into a glowing ball of fire.  Quickly running through the options available to him even as they narrowed by the second, the young Lourian privateer began gesturing wildly towards his fellow sailors—even while partially stunned by the sheer destruction happening around them, they were still disciplined enough to begin frantically adjusting Rodenius's present course. 

“That’s it—we’re pulling out!  Blackbeard and his Core Ships can die by fire to these Ravernal monsters if they want, but not us!”

“But what if some of his Cabal survives and tries to find us, boss?”

“After all this?!  Their words ain’t gonna mean a damn thing to the rest of the Guild after all this!  Now lend me a hand with those sails before we all get sent to the Dark Hole Below—we’re gonna make it out of this shitshow alive!” 

“Trigger, we’ve got several boats breaking off from the main force—looks like they’re retreating.  Want to take them out?”

“Negative, negative—new orders from HQ: let any retreating vessels leave the AO unharmed, but destroy any that stick around or do not stand down.  The OFS Chopper will broadcast instructions for those who wish to surrender in three minutes, so keep an eye out for anyone who takes up our offer—we’re dealing with pirates, but international law still applies.”

“Let me guess: we want people to spread the word about how terrifying we are?”

“Something to that effect.  Keep at it, folks—three minutes!”

Knocker, Clown, Brownie, and Trigger’s F-16s swooped downwards towards the thickest cluster of man-of-wars and frigates, clearly still intent on chasing down the Puffin even with the odds completely stacked against them—six GPBs and a variety of missiles and machine gun fire found their targets, the former smashing cleanly through the upper decks of the massive vessels before detonating—

“Shit, evade!  Brace—”

A massive explosion engulfed what remained of the Black Fleet, once considered the most infamous pirate fleet in the entire Third Civilization Area—a blue blast of light proceeded to vaporise the shattered remains of the vessels even as they were hurled into the sky by the sheer shockwaves produced.  Clown’s left hand slowly lowered from his face as he carefully turned towards the scene: only flames and embers were left, and a great mist obscured the countless wreckage and immolated sailors floating in the sea.

“Sky Keeper, care to tell me what was that?”

“Looks like we might have hit some kind of magic gem they were keeping in storage.  The sheer energy kept inside must be immense…”

“Magic in Qua-Toyne, magic in Louria, magic here in Fenn—we really need to figure out how to fight against these kinds of things before we ever encounter even more powerful enemies,” Brownie mused on the radio.  “Someday, we’re going to find something that not even Trigger’s flying style will be able to avoid…and I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that. ”

Clown grinned.  “We’ll deal with tomorrow’s problems when tomorrow arrives, Brownie.  Let’s just take care of today, shall we?”

“Captain, on the manacomm!  Here, listen—”

“…who wish to surrender, strike your colours and raise a white flag.  Those who surrender will be treated with the dignity and care required for prisoners of war as per IUN law—”

“Do it, do it!  Raise the white flag!  Do we not have a white flag on this ship?”

“We never needed the white flag before, boss!”

“Well, grab someone’s clothes and strap that to the mast, then!”

Third Foreign Affairs Office, Eshirant, Parpaldia Empire — June 16, 2019/1639

“Director Kaios, what is the meaning of this?  I summon you to my office three times, and yet I receive no response from you or your dim-witted secretary; I am then forced to proceed to the Third Foreign Affairs Office—an incredibly long and tedious journey, and one that required significant effort to arrange, mind you—and I find you in a room sharing tea and biscuits with some barbarian emissary while a foreign metal fleet lies upon our very shores?  Explain your impudence at once!”

Kaios and the barbarian in question quickly rose to their feet, their eyes never wavering from the woman who had burst into the room.  The Parpaldian official sighed, internally cursing his people’s arrogance for almost instantly beleaguering the very delicate negotiations he had been holding with his counterpart—he hoped the man’s seemingly infinite patience would outlast his superior’s ignorance…

“If I may,” the Osean delegate began, “I take it you are—”

“Lady Remille, considering the present circumstances, I believe referring to this man and the metal fleet outside that escorted him to our lands would hardly be considered barbarian.”

The woman paused.  “Oh…so this… man, you claim, is the emissary of whatever nation that fleet comes from?  I find that doubtful, somehow.”  

“A lot of what he says about himself and his nation comes across as…unique, to say the least, but I believe it would be better if he himself said it—Ambassador Harling, this is Lady Remille, Foreign Affairs Auditor of the Parpaldia Empire.  Lady Remille, Ambassador Vincent Harling of the Osean Federation and the International United Nations.”

Ambassador Harling gave a deep, respectful bow, dignified yet succinct and surprisingly cultured for an emissary of the Third Civilization Area.  “Lady Remille, a pleasure.  The Osean Federation has heard many tales of the wealth and opulence of the Parpaldian Empire, and wished to send someone to witness the wonders of Eshirant first-hand—from its buildings to its elegant women, it seems that Parpaldia has yet to disappoint.”  

The faintest hint of a self-satisfied smirk could be spotted for the briefest of moments on Remille’s lips even as she turned to face the Osean delegate—he was finely dressed for a diplomatic mission, his black suit and azul tie smooth in appearance and his greying hairs giving the man a hint of wisdom and grace that seemed to give his previous words more strength than Remile had previously considered.  

With a brief moment’s pause, the young lady decided to hear what this Osea had to say.   

“Ambassador Harling, an apology may be in order for my outburst.  But before anything else, perhaps you might be able to explain why such a large fleet lies before my Emperor’s city?”

“Simple, Lady Remille: a gesture of strength from one nation to another—a recognition of your power and a desire on our part for your Empire to acknowledge ours...”

Osean Broadcasting Corporation — July 31, 2019/1639

IUN forces participating in the Fenn Kingdom’s naval festival were forced to engage a sizeable fleet of pirates off the coast of the Kingdom’s capital of Amanoki.  Despite being significantly outnumbered, Osean forces present in the battle had the technological advantage and were supported by elements of the OADF, who made quick work of the vast majority of the pirate fleet—of the fifty vessels that engaged the Kestrel II fleet, over forty-two were destroyed or disabled.  All surviving sailors were later picked up by Osean vessels, where they will be later extradited to Fenn for further processing under Fennese and IUN laws.

According to local sources in Fenn and Louria, this group of vessels was previously known as the Black Fleet, widely feared for its sheer size and unstoppable firepower.  Kingdoms at risk of being plundered would often give tribute or ransom to its captains in return for leaving its lands and vessels alone, and more powerful nations would be known to commission the Black Fleet to sack targets they deemed a threat.  With the Black Fleet’s presence in Fenn at the same time as the festival itself, questions have already been raised as to who hired them to launch such a daring attack.

In other news, Prime Minister Kanata of the Qua-Toyne Principality confirmed that his nation would begin the process of applying for full IUN membership; Qua-Toyne would be the third nation of Elysia to formally request admission to the IUN after the Kingdoms of Topa and Calamique submitted their own requests last month…

Chapter Text

Muan Embassy, Eshirant, Parpaldia Empire — June 19, 2019/1639

Captain Andel Rubiso of the 23rd Mu Air Squadron, you and your men have been assigned to Eshirant for the past three years as part of our security detail and escorts for our Ambassador to the Parpaldian Empire.  However, as of today, our embassy has been given new orders in light of recent developments in the Third Civilization Area.

Forty-eight hours ago, our radio stations in the homeland received unusual transmissions from a nation calling itself the Osean Federation, located to the east of Parpaldia.  Not long after, our Ambassador was summoned by Lady Remille of the Empire’s Departments of Foreign Affairs—a envoy from this nation, according to her, had arrived at the city seeking to establish relations with Parpaldia.  From her stories and similar eyewitness accounts throughout the city, the Oseans appear to be fairly advanced technologically and may quite possibly be a new regional power to be reckoned with; through direct radio communications and the help of local merchants, we have been able to arrange a meeting between ourselves and the Osean Federation in one of their main cities.

Your mission will be to escort Ambassador Mugei’s personal aircraft from Eshirant to the Osean city of Selatapura, where he will be received by the Osean government and formally establish diplomatic relations with the Federation.  We have no idea as to what exactly awaits us across the ocean apart from Lady Remille's claims, so take care.

Any questions?

ISEV, Selatapura, Osean Federation — June 20, 2019/1639

“Are you seeing this, Captain?!  That thing’s just going straight up into the heavens!”

Every Muan aboard the diplomatic transport and its escorts gasped in astonishment as a tall white tower shimmed over the distant horizon, towering and majestic as it reached beyond the billowing clouds and into the heavens.  Andel’s eyes gazed upwards as the needle went further and further and further up—

—a pair of silver fixed wings circling the otherworldly structure split off and began slowly circling towards the La Chaos, even with the naked eye clearly more than a dozen times the size of the Muan plane.  Absent a body or a cockpit or even a clear means of rapid propulsion save four massive pairs of propellers on each wing that seemed to keep the humongous bodies barely floating above the ocean below, the two wings gently glided towards their path.

Rubiso’s eyes widened.  “On the undersides of those things!  There’s a bunch of objects detaching from underneath!”

Dozens upon dozens of smaller white crafts had fallen from the massive creatures, each almost immediately unfolding another pair of smaller wings and shooting forward with unparalleled agility; as the Muan pilot watched, the entire fleet seamlessly flew into groups of eight and began weaving and circling back and forth in a series of graceful yet complex manoeuvres—were these crafts showing off to Osea’s visitors?

“Mu aircraft, do you read me?  I say again, do you read me?”

“Er…copy, we read you.  This is Captain Andel Rubiso of the 23rd Mu Air Squadron, escorting the Mu diplomatic mission to Selatapura for talks with the Osean Federation.  To whom am I speaking to?”

“This is AWACS Long Caster of the Long Range Strategic Strike Group.  On behalf of the Osean Federation, welcome to Selatapura—we’ve got a squadron en route to escort you and your delegation to Tampines Airport, callsign Cyclops.”

Four Osean planes, all with sharp wings and a pair of stabilisers—where were the engines and propellers?  Did these people have more advanced propulsion technology by any chance? Rubiso frowned at the thought—were approaching the delegation and were now assuming defensive positions around the La Chaos and its escorts.

“Good copy on that last, thanks for the escort.  We’re looking forward to our visit here.”

Bright Hill, Oured, Osean Federation — June 21, 2019/1639

“President Bartlett, could you perhaps explain to me this…organisation of yours, the IUN?  Is it a military alliance, some kind of extension of the Osean Federation’s political influence?”

Bartlett shifted in his seat, his eyes never wavering from the Muan ambassador.  “The International United Nations was—no, is—an entity dedicated to ensuring the preservation of peace and order through the use of diplomacy, economic aid, and at times military force to halt aggressive actors throughout the Third Civilization Area—”

“‘Was’?”  

The Osean president sighed.  “A slip of the tongue, my apologies.  Before the transference that brought my nation to Elysia, most if not all of the nations of the world were key members of the IUN, like us—the organisation’s existence has, admittedly, been thrown into question now that we’re the only original member remaining, but many within my government are still confident that we can still keep the project going as long as more nations throughout Elysia can be persuaded to join us.”

“Hence the presence of delegates from Louria and Qua-Toyne?  I’ve also heard rumours about Topa and Altaras requesting membership shortly after diplomatic ties were established—is participation in your ‘project’ a requirement for full recognition?”

“Not really—invitations normally come alongside the general greetings and diplomatic ties, but it’s not strictly necessary.  Besides, we usually like to check the nations in question first before we consider formally inviting them to join; we do have international laws and regulations that some of our neighbours often choose to waive in favour of…other pursuits.”

 Ambassador Mugei raised an eyebrow.  “Parpaldia, for instance?”

“Among others, yes.  They have floated the idea of joining, but we generally detest slavery, for one.”

Mugei’s thoughts briefly wandered towards his previous trip to Leifor, where Gra Valkas had established Lars Filmyna and its diplomatic offices atop the ruins of the Grand Palace—the sheer contrast of the stark, unblemished concrete walls that towered over the shattered remains of the former great superpower and the sleek, shimmering, white foundations of the Lighthouse itself over the waters of Selatapura could not be any more different.  Yet the awe and terror that the Muan ambassador felt as he looked upon both remained very much the same—what else did Osea exhibit that could potentially pose the same problems to the Concert of Elysia?

“And what about the incidents we’ve heard from Parpaldia and its neighbours about the Oseans sending soldiers and air assets to members during times of need?  Wouldn’t that be considered a valid excuse for some of the…let’s say, more unsavoury nations of Elysia to simply annex these nations?  I’ve read some of the historical materials your libraries have about Selatapura prior to it joining the Federation—what’s stopping Osea from doing the same to Qua-Toyne or Altaras, should the situation call for it?”

Bartlett shifted uncomfortably on his seat.  “Selatapura chose to join the Federation by its own free will, but its ties with Osea were already well-established prior to the transference thanks to the Lighthouse—either way, it was the opinion of the Selatapuran government that in the uncertainty of being in a new world, it would be significantly easier if they were to simply join forces with something they were already familiar with in the first place.”

“And as for your other neighbours…”

“We prefer peaceful means of establishing connections and relationships with the wider world as compared to the warmongering attitudes the likes of Louria and Parpaldia seem to share.  Read your materials again, Ambassador Mugei—the Osean Federation has had too many wars and foreign aggressors for its liking in the past thirty years, and we have no intention of repeating the same mistakes in this strange new world.”

“Wiseman, was it?”

The Osean pilot looked up from the engine parts he was repairing, realising who was talking to him.  “That’s me.  Captain Rubiso, I presume?”

“Indeed.  Good to see you in the flesh—and thanks for the escort, by the way.”

“Ahhh, just our basic formalities.  The higher-ups heard you Muans were the technological superpower in this new place, so we thought to put on a show.  Hope you boys liked it.”

“I don’t suppose you also have any magic to impress the Mirishials, by any chance?  Your machines might give even their best mages a run for their money, if they ever had the chance to see one of these things.”

Wiseman shrugged.  “We haven’t been able to get into contact with them yet, but I’m pretty sure we’ll think of something when the time comes.  Anyway, what brings you around here?”

“Well…” Rubiso shrugged, gesturing towards the F-15C, “I was kind of curious about these planes.  Definitely not something you’d see in Mu, that’s for sure.”  

“These Eagles?  Yeah, they’ve been around for over fifty years at this point—they’re designed for air superiority, although there’s a few multirole variants available depending on the situation at hand.  Damned great in a firefight, that’s for sure.”

“How about air-to-ground?”

“Oh, there’s a version of the F-15 for that.  There’s also a bunch of new stuff the boys over at Gründer are cooking up, but I suppose you’ll probably see those yourself eventually in a few years’ time.”

“Indeed…how does primary propulsion work?  I haven’t seen any propellers, so you must have something else: magic gems?  Some kind of air-based propulsion?”

“Jet engines.  Air comes in through these intakes, and air comes out through the exhausts in the back.  Quite simple, although I bet the local mechanics would tell you otherwise.”

“…but that would require a lot of energy to keep the plane from crashing on the ground!  How fast does this thing go?”

The Osean pilot grinned.  “We’ve broken the sound barrier a couple of times.”

“Impossible!”

Otaheit, Mu — June 23, 2019/1639

To Ambassador Rubiso:

Crystal Kingdom has reviewed the additional terms Osea offered alongside opening diplomatic ties, and has agreed on the following:

• A representative will be sent to observe the International United Nations’ operations in the Third Civilization Area.  If the organisation does hold enough promise, a formal request to join will be sent to Oured—prepare someone from your department while the Foreign Office makes the necessary arrangements.

• Physical copies of the IUN’s official laws and regulations have been requested for Mu’s personal use, both to assess Osea’s status as a potential ‘civilised’ nation and to refer to should any diplomatic situation arise between us and them.

• Your delegation has been tasked with finding as much information as possible regarding Osea’s technological capabilities: textbooks, photographs, recordings, or any other kind of documentation that could be used as hard evidence or potentially analysed for our own benefit.
• Runepolis will be informed about the latest developments with Oured—the HME shares our concerns about Gra Valkas’s presence in the Second Civilization Area, and Osea and its organisation shares some promise as a potential ally against this new threat.  Broach the topic of Leifor to the President the next chance you get to meet him, but be subtle about it.

Crystal Kingdom approves of your actions thus far, and we look forward to hearing more about your progress.

Muan Secretary of Defense

“Want a ride on one of these things?”

The Muan pilot blinked.  “Say again?”

“Cyclops Squadron has a few two-seater F-15 variants that I might be able to borrow; we could take a quick aerial tour of Selatapura and do a few aerial manoeuvres with this thing in less than an hour, tops.”

“Hmmm…wouldn’t your superiors raise some questions about your proposition?”

“We could call it a cultural exchange—and besides, I don’t think Osea would mind me sharing some vague general information and experience with these ladies for your superiors, wouldn’t they?” 

Runepolis, Holy Milishial Empire — August 1, 2019/1639

To Director-General Plior of the Milishial News Network:

Hope this finds you well.

New orders from higher up: the HME requires information regarding a new nation in the Third Civilization Area known as the Osean Federation.  Mu’s recently established diplomatic ties with this nation and believes that it warrants further exploration—the Emperor has therefore commissioned the MNN to have a look around and see if there’s any truth to the stories spreading around.  If they’re true—and we may have reason to believe so—then our current situation may be about to change significantly.

Our intel from Mu regarding the new nation's been attached to this memo, but it's not a lot.  You'll have the necessary directions and geographical information, but even our ally's still sifting through all the information Osea was kind enough to provide about them.

Send someone especially good, will you?  A lot of people want answers about what we're looking at here, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious myself.

Director Arneus

Milishial Bureau of Information

Chapter Text

OFS Admiral Andersen, Berngen, Kingdom of Topa — October 25, 2019/1639

Listen up, people: the Kingdom of Topa’s called for IUN help in repelling a long-anticipated invasion of demonic armies from their northern borders.  In return for us blowing up whatever eldritch abominations are currently making their way through their lands, Topa will be formally admitted to the IUN as well as providing whatever information they may have regarding Elysia’s history prior to our arrival—Oured’s kept a tight lid as to what exactly they’re looking for, but they have confirmed that it’s important enough for us to be here to guarantee nothing less than total victory.

Now, for your actual mission: you will be deployed to the town of Tormis, where an advance force of the OMDF has joined up with the local garrison and are now actively engaging over ten thousand demons and some kind of being by the name of Nosgorath.  Free engagement is authorised for the entire lot: both satellite imagery and local eyewitness accounts have more or less confirmed these boys are nasty enough to give Louria a run for their money, so don’t feel too bad using our uglier munitions on the whole lot.  Just make sure you don’t accidentally hit any friendlies, all right?

Let's show this world that the only true Demons in Elysia are our very own Razgriz! 

Tormis, Kingdom of Topa — October 25, 2019/1639

“Hey, is that the OADF I’m seeing over the horizon?  About time you guys got over here—I think we might have bit off a little more than we can chew on!”

“This is AWACS Sky Keeper to Task Force Cipher: we’re here to provide assistance.  Update us on your status so we can provide taskings for our birds.”

“Alright, here’s the situation: we’ve been completely encircled around the town of Tormis by Nosgorath’s forces, but our armour and air assets have been fairly effective in holding them back so far.  Apart from obviously flattening the entire army with whatever you Big Shots brought along, we need an opening for our approaching main force to establish a supply line.  Their ETA is approximately ten minutes, and we’d obviously rather not get them into a close-quarters firefight.”

Sky Keeper quickly nodded to himself, already highlighting several targets into the console for Golem and Mage Squadrons to hit.  “Copy that.  Do you have any casualties?”

“Negative, just our pride.  Some underling of Nosgorath himself managed to sneak into our HQ and tried to get the jump on Ambassador Anderson—don’t worry about it; we turned that bastard into Wellow cheese in a matter of seconds.”

“Uhhhhh…”

“Just hit those targets, please, Sky Keeper; we don’t want to talk about it.”

“…copy.  Mage and Golem, you’re cleared to engage.  Key points of interest have been highlighted on your HUDs; eliminate everything within the general area, and we should be able to give our ground forces some breathing room.”

Knocker’s voice crackled to life on the AWACS operator’s headphones.  “Roger, moving in to intercept.  Clown, I don’t suppose I need to remind you at this point—”

“Kill the enemy, make sure Trigger doesn’t die.  Way ahead of you, flight lead.”

“Look over there!  It’s the Osean metal wyverns!”

Moah’s eyes widened as he saw the seven crafts arc downwards, just narrowly pulling upwards mere metres from the ground even as they launched their payloads: a mixture of guided arrows and exploding munitions that buried the advancing demon armies in a wall of earth and fire.  Even from the fortifications of Tormis, the Topan knight and his mercenary companion could see the scattered remains of the invading force flung throughout the battlefield—only the golems themselves remained unscathed, but even they too appeared shaken by the brutal attack dealt to their allies.  Already, one particular fighter—a grey craft with what appeared to be an orange demon emblazoned on its tips—was swooping downwards to strike them down with a large cannon on its belly—

“Lightning?  Did lightning just come out of the barrel itself?”

Gai gasped. “It fired—the air just split in half!  Did you see that?!”

Whatever projectile was launched from the cannon, the sheer force had completely broken the sky and shot right through the golems, disintegrating them in a matter of seconds and sending rocks flying across the field and onto the fleeing remnants of Nosgorath’s army.  The outcome was clear—nothing in the Demon Lord’s arsenal could match against whatever these newcomers had brought with them, and Topa would survive once more…

“Gai?  What’s going on outside the walls?”

Moah and his companion quickly whirled around.  “Elei?!  What are you doing here—never mind, why are you here?  There’s a battle going on outside!”

“I heard the stories about the Oseans fighting the Demon Lord, and I wanted to see for myself!”

“Never mind that!  Gai, lend me a hand here and help me get Elei out of here—Gai, what are you staring at?  Gai—”

“By the Ancient Sorcerous Empire, it’s Nosgorath himself!  The Demon Lord approaches!”

“Sky Keeper, are you seeing this?!  That guy’s huge!”

“Copy, got a visual on the bastard.  Free engagement—ground forces can mop up the remaining demons, but they don’t have enough ammunition to take on Nosgorath himself at this time.”

“Roger that.  Golem Two, Fox Two!”

A pair of missiles shot out from Brownie’s Hornet and streaked towards the towering demon.  Almost immediately finding their mark, the warheads detonated into the creature’s armour, blowing sizable chunks out of the metallic armament.  With a great roar, Nosgorath extended his finger towards his assailant—sparks emerged on his fingertips, coalescing into a glowing ball of fire; with a twitch of his hand, the beam of magic instantly shot forward, now pursuing the plane that had dared to touch him.

“Wait, what?  Damn it, it’s Gim all over again!  Boss, lend me a hand here!”

“Already on it, just keep on evading that countermeasure!  Everyone else, keep firing at him—he can’t take out all of us at once!”

“Trigger, let’s go!  Full saturation—Mage One, Fox Three!”

Mage and the remaining members of Golem Squadron began spewing missiles and air-to-ground weaponry at the Demon Lord himself as Sky Keeper’s fingers began working on his console once again, scoring dozens of hits on the creature and almost immediately overwhelming him through sheer numbers.  Slowly, Nosgorath was forced down to his knees as the tanks within Tormis finished resupplying and began to join in on the maelstrom of fire—

“Enough with your puny toys!  They shall touch me no longer!”

“He talks?!”

Nosgorath’s hands reached out to the sky, and lightning burst out and scattered in all directions—his eyes glowed blue, and the sparkles began to coalesce into balls of light; a thin sphere of azure energy began to shimmer into existence around the Demon Lord and the shattered remains of his army, enveloping and encasing the entire force in a matter of seconds.  A stray missile collided with the surface and burst into flames, the wreckage harmlessly bouncing off and silently crashing onto the ground.

“What the hell?  That’s a shield!  That thing can’t possibly stop our missiles, right?”

“Well,” Clown grumbled, “there’s only one way to find out.  Trigger, if you would be so kind as to—”

From underneath Mage Two’s Hornet, the miniaturised railgun burst into life, crackles of electricity emerging from the special weapon as its magnets launched a small projectile towards the glowing energy shield.  Travelling at several times the speed of sound, it instantly collided with the barrier, sending visible shockwaves through the entire shield—and almost, for the briefest of moments, causing it to flicker—

“No joy,” Knocker half-muttered to himself, “but it definitely caused something.  Sky Keeper, any advice?”

“We’ve just completed our analysis on Nosgorath, so listen closely.  The entity itself appears to be capable of creating magic-based shielding for limited periods of time, but the Navy’s fairly certain that a missile saturation attack should be more than sufficient to nullify whatever he tries to throw at us.  Use your railguns and AGMs, and let’s see what happens.”

“So just the same as before?  Copy that, but we’re kind of running out of missiles here—can’t the Navy lend a hand or something?”

“Stand by.  I think the Navy’s trying to—” 

“Sky Keeper, this is HQ.  The carrier fleet’s launching cruise missiles, but we need to make sure they don’t get intercepted by whatever Nosgorath throws at us.  ETA: sixty seconds—”

“HQ, do you read?  This is Pilgrim Two—we have located the enemy camps from our observation posts and satellite feeds, and are sending the geographic coordinates to you now!  Requesting saturation strikes as well on those targets.”

“Good copy, Pilgrim Two.  Sky Keeper, we’re still currently attempting to coordinate with ground forces and bombers on which group’s getting assigned to what, so stand by for further updates.  Proceed as planned until told otherwise.”

“Uhhhh…copy that, HQ.”  Sky Keeper hastily reached for his console, tuning back into the regular frequency for Golem and Mage.  “Be advised, we have cruise missiles inbound to nullify Nosgorath’s shields.  Keep the pressure on him until they arrive, got it?”

The pain!

Unending agony wracked Nosgorath as the shields buckled and flickered with each guided arrow and fire barrel colliding with his magical barrier, the strain from each collision causing his wounds to open wider and gush like a flowing river with red.  But one flying ship in particular gave him the greatest pain—a small white craft with a large cannon on its underside that kept firing great blasts of sound, the very projectiles shattering the air as they shot right through his shields and struck him with ludicrous force; the Demon Lord’s shot around as he sought in vain to find the single gnat and strike him down—

The pain!

—Nosgorath’s shields shimmered and wavered for the briefest of seconds, but an exceptionally large guided arrow slipped through and found its mark—

The pain!

—a great roar echoed throughout the fields of Tormis as the Demon Lord bellowed in agony, a ball of fire erupting from his chest as the arrow struck deep, screaming for his attention above all else—

The pain!

—his shields having all but failed, a fusillade of projectiles and guided arrows now struck him unimpeded as Nosgorath was forced to his knees, explosions dotting the entire Demon Lord’s body as he struggled to get a glimpse of his miniscule foes—

—was that an orange caricature of a fox or a demon on that accursed metal wyvern’s tips?

So this was how he was to be brought down: by a crude, perverted mockery of his kind—

“Nosgorath is down!  I repeat, Nosgorath is down!”

“Sky Keeper, this is Task Force Cipher: the entire town saw that demonic bastard go down!  The entire garrison’s begun celebrating—no, scratch that: all of Tormis just started celebrating!  You Big Shots just helped save a ton of people down here!  Hey, hang on, lady, I’m still trying to—”

The AWACS operator grinned even as the rest of the crew aboard his plane burst into cheers.  “Good copy, Cipher.  To Golem and Mage, great job down there—looks like we’ve got the gratitude of the entire kingdom for what you just did.  RTB at your leisure.”

“Trigger, looks like you’ve made quite the name for yourself.  You aren’t planning on leaving us anytime soon, are you?”

Knocker chuckled on the radio.  “Don’t go running away now, Mage Two—Clown’s gonna become all lonely on his own if you go off and start running your own squadron in the near future.”

“What, you think our little nugget’s going to become a flight lead at some point?”

“Well, how about becoming your replacement in Mage Team, old man?”

“Not if I have anything to say about it, Golem Two—I’m not retiring anytime soon!”

Osean Broadcasting Corporation — October 26, 2019/1639

In a major military engagement against the demon invasion of the Kingdom of Topa, a coalition of Topan defenders and Osean air, naval, and ground assets under the IUN banner annihilated an entire army led by the Demon Lord Nosgorath as it was attempting to lay siege to the isolated northern town of Tormis; Nosgorath himself was slain in combat through the efforts of the OADF, the OFS Admiral Anderson, and its escorts, who utilised cruise missiles and state-of-the-art railgun technology to incapacitate and bring down the entity.  Observers aboard Pilgrim Two, currently in geostationary orbit above the Grameus Continent, also helped provide real-time data regarding the whereabouts of the Demon Lord and his forces to IUN forces on the ground.

Widely feared throughout the Kingdom of Topa, Nosogorath and his forces originated from the distant northern regions of Elysia and began a series of invasions of the Kingdom itself through the centuries—upon establishing contact with the Osean Federation, Topa immediately petitioned for IUN membership on the grounds of self-defence in the face of yet another incursion by the demonic being and his armies.  In response, a peacekeeping mission was deployed to Topa last June in order to investigate and verify their claims—with the destruction of the force that has threatened the Kingdom’s existence for so long, the IUN has announced that it will now begin transitioning its efforts from military defence to humanitarian and economic aid and relief.

In other news, the Holy Milishial Empire has been confirmed to…

Muan Embassy, Eshirant, Parpaldia Empire — September 14, 2019/1639

“Ambassador Mugei?”

“Ah, Ambassador Harling; good to see you again.  Please, take a seat.”

“Indeed, thank you.”  Setting down on a fine leather armchair directly opposite of the Muan ambassador’s desk—quite the resemblance to Sotoan furniture, now that he thought about it—Harling turned to face his counterpart. “Now, what exactly was it that you wished to discuss with me?”

“Vincent, I’ve just received a message from my superiors in Otaheit: an ally of ours known as the Holy Milishial Empire has expressed an interest in your nation, and would like to send a news crew to explore Osea and its culture before taking any further diplomatic actions.  Needless to say, a seamless and informative experience for their people would no doubt encourage the Milishials to expedite establishing formal relations—as an intermediary between the HME and Osea, we would like to informally request your and your department’s assistance in the matter.”

Harling blinked.  “The Milishials?  As in the superpower of the First Civilization Area?”

“Who else?  Your country’s reputation as a technologically advanced nation with significant military and economic power has begun to spread beyond the Third Civilization Area, and the Emperor himself appears to be interested in seeing whether or not the stories about a transferred nation fighting slavery and warmongering would-be empires are actually true.”  Mugei slowly raised his eyebrows as he leaned forward on his seat.  “I see that Osea appears to be aware of the HME, at the very least…”

“We’ve heard stories and eyewitness accounts from our neighbours about the Milishials’ influence and skill with magic, but this would be the first time that we would have direct contact with them.”  The Osean ambassador blinked, sighing before he looked back at his counterpart.  “We definitely weren’t expecting them to come knocking so quickly, that’s for sure.”

“Things have been changing quite recently in Elysia in the past few months, Ambassador.  Nations have risen and fallen, and new powers in this world have the potential to make or break the status quo that Mu and the HME have established these past few centuries—and that’s not taking into account old troubles that some of us suspect may be returning in the near future.” Mugei sighed, the Elysian stories of ancient terrors coming to mind once more.  

“Mu has a vested interest in the development of closer ties between its allies and Osea, Ambassador Harling.  The Concert of Elysia, as the Milishials so often like to call it, must keep playing no matter who joins our little symphony—and we see that the Osean Federation may turn out to be quite the addition.” 

Harling nodded in acknowledgment.  “Very well; I’ll inform my superiors about this news crew—we’ll try to give them a full picture of what Oured and Selatapura have to offer.  When will they arrive?”

“Sometime within this month, I believe.  Look out for an elf named Alana Forlen of the Milishial News Network—blonde-haired, youthful complexion, definitely as bright and intelligent as her beauty suggests.”

“You’ve met her before, haven’t you?”

Mugei grinned.  “Delightful woman, I can assure you.”

Chapter Text

Selatapura, Osean Federation — September 30, 2019/1639

“Welcome back to the Milishial News Network!   I’m Alana Forlen, and this is the first of a four-part series exploring the newly arrived nation known as the Osean Federation.  

“It’s been less than a few months since Elysia first began hearing of a new state in the Third Civilized Region, but already a reputation has begun to spread throughout the world of a power capable of wielding technological wonders on par with Mu and potentially standing toe-to-toe with Parpaldia itself as a political, economic, and military force to be reckoned with.  We’re now here to investigate these claims and perhaps talk with both the Oseans and the peoples of Elysia about how the Federation and its organisation, the International United Nations, has impacted their lives and their peoples.  But first, a brief overview of where I am right now!

“This is the city of Selatapura, a bustling and thriving island metropolis known by many as the Gateway to Heaven, and it’s clear why they’ve called it such—the buildings and skyscrapers tower right above us here in Marina Bay, but even they are dwarfed by the megastructure just over the horizon that Osea itself has dubbed the Lighthouse…”

The cameraman panned over from the towers in Fullerton Place and across the offices of Lau Pa Sat, before settling on the empty reclaimed fields of the South Pier—there, right above the clouds that often brought rain to the Usean city, a single needle threaded the sky before disappearing into the heavens above.  Graceful yet majestic, deceptively small yet towering in sheer scale and size, the Elevator stood as a shocking testament to the capabilities of these strange and foreign new people; was there anything that Elysia had that could even compare to this?

“One hundred thousand kilometres long from the surface to the heavens, the Oseans use the Lighthouse to produce energy for themselves and to observe the planet from above.  We’ve been invited by the IUN to an exclusive tour of the facility itself, which will be taking place in our final part of the special.

“Before that, however, we’ll be exploring three of the largest cities in Osea: Selatapura, November City, Oured, and Bana City.  Each metropolis serves as cultural and economic hubs for the vast nation and its sizable population, and houses key symbols of the Federation’s values and history.  With us is Ambassador Vincent Harling, a former head of state of the Osean government and now its envoy to the peoples of Elysia.  Ambassador, thank you for arranging this fascinating tour of your country!”

Harling gave a warm smile and nodded back.  “A pleasure, indeed.”

“Ambassador, perhaps you might be able to give us a brief overview about the Osea, for those unfamiliar with your nation?  For many of our viewers, this would be their first time ever witnessing what the Federation has to offer to the wider Elysian community…”

Assembly of Nations, Bana City, Osean Federation — October 2, 2019/1639

“My, what a huge room, Ambassador!”

Harling smiled in meek acknowledgment at Forlen’s words.  “Well, we don’t normally use this hall nowadays; the IUN as of right now has over twenty-one members and six observers—pending Mu’s ongoing application—and it wouldn’t even fill half of the entire chamber.”

“How many members did the Assembly have prior to the Transference?”

“It was meant to host over four dozen nations all over our own world, back in the day.  The numbers kept changing—independence movements, invasions, unifications, and the like—but until we became the only original member left, this room would have fit every representative in the planet with ample room to spare.”

“So where do the members of the IUN meet whenever a session takes place?”

“There’s a smaller hall on the other side of the building—it used to be part of the Security Council, but the General-Secretary suggested downsizing the institution until more members actually joined.”

“Would this be like the annual World Conference, where the superpowers of your world meet and discuss the most recent issues in Elysia?”

Harling frowned.  “The World Conference?  We’re not too familiar with that group, but membership is generally open to all nations, regardless of their position in Elysia as a superpower or otherwise.  We normally ask that they adhere to certain laws and regulations before applying, however, as we do have a Charter that applies to all members—slavery, for instance, is prohibited, as well as the inhumane treatment of civilians and prisoners of war.”

“Fascinating!  And what about the Parpaldia Empire?  They are widely recognized as the superpower of the Third Civilized Region, but their active practice of slavery would seem to be at odds with the IUN’s regulations, wouldn’t it?”

“They have approached us about their joining, but we aren’t quite certain about their intentions or their dedication towards actually adhering to the Charter—they seem to believe that their status as a superpower exempts them from having to follow the laws of our institution…” 

Folen’s eyes wandered to an individual seat right next to her—on its headrest was engraved an odd name, perhaps a former nation from the Oseans’ world.

“‘Yuktobania’?”

“Huh?  Oh, the sign…yes, that was formerly the seat for the Union of Yuktobanian Republics.  They were our equals in our old world, our rivals even—we had a decades-long competition between the two of us over power and influence, before we came to witness the inevitable outcome of our own destructive pursuits.”

“May I ask what happened?”

“A series of wars that saw weapons of mass destruction wielded with impunity, and a terrible disaster that left our entire planet scarred and disfigured for many years.  In the face of annihilation by threats both within and without, we agreed to set aside our differences and focus on rebuilding our world.  This organisation became more than simply a forum for nations to voice their concern—it became an institution dedicated to establishing peace and freedom by any means necessary: peacekeeping, economic aid, and even major projects designed to bring benefits to the nations of the world.”

“Indeed, like the Lighthouse?”

“Precisely.  Prior to the Transference, Selatapura used to be in an entirely different continent—a region infamous for regional rivalries and wars of conquest, with no single nation capable of becoming the sole superpower like in the Civilized Regions.  In the aftermath of the Disaster, the Lighthouse was meant to bring back trade and prosperity to the region—free energy for the nations of Usea, and greater investment in science and technology in place of weapons of war and destruction, with a direct route within reach to the skies above.”

The Osean ambassador’s eyes wavered, and for a brief second Forlen caught a glimpse of sadness on the man’s face.  

“Prime Minister Nikanor was a good friend of mine—after we both realised what our actions had done to our world, we changed our ways and worked together in helping construct the Lighthouse.  It’ll be our lasting legacy, even though the Yuktobanian himself may be long gone.”

“Perhaps the likes of the Holy Milishial Empire might be interested in joining your institution?  Ensuring peace and order throughout such a brutal world like Elysia would prove to be far easier with the superpowers of the Civilized Regions as fellow members.”

Harling nodded in acknowledgement.  “Perhaps, indeed…”

ISEV, Selatapura, Osean Federation — October 3, 2019/1639

Alana gasped as the convoy made its way through the bridge linking Selatapura and the Lighthouse, the latter only seeming larger and larger as she came closer to the vast megastructure.  Seated right next to her, Harling gave a nostalgic smile—even as one of the key proponents behind the whole project, planning the entire enterprise had been nothing compared to finally witnessing it slowly ascend into the sky.  Watching as the Pilgrim One set off towards the distant reaches of the solar system, a vessel of humanity finally reaching beyond its cradle and into the cosmos beyond…

The convoy entered a tunnel beneath one of the legs of the Lighthouse’s foundation, leading to a small lobby that served as the official entrance to the facility—a single woman stood inside, observing the convoy as it came to a halt right before her and the Osean ambassador carefully led his guest off their vehicle.

“Alana Forlen, this is Captain Kei Nagase of the IUN Lighthouse Division.  She will be taking over from me for this particular leg of the tour—the trip on the ISEV itself shouldn’t take less than three hours.”

The Elysian’s eyes widened in surprise.  “Won’t you be joining us, Ambassador?”

“Oh!  No, I’ve ridden the Lighthouse quite a few times by now—and besides, Nagase is more of the expert regarding what will be happening to you and her within the next few minutes—”

Nagase smirked.  “Harling, please.  Let’s not spoil what we have planned for the people of Elysia to witness first-hand.  And besides, were you not the one who originally designed this Lighthouse in the first place?”

“I was but a politician with an idea that could ensure peace; it was engineers and pilots like you who made this possible in the first place.”

“Don’t undersell yourself, Harling; we both did many things that ultimately brought us to where we are today.  But we’re getting ahead of ourselves—Ms. Forlen, greetings.  I’ll be your escort throughout your trip to the Lighthouse and aboard the Pilgrim Two at the very top.”

Alana blinked in surprise.  “I’m sorry, what?”

“Didn’t Harling…Harling, you didn’t tell her beforehand, did you?”

“I think it’s only just dawned upon her about what’s about to happen, Captain.”

“…alright, that makes sense.”  With an eager grin, Captain Nagase turned to the Elysian reporter.  “Ms. Forlen, how would you like to walk amidst the blue skies above?”

Runepolis, Holy Milishial Empire — October 3, 2019/1639

“They made a tower to the heavens…”

Silence reigned; the highest ranking officials and the Emperor himself watched in shock as the Osean spacecraft set off from the Lighthouse, thousands of kilometres above the surface of the earth.  The camera turned away from the interior of the vessel and toward a window, revealing the entirety of Elysia for the very first time to its inhabitants—a small blue marble amidst a vast sea of black, the troubles and problems and millennia of conflict faced by the countless millions within the planet reduced to a simple shape surrounded by nothing.

For the first time in their long history, the mighty Milishials felt smaller, out-dwarfed by a power possibly greater than theirs.

“Arneus,” Emperor Milishial slowly began, “remind me again: do we have a confirmed date for the arrival of the Ancient Sorcerous Empire?”

“No, Your Excellency.”

“Very well.  Begin establishing diplomatic ties with the Osean Federation, and approach them about a Milishial delegate for their organisation as soon as possible!”  

Chapter Text

OFS Vulture, Kingdom of Calamique — November 24, 2019/1639

Alright, I want people running to their planes as soon as this briefing wraps up!  The situation in Calamique has significantly escalated beyond our expectations, and their government has requested our immediate assistance before their cities are overrun!

It appears that elements of the kingdom’s military have launched a coup d’etat right as Ambassador Eccleston’s delegation was about to meet the head of state; the plotters have utilised rudimentary armoured vehicles in an attempt to capture the town of Waizer, but we’re also receiving unconfirmed reports of another behemoth of a creature within the enemy’s ranks.  Due to your experience in eliminating Nosgorath, HQ has tasked Golem and Mage Squadron with destroying this creature and eliminating whatever additional support the plotters have at hand.  Helicopter divisions and ground units are already holding defensive positions within the city’s walls, but they will need your support to tip the balance of the siege in your favour.

Now get out there and start prepping your planes, ASAP!

Waizer, Calamique Kingdom — November 24, 2019/1639

“This is Sky Keeper to all callsigns, be advised: we’ve entered the AO and have confirmed visual contact with the creature.  The local defenders are communicating with the OMDF about the entity’s abilities, but HQ is confident that the new doctrine they’ve formulated should be sufficient in negating and nullifying whatever it throws at us.”

“Copy that, Sky Keeper.” Clown glanced down at the battlefield below, where several Apaches were already making quick work of the makeshift tanks advancing on the city walls.  “What bearing is the big bogie?”

“Errr, stand by…five kilometres to the north of your current position, Mage One.”

“Roger, repositioning—yep, I see it.  Damn, that’s huge!”

“Well, we know the new protocol for scenarios like this, Golem and Mage—use your EMLs to immobilise the beast, then go for the head.  Try not to get hit, do you hear?”   Knocker’s gruff voice echoed in his fellow squad leader's headset, his confidence bordering on infectious. “Golem, with me!”

The six Hornets dove down from their high altitude and swept down towards Diobehemoth, their railguns crackling with energy as their magnetic propulsion systems came to life—with a clap of thunder that echoed throughout the battlefield, a barrage of projectiles punctured the creature’s armour and burrowed right through its body at several times the speed of sound.  A roar of pain sent shudders through the frames of each plane as the unholy entity gazed upon the intruders, only for a new maelstrom of fire and light to strike his form with near-impunity—the sheer force of the aerial strike caused it do waver, tilt, and fall, landing on its back as it crushed a dozen Demon Flame Tanks attempting to flee the scene.

“That’s the spirit!  Come around for another pass, people—”

“Hey, boss,” Brownie queried, “what exactly am I seeing on that creature?”

Green light glowed from Diobehemoth’s wounds, which visibly began to retract and recede.  With a mighty groan, the creature began to rise from the ground, much to the audible dismay of everyone present; groans from both the two squadrons and the Oseans below cracked on the radio.

“Damn it, it’s healing its wounds!”

“What exactly is that; some kind of magic?”

“Of course it’s not going to be that easy, is it?!”

“Hey, Sky Keeper!  Are you on this frequency?”

The AWACS operator was quick to respond, “Affirmative, who is this?”

“Captain Doug Robinson of Shooter Squadron, in command of the helicopter units on the ground.  We’ve mostly dealt with the remaining enemy ground and air units, and can provide saturation fire on the creature while you deal the killing blow.  That should be enough to overpower its healing factor, if my reckoning is correct…”

“He’s got a point, Sky Keeper,” Clown quickly remarked.  “If we can wound it quicker than it can heal itself, we can potentially kill the entity before it gets back up and charges the city walls—”

“Make your call, because that thing’s looking healthier and angrier than ever!”

“Hold on, Knocker…affirmative, proceed with the saturation strategy—use missiles and gunfire to wound the creature and your railguns to kill it.  The Vulture’s escorts are preparing cruise missiles to assist your efforts; ETA: two minutes.”

“Copy.  Trigger, on me!”

Swooping over the battlefield, the two F/A-18Fs split the sky in half as their railguns fired on Diobehemoth once more, scoring hits on the creature’s neck and chin and sending chunks of flesh raining down on the retreating monster armies.  A chorus of missiles left a vibrant display of explosions and fire throughout its armour as the entity collapsed onto the ground once more—thunder and sound crackled in the air as four more Hornets shot at Diobehemoth’s head, the latter spraying red in a billowing geyser of organic matter and magical manna.

Green magic began to flow once more through the gaping holes in the monster’s face—

Three cruise missiles struck home with brutal accuracy, obliterating the already-mutilated body of the most infamous creature ever known to haunt the Kingdom of Calamique in an fiery explosion that rocked the entire battlefield; from the castle walls where the defenders of Waizer stood, the fortifications rattled and shuddered as the shockwaves of the consecutive blasts reverberated throughout the island and the circular mountains that surrounded it.  Clown winced as his fighter groaned and whimpered and his console whined and complained, quickly reclaiming control of his craft before turning to look down at the carnage below.

“Sky Keeper, what the hell were in those cruise missiles?  Half of the entire battlefield got vaporised in that strike!”

“Stand by…apparently those were some experimental magic-tipped Aegir missiles that Gründer developed.  Looks like they managed to get the higher-ups to field-test some of their munitions again—”

“Gründer?  Damn scheming, warmongering South Belkans—they wouldn’t be up to something again, would they?”

“Well, it’s a good thing none of us were near the creature when those missiles hit—that would have been rather unpleasant if one of us got taken out by accident.”  Knocker sighed in irritation, before glancing back at his wingmen.  “Anyway, are we all right?  Do we have any targets left to eliminate, Sky Keeper?”

“Negative, Golem and Mage.  The local defenders have informed us that they’ll be mopping up the remaining stragglers, and our own special forces are currently moving in to capture the enemy leadership before they can escape.  Well done, everyone; RTB.”

Foreign Affairs Audit Bureau, Eshirant, Parpaldia Empire — October 6, 2019/1639

“Good afternoon, Lady Remille.  What business do you have with the Osean Federation?”

“I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Me?  Oh, I’m Gabriel William Clarkson, Attaché to the Osean Embassy here in Eshirant—”

“A subordinate?!  Does your superior have the temerity to send a mere underling on his behalf to the Auditor of the Foreign Affairs Office, or is he foolish enough not to comprehend the privilege of being summoned by the envoys of the Empire?”

“Err, Ambassador Harling is currently in Oured at the moment—I believe he’s currently preparing to return to Eshirant after that MNN series in Selatapura wraps up.  You’d be able to arrange a meeting with him by this weekend, if you’d prefer to communicate with him or someone more befitting of your station, instead.”

Remille’s nostrils flared at the sardonic undertone of the diplomat’s remarks, but decided to chalk it up to inexperience with directly dealing with foreign affairs. “No matter.  I take it that whatever we agree upon in this meeting will have the same effect as any arrangement with Ambassador Harling?”

“That depends on what happens during this meeting.  Now, what business does your government have with the Osean Federation?”

“The Parpaldia Empire would like to formally resubmit its application to the International United Nations, in the hope that the Federation would rethink its refusal to admit us.  In light of Mu’s recent admittance and the arrival of the Holy Millishial Empire’s own delegate to the Assembly of Nations, we feel that omitting a single superpower while simultaneously inviting several others would be…somewhat discriminatory, especially with all the previous unsuccessful efforts on our part to become a member of your organisation.”

The official blinked.  “I’m—“

“As a gesture of goodwill, and perhaps to demonstrate our gratitude for your nation’s cooperation, the Empire would be willing to offer several privileges unique to Osea’s position: one of our Wyvern Overlords, the most powerful of their kind in all of Elysia; the exclusive right to trade with nations beyond the Third Civilised Region without direct interference from the Parpaldian Navy’s security patrols; a promotion in Foreign Affairs to the Second Department, reserved only for nations civilised enough to warrant our significant attention yet not quite powerful enough to be considered a superpower; and an official recognition on behalf of the Emperor himself as a ‘civilised country’.”  Remille smiled at her counterpart in satisfaction.  “I take it that such arrangements would be acceptable for your superiors?”

Clarkson blinked in confusion.  “I’m sorry, what?”

“Let me simplify my offer to a degree within your level of comprehension: in return for these gifts, your government will cease its obstructive efforts and inform the members of the Assembly of Nations to vote in our favour when our application comes up for consideration—”

“No, I’m sorry; I definitely understand your original proposal.  The Osean Federation’s actions as a key member of the IUN are independent of whatever the other members choose to vote regarding your application, and our abstention specifically serves to prevent us from inadvertently appearing to be actively preventing your accession to full membership.”

Remille’s eyes narrowed.  “And would our already exceedingly generous offer be insufficient for your superiors to change their minds?”

“My apologies, Lady Remille, but even with our cooperation in the matter, you would still have to persuade the other members that the conditions that lead them to refuse the Empire’s proposal in the first place have sufficiently changed for them to reconsider their positions.  Even if my superiors were to be swayed by your offer, it would be remiss of us and our fellow delegates to simply ignore the standards that our Charter requires from all applicants for full membership—”

“Don’t evade me with your false words, young man!  We know that the nations of the Third Civilized Region look to the Osean Federation for guidance over whether they should vote in our favour in the Assembly of Nations—what lies have you told Elysia about us?!  What falsehoods have our neighbours been led to believe in order to subvert our role as the superpower of this continent?!”

“Nothing less than what your neighbours have said to us about your own nation, my lady,” Clarkson drily remarked.  “Parpaldia’s reputation precedes your country, and we have yet to see any meaningful evidence that the Empire intends to pull back from its more unsavoury practices—and from what we’re led to believe, even your own fellow superpowers would have preferred more ‘civilised’ conduct from a nation that proudly extols itself as one—” 

“It is our birthright!  Our position as the superpower of the Third Civilized Region makes us superior to all and the sole harbingers of civilization and culture in Rodenius to these barbaric lands!  Why your nation chooses to consort with these savages instead of us evades me, but to bring this continent under a single roof but leave us out in the cold is nothing short of outrageous—do not speak to your superiors again about matters beyond your understanding, you incompetent brat—”

The door to Remille’s office opened, and a young aide dressed in an Osean business suit quickly walked in, approaching Clarkson.

“I’m sorry, excuse me for just a second…what is it?  What? Next week?  Alright, but inform Mr. Harling about the summons as soon as you can.”

Remille raised a questioning eyebrow.  “Well?”

Clarkson sighed.  “I’m sorry, but I’ve just been informed that Ambassador Harling will be unable to return to Eshirant until the fifteenth, at the latest—a matter of national security requires his presence in Oured for at least a few more days.”

“What?  But that’s absurd!  Is his job not to sit where you are and respond to the questions that the Empire has for him?!”

“As a former President and a key advisor behind the Osean Federation’s foreign and state policy in the past twenty years, his superiors believe his experience would provide valuable insight for the unfolding situation—”

“Balderdash!  Lies!  I shall submit a formal complaint to your government about your conduct—inform your superior upon his arrival that his presence in the Foreign Affairs Office is required, and that nothing less than total acquiescence to our demands will be acceptable!”

The Osean delegate simply shrugged.  “Very well; I will notify Ambassador Harling of your sentiments on this matter when he returns, but I am fairly certain that his assessment of your proposals may be no different than mine.  Now, if there is nothing else for us to discuss, I would like to take my leave.  Good day.”

Clarkson swiftly rose and left the office, leaving Remille to quietly simmer in frustration at the impasse before her.

“The gall of that grey-haired cur!  What extraordinary calamity would require Osea’s envoy to delay his return to his post?”

Bright Hill, Oured, Osean Federation — October 4, 2019/1639

“Alright, how bad is this situation that we’re looking at?”

Vice Chairman Edwards sighed as he rose from his seat and gestured at the projected diagram of Elysia’s outer atmosphere.  “Not very good, Mr. President.  We’ve compiled the data from Pilgrim Two and the ISEV, and these are the all the unknown satellites we’ve uncovered so far—”

The holographic sphere was abruptly blanketed in a sea of red—each dot representing an artificial device from an ancient power known only through rumour and old tales of a frightening past, now hurtling right above Osea and its neighbours, waiting for…something, or someone, to bring them back to life.  Bartlett’s eyes widened even as the dots continued to multiply, the estimated number rapidly increasing by the second.

“My god…”

“Each satellite appears to be powered by magic gems, but they all appear to have distinctive purposes; the vast majority of them seem to be for long-range communications, while others appear to be designed as orbital weapons platforms.  And that doesn’t also include the satellites with what appears to be extremely high concentrations of magic stored within—we think they may be meant to either detonate and trigger a Kessler event, or to rapidly deorbit and strike a target below their current position.”

“Right, so how many are we looking at?”

“Assuming each and every magic gem detected in orbit around Elysia is powering a single satellite…anywhere between a few dozen to a couple hundred and counting.  Maybe even in the low thousands, if our most extreme estimates are correct.”

Groans and murmurs broke out from the generals and officers present, the severity of the situation only truly starting to dawn on the Osean leadership.  Prior to the Transference, over seven thousand satellites orbited the planet above Osea and its neighbours—a mixture of Ulysses fragments and satellites launched both prior to and following the Disaster.  With a smaller yet no less concerning amount of objects in low earth orbit and all potentially hostile…

Bartlett spoke up again.  “Does anyone else in Elysia know about this?  Some civilization capable of reaching space that we haven’t made contact with yet?”

“Not as far as we’re aware.  Stories and evidence regarding the ASE would suggest they were the last major civilization in Elysia to be capable of space travel, but most nations since then haven’t quite reached that level in technological development. As the prominent magical superpower in Elysia, the HME might have a better understanding of the whole process behind magic gems, but we’ll have to wait until we finish establishing diplomatic ties before approaching them about this.  They’ll likely want some concessions in return for their assistance—trading benefits, maybe some additional technology or scientific data, or something of the like.” 

The President sighed.  “Fine; try and see if we can accelerate the process, then obtain the information that we’ll need for this as soon as possible.  In the meantime, do we have any other way of countering or removing these satellites as of right now?”

“There are at least three different solutions being devised by Gründer and the ODF at this time; some of them make use of what resources we currently have at hand, while others may be…unorthodox or outright controversial…”

“Well?”

“Let’s start with the Defence Force’s proposals: their first plan involves utilising our decommissioned ICBM stockpile for eliminating specific satellites or preventing orbital strikes on Osea and the ISEV.  It’s a simple solution, but its effectiveness remains debatable, at best—and as we don’t necessarily have enough missiles to eliminate all the satellites, we’re opening the possibility of leaving some of our major cities open to attack.  We’ll definitely need something better in the long run.”

“Right, so what else do we have?”

“There’s the Air Force’s idea: it’s an old proposal from back during the Cold War, and it involves using F-15s to launch anti-satellite missiles from the upper atmosphere.  The concept’s been proven through a couple of successful test flights back in the eighties, and we can feasibly update our current hardware to modern standards—some ideas have also been floated around about adopting our experimental DarkStar program for the ASM system, but we still need to finish testing the prototype for general use before anything else.”

“Hm.  Would employing both proposals provide an adequate countermeasure against these orbital weapons, Edwards?”

The Vice Chairman paused in thought.  “It would, perhaps, but leaving the satellites in orbit even before they actually do anything could potentially prove to be a security risk for Osea.  As it is, we don’t even know what some of these satellites could do at this point—there might be some new superweapon that we won’t necessarily have the right countermeasures for, regardless or whether or not we have a sufficiently skilled pilot at hand to eliminate it.  Lives are at stake, even at this moment, Mr. President.”

“So you believe that preemptively removing these objects from orbit would be the best path for us to take?  Do we even know to whom those satellites belong?”

“We’ve detected signals from the Branchel Continent that are generally similar in appearance, but not necessarily identical.  Pilgrim Two’s currently been assigned with observing the region for signs of a post-industrial civilization, but they’re apparently still sifting through all the data they picked up…”

Bartlett nodded.  “Right.  Have our ambassadors ask around to see what exactly is down there, and have some more satellites take photos of the continent for our OIA boys to look over.  Now, do we have any more proposals?”

The other officers present shifted uncomfortably in their seats; Edwards shared their uneasy expressions as he glanced at the President.

“Well?  What are you waiting for?”

“Mr. President…there is one more proposal, from Gründer Industries.”

A pause.  “What?”

The Vice Chairman sighed.  “The Chiefs of Staff received plans from the current president of the Gründer regarding a new and upgraded version of the Arkbird, taking into consideration its more recent work with Aigainon and the Arsenal Birds—”

“Another Arkbird?!  Are you…are you kidding me?!  You do realise what happened to the last one, right?  And this proposal’s from Gründer, no less—it’s bad enough that we already have two drone fleets hovering over a third of the entire Osean continent, and now you want me to give the go-ahead for the construction of yet another possible planetwide disaster in the making?!”

“Mr. President—”

“No!  Absolutely not!  Out of the question!  I know the OIA won’t release the Razgriz documents until next year, but we all know how close Gründer got to outright destroying Osea and Yuktobania with the last Arkbird we constructed!  The damn tragedy of the whole thing, and you’re asking for us to repeat it here in Elysia?!”

“Mr. President, at least hear out the proposal—”

“No, Edwards.  I’ve experienced the horrors of what Belka did to this country, and I will not be a willing participant in whatever that executive and his people have planned for the rest of the planet.  And that will be all—”

“Jack!”

The heads of those present quickly turned to the other side of the room, where Ambassador Harling had been quietly observing the proceedings until now.  Bartlett’s eyes focused on his predecessor, narrowing in suspicion at what had caused him to intervene.

“Listen to the man, and at least give his idea some thought!  We all know what the Grey Men did to us and Yuktobania, but don’t let their legacy overshadow the choices we may have to take to survive.”

“But it was your legacy that got tarnished, Harling—do we not want to make sure that doesn’t happen again?”

“Then we do it again, but we do it so the likes of the Grey Men won’t be able to repeat what they did.  And perhaps Edwards might have actually been able to think of something to counter whatever those people—if they’re even still here, that is—might have planned for us in the first place…”

Bartlett roared in frustration.  “Damn it!  Fine.  Edwards, please tell me Harling actually had some merit in his argument?”

The man nodded.  “Well…”

Osean Broadcasting Corporation — November 25, 2019/1639

IUN forces were deployed to the Kingdom of Calamique yesterday afternoon, almost immediately after establishing diplomatic relations with the isolated nation-state.  According to a statement released by Bright Hill, the arrival of the Osean delegation coincided with an attempted coup d'etat by local government officials—lacking the means to successfully repel the internal threat, King Brandea immediately asked for the assistance of the accompanying OMDF force.  Despite wielding significant aerial forces, improvised armoured vehicles, and a creature similar in size to Nosgorath of Topa, the plotters were quickly neutralised and handed over to local authorities for the due process of law—IUN forces suffered little to no casualties, and are expected to return by the 28th pending the formal completion of diplomatic ties between Osea and Calamique.

In other news, the Assembly of Nations yesterday evening once again overwhelmingly voted against admitting the Parpaldia Empire to the IUN.  While the Empire is one of the few remaining nation-states within the Philades Continent not to be an official member, its attempts at joining have been consistently rejected by several members on the grounds of its refusal to fully adhere to the Charter and concerns about its potential influence within the organisation as a full member.

As in previous votes, Mu and the Osean Federation abstained from voting on the Parpaldia Empire’s petition, citing a desire not to appear to be influencing other member states’ votes; they, however, did stress that the Empire would need “further social reforms'' in order to be fully accepted as a fellow member of the institution.  The delegate for the Holy Mirishial Empire, while a non-voting observer of the process pending a vote on the HME’s own application for IUN membership, shared similar sentiments in a separate statement and suggested that Parpaldia “look inwards” to see what would prevent its formal accession. 

In an official statement issued by the Foreign Office of the Parpaldia Empire, Auditor Lady Remille condemned the results of the Assembly’s vote:

“We are a civilised nation and just as much of a superpower as Mu and the Holy Mirishial Empire!  Why are we being denied by false friends and barbarian kingdoms our rightful place amongst our fellow peers?  Rest assured, there will be consequences for those who would refuse us what is ours—”

Ladies and gentlemen, we have just received some breaking news.  We’ve just been informed that the Assembly of Nations has been convened for an emergency session at the request of a delegation from the Kingdom of Altaras.  We now go live to Bana City—

Bana City, Osean Federation — November 25, 2019/1639

Delegates of the International United Nations, General-Secretary Kanata, Ambassador Harling, Ambassador Mugei, President Bartlett:

I am Princess Lumies of the Kingdom of Altaras.  On behalf of my father and the people of Altaras, I come before you to offer our gratitude for allowing us to address this exalted chamber and to plead for aid in our desperate time of need…

We are a nation of free peoples who enjoy the seas that surround us, who value the rights and liberties granted to us by the Supreme Creators as living beings who share this realm of existence with all others.  We, like the people of this room, enjoy our freedom as a people who deserve the dignity and respect afforded to all other nations of this world—basic commodities that now lie in peril with the actions of another nation that deems itself superior to us by mere circumstance. 

Tales have spread throughout Elysia of the majestic power of the Osean Federation and its mandate in protecting the peoples of its own world and of ours: we have heard of the Liberation of Gim and the campaigns in Topa against Nosgorath himself; of the peacekeeping efforts in Calamique and the defence of Fenn against the infamous Black Fleet.  The names within this institution are associated with the heroes of old that once stood strong against the Ancient Sorcerous Empire itself, of the Emissaries of the Star God that protected these lands against those who would do it harm.   We ask—no, we plead, we beg—for you to help us, to show us the mercy that you gave many of the nations that now sit within this Assembly today.

Two days ago, the Parpaldia Empire came to my father and demanded nothing less than complete annexation of our nation and my subservience to their Emperor as his personal slave; in response, we broke all diplomatic ties with Eshirant and expelled their ambassadors from our lands—but we know that they will return with guns and wyverns and terrible monsters to enforce their will upon us…

Chapter Text

OFS Kestrel II, off the coast of the Kingdom of Altaras — November 26, 2019/1639

All right, everyone; settle down!  Settle down!

As you all know, the Kingdom of Altaras has asked the IUN for peacekeeping forces to defend its shores against an imminent invasion by the Parpaldia Empire.  In response, the Osean Federation announced that it and a coalition of Third Civilized Region states would be forming a naval quarantine of the northern coast of Altaras—as the closest carrier fleets to the island kingdom, the Kestrel II and the Admiral Andersen were reassigned to this particular duty and are now heading post haste to the capital of Le Brias to assist with the task at hand.

Unfortunately, Parpaldia appears to already be on the move: satellite imagery detected over 324 naval vessels setting off from Eshirant at around the same time the Princess gave her speech in Bana City, and we’re receiving scattered reports from the Altarans that their navy and wyvern fleets were engaged over a hundred kilometres from the coasts of the Rubile Plain, itself less than ten kilometres from the capital.  Worse still, the Admiral Andersen carrier has encountered engine problems and won’t be able to directly assist us for another hour or two—our allies in Qua-Toyne, Louria, and Quila are still mustering their own naval contingents and therefore won’t arrive in Altaras until next week.  In comparison, we have only about a dozen vessels, including the Kestrel II itself—we’re grossly outnumbered and on our own, but we cannot allow the Parpaldians to land even a single soldier on Altaras.  However, we have something that the Parpaldians do not have: better ships, better weapons, better planes, and better pilots such as yourselves.

On our current course, the Kestrel II will arrive at Le Brias within the hour, but the invasion fleet will arrive to make landfall shortly thereafter.  OMDF vessels will intercept the Parpaldians and attempt to force them to pull back, but have orders to open fire if deemed necessary; as their air cover, you will be tasked with establishing air superiority and neutralising the enemy fleet before they get too close to our vessels.  Pick your weapons wisely, as this will likely be a long and difficult fight.

I don’t need to say this again, but a lot of people throughout Elysia are watching us—the Parpaldia Empire is viewed by many as the premier superpower of the Third Civilization Region, and whatever happens in the next three hours could easily affect Osea’s long-term diplomatic standing and the lives of millions of people throughout this region and beyond.

You’ve all been pivotal in establishing the name of Osea and the IUN throughout Elysia.  Let’s see if we can live up to it once more, in our greatest challenge yet.

Good luck!

Ten kilometres off the coast of Le Brias, Kingdom of Altaras — November 26, 2019

“This is Sky Keeper.  We’ve just received word from the Altaran government: their entire navy and air force was almost completely wiped out by the Parpaldian invasion force, and the survivors have either surrendered or are retreating back to the capital.”

“Damn it, we didn’t get here in time!  Where’s the enemy fleet right now?”

“Five kilometres from our position, Golem One.  The Kestrel II fleet will be able to manoeuvre themselves to directly intercept the main bulk of the Parpaldian fleet in about three minutes.”

“So what’s our ROE for this situation?”

“Don’t fire until the Parpaldians open fire or HQ gives the signal to do so.  Osea’s not at war with the Empire yet, and Bright Hill’s keen on making sure it’s Eshirant who starts anything.”

Clown frowned in confusion. “Huh…copy.”

“But the Parpaldians already opened fire on the Altarans!  The war’s pretty much started, so why are we still acting like they’re just going to respect the IUN’s declaration?!”

“Because the diplomats in Bana City still think that they might be able to salvage the whole situation with our presence here, Brownie.”   Knocker sighed.  “Not that I’m counting on even Harling to pull some kind of miracle after everything goes down…”

“Mage Two,” Sky Keeper remarked, “you’re cleared for takeoff.  Join up with Mage One as soon as possible, then form up along the defensive line.”

From the deck of the Kestrel II, a Hornet burst into life—its engines roared as it shot off the carrier and into the air, spinning gracefully above the waves even as the fighter slowly soared to its fellow companions.  Clown glanced at his wingman, his eyes narrowing as he noticed the weapon attached to the plane’s underbelly.

“Trigger, why did you bring a railgun?”

“Wait, he brought what?”  

Brownie snickered as her Falcon joined up with Knocker, the two pilots glancing at the unusual device.  “Trigger, what exactly do you think you’re going to do with an EML?  We’re not exactly fighting big monsters today, and that thing only has twenty-two rounds!”

“Well, wood doesn’t exactly pose much of a threat to projectiles breaking the sound barrier—with enough skill, Trigger could easily knock down quite a few boats with just a single round or two.”

“If you say so, flight lead…”

“Golem and Mage, listen up: we’ve reached the rendezvous point, and our naval vessels have sighted the Parpaldian navy.  This is it: get ready to fight at a moment’s notice!”

Clown nodded, turning to gesture at his wingman.  “Copy, Sky Keeper.  Trigger, let’s go!”

From his vessel, General Sius stared in astonishment at the fleet of metal ships that lay right between the Parpaldians and the shores of Altaras.  “So these are the Osean ships we’ve been hearing about…”

“A dozen vessels versus a few hundred of ours?  This is their idea of a blockade?”

The Parpaldian officer shook his head.  “If these were wooden vessels like the Altarans we just destroyed, Captain Bafram, I wouldn’t be that concerned.  Considering their likeness to Mu’s ships, however—”

“We’re not some mere fleet of schooners like the Lourians, Sius!  We have the finest ships-of-the-line and more wyverns than anyone else in the Third Civilized Region—heck, we could arguably just rush the whole lot and capture the Oseans with our magic gems before they even fire a single shot!”

“You clearly haven’t been to Selatapura, have you?”

The captain scoffed.  “What does that have to do with anything?  Smoke and illusions that just happened to fool even the mighty Mirishials, that’s what’s over there!  If they were anywhere near as powerful as everyone says, we wouldn’t have made it this far or even this close to these people!”

“Or maybe the Oseans are just softer than we give them credit for.”

“Pah, that goes without saying.  Consorting with barbarians in the name of ‘peace’ and calling us barbaric, my ass…what’s Martal’s plan for these people, by the way?”

“Push past the Oseans, consolidate our current holdings and secure Altaras at all costs.  A decisive show of force to the world that our glorious Parpaldia is still the mighty superpower that it truly is, Osea’s objections notwithstanding.”

“Ahhh…so we are finally going to war with them?”

“If, and if, it comes to that, Bafram.  Don’t start anything until I say so, alright?”

“Oh, you don’t need to worry about me!  I can wait just a little longer to show these savages what true civilization looks like, trust me—”

“General!  We’re receiving a transmission on the mannacomms!”

Bafram and Sius quickly turned to face the aide.  “Orders from Eshirant?”

“Negative, sir.  It’s from the Osean fleet; their commanding officer’s hailing us on an open frequency.”

Glancing at the other officers on deck, Sius turned and nodded.  “Very well, let’s see what they have to say.  Turn the volume up, will you?”

“…this is Admiral Weeker of the OFS Kestrel II, calling for the commanding officer of the Parpaldian forces heading towards Altaras on behalf of the Kingdom of Altaras and the International United Nations.  I repeat, this is Admiral…”

Bafram turned to his naval counterpart.  “Well, are you going to answer him or not?”

“This is General Sius of the Parpaldia Imperial Navy to the commanding officer of the Kestrel II.  Proceed with your message.”

From the bridge of the Kestrel II, Admiral Weeker’s eyes narrowed determinedly at the enemy fleet bearing down on the aircraft carrier.  Already he could see the escorts’ guns slowly rotate towards the Parpaldians, in anticipation of what the Osean officer suspected was already all but inevitable; his voice found its words, regardless, and his mouth opened to transmit his message to its recipient.

“On behalf of the International United Nations, we wish to inform you that your fleet’s presence in the territorial waters of the Kingdom of Altaras, and your actions against the naval and aerial forces defending the Kingdom, are a violation of both Altaras’s sovereignty and the IUN naval quarantine around the island nation as proscribed under Resolution 1514 of the Assembly of Nations.  We therefore ask you to remove your fleet from these waters immediately, or else we will be compelled under international law and our own orders to open fire on your fleet until you comply.”

Silence reigned for a few moments before a second voice in the static faintly burst out—angry, indignant even, as it engaged the original voice in a heated argument.  A minute passed, the Parpaldian ships showing no sign of stopping, before General Sius’s voice snapped back.

“Stand by while I consult my superiors.”

“Eshirant, are you hearing this?”

“The gall of these barbarians!  They refuse to let us in their vaulted club and then demand that we follow their rules?!  General Sius, order these morons to get out of the way!”

“Affirmative, Lady Remille.  Chief Martal, should I follow through with the Auditor’s commands?”

“Proceed.  Give them a final warning, and engage if they refuse to comply.  Secure their vessels for our own researchers to analyse, and report back if you acquire any captives—they may be savages, but their weapons may prove useful in our own pursuits.”

Sius turned to gesture at a nearby naval officer, who nodded and quickly left to signal the other vessels.

“Admiral Weeker, the Parpaldia Empire is not a member of the International United Nations and does not recognize its perceived authority as the primary arbiter of affairs in the Third Civilized Region; such positions belong solely to the Parpaldia Empire and no one else.  We therefore order you to stand aside and allow our vessels to conduct our invasion of Altaras as a rightful extension of our power and influence within this region.”

“And if we are compelled by our own laws to refuse?”

“We do not care for your laws.  You will obey ours soon enough.”

The Osean admiral’s sigh of resignation was palpable through the transmission.  “Well, don’t say we didn’t warn you.  Hail us again on this frequency once you’ve changed your mind, out…someone give those fighters the clearance to—”

A click on the comm indicated Sius’s counterpart had hung up, leaving the general and the captain beside him to glance at each other in disbelief.

“They’re not actually going to fight us, are they?”

“If they turn back now, they lose face; if we turn back or stop altogether, the Empire admits defeat to Altaras and risks losing face before Mu and Milishial.  Our orders are clear: advance, and overwhelm and capture the Osean ships if they dare attack us.” 

The Parpaldian general turned to the other officers present.  “Deploy all our wyverns!  Have the First Division turn to face the Osean vessels and prepare to fire on my command!  All other ships are to activate their magic gems and sail to the coast at full speed—I don’t care if they try to stop all of us; we outnumber them by a significant factor!” 

“General, their metal wyverns are approaching us!”

Six angular metallic wings descended onto the waters of Altaras, skimming right above the waves and spraying the air as they rapidly closed the gap between themselves and the Parpaldian invaders.  At the very front of the wedge lay a single craft, slightly different compared to the five others: its wings were sharper and its fuselage far less rotund, its main weapon being not the guided light arrows on the tips of its companions’ wings but a geometrically bizarre object mounted on the beast’s belly—a cannon, presumably with its own payload primed and prepared inside.  Perhaps something that might pose a challenge to his wyverns, but how such a weapon would be able to pose a threat to his entire fleet, Sius wondered…

The cannon beneath the craft opened, and lightning crackled from what the general realised to his horror was its mouth—

“By the Ancient Sorcerous Empire, that metal wyvern’s going to fire at us!  Everyone—”

The sky split in half—as well as over a hundred unsuspecting Parpaldian vessels—as the railgun beneath Trigger’s Hornet launched a singular projectile at over six thousand metres per second through the hull of the mighty Parpaldian flagship, its sheer kinetic force puncturing the shining jewel of the Empire and pulverising the structure into millions of wooden shards in the span of a single second.  Igniting the ship-of-the-line’s entire hold of ammunition and magic gems with the energy once designed to atomize asteroids, the round simply continued to travel through the fleet as Sius and Bafram’s ship vanished into a rapidly expanding ball of light, air, and sound, sending sailors, soldiers, and equipment flying across the sea.  

From his cockpit, Clown stared in abject horror at the sheer carnage below.  “Whoa!  That’s just…Trigger, that’s…”

“Mage Two, I think that railgun shell caused a chain reaction on the flagship,” Knocker glumly remarked, “but you’ve wiped out what might be a significant chunk of the Parpaldian leadership.  It’s going to be a lot harder to get someone to order the whole lot to waive off once we’ve made our point…”

“Stand by, I’m receiving new orders from HQ,” Sky Keeper quickly replied over the radio.  “Golem and Mage, we’ve identified several key vessels where we believe the remaining Parpaldian officers in charge of the invasion are currently stationed—do not engage, disable, or destroy these ships.  All other vessels, however, are cleared for free engagement; eliminate them before they can pose a direct threat to the carrier fleet or land on Altaras—”

“Those wyvern carriers, over there by the northeast!  They’re trying to launch their air assets!”

Clown’s head whirled to the direction Brownie pointed out, where several Parpaldian beasts had emerged on deck and were now setting off from the platforms. “Copy, got a visual.  Trigger, let’s take out those carriers before anything else; flight lead, how about you swat all of the birds that make it out of the sky?”

Knocker chuckled.  “I like your idea, Clown.  Golem, on me!”

The four F-16s shot out of formation and swooped down to fire on the ascending wyverns; the two planes of Mage Squadron pushed forward, Clown’s Falcon arcing gracefully around Trigger’s Super Hornet as both began to fire their weapons.  A spray of machine gun fire rained down on the decks like hailstorms of death, while guided arrows found their targets and shattered ships into splinters and magical fireballs—and Trigger’s railgun crackled to life once more and fired, puncturing another batch of Parpaldian crafts as if their magically enhanced hulls were no tougher than paper.

“Fire all cannons!  Get those cruise missiles and AA guns at the ready!”

The sailors of the Kestrel II and its escorts braced as the Parpaldian ships-of-the-line closest to their formation fired their cannons—many cannonballs bounced harmlessly off the hulls or splashed into the water in spite of their enhancements, but a few banged hard against the metal plating and left foreboding dents and scars.  The guns and cannons of the Osean destroyers and frigates present were quick to reply, the air crackling with sound as shells found their mark and explosions dotted the enemy formation; blasts of fiery blue frequently marked the violent end of yet another transport or ship-of-the-line, either caught in the blast of its own ammunition or instantly eviscerated by magnetically-propelled supersonic projectiles.

A fleet of wyverns shot through the firestorm, their wings outstretched as their pilots desperately sought their target: the Kestrel II itself.

“Incoming enemy air!  Sky Keeper, we need air support on our position, now!”

Dragon Knight Commander Chirino glanced back at the several soldiers clinging desperately to his wyvern.  “Are you alright back there?”

“Don’t worry about us, Commander!  Getting us to those ships takes precedence above all else!”

“Copy that!”  Reaching for his mannacomm, Chirino angrily barked, “All right, everyone; you know our mission!  We’re to evade their weapons and land our troops on that carrier—if we can capture their commanding officers, we’ll be able to force these Osean barbarians to surrender before they wipe out the entire fleet!  Don’t even think about turning back—the lives of everyone else depend on us!”

The whoops and cheers of every soldier and pilot present gave the commander a surge of confidence as he and his wingmen swooped down from the sky, rapidly descending towards the Kestrel II and its naval escorts.  While nothing compared to the fabled Wyvern Overlords rumoured to be in production in Eshirant, his own beasts were among the fastest and deadliest in the Third Civilized Region—and if the stories about the eldritch technological feats of the Oseans were anywhere close to the truth, then these mighty Parpaldian beasts were about to face their greatest challenge yet.

“They’re firing at us!  Evade, evade!  Everyone, hold on!”

Chirino’s wyvern twisted and turned as a spray of metallic projectiles sought their target, only barely dodging it and its passengers by mere inches.  Many others were not so lucky—the hail of fire shredded beast and man alike, sending both tumbling down into the waters below; guided arrows found their targets and incinerated what little body parts hadn’t already been blown up and eviscerated; the sky sparkled, crackled, and split in half, with entire batches of wyverns and pilots simply disappearing into a faint reddish mist.  A scream from the back suggested one of Chirino’s passengers had either fallen off or got struck by the Osean weapons, yet he still shot forward even in the face of near-certain death.

“Alpha One to all callsigns!  How many of us are left?”

“Less than ten, sir!  Their anti-air weapons are incredibly effective!”

“Damn it!  Keep going—we’re dead if we turn back, anyway!”

“Roger—aaargh!”

“Commander, enemy air units inbound!  Watch out for their guided arrows!”

The metallic wyvern that had annihilated the Pall was rapidly approaching the surviving air units  from the rear, its own rotund escorts not far behind—with unimaginable speeds, the fighter shot past Chirino’s beast, missing the commander by a few feet; its body arced and turned to face the Parpaldian beasts even as it continued to shoot forwards, the grey Osean star and the orange demonic emblem on its wings both mockingly leering at him as he noticed to his horror the guided arrows on its wings detaching and igniting and blue lightning sparking from the underside—

“Evade, evade!  All callsigns, evade that thing’s fire—”

Chirino’s ears exploded with pain as red rain sprayed on his helmet and armour plates.  His hearing all but temporarily brutalised, silence reigned even as he saw the eviscerated remains of his wingmen, where moments ago they had been proud and valiant soldiers of the Empire.  He looked back—the rear half of his wyvern was gone, the passengers behind him similarly vaporised by the projectile that demonic craft had bore upon his men.  His eyes widened in panic, it dawning upon him that his means of flight was dead and the sea below was rapidly approaching—

Realising he was about to crash into the waters right before the carrier, Chrino spread his arms wide and jumped.

His aim was true; he landed on the edge of the Kestrel II with a loud crash, his armour and helmet scraping loudly and angrily against the foreign structure.  A splash in the background suggested his valiant steed had been claimed by the straits; his eyes shut for a brief moment as he sent a prayer to the gods for his beloved beast and the now-dead men and creatures under his command.

Slowly and painfully rising to his feet—all but certain that the impact had probably broken something inside his body—Chirino glimpsed several figures in the distance, all presumably running towards him.  His eyes flared in anger, his hands reaching for and drawing out his sword as he slowly stepped forward in anticipation of striking down his foes.

“Die, Osean scum!  Glory to Parpaldia—”

A sharp staccato cut his words short as a sharp pain instantly struck his chest, the commander stumbling and collapsing to the ground and his sword clattering uselessly on the ground as he writhed in agony.  Several hands roughly rolled him onto his stomach as his wrists were bound together, all while one of Chirino’s captors began calling out to the other sailors on deck.

“Hostile down!  Somebody tell the Admiral that we’ve captured a prisoner!”

“Sius!  Sius!”

Bafram gasped for air as he frantically glanced around the floating wreckage and bodies for his companion.  Even as the captain’s calls rang across the waters of Altaras, the screams of countless sailors and the explosions of the Parpaldian vessels reverberated throughout the battlefield as the metal wyverns above continued to rain down death and destruction on the would-be-invaders—as he swam, Bafram saw the demonic beast of metal that had nearly wiped out the entire leadership twist and turn in the skies above, a salvo of its flaming guided arrows sending another ship to its doom or its eldritch appendage shattering entire transports and wyvern carriers with the wrath of the Ancient Sorcerous Empire itself.

“Captain?”

The officer’s eyes widened as he saw his commanding officer clinging to an upturned mast, quickly swimming through the treacherous waters to reach him.  “Sius!  Damn it, Sius!  Are you all right?!”

“M-my leg…I can’t feel either of my legs…”

The blue waters had transformed into a sickly ochre of red that Bafram could easily guess as to its origin, and a vague metallic stench threatened to overwhelm even the seasoned captain with nausea.  Yet determination for him and the most important man in the Parpaldian fleet to survive kept him from succumbing to biological instinct, brushing past corpses and body parts as the Captain swam desperately to his commanding officer.

“Don’t die on me just yet, General!  Parpaldia’s counting on you!  Just hold on a bit longer—”

A thunderous explosion rocked the waters as they splashed on the surviving sailors of the Mille ; a fireball erupted from the Masale —the last wyvern carrier not visibly on fire or sinking—as its cargo and crew were obliterated by a single blast from the orange demon that mocked the mighty Empire and its valiant men.  Bafram’s eyes flared with anger as he snarled in agony and frustration at the upstart barbarians that had dared to challenge his country and prevailed—not through valour and courage like the glorious Parpaldians, but by deceit and foul sorcery straight from the ancient tales of old.

“Curse these damn Oseans!  They’ll pay for this!”  

Spotting a Parpaldian ship-of-the-line that had somehow not been sunk by the opposing navy, Bafram began gesticulating wildly at the vessel, hoping to attract the attention of any sailors above deck. 

“Hey!  Over here!  Bring up the General to your vessel!  We need him alive to direct the battle—and someone get me a damn manacomm to the Naval Headquarters!”

“This is AWACS Long Caster to Sky Keeper, do you copy?  I say again, do you copy?”

Sky Keeper shot up in surprise.  “Long Caster, this is Sky Keeper, reading you loud and clear!  Are you and the rest of the reinforcements here?”

“Yes, and no: the Admiral Andersen’s still fifteen minutes out, but HQ’s deployed us and its entire helicopter regiment to assist the Kestrel II.  We’re coming in from the north, right behind the Parpaldian fleet—”

“You’re going to enclose the Parpaldians here?  Well, I’ll be damned!”

“Damned’s a word I’d reserve for these fancy-dress invaders once we’re done with them, Mage One,” Wiseman casually replied over the radio.  “Now, you got any spare targets for a bunch of extra pilots to shoot at?”

With a grin, Sky Keeper quickly began pressing several buttons on his console.  “We’ve still got over a hundred and fifteen ships left and a few surviving wyverns over the remainder; several ships-of-the-line appear to be command vessels and are to be left untouched until the Kestrel II can hail them or they ask to surrender.  Everything else is fair game.”

“All right, folks—let’s reel these Parpaldians in!”

Parpaldia Navy Headquarters, Eshirant, Parpaldia Empire — November 26, 2019

“Vice Admiral!  We’ve reestablished communications with Captain Bafram!”

Strategist Chief Martal and Vice Admiral Barth looked up from the briefing table in surprise.  “Bafram?  The infantry officer survived?”

“Him and General Sius, sir.   Apparently, they barely managed to survive the explosion that destroyed the Mille , but the General was critically injured in the blast—Captain Bafram’s taken temporary command and is asking you for orders regarding our remaining vessels.”

Barth frowned.  “Have we dealt any casualties on the Osean fleet?”

“No, sir.  Their metal wyverns have both destroyed our own wyvern fleets and incapacitated or sunk most of our carriers and ships-of-the-line, and our vessels can’t outmanoeuvre or outgun either them or the actual fleet.  We’re also receiving reports that another Osean carrier and its escorts have entered the battle and will likely trap our remaining ships if we do not pull back from our present position.”

Marth turned to Bartal.  “If we expend all of our remaining magical resources, would we be able to break out and make a run for Eshirant?”

“Assuming their technological capabilities are on par with Mu, such an approach would be unlikely to succeed.  Even if the invasion fleet managed to get past the Osean ships—which our own ships-of-the-line have already proven incapable of achieving—we would have to avoid their weapons fire and the guided arrows of their metal wyverns.  It’s near impossible, much as it pains me to admit.”

“Well, we can’t retreat, either!  We’re diplomatically isolated from the rest of Elysia, and we all know we might lose our rightful position as the Third Civilized Region superpower to these barbarians if anything resembling a defeat or a rout takes place!  We’re damned if we do, damned if we don’t—”

“Order the fleet to retreat.”

The room fell silent as all eyes turned to Supreme Commander Arde, who had quietly observed the proceedings without saying a single word until now.  Both Marth and Bartal glanced at Arde in astonishment, the command given by the esteemed military officer unprecedented for what should have been a routine subjugation of yet another barbarian nation in their sphere of influence.

“Sir?”

“I’ve just received word from the Emperor himself that Lady Remille and the rest of the Foreign Affairs Department have already begun to devise retaliatory actions against the Osean Federation for their interference in our rightful actions.  As of now, needlessly throwing away the lives of our men would only serve to weaken our country for the fight that lies ahead.”

Martal frowned.  “I take it we will be redirecting our efforts to recovering our men from these barbarians?”

“Among other things, men.  Among many other things…”

Barth turned with uncertainty to Martal, who grimly nodded.

“Give the order.”

“This is General Bafram, acting commander of the Parpaldian Imperial Fleet engaged with the IUN fleet in Altaras, requesting a parley with Admiral Weeker of the OFS Kestrel II.”

Clown looked up from his console in surprise.  “They want to talk to us?  Sky Keeper, did we do it?”

“Stand by, Golem and Mage.  All callsigns, hold fire—the Parpaldians might be finally looking to parley with us again—”

“This is Admiral Weeker of the OFS Kestrel II.  Send your message.”

“Admiral Weeker, the gods have favoured the Oseans in this battle, and we recognize that Parpaldia will lay no hand on the Kingdom of Altaras today or as long as your ships protect these shores.  As much as it pains me to do so, I would therefore like to ask you to allow our surviving vessels to either leave these lands unmolested, or to alternately surrender to your custody and whatever mercy you may deem appropriate for us.”

“If our circumstances had been different and our fates switched, you might not have been so generous with your words, General…”

“We are nothing like you; that much is clear.  We ask that you not prove otherwise, for the sake of my men and their lives.”

A pause.  “General Bafram, stand by while I consult my superiors. HQ, do you copy?”

“We read you loud and clear, Kestrel II.  We’re communicating with the Altaran government regarding the Parpaldian general’s request…stand by…stand by…”

“General Bafram, be advised: the Kingdom of Altaras has stated that the option for your fleet to leave these waters is, regrettably, no longer possible; its government has now demanded that you, your personnel, and all naval vessels and crew involved with the illegal invasion of its territory surrender to their custody.  We have their and our assurances that you and your people will be treated in accordance with international law, and will be safely returned to Eshirant once a diplomatic arrangement is agreed upon between your Empire and the Kingdom itself.  Do you accept this request?”

“They…they want us to…”

The coterie of weary sailors and soldiers sheltering aboard the Ludius glanced uneasily at Bafram and Sius, their expressions a mixture of disgruntlement, exhaustion, and indignation at the unprecedented demands.

“Captain,” a young Parpaldian sailor warily began, “you wouldn’t…you wouldn’t subject our Empire to such humiliating terms, would you, sir?!  We’re the soldiers of the superpower of the Third Civilized Region, and surely…”

“Or surely what, Ensign?  Our resolve and determination would somehow prevail against a threat that strikes down our ships with no hesitation, against birds that can outpace and outfight us?  Would you take the responsibility for ordering the deaths of five thousand fellow countrymen for a fight against a foe that they lack the ability to defend themselves against?”

The boy shrunk, but his expression still harboured a faint hint of defiance. “Better than simply succumbing to an army of barbarians, Captain!”

“Then tell every person around you to get back on deck and fight on!  Oh, wait, they’re all half-dead or missing a limb or two!  How about you get our wyverns to cover us—wait, they’re sinking to the bottom of the Strait!  How about we get our boats to charge the enemy with all that we’ve got—as if we even have any boats left to pose a threat—”

“Bafram, that’s enough!”

The captain turned to Sius, who had somehow managed to sit up on his bunk in spite of his injuries.  Taking the hint, Bafram stood down, sitting back down beside the mannacomm as the general began to address the room.

“Regardless of whether or not we surrender, Parpaldia will retaliate against Osea for what happened today—if we surrender, however, we all live to see another day, and we might just be able to live long enough to see our honour avenged by our fellow countrymen.”  Sius turned to the other Parpaldians present.  “So what shall it be, men of Parpaldia—shall we become martyrs, victims of a brutal and senseless massacre with no other purpose than to harden our country’s resolve?   Or shall we become heroes to be rescued and celebrated for our valiant and honourable actions even in the face of total annihilation before a barbaric foe?  What shall it be?”

The men glanced at each other, considering the option laid out for them.  Compared to certain death, the prospect of what would ultimately be a brief moment of humiliation in return for the possible chance of honourable defeat almost seemed to be far more appealing.  Bafram himself appeared struck by the general’s words; with a deep sigh, he glanced back at him, resignation in his voice as he replied.

“General, I hope you know what you’re doing.”  

Sius raised an eyebrow, gesturing to everyone present.  “Well, what else is there for us to do?”

The faces of every person in the room were grim and resentful, but none dared speak.  Bafram, his eyes still focused on Sius, grimly nodded and reached for the mannacom.  

“This is General Bafram to Admiral Weeker…I would like to accede to the demand laid out by the Kingdom of Altaras and surrender to their custody.”

“Copy.  Stand by for further instructions…”

“All units, cease fighting!  We’ve just received confirmation from HQ that the surviving Parpaldians are surrendering.  Mission complete, everyone!”

Cheers broke out amongst the Osean forces as Sky Keeper’s news quickly spread, the radio crackling with whoops and shouts of joy from both the LRSSG and the IUN peacekeepers.  Clown nodded in satisfaction, before turning down to look at the remaining Parpaldian vessels—even as he soared past, the would-be-invaders were either striking their colours and raising a mixture of white flags or waving their units colors to the left of their ships (their version of surrender, the Osean suspected).

A solitary sigh amidst the celebrations caught the veteran pilot’s attention; recognising the voice as Knocker’s, Clown spoke up.  “Flight lead, you don’t seem very enthusiastic.”

“You do realise Parpaldia’s not going to be very happy with this turn of events, right?”

“Well, if they do pick another fight, we’ll probably just trash them again.  The same thing we’ve always done ever since we first arrived here in Elysia, and it’s always got the same results.”

“This isn’t some small kingdom or a bunch of pirates and monsters we’re dealing with, Clown—it’s the equivalent of the Eruseans or even the Yukes, by the locals’ standards.  If things go south, we could be looking at something big here.”

The pilot smirked.  “Well, that’s for us to deal with once we get there.  Right, Trigger?”

Bright Hill, Oured, Osean Federation — October 5, 2019/1639

“So…the Arkbird Project’s a go?”

From the sofa, Bartlett shrugged.  “The updated design’s been tested and verified, and once Congress passes the required legislation by next week, we’ll start constructing the whole damned thing sometime next month.”

Standing at the window of the President’s official residence and staring at the blue skies, Harling nodded.  “And what does Nagase think about the whole thing?”

“Pissed as hell.  Well, not really—she was quite happy about a new Arkbird being made, although concerned like me about some Grey Men getting their hands on the thing again.”

“Why else do you think we offered her command of the Mark II?”

The president chuckled and shook his head.  “Indeed.  Have you heard about what’s happening to Pilgrim Two?”

“Something about restructuring and peacekeeping integration…you do know I don’t exactly have the same security clearances I used to have as the President, right?”

“Don’t worry, we’ll be making an official announcement over the New Year.  Osea’s basically integrating the Lighthouse, the Arkbird, the Arsenal Birds, the successor to the Pilgrim Program, and a couple of experimental aircraft into a new division of the Defense Force and the PKF—it’ll mainly be for countering and eliminating the Ravernal satellites over the next few years, but we’re also trying to see if we can develop the whole thing into a QRF beyond the OADF’s current deployment range.”

Harling nodded thoughtfully.  “Any name to the whole project?”

“Nothing interesting yet—it’ll probably be something boring and straight to the point like the Space Peacekeeping Force or something like that.  Besides, we do know how the media seems to be rather good at making up stuff like that, right?”

“Why not just arrange for new airbases in the other Civilized Regions for our regular Air Force?”

“One, we’re anticipating future conflicts around a massive world like Elysia will escalate faster than our conventional air assets will be able to react, and how the IUN will respond to ongoing crises as our membership increases can and will affect its international reputation.  Two, any increased conventional military presence in our part of the world as of now already risks antagonising the Parpaldians—they’re already quite unhappy that our sphere of influence already eclipses theirs by a significant factor, and by the looks of it—and partially your observations, might I add—they’re confident that a fight with us would somehow result in a more favourable outcome to them rather than…well, simply changing with the times.”

The ambassador shook his head.  “Jack, you’re working under two assumptions: that the Parpaldians recognize the negative impacts of their actions, and that they’re willing to change their ways to meet our standards.  This is a world where might makes right, and the Empire’s been in a unique situation where they’ve never once been the technologically inferior side until now; to them, the times haven’t changed jet yet—we’re just some random loudmouth with not much of a bite and a few fancy toys and jewels to compensate.”

“So what exactly are you suggesting, that we play their game?  Send another carrier fleet to Eshirant on a ‘goodwill tour’ as some kind of gunboat diplomacy?”

“On the contrary, what we’re doing at the moment seems to be the right approach: subtly dismantling their entire diplomatic and economic network and replacing it with ours, talking with Mu and Milishial over Eshirant’s heads, and keeping in touch with the local leadership over encouraging social reforms in return for closer trade relations.  If the Empire decides to start a war with us, they’ll quickly find that they won’t have anyone on their side; if they remain on their current course of being all high and mighty, then sheer necessity will eventually force them to eat their words and join us or risk complete economic and political ruin.”

The President shifted uneasily on his seat.  “So that’s our foreign policy?  Changing the world to our image and gently nudging the outliers into line?”

“It’s a worthy and perfectly feasible end goal; besides, if it works, we can focus our attention on much more pressing things like the Ravernals or whatever else exists out here.”

“Then what about in the long run, after Parpaldia stops being a threat?   What if the other people we meet here in Elysia don’t want that peace that you aspire for?  What if Parpaldia decides to start a war before they even arrive at that point?”

Harling smirked.  “Well, that’s why we have pilots like you, Jack…”

“Vincent, I’ll be honest with you—you were a great leader during the war, but I sure as hell didn’t vote for you during your reelection campaign.”

Harling raised an eyebrow as the two walked towards the helipad, where a transport awaited to bring the ambassador back to his plane.  “Oh?”

“Mind you, I agreed with many of your policies when you were running for office.  I just…kind of felt that you were a tad bit naive about simply brushing away decades of unease between us and everyone else on the planet.  You do know how many people felt about us Oseans back in the day, right?”

“Power-hungry, possible conquerors in search of land and resources in order to survive?  I’ve heard that before.”

“They weren’t wrong.”

“Maybe they weren’t.  We’d know, the Belkan War and everything right before Ulysses hit…did I ever tell you about the time I escaped the Usean coup back in the nineties?”

Bartlett paused.  “You were in Usea when that whole shitshow happened?”

“Against my own will, as luck would have it.  I was one of the greenhorns in the Foreign Office who opposed extending that pact to the Southern Useans—as you can probably tell, I lost that argument.  The higher-ups decided to send me along with the delegation as some kind of punishment, but then it was suddenly me who was proven right and suffering the consequences of their actions, dodging bullets left and right while somehow managing to sneak back to Oured…”

“Let me guess,” the President drily remarked, “they got the blame and you got the last laugh?”

“The new administration put me in charge of the whole department sometime after the war ended.  Whole career took off after that, and the rest is history.”

Jack shook his head incredulously, looking at the sunset over the Oured skyline.  “So, a pacifist right from the start?”

“We’ve had nothing but wars and destruction in the past fifty years and not a lot to show for it—just a nuclear wasteland where Belka used to be and half of the planet not trusting us whenever the situation actually calls for us to step up.  Elysia’s a good place for us to wipe the slate clean and start again on the right foot—we just need to make sure we don’t come across as the threats we might have been to the Old World all those years ago.”

Nodding grudgingly, Bartlett vaguely recalled the documents on his desk many months ago—maps, outlines, and sketches of unusual fighters spotted by spy planes and satellites over Erusea less than a few hours before the Transference that had started this entire mess.  “Do you think we might have succeeded in achieving world peace had we stayed on Earth a bit longer?”

Harling frowned, and for the first time Bartlett saw doubt and uncertainty in the man’s eyes. 

“I think we might have done it, Jack…but something tells me we might not have achieved it in the way that we hoped or even imagined.”

Foreign Affairs Office, Eshirant, Parpaldia Empire — November 27, 2019

“Lady Remile, greetings.  I take it you—”

“Enough with your false platitudes, Ambassador Harling!  Care to explain why the Osean Federation fired upon and destroyed an entire invasion fleet en route for the Kingdom of Altaras?”

The Osean shook his head.  “The King formally requested our aid in preventing your ships from reaching his lands and subjugating his people—and judging by the long list of highly questionable demands your government made, he may have had a point—”

“A rightful extension of our influence as the superpower of the Third Civilised Region!  We would have thought that the past year since your arrival would have since taught you the impudence of impeding on your superiors’ actions, but clearly we need to provide this lesson to Osea ourselves!”

Harling blinked.  “I—”

“Read this document I have provided to you—it contains our final offer to the Osean Federation, and the stipulations we would require for us to…forgive this infraction on our nation’s dignity.” Remille gestured to a small document on the table before her counterpart, clearly expecting him to examine it.  “Let me make this clear: we will not accept anything else, Ambassador.”

Slowly picking up the sheet of paper, Harling’s eyebrows rose as he quickly read through its contents.  “Quite a lot that you ask from Osea, indeed…”

“Considering the circumstances, I would certainly believe these to be reasonable!”

“The return of the captured Parpaldian soldiers, while being something we’d be happy to help facilitate, depends on what arrangement you would be able to make with the Kingdom of Altaras.  The Osean Federation could perhaps make a strongly-worded suggestion or apply diplomatic pressure, but I suspect the King would demand certain concessions out of the your government in return for any prisoner deals and reparations—”

“Negotiations with barbarians?!  Absurd, and a spit in the face of the countless men who died thanks to your actions!”

“—likewise, any peacekeeper movements in and out of the Kingdom would require the approval of the King; again, concessions and negotiations—”

“Do you intend to hide your blatant lies behind bureaucratic prattle, or do you intend to comply with our demands?!”

“—and your final proposals are both impossible to achieve and unlikely for my superiors to agree with, assuming you’re even aware of the scope of the countless areas that the IUN is currently involved in.  Personally, I’d be surprised if even Mu and the Milishials could be able to completely understand our projects in a few days, let alone take command of—”

“Enough!  This farce of a meeting is clearly all but useless in the face of you and your government’s obstructions on our rightful actions in Altaras!  Let me make this brief: return our men, apologise for your subterfuge, and prostrate yourselves before us lest we choose to send our men to your shores in retaliation—and perhaps we might even see if these fabled Birds and Lighthouses have any element of truth to them, or are those yet more fanciful lies meant to embellish your nation’s image?”

Harling’s eyes narrowed.  “You would declare war on the Osean Federation for your own inability to recognize your own folly in antagonising every nation around your borders?”

“And you blame us for that, when your vaulted ‘International United Nations’ has quietly poisoned the minds of our neighbours?  We will make use of this alliance to enlighten Elysia of our true nature as the most powerful nation of the Third Civilized Region, and your technology and knowhow will prove invaluable in asserting our position for centuries to come!  Surely even your feeble mind would perceive the folly in refusing to join us, Ambassador Harling?”

“You belittle my nation’s technological accomplishments, yet you covet our expertise in the hopes that you may one day wield them.  You speak dismissively of the organisation that unites the Third Civilized Region through trade and diplomacy rather than conquest, yet you desire a seat amongst your peers and a chance at becoming its leader.  I think that you perceive my nation as a threat to Parpaldia’s existence, yet you believe that your glorious past indicates war with Osea would result in total victory on your end—well, let me tell you of what the ultimate outcome of a conflict with my nation would be: the complete destruction of your military and economic capabilities, and the complete isolation of Eshirant from the rest of the international community for years to come.”

Remile’s eyes shone in anger.  “So you refuse?”

“The Osean Federation cannot accept your demands, and suggests that you approach the Kingdom of Altaras if you seek a speedy resolution to the ongoing conflict.”

“You draw the wrath of the Parpaldian Empire and will come to regret it!  For you and your nation’s disgraceful actions, consider the Empire to be in a state of war with the Osean Federation—I look forward to seeing you and your leaders supplicating yourselves before the Emperor himself!”

The ambassador slowly nodded.  “Very well.  I will notify my government of your country’s declaration and order my staff to leave Eshirant immediately—”

“So that’s how your feeble nation responds to our righteous proclamation—a brief consultation, and yet another showy and purple document that means nothing to us?  That will not be necessary.  Guards!”

The door behind Harling swung open, and a dozen Parpaldian soldiers swiftly swept in, rifles at the ready; realising the intent of his counterpart, the ambassador glanced at Remille in clear surprise.

“Holding an emissary of another country hostage?  The sheer number of Parpaldian regulations regarding foreign affairs with sufficiently advanced nations you’ve just trashed could easily fill a whole book, my Lady.”

Remille simply gave back a haughty smile.  “Your people sacked a naval fleet and killed thousands of Parpaldians without even a proper formal declaration of war beforehand.  At this point, I think we can dispense with the pretence of civilised conduct regarding your nation, Ambassador—be grateful that we have not decided to publicly execute you and your retinue as an example to your people, and that your pitiful life as a conman from a mentally obtuse nation of savages may last just a while longer.”

The Osean ambassador simply sighed, quietly resigned to his imminent fate.  “Well, at least it’s not Stier Castle all over again…”

Bright Hill, Oured, Osean Federation — November 27, 2019

“Jack!  On the news!  Turn the TV on!”

Bartlett’s aide quickly reached for the remote and swapped the channel to the news, where the Osean Broadcasting Corporation had switched to a live broadcast from the MNN branch in Eshirant.  The President’s eyes shone in recognition as the Parpaldian Head of the Foreign Affairs Auditing Office herself spoke before the entirety of Elysia.

“—the direct and unprovoked assault of the Osean navy on our vessels cannot be forgiven!  Our entreaties and requests have been ignored and our presence rebuffed from the halls of the so-called Assembly of Nations, yet they still require us to adhere to their laws like an overlord demands his underlings—they do not realise their place as subordinates to us!  Mere association with the superpowers of Elysia have brought upon a grand delusion in their heads of becoming our equals, when our ships and armies have already begun preparations to prove them wrong!  But we are not crude and violent people, provoked to attack by sheer instinct whenever wounded by an inferior foe; we wish to make a final entreaty to the people of the Osean Federation, for them to judge our actions for themselves.”

The projection widened, revealing Harling seated beside Lady Remille, a pair of burly Parpaldian guards standing menacingly behind him.  From Bartlett’s periphery, his secretary gasped in shock—

“As a proper response to the illegal attack on our fellow Parpaldians, we have declared the standard diplomatic protocols between our two nations null and void and brought Ambassador Vincent Harling into our custody; Emperor Ludius, as a display of our mercy and compassion, has stayed his execution in the hopes that his superiors may finally see the errors of their ways.  Our demands to the government of the Osean Federation, in return for the safe return of Ambassador Harling, are clear and simple: return our men to Eshirant and withdraw from the Kingdom of Altaras, deliver economic reparations to be determined by the Emperor’s representatives as compensation for the damages and lives lost by their brutal attack in Altaras, and hand over full control of the International United Nations to the Parpaldian Empire as the rightful harbinger of order and civilization in this region of Elysia.  

“We await the response of the Oseans, in the hope that they see reason and acknowledge our mighty empire as the glorious, divine, and sublime nation that it truly is, or else suffer the consequences of total war against us—”

The screen cracked and shattered, cutting short Lady Remille’s transmission as the television caved inward—furiously glaring at the remote, now embedded onto the destroyed appliance where the woman’s projection had been permanently silenced, the President whirled towards the horrified aide.

“Damn, damn Elysians, their noses stuck so far up their asses that they can’t even smell anything else but crap!   Get me Edwards and every member of the Chiefs of Staff in my office, right now!”

Chapter Text

OFS Admiral Andersen, Le Brias, Kingdom of Altaras — November 29, 2019

Alright, listen up!  The operation to rescue Ambassador Harling is now underway!

Over the past week, our special forces units have been deployed into the Parpaldia Empire to investigate his whereabouts—yesterday evening, we received intel suggesting that the ambassador is currently being held in a facility somewhere within Eshirant itself.  Having narrowed down the number of potential locations to three, HQ has now authorised us to launch an unprecedented mission to strike the heart of the Empire itself.

The carrier Admiral Andersen will split off from the IUN defensive fleet in Le Brias and sail for the territorial waters of the Parpaldia Empire—in six hours, our Marine Corps will be transported via helicopter into Eshirant, where they will locate and successfully retrieve Harling from Parpaldian custody.  Your task for this operation will be to secure air superiority and provide close air support where necessary, as well as eliminate any threat to the marines and their transports both heading in and out of Eshirant.

HQ has made it clear that nothing less than total victory is acceptable—a successful extraction of Ambassador Harling will significantly damage Parpaldia’s international standing and signal to the rest of the world what Osea itself is capable of.  We’re officially at war—let’s make this engagement a quick and decisive one! 

Any questions?

Eshirant, Parpaldia Empire — November 29, 2019

“Golem and Mage, be advised: we will be entering the AO in approximately ten minutes.  Our ESM capabilities will mask our approach, but once the Parpaldians figure out that we’re here, the safety of Ambassador Harling will be up in the air until Sea Goblin arrives.”

“Why can’t we just send one of the Arsenal Birds to these parts?  We might have the ability to expand their operational range, right?”

Sky Keeper sighed.  “I’m not at liberty to fully disclose this, but that requires resources that we’re already using for a more long-term project in the works.  Besides, HQ’s concerned that any further expansion of their operational range might put Oured and Bana City at risk if the Arsenal Birds get hijacked—at this point, we’re the best solution for the problem at hand that doesn’t involve potential collateral damage or something that might bite us in the long run.”

“I’d think Harling getting killed on live television might pose more of a problem to us,” Brownie mused, “but what do I know?  We’re pilots, not diplomats—”

“If we get a mission that involves us just wrecking Eshirant as a show of force,” Knocker interjected with a hint of annoyance, “then that’s what we’ll do.  Right now, our main objective is making sure Harling makes it out of here alive, got it?”

“Got it.”

Turning to look at a blinking light on his console, Sky Keeper grimaced.  “New message from the Osean embassy in Eshirant: Delegate Clarkson’s still currently attempting to stall for time while the remaining staff are safely evacuated, but the Parpaldians are starting to get antsy.  The sooner we arrive in the capital, the better…”

From a cliff overlooking the manor where the former president was suspected to be in, a solitary figure peered through his binoculars at the sight below him.  

“Nothing new as of yet to report, HQ.  Are we clear to begin our operations, over?”

“Negative, Basilisk Actual—Sea Goblin, Mage, and Golem won’t be arriving for another fifteen minutes.  We’ll patch you in to Sky Keeper once they arrive; until then, keep an eye until further updates, over.”

“Copy, out.”  Sighing in frustration, the operative refocused his efforts towards scanning the individual figures in the courtyard; the rustle of leaves behind him quietly signalled the arrival of his companions.

“Perimeter’s secure—the patrols were quietly dispatched, and it should be another half-hour before they start to suspect something.”

The man nodded.  “Good work.  Tell the other teams to remain on standby; ETA for air support is about fifteen minutes at the earliest.”

“Remind me again why we can’t bust in right now?  Harling could be on the chopping board right now on the news and we’d know next to nothing about it, you know?”

“We could, but once we make our presence known, every single soldier in Eshirant’s going to be bearing down on us—we need the air cover if we’re going to have even a single chance of getting out of Parpaldia with the President alive…”

The other operative frowned.  “Wait a minute—what’s that?  Down by the gate…”

A carriage halted right outside the entrance, drawing the attention of the two guards standing at attention; gesturing to another Parpaldian in the courtyard, one slowly walked to the vehicle and yelled something at the driver.  Slowly, the individual—a male in civilian garments and burly robes—climbed out, when several figures in clearly non-Parpaldian military outfits—

Gesturing to his companions, the man revealed his weapons to the guards with a flourish and instantly opened fire—

“Wait, what the hell?  Reporting MG fire coming from the manor!”

Major Karl blinked in confusion as he hastily pointed his binoculars at the building where Harling was being held—sure enough, the individuals had stormed through the main entrance and were now making swift work of the Parpaldian guards with sharp staccatos of machine gun fire.

“HQ, we weren’t informed about this!  Do we have any Osean units within the perimeter of the compound?”

“Negative, negative—we do not have any people within the compound at the moment.  Do not launch Lighthouse Keeper, I repeat, do not launch Lighthouse Keeper!  Maintain your positions at this time!”

“Well, who the hell are these guys?!”

“Ambassador Vincent Harling?”

The Osean captive looked up from the table, where he had been calmly reading a Parpaldian newspaper amidst the gunfire.  “That would be me.  But unless the Osean Federation changed its flag in my absence, you’re definitely not the people I was expecting…”

“Hm?”  Glancing at the insignia on his shoulder, the officer replied, “Ah, yes—I’m Captain Vin Heinrich of the Gra Valkas Imperial Intelligence Bureau.  I’m here on behalf of my government, with orders to ensure your rescue and safe extraction to either the Osean or Muan Embassy along the coast.”

“Gra Valkas?  As in the nation that annihilated Paganda and Leifor?”

Heinrich shrugged.  “Guilty as charged, Ambassador.  I understand your people may have other plans to retrieve you from Eshirant, but my superiors believe that assisting their efforts might give a better impression of us to the Osean government.”

“Well,” Harling sighed, “who am I to object to a rescue?  Do you have a means of getting us to Clarkson or Mugei?”

“There’s a carriage that should allow us to slip through the initial response.  We’ll have to be quick, though—the gunfire’s bound to have drawn some unwanted attention.”

“Very well.  Lead the way, then, Captain…”

“We have a visual on Ambassador Harling!  I repeat, we have visual confirmation of Ambassador Harling!”  Karl peered towards the entrance as the delegate was quickly ushered by the unknown interlopers into a white carriage.  “He’s on the carriage—it’s just left the compound, HQ.”

“Copy.  Do we know where it’s headed?”

“The road it’s on leads towards the docks—the embassies are located within that area.”

“Major, tail the carriage and intercept any patrols that might cross paths with Harling’s route.  However, be prepared to ambush the transport itself if it comes to that.”

“Roger.”  Karl turned to his men.  “You heard the order—move!”

The ride was silent, Vin’s companions surprisingly taciturn (though somewhat visibly curious regarding their guest) even as they kept a wary eye on the road ahead and behind them.  Glancing towards the officer, Harling decided to speak up.  

“Why rescue me, Captain?  What does an Empire from across the planet desire from Osea?”

“Hmm?”  Realising it was him the ambassador was addressing, Heinrich quickly responded. “Well, Osea’s reputation as a significant technological power spread like wildfire after that broadcast from the Milishials—almost as quickly as Auditor Remille’s public threat to have you killed.”

“Oh?”

“Word also goes around about the Osea’s considerably more benevolent approach towards what passes as ‘non-civilized’ nations, and your current predicament brought back some rather… unpleasant memories of recent events.”

Harling frowned.  “While I would definitely be—and am—thankful for your rescue, altruism doesn’t exactly come across as enough of a motivating factor to travel halfway across Elysia.”

“Not entirely.  Gra Valkas’s new position in Elysia leaves it in a disadvantageous position—outside of any of the Civilized Areas, our image even in spite of our own technology is that of a barbaric nation unworthy of attention or even basic respect.  Regrettably, our retaliatory actions against Paganda and Leifor for what they did to our ambassadors haven’t exactly served to dispel the Elysians’ general notion of us—the Empire hopes that your nation and its organisation might be able to assist us in that regard.”

“And my rescue would theoretically be rewarded with cooperation on my superiors’ part?”

“A positive outlook at the very least would be appreciated, Ambassador.  I will say this—there are others back at Ragna who view your style of approach as naive at best, especially with our experiences in Elysia in mind.  Others view the tales of the IUN as a more successful attempt at our own failed efforts, and perhaps even a renewed opportunity to turn away from the more militaristic vices of our past.  Things have been quietly changing in the Empire ever since Osea made its presence known in Elysia, and most people in our government feel that you may have a role to play in what comes ahead for Gra Valkas.”

“And what would Osea receive in return for assisting you in your predicament?”

“Our gratitude, and perhaps even our friendship.  It would not be something we would hold lightly, Ambassador, in the years to come.”  

“Interesting.”  Harling frowned.  “What would I tell my superiors when they bring up Leifor and Paganda?  Their cities still lie in ruins and their people dead or exiled, regardless of the generous offers of friendship your Empire makes.” 

“The government of Paganda executed our envoys when they came to seek nothing less than peaceful coexistence, and Leifor sought to retaliate against our rightful retribution to that act of diplomatic barbarism.  Had Parpaldia done the same to you, Ambassador, could you say that Osea would have not responded in kind?”

“Somehow, I feel that we would have forgone sacking the region and massacring half of the Second Civilized Region in the process.”

Heinrich nodded grudgingly.  “Perhaps.  If fate had been kind enough to bring us closer to your nation, perhaps our conduct here in Elysia would have been far kinder.”

“Would Gra Valkas have destroyed Parpaldia, if they were in our position?”

“Without Osea?  Maybe.  With Osea?  Maybe not.  From what we’ve heard about you, their downfall would perhaps have been far less harsh with your people’s words, no doubt.”

“Basilisk Team here—we’ve reached the Osean safehouse and picked up Delegate Clarkson and the rest of Mr. Harling’s staff.  Do we have confirmation of Harling himself?”

“Negative, negative.  By the looks of it, our partycrashers are going to the Mu embassy—you don’t think Mugei arranged for something with his government, do you?”

“Let’s avoid speculation for now, Major.  Basilisk, can we extract the rest of the diplomatic staff from the secondary extraction zone?”

“Sky Keeper, that’s a positive.  We can bring them to the outskirts of Eshirant where their sensors are weaker and call for a chopper to bring them out.”

“Alright.  Figure out amongst yourselves who’s going to extract the embassy staff and who’s tailing Harling, but be quick—we can’t exactly stay here forever…”

Heinrich frowned.  “Odd.  We should have seen at least a few patrols pass through this road—either Parpaldia’s got something up its sleeve, or your people might already be aware of your whereabouts.”

“Couldn’t your people have contacted us beforehand?”

The spy shook his head.  “We didn’t have the means to immediately notify your government of our plans; for all intents and purposes, this operation serves as the unofficial first contact between Osea and Gra Valkas.  Besides, we weren’t sure that you’d agree—”

A burst of static came from Heinrich’s handheld radio, and the operative tilted his head to listen to the information being broadcasted.

“Apologies, Ambassador, but the Osean Embassy was apparently stormed by the Parpaldians right after our attack.  Parp comms suggest there wasn’t anyone inside, though.”

Harling’s eyebrows rose in surprise.  “They must have left right after the news broke out.  You wouldn’t have seen any other Oseans when you came to visit me?”

“We saw quite a few when we were heading along this way earlier—it seems your countrymen’s plans were rather fortuitous when it came to timing.”

“So…what would your secondary plan be?  Look for some Oseans and drop me off with them?”

The operative shook his head.  “Under the current circumstances, it would only draw more attention to Gra Valkas if our presence was revealed here in Eshirant.  We’ll drop you off with the Muans, who should hopefully be able to hand you over to Osea without incident.”

“And if Mu gets dragged into the conflict because of your actions?”

“A war between Mu and Parpaldia would draw attention away from Gra Valkas—the Hawks in our government call for conquest, and the less eyes focused on us, the better.”

“Gra Valkas asks us for peace and yet prepares for war with its own neighbours?”

Heinrich sighed.  “Like I said, Gra Valkas stands at a crossroads, and the two paths head off in opposite directions: one towards a world where we stand against all of Elysia itself in war, and one where we stand with Osea as nations of honour and civility.  Perhaps you now see the Empire’s current predicament, and why we’ve come here to speak to you…”

After several tense minutes, the carriage finally drew to a halt as the Gra Valkan spy and the ambassador arrived at the front of the Muan Embassy.  Harling cleared his throat and began to shift on his seat.

“Well, I believe this is my stop—”

“A moment before you leave, Ambassador.”

“Oh?”

Reaching into his coat, Heinrich pulled out a brown folder that was visibly stuffed with documents.  “Diplomatic materials from Gra Valkas, for your people.  Basic geographic data, general information about ourselves, and, if I remember correctly, a formal invitation to Lars Filmyna for an official meeting between our diplomats and yours.”

Harling nodded, carefully taking the folder and its contents from the spy.  “I will bring this up with my superiors.”

“Thank you.  Again, Gra Valkas would be grateful if your nation gave us the consideration that Paganda and Leifor never bothered with, and my people look forward to meeting you in an official capacity.”

“And what about you?”

“We have our ways of getting out of Parpaldia.  If the gods allow it, perhaps we might even meet again in another place and time.”

“In another Elysian state with delusions of grandeur, I presume?”

Heinrich smirked in amusement.  “Hopefully not, Mr. Harling—if my superiors’ reckoning is correct, Parpaldia might just be the last local civilization to underestimate your nation’s capabilities.  Well, apart from some of my own fellow countrymen—but that would probably be for your people to deal with when the time comes, perhaps?”

“Perhaps.  Safe journeys, Captain.”

Pulling away into the thoroughfare, Henrich looked back to the entrance to the Muan embassy, where Harling was still watching the carriage slowly trundle down the street; with a grin, the spy stretched out his hand in a typical Gra Valkan gesture of farewell.

“Think kindly of us, Ambassador, from one transferred nation to another!”

“All callsigns, be advised—we’ve just received a radio transmission from the Muan Embassy!  Ambassador Harling was extracted by the unknowns to their offices, but Parpaldian ground forces now are closing in on the facility; no prizes for guessing what they want from them.  Operation Lighthouse Keeper is a go—I repeat, Operation Lighthouse Keeper is a go!”

“Shit—Trigger, that’s our cue!  Sky Keeper, give us our targets!”

“Mage Squadron, you’ve been tasked with striking Eshirant’s coastal defences.  Golem, move for the military installations further into the city—this should delay the Parpaldian reinforcements and buy our teams more time.  You’re cleared to engage; get moving!”

“Metal wyverns over on the horizon!  Sound the alarm!”

Watching from the pier, Lieutenant General Mayga observed in astonishment as six metal crafts soared over the waters at breakneck speeds towards the docks.  “Men, get your defences ready!  They’re coming for the Ambassador—show them that dishonourable deeds against Parpaldia will not be tolerated!”

“General, they’re launching their guided arrows!  Look out!”

With a series of thunderous booms, a dozen towers, cannons, and fortifications disintegrated into fireballs before the general’s eyes—even as Mayga leapt for cover, the six constructs shot right above him, narrowly avoiding instant decapitation even as the sky visibly warped into clouds around their surfaces.  Arcing upwards and soaring up into the sky in clear formation, the planes’ rears spat out puffs of smoke and glowing balls of orange light in rapid succession, signalling the arrival of the Osean Federation to all of the mighty Parpaldian Empire. 

A sharp buzzing noise drew Mayga’s attention as three metal transports with rapidly rotating wings hovered above the ruins of Eshirant’s coastal defences, their noses pointing downwards as they slowly floated towards the Foreign Legations—where Osea’s embassy was located, the general realised.

“By the gods, they’ve actually attacked Eshirant!  Bring me my carriage—I need to get to the Defense Base at once!”

“Ambassador Mugei!  We know you are harbouring a fugitive of the Parpaldia Empire—release Ambassador Harling to us, or we will open fire on the Embassy!”

“Damn it, they already know I’m here!”  Harling whirled to his counterpart.  “Mugei, we need to buy some more time before the rescue team arrives!”

“I know, damn it!”  Mugei growled in frustration, “Harling, why did you have to drag my nation into this?!”

“Where else do you expect me to go?  The Osean embassy’s burning as we speak, and it’s not like there’s anywhere else that my people will expect me to be if not in Parpaldian custody!”

“Alright, nevermind!  Get back inside and see if you can contact your people from the radio room—ask them for help or something!  I’ll talk to the Parpaldians—go, go!”

Nodding to his guards, Mugei reached for the doors to the balcony overlooking the main entrance to the Muan consulate—opening them revealed two lines of musket infantry and several cannons positioned before the gates.  Frowning at the sight, the ambassador walked to the handrails and addressed the Parpaldian forces:

“I am Ambassador Mugei of the nation of Mu!  To whom am I speaking to?”

The line of soldiers swiftly opened, revealing a singular officer with balding hair and an orange beard.  The man stepped forward, his eyes looking up to the ambassador on the balcony as the formation closed behind him.  

“Ambassador Mugei, I am Lieutenant Lee Jacques of the Parpaldia Imperial Army.  Under the orders of the government of the Parpaldia Empire, with the blessing of Emperor Ludius, we compel you to release the individual known as the so-called Ambassador, Vincent Harling, to our custody at once!  Failure to do so will be considered a violation of diplomatic protocol between our nations and will be responded to with force!”

Mugei’s eyes narrowed in anger.  “You, soldiers of the Parpaldia Empire, dare threaten the consulate of the nation of Mu?  Risk drawing the wrath of a fellow superpower in search of a man who invokes the ancient tradition of refuge?”

“Ambassador Harling and his fellow Oseans spit on the very same traditions they now rely upon as he hides among you, Ambassador Mugei!  Do not let their lies and hypocritical falsehoods twist your own perceptions of our righteous actions!”

“Your so-called ‘righteous actions’ have been the very source of this whole madness from the start!  Tell Lady Remille that if she wants her Ambassador, she can come and talk to me herself!”

The Parpaldian captain glanced uncomfortably back at his men, before turning to face Mugei.  “Ambassador, we are under the direct command of Lady Remille.  Her orders are unconditional and cannot be negotiated: return Harling to us, or the Empire will consider Mu to be a co-conspirator with the Osean Federation and treat every citizen and official within its borders with the same consideration.  Will you comply with us or not?”

Mugei narrowed his eyes in anger, clearly recognizing the decreasing patience on the officer’s expression yet determined to buy more time for his people.  “Very well.  Will you allow me to consult my—”

A deafening boom sent shudders across the street as the roar of Osean jets signalled the arrival of Harling’s rescuers; the shockwaves of a fighter soaring right above the embassy in subsonic speeds buffeted Parpaldians and Muans alike with gusts of wind that sent hats flying and knocked down even a few guards from the sheer blast.  Recognising the rapidly developing situation was no longer in his favor, Lee Jacques whirled towards his men.

“They’re going to hand Harling over to the Oseans!  Open fire on that man!”

The Muan ambassador found himself being grabbed and hastily dragged into cover by his guards as a sharp blast of musket and cannon fire shattered brick and glass and sent the entire front facade of the consulate tumbling down onto the ground.  Even as the Muan soldiers present began to return fire at the intruders, Mugei could hear the angry shouts of the Parpaldian officer below as the screams of the injured and dying echoed amidst the smoke and rubble throughout the courtyard.

“Glory to Parpaldia!  Bring me Mugei and Harling, and execute everyone else you find!  Move, men, move!”

“Basilisk Team here—we’ve linked up with the Muan Embassy from the rear entrance, but we’ve got another Parpaldian patrol hot on our heels!  Sea Goblin, how long until you arrive?”

“Stand by, Basilisk Team; ETA is one minute.  Do you have Mr. Harling himself?”

“Affirmative, we’ve reached Mr. Harling!  We’re ready for extraction, but we’re going to help the Muans defend their consulate from the Parpaldians until you arrive.  Sorry, hang on—”

A verbal argument broke out amidst the static, between Basilisk Actual and another individual in the background.  Sea Goblin Actual frowned, listening in anticipation for whatever development was clearly taking place—a minute passed before the Osean operative spoke into the radio once more.

“Sea Goblin, Sky Keeper, be advised: Ambassador Harling apparently won’t agree to be airlifted out of Eshirant until the Muans themselves are also safely evacuated.  What are our orders?”

“What?!  Does Harling seriously expect us to wait until Mu picks up every one of their citizens in the continent?”

“Negative, Sea Goblin.  Mu apparently ordered a full evacuation of its citizens from Parpaldia, so most if not all of its citizens are currently sheltering here in the consulate or attempting to board Muan vessels along the docks—if we can get them, Mugei, and his staff onto their ships, Harling will agree to be extracted from Eshirant.”

Sky Keeper gave a disgruntled sigh.  “Copy that, Sea Goblin.  Can you use your choppers to ferry the people in the consulate to the docks?”

“We’ll have to be economical with our resources—we don’t exactly have a lot of fuel, and we’ll be defenceless without Mage and Golem Squadrons if we run out of ammunition.”

“But can you do it?”

“…yes, Sky Keeper, we can do it.”

“Damn it.  All right, we’ll make another change to our plans—Sea Goblin, get going before more reinforcements arrive!”

“Copy; we’re arriving at the embassy shortly—crap!  Basilisk Team, are you seeing this?!”

“We’re literally in the middle of it, Sea Goblin!  Get down here now—we’re barely holding on here, and the Parpaldians might just charge our position if the Muans take any more casualties!”

Looking down in horror at the carnage below, Sea Goblin Actual hastily reached for the radio once more.  “Sky Keeper, the embassy’s under heavy siege by Parpaldian infantry and light artillery units.  Basilisk Team’s at risk of being overrun without air support!”

“Copy, Sea Goblin.  Do you want Mage Squadron to provide CAS?”

“Negative, negative!  The Parpaldians are too close to the embassy itself for even danger close—we’re going to use our choppers to provide fire support before touching down!”

“All right, Sea Goblin, but let us know if you change your mind, out!”

Sea Goblin Actual turned to the helicopter crew.  “Roach, use those MGs to suppress the Parpaldians!  Pilot, get us into range for close air support!”

An unholy roar burst through the din of musket and rifle fire as Mugei saw the machine guns on the Osean transport’s sides burst into life—flames erupted from the rapidly rotating muzzles as hundreds of rounds ripped through the Parpaldian soldiers surrounding the embassy in a matter of seconds.  The effect on the surviving would-be besiegers was almost instantaneous: most of the Parpaldians broke formation and scattered, either seeking cover or fleeing in terror from their newly-arrived assailants.

Mugei turned to a nearby officer.  “Captain Anderas, how many casualties do we have?”

“Three critically injured, ten wounded—a few of the civilians were also hurt in the fighting, but none have died yet.  The Oseans are currently providing medical assistance where they can, but they’ve also got their own men to deal with at the moment.”

“Alright.  Get the civilians and wounded on the transports first, then the diplomatic staff and your own men.  Where’s Harling?”

The captain frowned.  “He’s downstairs in the radio room, coordinating with the Osean forces providing air support for us.  Shouldn’t we also commit our own local assets along with the Oseans in our evacuation efforts, Ambassador?”

Realising the logic of Anderas’s suggestion, Mugei nodded in approval.  “Good point.  Stay here and send someone to inform me when the next wave of Parpaldians come in.”

“Yes, sir!”

“This is Ambassador Vincent Harling to the Osean birds above the Embassy, do you hear me?”

Brownie gasped.  “Mr. Harling?!”

Sky Keeper was similarly awed even as he quickly responded.  “Ambassador Harling, this is the AWACS Sky Keeper.  What are you doing on this channel?”

“One of the members of Sea Goblin handed me this radio to communicate with you.  Listen, Ambassador Mugei has offered the services of a Muan battleship currently anchored on the docks—Parpaldia’s opening fire on every Muan they can find in Eshirant for harbouring me in this embassy, and they would appreciate your assistance in helping them in return for them helping us.”

“Copy, stand by while I contact HQ…stand by…stand by…stand by…alright, we got approval from Bright Hill itself.  Does Mu have encrypted radio communications?”

“Errrr…negative, but Ambassador Mugei’s reassured me that even Parpaldian comms shouldn’t be able to intercept our radio frequencies.”

Clown sighed.  “Parpaldia’s magic isn’t something we’re all too familiar with, Sky Keeper.  There’s a chance that they might be able to intercept whatever actions we take if they listen in while we talk with the Muans.”

“It’s a risk we’re going to have to take, Mage One.  Ambassador Harling, tell the Muans to switch to the frequencies I’m sending over to Sea Goblin’s terminal—I’ll coordinate with their forces on where they’re needed.”

“Affirmative, Sky Keeper.  Oh, and Ambassador Mugei would like to extend his thanks for your cooperation.”

“Just doing our job here, Mr. Harling.  Mage, splash that patrol along the western avenue before it links up with the besiegers!”  

“Osean aircraft!  This is Captain Fraser of the Muan La Kasami-class battleship Ramayana —we’re currently assisting in the evacuation of our people from Eshirant, but we’re ready to provide fire and anti-air support to your men while Ambassadors Harling and Mugei clear the embassy!  Just tell us if you need anything, alright?”

“Copy, Ramayana.  This is the AWACS Sky Keeper, in charge of the IUN peacekeeping air forces in Eshirant; we’ve got wyverns incoming from the Naval Headquarters that pose a threat to our transports—can you shoot them down before they reach the Osean and Muan embassies?”

“Already on it!  We’ll hold them off, don’t you worry about it!”

Sky Keeper quickly reached for his console, switching to another frequency.  “Golem Squadron, we need CAS on the wyvern runways and hangars in the Naval Headquarters—if we can disable their air capabilities, our choppers should be relatively unimpeded in their evacuation efforts.”

“Roger, on it.  Ready your AGMs and UGBs, folks—let’s bring this party to an end!”

A stream of missiles and explosives detonated throughout the facility, sending magic-enhanced fireballs billowing into the afternoon sky—the screams of wyverns and dying Parpaldians were deafened by the roar of jets shooting past the burning wreckage.  Watching the targets disappear from the display, Sky Keeper nodded in approval.

“Good effect on target, Golem.  Mage, how’s the capital looking?”

“Trigger’s making quick work of whatever wyverns manage to escape both Golem and the Muans’ line of fire,” Clown responded.  “I’m seeing some Parpaldian naval vessels approaching from the east, though—”

“Leave that to us, Sky Keeper!  Our cannons should make quick work of whatever boats approach us—keep shooting at whatever’s marching on Mugei, will you?”

The crackle of the Muan battleship’s guns echoed throughout the capital as their shots found their mark; each Parpaldian ship that dared approach the docks cracked and burst into flames as their hulls split in half, even the mighty ships-of-the-line proving to be no match to the metallic might of Mu’s vessels.  

“Good hits, Ramayana.  Sea Goblin, how’s the evacuation looking?”

“We’ve ferried over half of the Muan civilians to the docks—we’re also getting contacts from the Parpaldians in the docks itself.  Looks like they’re aware of the evacuation—they’re going to start targeting the Ramayana itself shortly!”

“Mage, redirect your efforts to the docks and strike any patrols you see headed towards the Ramayana.  Remember to avoid damaging non-military infrastructure—we’re looking to avoid civilian casualties, do you hear?”

“Trigger, look out!”

A singular creature, greater and swifter than anything the Parpaldian Empire had seen before, swiped hard against the Osean craft—the claws of the beast scraped hard against the surface and sent fragments of its stabilisers flying, as rider and beast soared past like a knight in a joust finding its mark.  With a grin, Dragon Knight Reckermeyer glanced back at his prey in glee.

“That’s one Osean out of action!  Did you see that, boss?!”

“Brilliant work, Reckermeyer; that barbarian never saw you coming!  Do you see that, men of Parpaldia?  These Oseans can be hurt and brought down, just like any other savage brute from beyond the realm of our beloved civilization!”

The dragon knights cheered, enthusiasm and an eager desire for retribution flowing through their veins.  Their trip from the north had been long and desperate as the reports of the carnage in Eshirant flooded in, but they had finally arrived to avenge the fallen: forty-five of the finest wyverns, with five of the most powerful creatures ever to have graced Elysia since the fall of the Ravernals taking the lead.  Their wings outstretched, the beasts swooped down from the sky, their passengers whooping in bloodthirsty anticipation as they swiftly descended upon the harbour and the numerous troublemakers disgracing the capital of Parpaldia with their presence.

“All units, move in to engage these traitorous Muans and their Osean lackeys!  For Parpaldia, and for our boys in Altaras!”

“Multiple contacts inbound!  Move to engage before they strike our ground forces!”

“Crap, that creature managed to slash Mage Two!  Trigger, are you alright?”

Clown stared in abject horror at his wingman’s vertical stabilisers—three ugly scratches had all but shredded the emblem proudly displayed on the structure, yet the rookie’s F-16 still flew as if seemingly unimpeded by the near mid-air collision, even as it arced around and began spewing missiles and gunfire at its foes.

“Three strikes on him and yet he’s still up and about!  How the hell did Trigger survive that?!”

“Mage Two, get out of there!”  

Knocker growled. “Sky Keeper, what the hell is that?!  That thing’s definitely a lot bigger than the regular wyverns we’ve dealt with!”

“Be advised: it’s a Wyvern Overlord!  That’s one of Parpaldia’s fastest air units—it must have deployed from another facility that we didn’t hit—”

“If we don’t take that thing out, it might pose a threat to Sea Goblin’s choppers!  Mage, shoot it down!”

“This is Ramayana to Sky Keeper—we’ve got wyverns from the west heading towards us, and our guns can’t swat them all from the sky!  We need some help here!”

“Don’t worry about that!  This is Captain Rubiso, currently inbound with the 23rd Mu Air Squadron—we deployed from our airfield in Altaras as soon as we heard what was happening!  We’ll cover the Ramayana, Osean fighters; go take out those Overlords!”

“Copy that, Captain!  Golem, Mage, reposition to cover the Muans and take out the Parpaldian wyverns.  Mage Two, move out as soon as possible—”

“Trigger, what the hell are you doing?!  Disengage from that Overlord!”

“Mage Two’s going at it!  Mage Two, Fox Two!”

Reckmeyer watched from the skies above Eshirant in abject frustration as Mu’s Marin fighters swept into battle, the remarkable biplanes zipping back and forth across the sky as the regular Parpaldian wyverns struggled to keep up.  Unable to strike either the front or rear without getting caught by the fighters’ machine gun fire, the beasts were forced to move in from either above or below or coordinate with the bulkier Overlords in engaging the Muans—compounded with the anti-air fire from the Muan battleship and the rapidly approaching metal wyverns from Osea, the situation was not exactly panning out as the Parpaldian knights had envisioned.

“I’m hit, I’m hit!  My wyvern’s dead, bailing out!”

“Watch out for that Marin fighter on your six!  He’s got you in his sights!”

“They’re shooting guided arrows at us!  We just lost five men to a salvo of those—”

“That Osean craft’s going faster than even my Overlord can keep up!  Damn it, there’s another one behind me—”

“All units,” Delius bellowed, “regroup and reform attack formations!  These Marin fighters are going to tear us apart if we get split up!  Reckermeyer, on your six—”

A whizz of gunfire gave Reckermeyer only seconds to react as another metal craft shot past at breakneck speeds—the very same craft his Overlord had managed to strike, which now began for some unknown reason to turn back towards him.  Leaning forward as he narrowly avoided instant decapitation and gestured for his beast to move faster, the knight smirked and shot forward as the creature stretched its arms to swipe at the offending craft once more.  These were the Wyvern Overlords, the finest of Parpaldia’s wyvern fleet ever to be created in the past few centuries—

—wait, how the hell did that craft manage to go so fast?!

The metal wyvern spat gunfire as it released a guided arrow from its hold—

Reckermeyer’s eyes widened as he swerved out of the projectiles’ paths at the last second, narrowly dodging the explosion behind him—

—no, no no—

The Overlord roared in agony, a limb and a significant chunk of its left wing cleanly bisected at subsonic speed even as it writhed in flames—

Reckermeyer winced as he struggled to regain control of his beast, his prey-turned-hunter ignored for the briefest of moments as wyvern and rider slowly came into a controlled descent—

A rapidly roaring noise drew the dragon knight’s attention; the Parpaldian turned to his right as the metallic wyvern bore down upon his flank—an eldritch, curvilinear vehicle with a glistening cover and a pointed nose, a round glass canopy revealed its passenger: a singular individual with a helmet that obscured his face as he glanced back at Reckermeyer.  Raising his left hand to reveal a singular finger extended towards the rider and his beast, the Osean yanked back on his craft as it turned upwards and rapidly cut its speed, manoeuvring to the rear of the Wyvern Overlord in a matter of seconds—

—that thing’s going to—

The guided arrow found its mark and slammed right into the Overlord’s chest, detonating with a force that exceeded even the most powerful magic-enhanced cannonballs Reckermeyer had ever experienced.  Even as the knight seemed to be frozen in the air amidst the sky-splitting speeds he was travelling in, the Parpaldian found himself pushed forward as the mighty beast burst apart, the chemical reactions within the grisly remains causing the creature to ignite in an eerie, green cataclysm of fire.

Reckermeyer’s mind went blank as the sounds of war and battle disappeared into the faint periphery; his fingers found themselves reaching for his chute even as his vision rapidly alternated between the sky and the water—

His chute opened, and a sharp rush of pain on his chest brought the knight back to reality as he gasped for air.  His eyes wandered across the sky as the burning remains of Parpaldia’s wyverns fell into the sea, before he himself splashed into the cold waters of Eshirant’s harbour.  Even as he struggled to remain afloat, his eyes could spot the singular craft he had managed to strike, bringing down his wingmen with ruthless efficiency in the span of a few seconds—almost as if his actions had amounted to nothing, Reckermeyer realised.

“Delius!  Is anyone still alive?  Can anyone hear me?”

Several of what Reckmeyer suspected were the Oseans’ transports flew overhead towards the Muan battleship as the last of Eshirant’s wyverns fell from the sky—six metal wyverns and a dozen Marin fighters on their flanks shot right above, victorious against all odds in their audacious act of insubordination against the might of the Parpaldia Empire.  With no chance of rescue from the Navy, the knight slowly and wearily began what would ultimately be a cold swim back to shore.

Defeat, Reckmeyer realised for the first time in his life, was a very bitter pill to swallow.

“Mission complete!  Parpaldian air assets are retreating or no factor, and both Sea Goblin and the Ramayana are making their way out of the AO as we speak.  Well done, everyone—this couldn’t have gone any better, even with everything else that happened.  RTB at your leisure.”

The comms burst into cheers, both Muan and Osean, as the exhausted men and women heading out of Eshirant celebrated the chaotic yet ultimately opportune turn of events that had brought each and every one of them to the battlefield.  Yet even amidst the revelry, Clown glanced uncertainly at his wingman as his F-16 moved once more into formation.

“Trigger, are you alright there?  Those are some pretty-ugly looking scars on your vertical stabilisers—now that I think about it, how are you still airborne?”

“Sheer determination, by the looks of it,” Knocker drily supposited, grinning even as he turned to Trigger.  “That’s going to be the stuff of legends back at home, Mage Two—the ace that got scratched by a wyvern with three strikes and lived to tell the tale.  Make sure you land back on the carrier in one piece first, do you hear?”

From his cockpit, the young nugget gestured back at Golem One’s plane—a thumbs up of acknowledgment, by the looks of it.

“Sky Keeper, isn’t Osea going to retaliate at Parpaldia for this?  Even by Elysian standards, kidnapping and nearly killing someone as well-recognized like Harling is pretty much an incredibly low blow—”

Sky Keeper’s voice was audibly grim, even as he smirked in response to Clown’s query.  “HQ’s way ahead of you, Brownie.  They’re deploying their best pilot from the Vulture as we speak, for some kind of retribution strike on Eshirant itself—let’s just say tonight might be far more eventful than the Parpaldians might have already anticipated…”

Message to Lars Filmyna — November 30, 2019

VICTORY STOP DOVE RESCUE AND DIP MATERIALS GIVE TO OSEA STOP MU BUSY WITH PARPAL STOP GVE CLEAR TO CON SOLID POS CONTINENT STOP EVAC ESHR WITHIN HR STOP 

AWAIT FTHR ORDERS STOP

GLORY TO GVE

HNR

Osean Broadcasting Corporation — November 30, 2019

Ambassador Harling returned to Oured today following a dramatic rescue operation in the Parpaldia Empire involving a coalition of Muan and Osean forces under the IUN banner.  In a shocking development, the former President was able to escape his Parpaldian captors and ultimately sought refuge in Mu’s consulate in Eshirant—in another violation of international law, the Parpaldian government deployed troops to assault both the Osean and Muan embassies in search of Harling, forcing both governments to work together in order to safely evacuate their respective citizens and diplomatic staff from the capital.

A combination of Muan naval assets and Osean air units directly engaged the Parpaldian Army and Wyvern Air Force throughout Eshirant, dealing major damage to the city’s defences and military installations while a special forces unit ferried Ambassadors Harling and Mugei to safety.  Over two hundred Muan citizens were also evacuated by the impromptu coalition in the process, and will be brought to the Kingdom of Altaras where air transport back to Mu has already been arranged.

In a public statement, Muan Prime Minister Sinclair publicly condemned the actions of Parpaldia and confirmed that his nation would be joining the new IUN peacekeeping mission against the so-called superpower if it did not comply with the Assembly of Nations’s resolution prior to the Battle of Le Brias and cease hostilities with Mu, the Kingdom of Altaras, and the Osean Federation:

“The actions of the Parpaldia Empire in response to Le Brias may or may not have been legitimate or justified, but their hostile manoeuvres towards our people in Eshirant were in no way acceptable, nor were they even in compliance with the very same traditions they themselves have held for the past three centuries.  Our sympathies may have been with the Empire for their unfortunate losses in Altaras, but our gratitude now lies with the Osean Federation for their own painstaking efforts to help us even as Eshirant dragged our country into the crossfire!”

In Oured, Ambassador Harling was greeted by millions of people as his motorcade made its way from the International Airport to Bright Hill, where he was received by President Bartlett and General-Secretary Kanata in a special ceremony; Ambassador Mugei is expected to visit the Osean Federation in a later date, once the last refugees from Eshirant are safely returned to Otatheit.  In a surprising announcement, Ambassador Harling also confirmed in a public statement that he would be attending the upcoming Great Eastern Countries Conference on behalf of Osea—the ambassador brushed off claims of ignoring medical advice for him to rest even after surviving the most significant international crisis since the Circum-Pacific War:

“The situation in Eshirant demonstrates the magnitude of the task laid before us—even with the presence of foreign aggressors determined to demonstrate and establish their superiority, our mission remains the same: to establish peace and security throughout Elysia, to dispose of the concepts of subjugation and conquest, and to instead establish and promote the peaceful coexistence of cultures and nations so as to ensure that the horrors of total war cannot be repeated or attempted again.

Our hard work cannot and will not be delayed by the actions of those who would see the old order upheld at the cost of countless lives—”

Bright Hill, Oured, Osean Federation — November 29, 2019

“Vincent!  Are you alright—”

“Jack, listen.  We need information about the Gra Valkas Empire, and fast.  Those men that brought me to the Muan Embassy?  They weren’t Muan, and they certainly weren’t Osean—”

Bartlett blinked.  “You…you’ve literally just come back from being kidnapped, and already you want to get back into the action?”

“The situation’s already escalated beyond what we were expecting, and it might just get out of our control if we don’t react quickly, Jack.  What do we have on the diplomatic front?”

Suppressing the urge to throw his hands up in frustration (especially with several cameras from the press trained upon him and his predecessor), the President chose to simply shoot the Ambassador a dirty look as the two began to walk back towards the Blue House.  “Damned workaholic…”

“Well?”

“Damn it!  Fine, several nations of the Third Civilized Region will be holding a special summit called the Great Eastern Countries Conference—none of the superpowers ever show up for various reasons, so it would probably be a good idea to send someone as an observer to shake hands and see what’s going on there.  Might win us a few extra good points with the locals for bothering, too.”

“Will General-Secretary Kanata be there?”

“He’ll probably show up along with the new Prime Minister of Qua-Toyne—there’s word that a few of the Conference members might be planning on making a few new proposals for the Assembly regarding the Third Civilisation Area.  That reminds me: he’s also arranged for a special meeting in Bana City once you head over there tomorrow—a couple of words about your time in Parpaldia might be in order.” 

“All right, I’ll send word to Clarkson once he arrives to get things prepared.”

“And another thing: a couple of representatives in the Assembly want to know what exactly we’re planning to do regarding the new coalition.  Some people seem to be concerned that we might demand that they give some of their soldiers to us as a tithe of some sort for the war effort, or something like that.”

“Standard Elysian practice from the other superpowers, I presume?”

“Leifor apparently did something similar back in the day for their campaigns, from what I’ve been told.  I reassured them that it’ll be entirely voluntary and not strictly military, but I think you might be able to convince them more thoroughly than I did.”

“Fair enough; I’ll talk to the delegates after addressing the Assembly.”

“Good.  Now, about Gra Valkas—I’ll have a word with Mugei once he arrives in Oured, and Nagase will probably get orders to move the Pilgrim Two to the Second Civilisation Area for reconnaissance by this evening.  Edwards already told the OIA to keep an eye out for more infiltrators, just so we don’t get a repeat of whatever the hell happened in Eshirant.  Oh, and if you’re so keen on getting another assignment, there’s a few more things happening in the near future as well.”

“What, the postwar plan and the peace negotiations?”

Bartlett shook his head.  “Apart from that.  There’s rumblings from the Milishials about Parpaldia’s position as a superpower after their little stunt—the conflict between the Empire and us might end up with Osea taking their title if we can end the war in our favour.  Ever heard of the Eleven Country Leadership Conference?”

The ambassador’s eyes widened in surprise.  “How—”

Eshirant, Parpaldia Empire — November 29, 2019

“—exactly could this happen?!  Harling himself was in our grasp, and you simply let him get away?!”

The entire room wilted under the furious gaze of Emperor Ludius, the young man glaring at the diplomats and military officers assembled before him.  Seeing as no one dared answer his commands, the emperor turned to Kaios and his fellow staff.

“Director Kaios, you were the ambassador to Osea prior to the incident that led us to our current situation.  Why were you unsuccessful in persuading the Oseans to comply with our demands?”

Sighing, the director replied, “The representative on Osea’s behalf appeared to be hamstrung by numerous technical and logistical difficulties between his part and his superiors, all the way up to the point when their spies came to rescue them and Harling; even then, they were rather unwilling to agree with what they considered to be ‘unreasonable’ demands—”

Groans and disdainful murmurs echoed across the room.  Ludius raised his hand to silence the noise, before turning back to face Kaios.

“Why wasn’t Harling brought up to the embassy?  Why did neither you nor Lady Remile opt to publicly execute him as an example?”

Remile shifted uneasily in her seat, shooting Kaios a fiery glare.  “Director Kaios was…rather insistent on waiting until the last moment possible for Ambassador Harling’s execution; I believe he was concerned about how Osea would respond to such an action.”

“I was part of the diplomatic mission sent to gauge Osea’s technological and military capabilities shortly after the Muans and Milishials visited Selatapura—based on the information I gathered, and I have the backing of Director Vindus and Supreme Commander Arde on this, the loss of a figurehead such as Harling would have resulted in a cataclysmic response on Osea’s part.  Hardly the capitulation that a standard non-civilised nation would have done, and definitely borderline disastrous for the Parpaldian Empire in the long run.” 

Ludius raised an eyebrow.  “So you knew something like this would have happened?”

“I was aware of what the scale of Osea’s response could have been if their ambassador was to be hurt in any way.  However, Lady Remile herself remained confident over my objections that they wouldn’t dare risk the life of their emissary in a blatant attack on our capital—”

“Well, how was I to know they were idiotic enough to actually try?!”

“Their reputation precedes them, Remile!  In every scenario in the Third Civilised Region where a nation was threatened by a hegemonic power, Osea always responded with force!  Every nation not under the thrall of our Empire now looks to their glorified alliance thanks to every single one of their interventions—why else did you think we tried to join them like Mu and the Milishials up until you authorised the invasion of Altaras?!”

“Well, it should have been us that they looked up to, not them!”

“And clearly, they’re not!  When are you going to get it into your head that we are no longer the most powerful nation in the Third Civilised Region, you fool?!  Do you not get it— we might actually lose in a war against the Osean Federation!”

Gasps and shouts of outrage broke out amongst the officers present.  Mayga rose to his feet, fury in his eyes as he whirled to face Ludius.  “You dare, Kaios?!  Balderdash!  Emperor, I beg you—execute this man for treason at once!  How dare he suggest that our mighty forces would fall in an open war against these barbarians—”

“Well, look outside, Mayga!  Look at what happened to the pirate fleet at Fenn!  Look at what happened to the actual defences protecting this very palace from aerial assault—”

“They had Muan battleships and Marin fighters assisting them!  They took us by surprise!  Their capabilities are significant, I grant you, but hardly enough evidence has transpired before our very eyes to warrant us believing your report!  What do you have to gain from your treasonous words and actions, Kaios?  Let me guess—the Oseans paid you a generous sum to betray your country with your false words, eh?”

“Stand down, Mayga!”  Supreme Commander Arde had similarly risen to his feet, glaring at the lieutenant general for his audacious claims.  “ I also contributed to the report Kaios mentions—would you dare accuse me of treason as well?”

“I submitted my report after my trip to the Osean Federation, which clearly indicated the technological capabilities of Osea and concluded that they significantly outmatched us in every military aspect—whether or not the people present in this room bothered to read it or even believed it is not within my area of responsibility,” Kaios cooly added.  “And let’s not forget the very public broadcast the Milishials provided for all of Elysia when they visited Selatapura—Osea wasn’t exactly subtle in the past few months about what they were capable of doing to anyone they perceived to be a threat—”

“But the sheer scale of their abilities—not even the damn ASE could have even come close to matching their technology!  Did you seriously expect us to take all that at face value?!”

“And doubt the truth in the Milishials’ words?  If they suspected any kind of subterfuge on the Oseans’ end, we would have definitely heard about it ourselves!  Listen to the eyewitness accounts from our own merchants and spies about the Lighthouse—if this was an illusion, then even their magical abilities clearly far outpace the ancient terrors of old!”

“Regardless of whether or not the rumours of Osea’s military capabilities are true, we can still salvage the current situation,” Remille interjected, her words slow and measured as she leaned forward on the table, “as long as we can maintain our image amongst our peers—”

“And how exactly do you expect to do that?!  We should have listened to what everyone from Otatheit to Runepolis was telling us and met the requirements Oured laid out for us to join their damned organisation in the first place!  Not stick our heads into the sand and presume our past glories would give us a straight path to being treated with respect by our fellow peers—”

Mayga stepped forward in anger, seemingly moments away from grabbing Kaios by the lapels.  “You would have us accede to the will of our barbarian neighbours?!  Out of the question!  What we should have done was conquer our neighbours faster and deny Osea a foothold on our realm in Elysia in the first place—not smile and be polite with our already generous offers like you air-headed diplomats did beforehand!  Clearly, you’re not a traitor—you’re just a dim-witted fool!”

“Silence!”

His hand outstretched, Emperor Ludius’s command compelled the people present to return to their seats and simmer in silence.  

“Clearly, we face an enemy whose abilities and powers far outpace our own—our normal approach has not only failed to produce a positive outcome but instead exacerbate the situation at hand.  We now have two options—to either appease the Osean Federation and seek an outcome that minimises the loss to our Empire’s prestige in the international community, or to meet the Oseans in battle and endure the suffering that may follow for an agreement that ultimately benefits us.  We will not survive this crisis unscathed, but we will survive regardless—and we will prosper!”   

Ludius turned to the diplomatic staff present.

“Lady Remile, you are hereby instructed to begin negotiations with Mu and Osea for a settlement that favours us and returns our people in Altaras to us.  If such an effort fails, we shall bring them back by force—Supreme Commander Arde, begin preparations at once for our defensive plans and punitive expeditions to Altaras and…what the name of the island to the west of the Osean mainland?”

“Sand Island, Your Excellency?”

“Sand Island?  As bland as names go, but very well—Parpaldians intruding on their territory should make them think twice about doing the same to us.  An adequate test to see how they would respond, as well.”

“Indeed, Your Excellency.”

“Mayga, your concerns are noted and will be addressed in private.  In the meantime, begin preparations for a naval defence of Eshirant.  If the Oseans are truly as powerful as Director Kaios claims, then we will need every soldier available to fend them off from our shores.”

The lieutenant general quickly nodded.  “It will be done, Your Excellency.”

Calmly, Ludius spoke once more, addressing the entire room.

“Subjects, we stand against an enemy that has taken advantage of our own shortcomings and brought along their own deceptions to defy our will.  Twice now have we been caught flat-footed by our own overconfidence—these missteps cannot, and will not, be repeated again!  We face a struggle unlike any other, and what remains at stake for our Empire and our future could not be any higher—we will match their iron with our blood!  We will match their magic with our weapons!  We will match their gains with our sacrifices!  We will bring our people home, we will avenge their honour, we will defend our homeland, and we will be acknowledged by Rodenius and all of Elysia as the superpower that we are once more!”

“Glory to the Parpaldia Empire!  Glory to the—”

The doors to the meeting hall burst open, and a young aide scrambled through the entrance and faced the officials before him.

“Your Excellency, we need to evacuate this room!”

Remile rose up in surprise.  “What?!  Who dares intrude upon this meeting?”

“Sirs, my lady, Your Excellency, we’re under attack!  We need to get into shelter—the Oseans are attacking Eshirant again!”

A single aircraft shot amidst the clouds, basking amidst the moonlight as it reflected upon its white, black, and blue paint.  Silhouetted by the celestial body, its shape was unlike any craft seen in Elysia and even rarely found in the world Osea left behind—its forward wings were jagged and its fins sharp to the touch as they jotted out of the darkened canopy where the cover of the cockpit would have normally been.  

In the darkness of night, the wyverns of the mighty Parpaldia Empire rose up once more to face their foe—dozens upon dozens of wyverns, Wyvern Lords, and Wyvern Overlords alike outstretched their wings in a majestic display of valour.  It would be their final moment of glory, a battle that brought the magnificence of the great empires of old against the technology of the distant future.

From below, a woman in flowing robes saw a glimpse of the metal wyvern itself as it turned across the sky to face the enemy—what was that emblem on its wings?

Its mouth opened, and the sky disappeared in a blast of blue fire.

Chapter Text

OFS Kestrel II, Le Brias, Kingdom of Altaras — December 8, 2019

Alright, listen up!  In the week following Ambassador Harling’s rescue and the subsequent air raid on Eshirant’s defences, the IUN and its coalition forces have been able to move into position for a multi-pronged invasion of the Parpaldia Empire itself.  As of right now, the Kestrel II and Admiral Andersen remain at anchor in Altaras, while the Vulture and Buzzard II have secured the Empire’s main trade routes through Fenn and Awan respectively; Muan naval vessels are also en route to establish a naval blockade along the coast of the Marl Kingdom.  With Parpaldia isolated economically and politically and its best naval assets no longer capable of posing a significant threat to its neighbours, we are now free to move at our own pace; HQ believes that a swift offensive along the coast of Philades combined with simultaneous invasions of the Empire’s colonies will be more than enough to force the Parpaldian government to capitulate.  

To that end, we will be teaming up with the LRSSG to provide air support for a naval landing near the port of Duro; the settlement is believed to be a major industrial hub and home to several Parpaldian military assets.  If we can secure a foothold on the Empire’s home territory, then we will be able to assist local resistance efforts throughout Philades and push along the coast towards Eshirant.

Our designated landing zone is near the village of Ludia, a small settlement located south of Duro itself; our analysts have determined that the stretch of coastline located nearby is ideal for our forces to establish a beachhead and offload our armoured vehicles.  Unfortunately, the Parpaldians also seem to think likewise and have lined the entire coastline with bunkers, trenches, traps, and barricades—naval and ground forces should make quick work of their countermeasures, but your presence should hopefully make things a lot easier and reduce potential casualties.  We have the technological advantage, but that doesn’t mean that we can simply let our guard down—we’ve already had an unpleasant encounter with the Wyvern Overlords, so let’s not let that happen again!

The Osean counteroffensive begins now.  Get to your planes, everyone!

Duro, Parpaldia Empire — December 9, 2019

“This is Long Caster to all forces, be advised: HQ has given the go ahead to deploy ground forces onto the coast.  The invasion of Parpaldia begins today; Strider, Cyclops, Mage, Golem, you’re all cleared to engage!”

Two fighters shot forward towards the shore of Philades, five escorts on each flank, water spraying like a sword cutting through a fabric; fourteen missiles glowed and shot forward, finding their targets as a wall of fire erupted along the beach in Duro’s outskirts.  Each flank veered to the side, neatly slicing through the debris as the four squadrons all went forth towards their respective targets: key military installations, notable defensive positions, hangars and barracks for the defenders and their wyverns, and critical roads and bridges vital to allowing any possible reinforcements to relieve the soon-to-be-doomed defenders.  A loud blaring noise began to echo throughout the city of Duro for the first time in countless centuries as its residents came to a shocking realisation: the Oseans had finally arrived.

“Mage Two, good hits on those bunkers.  Looks like their first line of defence is already collapsing; HQ, be advised: ground forces are now cleared to push up onto the coast!”

“Copy, Long Caster.  All units, greenlight, greenlight!”

Ten hovercrafts slowly descended upon the beach, their fronts unfolding to form a ramp for its cargo; several armoured vehicles rumbled down from their transports and onto the ground, their drivers unaware of the historical significance of their actions as the first foreign invaders on Parpaldian soil in a thousand years—with each step forward, the mighty empire that only a few months back dominated the Third Civilization Area shrunk just a little.  Small, yet no less insignificant for those who had known nothing but the Red Wyvern for all their lives.

“This is Unit A; we’re on the beach!”

“This is Unit B; we’re on the beach!”

“Unit C, on the beach!”

“HQ, be advised: we’ve begun to engage the surviving defenders along the front line.  Most of their ground vehicles have been disabled; we estimate completion of the first stage of the operation in about three to five minutes.”

“Affirmative.  Continue as planned, out.”

In the town of Duro itself, explosions rang out within the industrial sector as the air squadrons made quick work of the Imperial Army Base; the distant thunder of the Oseans’ naval guns was quickly followed by a series of fireballs erupting amidst the ruins of the coastal factories.  Wyverns and pilots alike burned alive as Strider and Cyclops swept the skies clean of any air units lucky enough not to be within the crumbling fortifications below, the echoes of their fighters’ engines drawing the eyes of friend and foe alike.

Nodding in satisfaction at the one-sided confrontation below, Long Caster’s attention was quickly drawn towards a flash of light from one of his consoles.

“Mage, Golem, listen up: we’ve got visual confirmation of Parpaldian ground and air reinforcements from the east.  Redirect your efforts to that sector and—”

“Break, break—Long Caster, this is Puffin!  Be advised, we’re seeing several large creatures further along the mainland and heading towards the coast—they look like they’re serving as armoured transports.  We haven’t had the opportunity to fully land our own tanks and APCs, and we’re still focusing on the remaining Parpaldian forces along their defensive lines!”

“Copy, Puffin!  Mage, Golem, take out the Parpaldian armour and give our boys on the ground some space to get a breather!”

“Damn it, we didn’t make it to Duro in time!”

From his person Land Dragon, General Brem looked upon the smoking ruins of Ludia and Duro with no small amount of horror.  Both the military reports and eyewitness accounts from Louria and elsewhere had made the technological prowess of Osea all but clear to those who would take them for their word, but even the sight of one of Parpaldia’s most prestigious cities up in flames was one that the seasoned general would have never envisioned witnessing in his lifetime.  The man’s sentiment was shared amongst his men; murmurs and gasps of shock and anger spread throughout the armoured column as the carnage became visible to everyone present.  Removing his portable mannacomm, an aide stepped forward to the officer, his face no less ashen than everyone else present.

“Sir, the entire coastline has fallen to the Osean invaders and the city is at risk of being captured.  Their air force has destroyed the Army Base, and we’ve yet to reestablish contact with Lieutenant General Strim or any of his staff; all other ground and air defences are believed to be either combat ineffective or destroyed.  What are our orders, sir?”

Slowly, Brem turned to face his men.  “Push forward and engage the Oseans.  We are outnumbered and outgunned, but on us lies the hopes of our Empire; we fight for the survival of Parpaldia, and we will prevail or die trying!”

With a mighty cheer, the Parpaldians motioned at their Lindwurms to move forward, unaware of the fighters circling overhead.

Knocker watched as Trigger and Clown shot downwards; a blur of missiles and machine gun fire rained down upon the armoured creatures, making quick work of the reinforcements and their passengers.  Yet more beasts continued their slow march towards the coast, seemingly unperturbed by the rapidly growing casualties.

“Golem, on me; let’s give Mage a hand here!  Long Caster, any chance of getting Strider or Cyclops to lend us a hand?”

“Negative.  Cyclops and Strider are still sweeping up the remaining wyverns above Duro; it’ll be another minute or so before they can regroup with Golem and Mage, Golem One.  Make do with what you have until they wrap up or our ground forces finish setting up along the coastline.”

“Damn.  Trigger, got any of that fancy pilot shit in your blood today?”

“Flight lead, did you really have to say that?”

Ignoring Clown’s complaint, Knocker veered his plane towards the armoured column with no small amount of amusement as his beleaguered counterpart’s wingman promptly shot out of formation and levelled itself right above the ground, the jagged three strikes visible on the plane’s stabilisers to the Parpaldians as Trigger weaved back and forth through the creatures, shooting and dodging bursts of arrows, muskets, magical ammunition, and fire all the way.  The effect was near-instantaneous: the creatures struggled to manoeuvre around their fallen companions even as their singular foe continued to harass them, the reinforcements quickly finding themselves increasingly disorganised and in no position to provide any meaningful means of countering everything being thrown at them.

“Long Caster, this is the Puffin.  Be advised, all ground units are ready to begin pushing forward—disengage from the enemy units, and we’ll take it from here.”

“Copy that, Puffin.  Golem and Mage, you hear that?”

“Affirmative, Long Caster.  Trigger, get out of there unless you want to get hit by the tanks or naval fire!”

Rolling into the open fields, where the Parpaldian Land Dragons flailed about uncontrollably, two dozen tanks turned their barrels towards their foes.  At the same time, the Puffin’s batteries came up to bear.

“Units A through C are standing by.  On your command!”

“All units, fire!”

Great Eastern Countries Conference, Qua-Toyne Principality — December 10, 2019

“Kanata?”

“Ah, Ambassador Harling!  Good to see you’re still in one piece—still haven’t let the Parpaldians get to you, I hope?”

The Osean diplomat grinned in spite of his visible discomfort.  “Nothing a few days of rest won’t be able to fix, I assure you.  Now, about this event…”

In the year that followed Osea’s transference to Elysia, the Principality had seen a dramatic transformation from a small nation on the edge of known civilization, barely considered worth mentioning even within the Third Civilization Area, to a bustling economic hub where traders, travellers, merchants, diplomats, and businessmen from across the planet congregated before taking the journey to the Federation itself.  The unprecedented surge in trade and tourism could be seen in the span of a few months—the streets were newer and brighter, the towns busier and livelier, the farms now transformed into vast open fields, and even the capital itself was now almost seemingly on par with the likes of Duro or even Eshirant with all the new ports and facilities and businesses and the new wing of the city itself dedicated to housing the latest in Osean and Elysian architecture.  

With Qua-Toyne clearly having experienced the greatest economic impact out of all the nations now within the Osean Federation’s orbit, it was a no-brainer for the next meeting of the Great Eastern Countries Conference to take place within its borders.

“Harling, a moment.  Could I perhaps ask you for a favour?”

Vincent paused.  “Oh?”

“As you probably know, the Great Eastern Countries Conference is not one that sees many, if any, nations from the so-called superpowers attend; this makes your presence on behalf of the Osean Federation, if anything, near-unprecedented.  Our opinions and viewpoints are normally without the tacit and subtleties that would be required whenever in the presence of a far more powerful Elysian nation—therefore, the other delegates would like to know if you would be acquiescent to this form of conduct while the Conference remains in session.”

“Ah, I see.  I believe my government would be perfectly fine with listening to the viewpoints of the members of the Conference, no matter how frank or honest they might be; if there are any concerns, then I do believe I would be able to help come to some sort of arrangement.  Besides, Osea will only be attending the event as an observer rather than an active participant.”

Recognizing the implied assurance that the Oseans would not retaliate against any unfavourable criticism from the guests present, Kanata nodded in acknowledgment.  “That is good to hear.  Now, I have also received an interesting request from a few of the delegates present; would you be willing to submit yourself to a series of questions from the Conference about your nation’s long-term plans with Parpaldia and the rest of Elysia?”

The ambassador blinked.  “Like a formal committee?”

“Something along these lines, Ambassador Harling.  While we do recognise that the Assembly of Nations exists specifically for this purpose, some of us would like further clarifications regarding the ongoing situation with Parpaldia; a few of our questions remain even after your address a few weeks ago, and we would rather dedicate our time in the Assembly for developing our proposals based on what your responses may entail.”

“I don’t see any reason to refuse; answering questions was partly why I was sent here.”

“Brilliant; I will notify the delegates of your decision when the meeting is formally called into session.  On behalf of the members of the Great Eastern Countries Conference, our deepest thanks for your cooperation.”

“All in a day’s work, Kanata.  All in a day’s work.”

Seeing several of his fellow Qua-Toynans approach him and Harling, Kanata decided to put business to the side for now.  “Ambassador, I take it you’ve met my successor as Prime Minister, Matara?  And this here is his successor, Minister Hayvan, formerly of the Second Fleet…”

Bright Hill, Oured, Osean Federation — December 10, 2019

“Another naval fleet?”

Clements gestured unhappily towards the projection on the briefing room wall, where satellite imagery of a hundred Parpaldian naval vessels sailing out of a small island obscured by fog.  “We picked up a massive reading of magic signatures within this region—shortly afterwards, all these ships began coming out of the inlet.  They’ve since began sailing east towards the Osean continent instead of south towards Altaras as originally expected; we think the Empire might be seeking to make some kind of retaliatory strike against our territory in return for us hitting Eshirant and Duro.”

“Damn hard-headed idiots,” Bartlett grumbled irritatedly.  “Where exactly are they headed as of right now?”

“Based on their current trajectory, they’re expected to reach Sand Island within the week.  We’ve already mobilised the local garrison and the Coast Guard, but we can also deploy the LRSSG in Fenn to deal with them before they can even approach—”

Bartlett paused, an idea suddenly occurring to him.  “What about our Arsenal Birds?  Doesn’t their current deployment range reach as far as Sand Island?”

The Vice Chairman blinked.  “The Arsenal Birds?  Theoretically, yes, but we haven’t finished testing their combat and long-range capabilities.  Heck, they don’t even have combat experience yet—”

“But they do have the weapons necessary to eliminate any aerial and naval threat within the 1,200 kilometre range of the Lighthouse, correct?  I have read your reports on the latest resupply efforts for Liberty and Justice , Clements.”

Clements paused and pondered for a brief moment, rubbing his beard in thought.  “We could send the Justice to Sand Island and keep the Liberty in Selatapura, but I’d highly recommend deploying Wiseman’s people over just in case we encounter any technical issues with the Bird itself or its UAV fleet.  If we are to go ahead with your idea, Jack, this will be the first time any Elysian nation will have encountered a superweapon from our old world—and that’s not even counting that Falken we sent over to Eshirant after we rescued Harling.  We’ll need this to run perfectly, or else we’ll be facing public embarrassment at best.”

Frowning, Bartlett slowly nodded.  “Make it happen.  Get all the necessary preparations done and deploy the Justice to Sand Island as soon as possible.”

With a quick nod of acknowledgement, Clements turned to leave the meeting room along with the other officers, leaving the President to silently ponder to himself.

“Relics from the past against harbingers of the distant future.  Who would have thought?”

Bright Hill, Oured, Osean Federation — December 11, 2019

“Mr. President, the delegation from the Holy Milishial Empire: Minister Phiam, Intelligence Bureau Officer Lydolka, Vice Minister Alpana, Technological Research and Development Bureau Development Head Veruno…”

Nodding and shaking hands in greeting, Bartlett’s eyes quickly observed and committed each face to memory.  “Greetings, and welcome back to Oured.  I take it your journey was uneventful?”

“It was indeed,” Phiam quickly replied.  “On behalf of my people, we would like to offer our thanks for your government’s assistance in our admission to the IUN; perhaps we would be able to further discuss this in your office?”

“Our first order of business: as a gesture of thanks for your assistance in Bana City and as an acknowledgement of the Osean Federation’s position in the Third Civilization Region, we would like to extend a formal invitation as a permanent member to the World Leadership Conference.”

Bartlett looked up at Phiam in surprise.  “The World Leadership Conference?  I understand that permanent members are normally the respective superpowers within the so-called Civilization Regions, but we were of the impression that the Parpaldia Empire had the sole position within this particular area of Elysia…”

The Milishial minister gave a tacit nod of acknowledgement.  “In light of the Parpaldia Empire’s recent actions towards your emissary and Mu’s current assessment of the ongoing conflict in Philades, the Holy Milishial Empire has opted to formally offer you the position currently held by Eshirant.  Your role in fulfilling the position that the Empire has neglected in its expansionist ambitions would be of great value for the Conference itself, and it would seem that the Osean Federation has already been recognized within most of the international community as having inherited that title in all but name.”

Slowly, Bartlett decided to take up Phiam’s offer.  “I don’t see any reason why the Osean Federation should refuse the position, Minister; will there be any requirements for membership?  International conventions or regulations that the Osean Legislature will need to ratify?”

“Well, resolutions agreed upon during the Conference are generally considered binding to all members; otherwise, membership only requires either the leaders of the member states or their representatives to be present whenever a meeting is held.  The next one, if I remember correctly, will be held sometime next year—these documents should contain the general details regarding the event…”

The President silently browsed through the files from Phiam’s folder, nodding and frowning as his eyes panned through their contents.  “Hmm…alright…fair enough…wait, ‘showcase of military capabilities’…you want us to bring our best military assets to Cartalpas?”

“It’s not strictly necessary, but as the most prestigious international event in Elysia, it’s become something of an unofficial tradition to show off to the world our respective industrial and technological might.  Having a respectable fleet would, at the very least, provide a positive impression for an attending member—more powerful nations, on the other hand, take the opportunity to present the latest in their magical and mechanical fleets.  To be perfectly honest, quite a few of our fellow members are rather keen on seeing what technologies the Osean Federation has to offer, especially with the Lighthouse and the ongoing war with Parpaldia in mind.”

Bartlett winced.  “Gunboat diplomacy isn’t necessarily something the Osean Federation normally practises anymore in this time and age, but I suppose a military demonstration could be arranged for our delegation’s escorts in due time.”

“That would be greatly appreciated.”

Satisfied at the President’s response, Phiam decided to move onto more pressing matters.  “Now, as for our second order of business: we would like to inquire as to whether it would be possible to request the Osean Federation’s assistance in recreating their superweapons for the defence of the Holy Milishial Empire and its allies.”

Jack froze.  Sensing the shift in the conversation, the Minister quickly changed tack, glancing at the other Mirishial officials present for support.

“It would, obviously, go without saying that the Holy Milishial Empire would take the greatest care to never place the Osean Federation and its people at risk from these weapons, should Osea be willing to offer its technical expertise.  There would also be significant economic and political benefits that we would be more than happy to leverage in your favour, as an exchange…”

“You do realise that you’re asking the Oseans for quite a significant favour?”

“With the Federation’s reputation for openness and its collaborative nature with most of the Third Civilization Area in transforming the region into a major industrial centre, we would think that such an approach would also be adopted elsewhere in Elysia—”

“Yes, it goes without saying that we are always willing to lend a hand to those who ask for it, especially in this time and age.  However, weapons capable of potentially changing the balance of power and the annihilation of entire nations at the wrong hands are a much different point of contention compared to mere financial and logistical aid, Ministers—why exactly would the Milishials be interested in adopting our worst tendencies, when other, far more peaceful and mutually beneficial vices exist?”

“There are concerns within the international community that a threat exists in the future that could potentially result in the annihilation of our entire way of life; we believe your technology, much as many of us would be loath to admit, could prove to be the key to Elysia’s salvation.”

“What. the Gra Valkans?  Some other power beyond the known realm that makes up Elysia?  Surely the combined efforts of the Elysian nations would be more than sufficient in its current condition for another military superpower to contend with, Minister Phiam?”

Recognizing her opportunity to jump onto Phiam’s argument, Vice Minister Alpana leaned forward to draw Bartlett’s attention.  “Mr. President,” she interjected, “how much do you know about the Ancient Sorcerous Empire?”

The President simply shook his head and sighed.  “Not a lot, but what we have heard and uncovered from the Third Civilized Region hasn’t exactly been the most promising: tales of an aggressive, highly advanced superpower almost on par with ourselves, powerful creatures and unusually powerful devices roaming the more isolated regions of Elysia.  Our expeditionary efforts from the Lighthouse also seem to suggest the Ravernals might have also had an interest in that particular region above us as well prior to their departure…”

Even as he quietly noted down with internal horror the unspoken implication of the Ancient Sorcerous Empire of long ago having touched the stars just as easily as the Oseans did now, Phiam took the nod from Veruno to press forward with their request.  “The Holy Milishial Empire sees its own commitments as the main superpower of Elysia as part of its vital role in preparing for the return of the Ancient Sorcerous Empire—and if our estimates are accurate, we believe that time to be much, much sooner rather than later.  If the Oseans would be willing to join us in that effort, you would be saving countless lives with your own contributions.”

“We would, of course, be willing to provide additional concessions in return for your help—nothing in the insignificant scale of what the Parpaldians would normally offer, of course,” Alpana hurriedly added, wishing to differentiate from Remile's infamous declaration.  “Our own expertise in regards to magical weaponry, for instance, or our intel regarding the ASE—or perhaps even a look into our own superweapons that we’ve been developing prior to your nation’s arrival, in the hope that you might be able to help us further prepare for their impending return.”

Bartlett shook his head.  “Compelling as your arguments may be, what about after the Ravernals are defeated?  Our own weapons were created as an effort to save our own species from near-extinction and to return order and stability to our world in the aftermath of Ulysses—but the individual squabbles and rivalries of our nations saw them used against each other afterwards to devastating effect.  Would we have Osean science and technology spreading from the Milishials to the Parpaldians or a surviving remnant of the Ravernals, or the Gra Valkans countering with their own weapons of mass destruction in a desperate act of reasserting a sense of self-defence?  The ruins of Stonehenge and Megalith, the fires above Oured less than a decade ago, the craters of Gracemeria, the wreckage of the Arkbird beneath our oceans, the radioactive materials lining the cliffs of Sudentor—those are the testaments to the destructive power that the weapons we made dealt to our own strange little reality before the events that brought us here.  Would you willingly bring that legacy to Elysia, even for the sake of saving countless lives?”

Phiam stared back at Bartlett, his expression grave but with determination.  “It is our greatest responsibility to protect this world from the threats that would destroy us and everything we hold dear.  While we cannot promise that your knowledge will not spread beyond our borders should you choose to disclose them to us, rest assured that the Holy Milishial Empire would not take our unprecedented powers lightly—if we should fail in our task and these weapons be used on those who would not deserve it—and it would be a dark day for us and all of Elysia if it should ever happen—the onus will fall upon us and us alone, President Bartlett.”

“Well…I guess that is as much as Osea could hope for.”  

Bartlett’s eves glanced towards a model of the Arkbird perched comfortably on the side of his desk.  Suddenly feeling a wave of weariness as the implications of either choice at hand began to weigh down on him, the President slowly and carefully rose to his feet.  

“I’ll need to discuss your proposal to my advisors and the Legislature first before I can give any kind of formal response, Minister Phiam.  Suffice to say, they’ll likely have far, far more concerns and objections than even I myself have at this point…”

Osean Broadcasting Corporation — December 11, 2019

In a public announcement, the IUN has confirmed that its Osean-led coalition has landed on the shores of the Parpaldia Empire and captured the key naval port of Duro, marking the first naval invasion of the Third Civilization Region’s sole internationally-recognised superpower in over five centuries and the Federation’s first major military action since the end of the Circum-Pacific War over nine years ago.

Osean and Muan naval assets covered a detachment of the OGDF as it made landfall on the outskirts of Duro, while IUN air assets disabled key Parpaldian defences and throughout the port city itself—with the Empire’s naval headquarters destroyed and its wyvern fleets grounded, most of the city’s remaining defenders were swiftly and methodically pushed back into the heart of Duro and ultimately forced to surrender.  IUN casualties are believed to be minimal at best, and the Kingdom of Altaras has confirmed that it will be hosting the vast majority of those who surrendered as prisoners of war on the behalf of the Osean Federation and its allies.

With a key stage of the coalition’s plan to subdue the Parpaldia Empire complete, reports indicate that the situation within the superpower itself has continued to deteriorate: more than a dozen provinces and colonies are now confirmed to be in active rebellion, and forces from the Kingdom of Marl, the Greater Magic Principality of Pandora, and the Kingdom of Riem have launched their own separate offensives into Parpaldian territory as well.  Rumours of a split within the Imperial government between supporters of Emperor Ludius’s pro-war stance and elements of the Imperial Army and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs have also circulated, but are yet to be verified as of this time.

In other news, Osean ground forces have continued their advance towards Eshirant as reports of multiple uprisings throughout the Parpaldia Empire continue to circulate.  Bright Hill has also confirmed that armed forces from the Marl Kingdom, the Pandora Greater Magic Principality, and the Relm Kingdom have also entered Parpaldia as part of the newly-formed IUN coalition.  Mu has also committed its naval and air assets in the Altaras Kingdom—previously involved in the rescue of Ambassador Harling—to the joint task force, and will be joining the Kestrel II fleet in anticipation of the upcoming siege of the Empire’s capital…

“Mr. President, you might want to read this…”

Carefully going through the file’s contents, Bartlett’s eyebrows slowly rose in growing surprise.  Once he had finished processing the implications of what he had just read, the president quickly reached for the phone on his desk.

“Edwards, get me Harling and the rest of the Chiefs of Staff within an hour.  Did you also get the declaration as well?  Yeah…yeah, we need to talk about this, now.”

Chapter Text

A great white bird soared gently over the skies of Osea, its propellers enabling the mighty beast to glide in the heavens with an unearthly near-silence to the few people down below.  The plains and the surrounding seas were unlike anything that the bird’s creators had ever envisioned in the decade prior to the very night it was launched into the skies, yet it continued its ascent amongst the clouds with the aim of pursuing its primary directive—the safety and protection of the Needle that threaded the border between the earth and the skies beyond.

A series of ones and zeroes abruptly registered in the bird’s mind in the span of a few microseconds—a set of new directives, a series of coordinates, and a selection of new targets deemed fit for elimination—and the bird began to shift its wings and change course.

From far below, a farmer watched in astonishment as the bird began to gently cruise towards the eastern coast of the Osean Federation…

Sea of Parpa — December 14, 2019

“Fleet Captain Saxid?”

Looking up from the documents he was browsing on his desk, the Parpaldian naval officer looked up in acknowledgement.  “Ah, Commander.  Is it time already for our little engagement?”

With a flourish, the commander nodded.  “By our estimates, we are approximately as close as possible to Sand Island as we can safely venture without wyvern cover.  The knights are awaiting your signal to depart, sir.”

“Well, no use in delaying them with these reports, eh?  After you, Mitan!”

Emerging on the main deck of the Mon -class ship-of-the-line Muraito , the two officers in charge of Parpaldia’s punitive expedition observed as the crew and their counterparts aboard the neighbouring vessels all stood at attention.  Reaching for a magic gem to grant his voice the volume required to reach every ship, Saxid addressed the fleet, his voice filled with determination and deep anticipation for the battle ahead.

“Men of Parpaldia, we stand here today to show the Osean Federation the consequences of standing up to our mighty empire!  They have given us blood, so we shall pay them in kind—for every man you kill, every beast or machine you slay, know that you avenge a fellow brother slain unjustly by barbarian scum!  For Altaras, for Eshirant, for Duro—for Parpaldia!”

“Glory to Parpaldia!  Glory to Parpaldia!  Glory to Parpaldia!  Glory to Parpaldia!”

Grinning eagerly at his men’s infectious enthusiasm, Saxid turned to the closest mannacomm operator.   “Tell Magne to give our wyvern knights permission to depart!  Tell them to eliminate as much of the enemy’s defences to give our boats an opening—but don’t forget to leave us something to kill, too!”

The bird’s sensors abruptly picked up an odd series of frequencies and stimuli—a peculiar pattern, but one that the aircraft had since learned signalled the arrival of a new entity.  Its processors began to quantify the logistics behind a potential engagement even as it began to assess the situation as to determine whether such an approach was necessary; its latest data package had provided the bird with a comprehensive analysis of potential targets and recommended responses, yet it was the bird alone that would calculate what measures would be required.

The frequencies were now beginning to multiply, and the bird quickly recognised the coordinates of each point of origin—identical to a naval and aerial formation, its destination likely to be the island less than a few kilometres to the west.  In an instant, the being’s protocols identified the new arrivals as hostile in intent and responded in kind—

—over fifty missiles simultaneously launched from its wings, leaving a maze-like stream of white smoke to line the skies in their wake—

“All squadrons, be advised—we are going to travel as low as possible to avoid visual detection by the Oseans on Sand Island!  Try not to crash into the sea; we don’t want any unnecessary casualties before we even get to the coastline, got it?”

His eyes focused in a delicate balance between the waters below and the distant horizon, Dragon Knight Sarkar closely followed his superior as the seventy-five wyverns of the Parpaldian Eastern Fleet coasted above the ocean separating their mighty Empire to the west and the Osean interlopers to the east.  The mission at the surface seemed deceptively easy—strike the western edge of the Federation and deal as much damage as possible—but the stories of Eshirant and Duro had long since elucidated the dangerous nature of their foe’s otherworldly toys; any encounter with the infamous metal wyverns or any of their ground or naval counterparts would need to be swift and efficient or else risk certain annihilation.  And so Sarkar, Magne, and their men kept their eyes trained for a telltale sign of the Oseans and their profane devices—

“There, one kilometre to our east and closing fast!  Osean guided arrows inbound—“

An explosion cut short the knight’s warning as the man and his wyvern were obliterated in an instant, the guided arrow finding its mark in a matter of seconds.  Several other pilots whirled around in confusion, while the more experienced veterans began to peer eastward in anticipation—there would be more Parpaldian blood shed if they were not careful.

“Eyes on the front, men!  That arrow will likely have more friends intent on striking down more of us—prepare for evasive manoeuvres at the last second!”

“East, northeast, and southeast, fifteen hundred metres!  Evade, evade, evade!”

The sky quickly became dotted with shouts and explosions as the Parpaldians began a frantic effort to avoid being intercepted by the Osean arrows—many simply couldn’t evade the subsonic speeds of the incoming projectiles and were swiftly shot out of the sky, while others narrowly avoided instant death yet struggled to avoid colliding with their wingmen or tumbling out of the sky and into the ocean from the sheer amount of aerial gymnastics required.  Sarkar and Magne weaved back and forth, the guided arrows narrowly missing them on several occasions or finding a new target instead—the many years of flying in the skies had ultimately prepared them for this moment: the ultimate test of skill and instinct against the ultimate foe.

“How many people are still alive?  All squadrons, report!”

“Squadrons One, Ten, and Thirteen were wiped out, sir!  All the rest have suffered significant casualties, but we’re all still combat effective.  What are your orders?”

“Press on, people!  We may no longer have the element of surprise, but our rightful retribution takes precedence above all else!  Dodge all other guided arrows and move forward!  For Parpaldia, men, for Parpaldia!”

Grinning in anticipation, Sarkar took Magne’s words to heart as he once more motioned his wyvern to take flight—already, reports of yet another wave of guided arrows were trickling in from the other knights.  Preparing for another series of atmospheric stunts, the Parpaldian and his flying steed manoeuvred through the maze of clouds and explosions with all their might, narrowly dodging several projectiles in the process.  His vision blurring as he struggled to stay conscious, Sarkar clung desperately on to his wyvern as more Parpaldians fell out of the sky—unable to maintain the sheer stamina required to endure the onslaught or simply caught by the deadly arrows, the casualties continued to pile up—or rather, sink down into the ocean floor. 

Glancing around as the latest fusillade seemed to be lightening up, Sarkar’s face began to brighten.  Had he somehow made it through?  He did, he did!  Hadn’t he?  He most certainly did!  Wait, there was one more—

One particular guided arrow soared towards his flank—it was seemingly larger than the rest, yet it seemed to be travelling at roughly the same speed and its smaller counterparts—if not even faster.  Even as he easily dodged the projectile and began to laugh in satisfaction, Sarkar turned and squinted for the briefest of moments in slight confusion at the unusually large device—

“Wait, what in the gods’ names is that—”

“Fuck, Sarkar’s gone!  All callsigns, we just lost Squadrons Four through Eight!  What the hell was that explosion?!”

“That blast…was it—”

“Core magic!  They’ve somehow managed to weaponise core magic into some of their guided arrows!”

“Wait, what?!”

Hurriedly grabbing the mannacomm, Saxid angrily barked, “Stop speculating!  What exactly did you see when the squadrons went down?!”

“It was a massive explosion, like a star flared into existence for the briefest of seconds—five whole squadrons were vaporised in an instant—”

“Shit, we’ve got several more guided arrows incoming!  How much more core magic do they have?!”

“All squadrons, move to evade!  We can’t take these many casualties at this rate!”

“Sir,” Mitan hurriedly interrupted, “might I make a suggestion?”

“Speak, but be quick.”

“The presence of Osean guided missiles suggests that they already know that we’re here, so our strategy on relying on the element of surprise is unfortunately no longer viable.  The fact that our wyverns are also actively struggling against the enemy’s guided arrows despite us fighting them on our terms suggest that we’ll be taking too many unnecessary losses trying to use them as our main method of attack.”

“So you want me to recall the wyverns?”

“We’re going to need them to help defend our ships against the likely counterattack.  If we can also get a few to at the very least reconnoitre the defences on Sand Island instead of simply raiding the airbase, we’ll know what exactly we’re going up against.”

Saxid frowned, his eyes focused on the maps on his desk.  “You’d be risking the lives of the riders you choose to send as scouts, Mitan.  Are you sure you want to make that suggestion?”

“They’ll be saving countless more lives than simply getting shot out of the sky right now, sir.  And besides, there’s a chance that a few isolated riders might be less likely to be noticed than an entire formation.”

Recognizing the points made by his subordinate, the Fleet Captain sighed in acknowledgment.  “Very well; make the order, but be quick about it.”

“All wyvern knights, this is Commander Mitan.  All squadrons that are no longer combat effective are to withdraw and return to the fleet immediately; Squadrons Two and Fifteen are to be given a new tasking.  We’re calling off the aerial raid on Sand Island; we need you to instead assess and evaluate the defences at the island and see what’s bringing down our wyverns.”

“What?!  Does the Fleet Captain want us to abandon our mission?  What about our dead brothers-in-arms?!”

“Calm down, Astall—listen to the damn commands before you make your mouth sprout some random nonsense!  Our traditional approach of invasion and conquest is clearly unfeasible under the current circumstances—we will need to adapt if we want to have a chance of making it out of this engagement alive.  Squadrons Ten and Fifteen, I’m belaying that order: return to the fleet with the rest of the survivors—I’m going to investigate Sand Island myself.”

The wyvern knights throughout the sky turned to Magne in surprise.  For the leader of their distinguished division to personally take the lead in what was quickly turning into a possible bloodbath was seemingly borderline suicidal—surely the unfortunate circumstances of their initial sortie hadn’t already gotten to him?

“Sir, but you’re our flight lead!  We will gladly volunteer our lives if it means our fellow Parpaldians do not share our fate; we still need you in command, sir!”

“Negative, men; the losses that we’ve suffered are my responsibility for neglecting to account for the capabilities of our foes.  Use the information I relay to you and your men wisely; your lives may depend upon it!”

Three wyverns skimmed the surface of the ocean, their riders focused no longer on conquest but the salvation of their compatriots against a foe unlike any other in the history of their beloved Empire.  Keeping their eyes trained throughout the sky and the distant horizon, Magne and his two escorts watched for a sign of the unseen foe that had nearly wiped them out—nothing solid had emerged just yet, but the distant streaks of clouds too linear and precise to be made by the will of the natural gods were a telling sign of their possible origin.

“Sir, is that Sand Island?  Those towers…they’re bigger than anything I’ve ever seen!”

Magne’s eyes widened in shock as the three knights saw the Osean island for the very first time—the airbase itself was clearly similar in design to their Muan counterparts, but the countless buildings in the background were unlike anything the knight had ever seen in person.  Milishial broadcasts were one thing, but to see buildings and fabled skyscrapers that put even the greatest buildings and palaces of Eshirant to shame were another…

“We’ve got a clear picture of the place, sir.  Should we head back, or do we want to do a sortie in this place?”

“Us?  Launching a sortie at this place?  Look at this—we’ll need more than just the three of us if we’re going to amount to anymore more than a posthumous plaque back in Eshirant!  We’re pulling back and letting Saxid and Mitan know about what we’re going up against—fire up that mannacomm and relay the information we have!”

“Magne, above us!  Gods save us, what is that?!”

The sheer terror in his fellow knight’s voice all but screaming at him to look at what exactly the man had spotted, Magne frantically turned upwards, his face abruptly freezing in shock at the sight—

“Sir, we just lost contact with Magne and his escorts!”

Mitan’s eyes widened in shock.  “Even they didn’t make it?!  Damn, he and his men were good knights!”

“No time to mourn just yet, Mitan,” Saxid quickly interrupted.  “How far away from us were Magne and his escorts from us?”

“Eleven kilometres to our east, sir!”

“Alright, whatever it was that caught Magne was likely what also shot down our other wyverns—I want an eye on that madar at all times, got it?  Have our remaining wyverns on full alert and prepare the anti-air cannons!”

“Sir, something just popped up—ten kilometres northeast of us and closing, fast!”

“What?!” 

Rapidly turning to face the madar operator, Saxid barked, “What exactly is it?  Do we have any indication of its heading?”

“I don’t know, sir—all that I know is that it’s huge and it’s coming right for us!  We’ll have a visual reading in less than a few minutes—”

“Fleet Captain!  Commander!  Get on the deck right now, sirs!  You’re going to need to see this!”

A great white bird soared majestically across the sky, its wings wider and larger than anything Mitan and Saxid had ever seen, its propellers enabling the mighty beast to glide in the heavens with an unearthly near-silence to the countless sailors down below. 

“Is that the fabled Arsenal Bird?!”

“Mother of god…that thing…it’s so huge…”

From its wings, dozens upon dozens of smaller objects detached and swirled swifty in the middle of the sky to unfurl their own miniature wings, before launching forward with an eerie silence—neither the rumble of a beast nor the crackles of a Muan propeller could be heard, yet the miniature spawn began to glide downwards—to intercept the fleet, Saxid realised, to his horror.

“Ancient Sorcerous Empire—man the anti-air cannons!  Prepare for ground-to-air combat!  Don’t just stand there—stop that thing before it strikes down our ships and kills every single one of us!”

From the countless Parpaldian vessels, a cascade of explosions propelled dozens of magical projectiles upwards towards the great bird, erupting into a vibrant display of flashes and sparkles; the numerous Wyverns, although greatly reduced in number, unleashed a fiery maelstrom of green fireballs aimed at either the sizeable carrier or the innumerable spawn streaking downwards to the fleet.

“Wait, what’s that thing glowing above the—”

“Impact!”

For a few seconds, the Arsenal Bird vanished from the sight of the sailors below—thinking their attacks had dealt a blow to their unexpected foe, the Parpaldians cheered.  From the bridge, Saxid quickly grabbed his spyglass and peered towards the sky in search of the telltale signs of a sizeable object about to crash into the ocean—

“No…”

A spherical shield surrounded the undamaged craft, having cleanly repulsed the entire Parpaldian barrage—the gleaming white paint shone in the distance, almost seemingly mocking of their frantic efforts.  Mitan’s jaw dropped in shock.

“They’ve mastered shield magic?!  What kind of complex sorcery is this?!”

“It’s the Ancient Sorcerous Empire!  The Ancient Sorcerous Empire has returned!  We’re all going to die!”

“Cease your panicking!  Maintain discipline!  Keep firing those cannons and prepare to intercept those metal wyverns!  Use all our gems to get us past that thing!”

“Guided arrows inbound!  Brace for impact!”

The Osean metal wyverns responded in kind to the Parpaldian attacks—the seas weaved and rumbled as a score of ships ruptured and erupted into flames, the screams of the dying barely audible amidst the roars of falling creatures and the whoosh of the constructs soaring past.  From the nose of the aircraft, a bright blue light flashed towards—

“What the devil is that thing?!  Tell the ships to get clear of that—!”

A blue arc of what seemed to be pure magic cleanly cut through the fleet, slicing cleanly through ships and carriers like a knife through butter.  In less than a few seconds, over half of the remaining ships were bisected and began to sink or burst into flames—and the laser began to cut yet another path of destruction through the invading ships yet again.  It was the apocalyptic sight that distracted Saxid and his men from the new onslaught of guided arrows, one of them seemingly larger than the others—

Right at the port of the Muraito lay the wyvern carrier Ludia , named after the sole Empress of Parpaldia from a century past.  Throughout its thirty years of service, the vessel and its crew had all served the Imperial Crown with distinction, operating on some of the greatest campaigns in living memory: the defence of Duro against the Black Fleet, the failed Northern Rebellions, the Great Sea Creature Incident, and even the Cartalpas Crisis when the Mad King of Helvete launched a brazen attack against the nations of Elysia in a ludicrous act of delusion about his supposed divinity.  For every sailor present, its continued survival no doubt meant the assured and inevitable victory of the Parpaldia Empire against whatever foe dared stand against it—a tradition that had continued to grow with each passing year.

“Guided arrows incoming!  Take them out before we lose any more ships!  Glory to Parpaldia, men, Glory to Parpaldia—”

A singular guided arrow, the largest ever seen in Elysia, slammed into the Ludia’s deck and punctured its hold, shredding into the hull and detonating in the blink of an eye—

The Ludia ruptured and exploded, a violent eruption of blue energy irradiating the vessel, its crew, and every single wyvern aboard and rocking every nearby vessel with a powerful blast akin to that of a catastrophic volcanic outburst.  For some ships, the sheer discharge was enough to cause them to capsize, the explosion tilting their decks over the side; for others, their unstable magical cargoes were unleashed and produced their own smaller detonations—a cascade of blue, green, white, yellow, and red that signalled the end for countless vessels through the rapidly disintegrating fleet.

“The Ludia is gone!  Gods help us, Ludia is gone!”

“What the devil was that that took it out?!  Did anyone see that?”

“That was bigger than any cannon could have ever possibly fired!  It was magic, some kind of magic!”

“Was that core magic?!   Only something of that size could be magic of that scale!”

“Core magic?!”

“Core magic!  They’ve actually weaponised core magic against us!”  

“The Oseans are going to kill us all with core magic!”

“We’re all going to die!  The Ancient Sorcerous Empire has returned for us all!”

“All is lost—flee, men, flee!”

In an instant, all semblance of cohesion and morale collapsed—every sailor not actively fighting for their lives began scrambling to escape the battlefield; several ships began to break formation and drift off, while others became dead in the water as their crews scrambled onto their lifeboats or simply leapt overboard in a frantic attempt to escape their pursuers.  But the beast was remoreless—its guided arrows all found their marks, and the great beam of light vapourized everything caught in its path while its own spawn picked off what few survivors remained.  

Watching the carnage from the Muraito , Saxid turned to his men.  “Give the order to surrender or abandon ship.”

Mitan whirled around in shock. “Sir?”

“You heard what I said, Mitan—get as many men onto the rafts as soon as possible!  None of our countermeasures are working against that thing, and hundreds of our own people are getting annihilated by the second!  Save as many of our soldiers and get them into Osean custody, Commander—if they have as much mercy as their stories suggest, you’ll be able to safely bring them back to Parpaldia after this is all over.  Don’t just gawk there, you idiot— go!”

“But what about you, Saxid?!”

“Someone needs to coordinate the evacuation efforts throughout the fleet and notify Eshirant about what’s happening, and I’m not leaving anyone behind for that!  Get out of here, and get the order out before any more of our boys die!”

“Damn it!  Sir, it’s been an honour!”

Mitan dashed onto the desk as yet another explosion rocked the ship; the man frantically waved at a nearby sailor, beckoning him and the other soldiers present.  “Hey, both of you!  Orders from Captain Saxid—strike colours and abandon ship!  Same thing for everyone else in the fleet, at once!”

“What?!  Are we not Parpaldians, ready to fight to the death?”

“Oh, so you want to die today?!  Get yourself together and get the lifeboats ready—and have someone grab the magic gems and douse the ammunition before a guided arrow strikes the hold—”

A third explosion, this time more violent than the last, struck the ship—the entire rear half of the flagship from the bridge to the hold disappeared in a violent eruption of green light, vaporising everything within the immediate blast radius and knocking everyone else off of their feet.  Almost immediately, the remaining front half of the Muraito began to list backwards, its fate all but certain to everyone onboard.

“Nevermind, belay that last order!  Get to the lifeboats and abandon ship!  Go, go, go!”

“Hey, Parpaldian ships!  Do you read me?”  

From the raft he and his men had somehow managed to retrieve from the burning wreckage of the Muraito , Mitan glanced towards the portable mannacomm.  Quickly raising the volume, the static was replaced by a clear voice—that of a middle-aged man, gruff but homely and affable like a comforting light in the distance.  A vague barking noise could be heard in the background.

“If there’s anybody still alive out there, this is Colonel Wolfgang Buchner of the Sand Island Coast Guard—we’re willing to offer good food and warm shelter to any Parpaldian sailor who surrenders peacefully.   Just raise a white flag or keep your hands up in the air when we send our boats over, will ya?”

Eshirant, Parpaldia Empire — December 14, 2019

Echoes of footsteps and the muffled murmurs of officers and generals reverberated throughout the halls of the Imperial Palace as Emperor Ludius entered the meeting room.  The proud and haughty attitudes of the Parpaldian generals had long since disappeared in the weeks following the attack on Eshirant and the subsequent invasion of Parpaldia, replaced with a near-supernatural fear—the sight of a singular beam of light eviscerating the mightiest beasts of their once-untouchable empire had shaken Eshirant to its core, and the stories of entire provinces surrendering or even outright welcoming the invading Oseans had not only shattered all pretences of a decisive Parpaldian victory but also saw the very existence of their beloved nation now at stake.

Sitting down on his throne, a visibly aggrieved Ludius turned to his officers.  “Supreme Commander Arde, I understand that the invasion of Sand Island ended in failure.  What caused our forces to be destroyed?”

His face ashen, Arde rose from his seat to face the Emperor.  “Your Majesty, our fleet approached Sand Island when they were attacked by the Oseans’ local defences.  Based on the mannacomm broadcasts before we lost contact and the subsequent news broadcasts by the Oseans and the Milishials, it appears that they deployed some kind of superweapon—a massive flying wyvern carrier capable of launching over several dozen metal wyverns and equipped with its own arsenal of guided arrows and magical beams.  Our forces had neither the capabilities nor the power to stop it from attacking them, and were all wiped out without any losses on the enemy’s side.”

“So these are the fabled Arsenal Birds?”

“But…that’s impossible!  Surely…”

Groans and gasps of disbelief broke out amongst the officials present, but a hand raised by Ludius quickly silenced his audience.  “Do we have any further information about this superweapon?”

Director Vindus stood up, reaching inside his coat and pulling out a magazine—its austere and minimalist cover text clearly distinguishing it as Osean in origin.  “Your Majesty, our spies in Altaras and Qua-Toyne were able to retrieve documents such as these from a local store prior to the failed assault on Sand Island—the details are available for those in this room who would like a closer look or would like to refresh their memories, but suffice it to say that there are at least two of these carriers within the Osean Federation itself, capable of monitoring and responding to any threat within its borders in a matter of hours.  If we had been able to get this to Eshirant sooner, then perhaps we might have had a chance at either minimising casualties amongst the fleet or even aborting the invasion—”

“You do not believe that our men would have prevailed against such a weapon?!”

The spymaster sighed.  “At the risk of sounding treasonous, I fear that our plans to retaliate against the Oseans for their assault on Eshirant were doomed from the start.  Our efforts should have instead been redirected towards causing as many casualties in Centris Island or elsewhere along our coastline, as per Arde’s original plan.”

Taking a deep breath, Ludius was forced to admit defeat.  “Very well.  Clearly, the Oseans have demonstrated that their weapons are as deadly as advertised, and that we ourselves are unable to strike as decisively at their homelands as they have done to us—our priorities, much unfortunately, therefore have to change.  Lady Remille, have we been able to secure the safe return of our men from Altaras?”

Shaking her head in disappointment, shaken by the events of the past few days and the sheer obtuseness of her Altaran and Osean counterparts, Remille turned towards her superior.  “The delegates of the IUN refuse to hand over our people unless we offer our immediate surrender.  Director Kaios has been at work developing a possible framework for a ceasefire between ourselves and the Osean coalition, but I find many of the terms on offer to be questionable towards our goals beyond this war.”

Kaios glanced at his superior.  “Remille, I—”

“Director Kaios, what terms do the Oseans demand from us?”

The ambassador sighed and rose to his feet.  “In return for an immediate cessation of hostilities, the cessation of economic and political sanctions, the preservation of the Parpaldian state and its government, and a definite commitment for Parpaldia’s future integration into the IUN, Oured and its associates in the Assembly demand full independence for our colonies and the abolition of slavery, as well as financial compensation to the Kingdom of Altaras for the economic, military, and humanitarian losses we dealt them during our original invasion.  Certain key individuals will likely also be arrested for violating diplomatic protocols and committing genocide against several of our vassal states prior to the transference of the Osean Federation—but only after a final treaty is agreed upon and signed by all parties currently involved in this war.”

All eyes turned to Remille, who was under no illusion whatsoever as to what “key individual” Harling and his associates were no doubt referring to.  Her eyes shone in anger and a hint of fear as she quickly glanced at Ludius, upon her face a silent plea for protection against whatever repercussions might arise in the war’s aftermath.

“Director,” the Emperor began, “it appears that you may have been too lenient to the Oseans in your attempts at reaching a peaceful conclusion to this conflict.  Restart your negotiations from scratch—we have already lost thousands of men to the captivity of barbarians, and it would seem inappropriate at best to consign even another single soul to oblivion for their sake.  Is that clear?”

“Your Excellency,” Kaios replied, “scrapping the current deal as it stands also risks consigning the people under General Sius’s command to a lifetime of suffering and humiliation.  Altaras and Osea have made it very clear that handing over the instigators of the failed invasion in return for the safe return of our own people is a non-negotiable.  Much as I would like to—”

“They would be vain enough to force us to adhere to their terms?!  If there is no other way to bring our men home other than through either treason or war, then why do you continue your efforts to appease our foes?!  Make it clear that you will end your negotiations if the Oseans and Altarans recognize that we will hand over no one, not a single person, to eternal confinement or certain death.  Is that clear?”

“…very well, Your Excellency.  But would you be willing to risk that fate for every other Parpaldian in Altaras as well?”

“We will prove our might through our valour and resolve in the streets of Eshirant, for we have no other choice.  Are there any other objections?”

The officers present grumbled at Ludius’s decision, but chose not to argue otherwise.  To leave the valiant men of Parpaldia in the hands of the people of Altaras was a bitter pill to swallow, but the Emperor had a point—at the end of the day, General Sius and his men still needed an Empire to return to.  The thousands of loyal soldiers under captivity would eventually make their way home one way or another, but Ludius and his people would first need to fight to keep their homeland alive.

Satisfied, the Emperor turned to other matters.  “Arde, about our situation in the home front; how far have the Oseans advanced from Duro?”

The commander sighed in frustration.  “The main advance is currently making its way along the coast towards the capital, sweeping aside any kind of resistance we can bring against it.  We’re also receiving reports of smaller forces spreading out to the other provinces, providing military and logistical support to the various rebellions taking place throughout our northern regions—based on our estimates, we expect that they’ll have linked up with Relm’s forces by the end of the week.”

“And our colonies?”

Arde’s voice was grim.  “We’ll have lost complete control of all our provinces outside of the Heartlands by the end of the year.”

“Then we will have to rethink our strategies once more.  Centuries of conquests and planning, erased in a matter of weeks…will our capital hold against a ground invasion?”

Strategic Chief Martal was quick to respond, “Not without significant preparations, Your Excellency.  We would need a significant portion of our entire army and navy to be redeployed to Eshirant immediately, to say nothing of preparing what few Wyvern Overlords we have left for combat.  Such an effort would require us to abandon several key towns and provinces as well—and this is under the assumption that we would somehow be able to prevail against the Oseans’ technology.  Much as it pains me to admit it, we may have to consider evacuating you and the Imperial government from Eshirant to a more secure location until the current situation is resolved—”

“Evacuate Eshirant?!  Do you not realise how that would look to the entirety of Elysia?”  Remille had risen from her seat, her face hot with anger and humiliation.  “We would be like rats, surrendering our most prized possession and hiding in the refuse of the backwater provinces in some vague hope of a miracle—”

“Peace, Remille!  We have our castles and ancient fortresses from the Days of Strife where we can hide away until fortune favours us again—or your own efforts provide us with a settlement that will restore our rightful position in Elysia.”  Ludius raised a pointed eyebrow, silently reproaching the diplomat for her outburst.  “If the Oseans are to reach Eshirant, we will hold this Palace for as long as possible and evacuate only at the last moment.  As for you, Lady Remille, you will continue your efforts to persuade the Osean government to stand down; if we are to be separated after the fall of the capital, then I shall ensure that each and every person in this room understands the role that they have been given.”

Sufficiently chastised, Remille leaned forward in acknowledgment.  “Understood, Your Majesty.”

Turning to the other people present, Ludius began to address the individual departments.  “Our research teams are to begin relocating their efforts from the provinces around Eshirant to the ancient castles further inland—if we can understand and even reverse-engineer the Milishials’ weapons or even those of the Ancient Sorcerous Empire, we would be able to preserve our future, no matter how small or insignificant.”

Several officials nodded.

“Our naval forces are to be kept at port and moved to long-term storage, in preparation for our future campaigns after the current war with Osea.  The casualties we have suffered both in our own territories and beyond our seas also requires us to reorganise our remaining men—Supreme Commander Arde, you are to pull your men out of all provinces already under threat of occupation by the Oseans and their allies and reposition them throughout the Heartland.  For our citizens, you are to inform all Parpaldians outside of Eshirant to return home at once—the men are to be pressed into service at once and reassigned where either necessary or where their skills permit, and the women are to be tasked with providing as much food and sustenance as possible for the wartime effort.  Is that clear?”

The main doors opened to reveal a young aide, who quickly walked towards the throne.  “Your Majesty, this just came in from the new Imperial Capital Defense Base—some kind of communiqué from the eastern provinces.  You might also want to read this, sirs…”

Quickly glancing through the message, Ludius’s face turned white.  “They dare—?!”

We, the Governors of the Parpaldia Empire, with our signatures hereby recognize the following:

That a state of war currently exists between the Parpaldia Empire and the Osean Federation;

That the actions of the Osean Federation in the Kingdom of Altaras and Eshirant serve as an insult to the dignity and image of Parpaldia;

That the Parpaldia Empire seeks only to preserve its dignity and its image in the face of the arrival of the Osean Federation;

That the subsequent actions of the Osean Federation have become an active threat to Parpaldia’s goal;

That events in Duro, Eshirant, Centris Island, and the Sea of Parpa have demonstrated that a resolution to the ongoing conflict can no longer be resolved through an outright military victory in favour of the Parpaldia Empire;

That the failure of the Parpaldia Empire to defend its borders has resulted in the first invasion of Parpaldian soil in over a thousand years;

That any failure by the Parpaldia Empire to further contain the current threat will place the future and even survival of the Parpaldia Empire and its subjects into question;

That our loyalty to the Imperial Crown remains absolute, but our responsibilities to the peoples of Parpaldia cannot be ignored;

That we recognise that any actions perceived as disloyalty and treason will likely result in our deaths, regardless of the motivations of our actions;

That all possible diplomatic and military alternatives have already been made and proven insufficient or irrelevant by the recent actions of both the Osean Federation and the Imperial Crown;

That without any form of intervention on behalf of the Imperial Crown, the people of Parpaldia face starvation or outright annihilation under the hands of the Osean invaders or as a result of their inevitable occupation;

That the traditional methods of Parpaldian diplomacy and warfare will no longer suffice in delaying the Empire’s current course, and that the Governors, in order to maintain the dignity, image, and survival of the Parpaldia Empire, and having already exhausted its efforts to enlighten and elucidate the Imperial Crown towards the current situation, are now faced with no other option;

That with the current situation, the Governors agree as follows:

That in light of the magnitude of the crisis facing the Parpaldia Empire and its territories, the Governors of Parpaldia shall no longer comply with the orders of the Imperial Crown to wage war against the Osean Federation and its allies in the International United Nations;

That all Parpaldian forces in the Provinces under the jurisdiction of the Governors shall cease hostilities with the Osean Federation, comply with their demands, and refocus their efforts on protecting all Imperial Subjects and maintaining order until the current crisis is resolved;

That the Governors call upon the Imperial Government to resolve the crisis facing the Empire and restore its dignity  through diplomatic means and negotiation, or else face the complete and utter annihilation of the Parpaldia Empire;

That the Governors, in light of maintaining the dignity, image, and survival of the Empire, formally request the Osean Federation and its allies to show clemency towards its people and to spare their provinces from the full brunt of their retribution, to stay their hands and soften their hearts in their invasion of Parpaldia;

That the Governors call for a full end to the state of war that exists between the Osean Federation and the Parpaldia Empire;

That the Governors recognize the magnitude of their actions and the consequences that may follow their statements in this declaration, and agree to all that is written with their full support and nothing less than complete and utter loyalty to Parpaldia and the Imperial Crown.

Signed…

Bright Hill, Oured, Osean Federation — December 15, 2019

“How many governors agreed to this?”

“At least twenty-three, Mr. President,” Edwards replied.  “The vast majority of their provinces lie along the eastern coast of Philades, mainly near the areas already under IUN occupation.  We’ve also had a few signatures from a few other provinces from elsewhere in the Empire, but the vast majority appear to be either leaning more towards a neutral position, are still loyal to the government in Eshirant, or are already too busy actively dealing with internal rebellions or the simultaneous invasions by our allies.  Not a vast majority, but significant enough that the Imperial Crown should start to be worried.”

Bartlett frowned.  “Something we might be able to exploit, then.  But what about the people they’re supposedly representing?  Do we know about their opinions on the matter?”

“Based on what we’ve heard from the locals, it’s a bit of a mix.  A significant number of the provinces already have close economic ties with the rest of the Third Civilization Area and want to preserve their connections; a few others seem to be aware of how Parpaldia’s faring and are mainly there to keep the peace or curry favour with us for whatever postwar settlement is agreed upon between us and Eshirant.  Then there’s the colonies—anti-Parpaldian sentiment’s fairly high amongst the populaces, and for some governors, being associated with the people responsible for restoring their independence and freedoms’s essentially a quick ticket to either being recognized and celebrated as one of the good guys or—at the very least—a dignified exit with their heads still attached to their necks.”

“Ah, opportunists, then?”

“Outside of Eshirant, the war’s outcome’s becoming increasingly clear; our allies alongside the rest of Elysia are already asking questions about what Osea’s long-term intentions are with Parpaldia and the Third Civilisation Region.  They’ll want hard answers from us, especially with the peace negotiations we’re expecting the Foreign Affairs Department to soon agree too.  Did Delegate Clarkson notify you about the Milishials’ offer?”

“What, that superweapons deal we turned down?”

“No, the new one they publicly announced on MNN today—their offer to mediate peace negotiations between us and Parpaldia.  Either in Runepolis or potentially in Cartalpas, as a forerunner to their World Leadership Conference.”

Jack raised an eyebrow.  “Ah, that one?  Another attempt of them cozying up to us in return for some fancy Gründer tech?”

“We’ve examined the logistics behind running peace talks there—it’s very much feasible on our end, unless Harling’s got some kind of objection to it,” Edwards drily replied.

“Oh, don’t talk about Vincent like that—we both know he had a point!  We might share the Milishials’ concerns about whatever threat the Ravernals might pose, but they seem determined as ever to demonstrate their own prestige to us in the process; working with them to reverse-engineer the satellites Pilgrim Two managed to capture would definitely be useful, but we’re still going to have to gauge what exactly they know about them at this point…”

“Wouldn’t cooperating with them to help understand and prepare as soon as possible prove to be beneficial to everyone involved in the long run?  Even our Arsenal Birds and Advanced Dominance Fighter programs are but basic prototypes at this point—shooting down wyverns and swatting large monsters are one thing, but actively dealing with a hostile magical superpower nearly on par with a pre-Hoffnung Belka isn’t exactly something we alone can come out of unscathed in our current position.”

“Then we work with what we have and improve upon them as we continue our exploits in Elysia—if the Milishials are willing to offer us something solid, then maybe we can also fill them in about what we’ve got.  We have the data from our sorties in Topa, Esperanto, and Eshirant, right?”

“Yes.”

“And the research efforts to crack into the Ravernal satellites and the revival beacons are still taking place aboard Pilgrim Two, correct?”

“Nowhere near complete, but they’re still making progress.”

“And the new Space Peacekeeping Force—wait, we’re calling it the Lighthouse Division now, aren’t we?  We’re still going ahead with those, right?”

“Once the war ends and the Arkbird’s launched into orbit, yes.”

“Then we don’t have anything to worry about, just yet.  We’ll let the crises come to us, and then we’ll adapt and change accordingly.”

The officer nodded.  “Roger.  Now, about the war at hand…”

“Alright, let’s stick to our plan for now as we previously agreed upon—locate as many of these governors as possible and see if we can identify someone who’s acting as their main representative; if we can also secure Director Kaios into our custody, then we’ll also have a potential asset for the postwar Parpaldian government.  In the meantime, we’ll be continuing our advance towards Eshirant and securing any POWs both we encounter in Philades and Sand Island while Harling smoothens things over with the rest of our coalition partners.”

Edwards sighed.  “Very well.  So, will the peace talks still take place in Selatapura as originally planned?”

“You bet.  Now, do you have the risk assessment for that particular plan?”

“You know as much as I do how much of a headache completing that’s going to be, Jack…”

Great Eastern Countries Conference, Qua Toyne Principality — December 11, 2019

“Ambassadors, this meeting is once again called into session.  Now, as per our previously agreed schedule, today has been dedicated to discussions in regards to the Osean Federation and the ongoing conflict with the Parpaldia Empire—Ambassador Harling has agreed to submit himself to questions on behalf of his country, and will now take queries from his fellow delegates.”

A finely attired beastwoman rose from her seat; recognising the individual in question, Kanata smiled and nodded in warm acknowledgment.  “The chair recognises Ambassador Awan of the Quila Kingdom?”

“General-Secretary Kanata, my thanks.  Ambassador Harling, before anything else, I believe I speak for the rest of this Conference when I say that you and your country’s presence is an unprecedented honour for us.”

Harling tilted his head forwards in acknowledgment.

“However, I do believe that I also speak for the rest of the Conference when we ask, why?  Why come to an event hosted by a non-superpower when none of your counterparts have previously never bothered to attend, let alone respond to our invitations?”

“Thank you for the question, Ambassador.  While we cannot explain or justify the motivations of the Muans or the other nations outside of the Third Civilization Region, the Osean Federation wishes to distinguish itself differently from what others would consider to be its counterparts elsewhere in Elysia.  The Great Eastern Conference is a chance for the people of the continents of Rodenius and Philades to discuss the affairs and futures that await their respective nations; as a fellow neighbour, we believe it to be our responsibility to listen to the concerns that others may have about our presence and to work with them in order to develop a mutually beneficial arrangement that satisfies all parties involved.  Does that answer your question?”

A long-haired man with a noticeable moustache was next to rise.  Nodding to the individual in question, Kanata announced, “The chair recognises Ambassador Seylers of the Qua-Toyne Principality.”

“Ambassador Harling, your government has called on the other members of your coalition to bring in more of their armed forces to join the invasion of Parpaldia as a ‘peacekeeping force.’  Perhaps you could further elaborate on the nature of this effort?  We share your desires for a quick end to the threat that Parpaldia poses to us all, but we are concerned that our men and women may be merely used in the field as auxiliaries or even, if I may be blunt, as cannon fodder.”

Murmurs grew amongst the delegates present—many of the questions, Harling suspected, had already been agreed upon beforehand and assigned to particular nations.  Even with the Federation’s growing reputation for openness and the clear economic prosperity brought upon Qua-Toyne and its neighbours, a hint of caution still remained, it seemed; the legacy of the Parpaldians and their counterparts continued to dominate the minds of the Third Civilization Region.

Osea had yet a lot more work to do, Harling realised.  Recognising the task before him, the ambassador quickly turned and nodded in acknowledgement before devising a comprehensive response.

“The Osean Federation recognizes that its position in the conflict makes the presence of other non-superpower nations on the ground in Philades seem superfluous, but we recognise that we, again, need to differentiate ourselves from what some would see as our counterparts elsewhere in Elysia.  While our motivations may seem to be partly borne out of retaliation, our primary objective is and remains the same: the neutering and dissolution of a regime hostile to its neighbours and the continued existence of this region’s economic prosperity.  What happened in Eshirant to myself was an unfortunate consequence of our attempts to achieve that goal, but trust me when I say the machinations of Lady Remille have in no way changed our approach.”

At the mention of Harling’s own personal brush with the more brutal aspects of Parpaldian diplomacy, the other diplomats shuddered.  Too many of their colleagues had been in the same situation and lacked the sheer firepower possessed by the Oseans—a few minds then turned to Paganda, where stories of some new nation besmirched by their ignorant rulers had promptly wiped out both the entire kingdom and even their Leiforian overlords continued to circulate.  For a man who had narrowly avoided death at the hands of such a brutal lady to still cling to his beliefs of peaceful coexistence was nothing short of admirable, but could the same be said about the nation he represented?

“To answer your question, the role of a peacekeeper is not to wage war on behalf of a singular nation, but to inhibit the aggression of all powers in the wake of a conflict—our aim for this task force is not to directly and unilaterally impose a new postwar regime on the occupied Parpaldian lands, but to enable the people within these lands to reestablish their own nations, cultures, and civilizations without foreign interference—Osean, Parpaldian, Muan, Milishial, or otherwise.  To this end, we desire not just mere soldiers, but builders and healers, scholars and mages—people who can help rebuild and repair the cities, neighbourhoods, and communities ravaged by the Parpaldians’ conquests or caught as collateral in the Osean Federation’s advance.  Anything otherwise, and we would be no more different than the Parpaldians themselves in their military campaigns.”

Kanata glanced at his colleague.  “Does the Ambassador have any other queries?”

“Thank you, Ambassador Harling; that will be all.”

Seylers sat back down; a grey-haired man with a prominent goatee stood up from across the room.  Harling quickly recognised the individual in question—his nation, while an official member of the IUN, was significantly more aloof than most in regards to the organisation’s projects in the Third Civilization Region.

“Very well, the chair recognizes Ambassador Neeson of the Mao Kingdom.”

“Thank you, Kanata.  Ambassador Harling, your presence is an honour and your objectives commendable, but when will this proposed mission end?  If you desire us to send men to Parpaldia to dismantle Ludius’s empire, how long will it take for your superiors to determine the situation to be sufficient to allow us to bring our people home?  Would it not seem like some kind of military occupation or an outright conquest of Philades should your soldiers remain in Eshirant after the fall of the Parpaldian government?”

Harling nodded.  “As you know, the objectives of Oured in regards to the war are threefold: the military defeat of Parpaldia and the indictment of its government for its atrocities, the dismantlement of the Parpaldian occupation of the nations of Philades, and the self-determination of the peoples of Parpaldia.  The first is expected to take place immediately after Eshirant capitulates, at which point we will either have the Imperial government in our custody or they will have surrendered; the second and third will be finalised in a formal peace treaty by the beginning of next year.  I’m not at liberty to provide any hard dates at this time, but rest assured that we’re simply looking for parties who would be interested in such an effort for now.”

“Wouldn’t the military defeat of Parpaldia mean that their ability to interfere with the affairs of their former colonies would be sufficiently diminished to no longer require our presence?  Why ask for us when the people of Philades are capable of fending for themselves?”

“We’re talking about over seventy different colonies and protectorates, all with different cultures, populations, and motivations, Ambassador.  If we were to simply fend for themselves, we would be allowing centuries of festering claims based on irredentism, revanchism, and ethnic divisions to cascade and erupt into a catastrophic circle of conflict; not only would the situation serve to destabilise the entire Third Civilisation Area, but the resulting power vacuum would provide an opportunity for both powers within and without Philades to take advantage of these nations and gain influence—or any future Parpaldian government to make moves to regain its former territories.”

Neeson sighed.  “You make compelling points, Ambassador Harling, but are there really no solid dates or any other hard numbers on this peacekeeping effort that you can provide?  If not, then I’m afraid that my government will have to regretfully decline your request for now, unless we and our counterparts would be able to have a final say in what our people will be doing and for how long they will be in Philades.”

“Then perhaps your government would like to assist us in developing these details?  There was an announcement that was to be made at the conclusion of the Conference, but I suppose it would be prudent to make it now—I am pleased to announce that the Osean Federation is now prepared to begin the process of beginning peace talks as soon as possible between itself, the Parpaldia Empire, and all other parties currently involved in this conflict.”

Murmurs of surprise echoed throughout the room.  Looking around at the various reactions of the other delegates—astonishment, shock, excitement, anticipation—Harling smiled and continued his announcement.

“An official statement will be made by President Bartlett following the declaration of a ceasefire or the capitulation of Eshirant, but as of right now, the Osean Federation would like to formally extend a full invitation to all members of this conference to join us in Selatapura from the first of January onwards—as the nation responsible for bringing an end to centuries of Parpaldian domination in the Third Civilization Area, we believe it to be our responsibility to listen to the concerns of our fellow neighbours and work together to ensure a smooth transition of power from that of a singular entity to a collective of nations with a common goal: a recognition of our own freedoms and liberties, of the right to exist without interference and foreign aggression, without the brutal atrocities and genocidal retaliation that has dominated Philades and Rodenius for all these years.  Our presence in the Conference is a step towards that end, but we would be grateful for your presence this upcoming New Year in Selatapura, if you would help us establish a permanent solution to the problem that now lies before us.”

Even with the surprising news, the ambassador from the Mao Kingdom still saw cause for concern.  “Ambassador Harling, your words are far more than what any Parpaldian envoy in your place would even think of considering.  But, I ask, what about the other superpowers of Elysia?  Even beyond their own respective areas, their influence spreads far into the Third Civilization Area—how can our words here mean anything in comparison to what they have to say about what happens to the people of Rodenius and Philades after the war?”

This was an angle that Harling and his colleagues had long anticipated, and he gracefully nodded in acknowledgment at Ambassador Neeson’s query.  “Mu and the Holy Milishial Empire may have their concerns—and they will be duly noted and taken into account during the peace negotiations—but their own respective goals are ultimately secondary to those of the inhabitants of the Third Civilization Area.  These are our lands and homes—not just of the Oseans, but those of the Qua-Toynans, the Mao, the Fennese, the Topanese, of every nation and civilization that coexists within these lands.  And if they should find cause to contest your—and by extension, our—claims?  Well, I believe that what they will witness before their very eyes will likely convince them otherwise.”

“But how, exactly?”

Harling smiled.  “Well, Ambassador Neeson, let me put it this way—how would you, on behalf of your nation, like to see the entirety of Elysia from a hundred thousand kilometres above the surface of this world?”

Osean Broadcasting Corporation — December 20, 2019

In an official statement, President Bartlett confirmed that the IUN-led invasion of the Parpaldia Empire is now on track to capture the capital of Eshirant by Christmas Day.

With support for the Imperial government already at an all-time low following the secession of most of its colonies and the unilateral declaration of ceasefire from the Governors of Eastern Parpaldia, the President stated that he and the rest of the Osean military are confident that the fall of the former superpower’s capital would likely be more than sufficient to force the Empire to capitulate—already, negotiations are underway in the Assembly of Nations over a joint proposal by attendees of the recent Great Eastern Countries Conference to begin preparing peace talks with Parpaldia in Selatapura.  Delegates for the Holy Milishial Empire expressed concerns about this joint proposal, but their own resolution for a similar conference in their country was defeated by a significant margin in the Assembly.

Speaking on behalf of the HME, Foreign Affairs Minister Phiam had this to say: “We are disappointed by the lack of cooperation between ourselves and the peoples of the Third Civilization Area.  The fall of a superpower and the rise of its replacement is no small matter, and is in fact a situation that requires the presence of nations such as Mu and ourselves.  We would have hoped that the World Leadership Conference might be an ideal setting to establish a new framework for peace between all parties, but it seems that we still have much more work to prove so.”

When locals throughout the Third Civilisation Area were interviewed about the current situation, opinions were mixed but did appear to share a sense of apprehension towards the Milishials’ attempts in involvement.  A dwarf working as part of reconstruction efforts in Altaras had this to say:

“What, those elves wanted to butt into other people’s businesses again?  They never showed any interest in us folk whenever the Parpaldians decided they wanted to conquer another kingdom, and now they’re all about keeping the peace?  Hogwash, I tell you—they just can’t stand not being the ones in charge of everything for once.  Now, the Oseans—at least they’re actually making an effort to listen to us!”

A Parpaldian merchant and his Muan companion in the occupied city of Duro had similar thoughts:

“Look, I don’t know what to tell you—every other Parpaldian will agree with me when I say the Oseans went too far with blowing up our compatriots in Altaras, but Remille definitely made a mistake thinking executing your ambassador was a good idea.  I’ve been to Selatapura—gods, even Mudei here’s been to Selatapura with me a few times, and it’s likely all but clear by now that Ludius somehow had no idea about who he was dealing with.  Those Milishials?  If they really want to be helpful, the least they could have done was give us a bit more of a heads up well before any of this happened—”

“What, that MNN special didn’t account for anything?”

“Well, how exactly do you react to seeing that crazy Lighthouse of all things right next door?!”

Letter from Gründer Industries to Bright Hill — December 24, 2019

…the overall piggyback process remains far more elusive than even our supercomputers can achieve at this point in time, but the new algorithms we recently implemented have seemingly made a breakthrough.  The problem at this time lies not through the complexity of the firewall itself—such an issue can be resolved with time—but the sheer scale of the security programs used to protect the Ravernal satellites from external interference.  

Our computers need a larger, more powerful system capable of coordinating a simultaneous attack on every one of the key weak points in the system—both we and our competitors in GR and nuCOMM have already begun work on constructing such a system, but such an effort as of right now could easily take years to accomplish without any other developments.  Of course, we will continue to notify you about progress regarding Project QT-001; Doctor Schroeder and his assistants' work have proven most invaluable at this point.

Our proposal for commandeering an entire civilization’s orbital weapons system network remains viable, in spite of the logistical challenges before us—if the necessary resources and manpower remain available to Gründer Industries and its partners.  However, the implications of the technology required could potentially go beyond even a basic stopgap measure for national defence: imagine disabling the entire technological infrastructure of whole empires and civilisations alike, ending wars mere microseconds before they even start; imagine FTL communications between Oured and Otatheit or from Selatapura to Saturn; imagine a network with the potential to surpass even the Internet through sheer scale and speed alone.  We lie not just on the cusp of a new age of information and data, but on an opportunity to potentially surpass even the Ravernals themselves by decades…

Chapter Text

Somewhere in the isolated regions of Parpaldia, on a field long left undisturbed by centuries of history, a vague rumbling drew the attention of a humble farmer tending to his crops.  To his surprise, a series of rapidly widening cracks began to split the ground in half, almost as if something was about to erupt from the surface—

OFS Kestrel, Le Brias, Kingdom of Altaras — December 24, 2019

All right, this is it—the culmination of several weeks of manoeuvres and planning: tomorrow, the IUN and its partners will be launching a joint operation to seize the Parpaldian capital of Eshirant!  

Needless to say, nothing of this scale has ever been attempted in the entirety of the Third Civilization Area, let alone throughout Elysia itself—if we are successful in this effort, what we will have achieved will both force the Imperial Crown to capitulate and solidify the position of the IUN and the Osean Federation as the dominant authority of this side of Elysia.   

This operation will consist of a three-sided assault on the capital itself: the OFS Puffin and its escorts will conduct a naval landing along the docks, establishing a beachhead and clearing out the remaining Parpaldian naval assets while IUN forces push through the western and eastern limits of Eshirant.  All sides of the assault will meet up at the exterior of the Royal Palace, cutting off the Imperial government from its escape routes and forcing them to either surrender or be apprehended like the former King of Louria for their numerous violations of international law.  You will be tasked with providing air support where necessary or where you deem fit—as long as no Wyvern Overlords or any other new Parpaldian assets prove to be a threat to our ground forces, we don’t expect anything significant to affect what will likely be a swift and decisive end to this war.

If no one has any questions, then get to your planes at once!  The Parpaldia Empire falls today!

Eshirant, Parpaldia Empire — December 25, 2019

“All callsigns, this is Long Caster.  The President himself has given the order to launch the final assault on Eshirant—you are all cleared to eliminate your designated targets and move in on the Imperial Palace.  Eliminate all hostiles with extreme prejudice!”

“All right,” Wiseman crackled on the radio, “let’s drive home to these Parpaldian boys what true modern warfare looks like, once and for all.  Move in and give ‘em all you’ve got!”

The Osean fighters shot past Eshirant’s docks, barely giving the coastal defences even a cursory glance—the Osean and Muan fleets would make quick work of them—as they began to scour the streets of the capital itself for signs of any possible Parpaldian convoys heading to the front lines.  Already, the battle was starting to escalate—artillery pieces from the hills to the east were battering down the city walls as soldiers and civilians began scrambling for cover, and the remnants of Eshirant’s wyvern forces were emerging from makeshift positions within the ruins of the Defense Base.  With the entire Empire in disarray or simply no longer controlled by the Imperial Crown, the defences present in Eshirant were but a mere shadow of the sizeable garrison that had hounded Ambassador Harling’s rescue party all those months ago.

A dozen guided munitions from Cyclops Squadron eviscerated the docks where the remnants of the Parpaldian Navy were being stored; although the vast majority of their magical ammunition had already been recovered or stored elsewhere, the fiery deaths of Eshirant’s finest ships were no less demoralising to the Parpaldian defenders.  With each passing second, the future of the Empire itself was somehow becoming far bleaker than anyone had even dared anticipate.

To the west, over two dozen tanks and armoured vehicles trundled through the ruined city gates and emptied their cargo—Osean and Muan infantry units began swiftly clearing the streets of barricades and traps, frequently exchanging fire with the Parpaldians as they fell back deeper and deeper into Eshirant.  Neither magical cannons nor armoured creatures proved to be of much use against the sheer firepower being wielded against them, and any form of resistance that seemed to be somehow prevailing was swiftly eradicated by the numerous fighters circling above.

“Mage Two,” Sky Keeper remarked, “you’ve got a convoy of Parpaldian soldiers and armoured creatures heading towards the IUN forces along the docks.  Take them out before they can pose a threat.”

Swooping down to face the designated targets, Trigger swiftly released a single bomb—the projectile smacked onto the ground precisely in the middle of the Parpaldian convoy, eradicating the entire detachment in a deadly flash of light.  Down on the surface, an Osean soldier watched in astonishment as the pilot’s F-16 soared back up towards the distant sky.

“Hey, tell that Three Strikes guy that he’s just cleared out the path to the Foreign Affairs Department!  We’ll clear out the place and grab the Auditor and Director Kaios if we find them!  Thanks for the assist, Sky Keeper!”

“Director Kaios?  This is Sea Goblin Actual of the OGDF!  On behalf of the Osean Federation and its allies, Ambassador Harling requests your presence at once!”

“I’m here, I’m here!  Listen, who’s your commanding officer?  You need to tell your leader that—”

“Whoah, whoah, hold on, Director!  What are you trying to tell us?!”

“You need to listen to me!  Emperor Ludius and his staff are planning on escaping via a series of tunnels underneath the Royal Palace to the outskirts in the north!  I have the information on where you can catch him if makes a run for it!”

“All callsigns, be advised: we’ve just received word from Director Kaios that the Emperor and his staff may be attempting to escape via a series of tunnels underneath the city.  We’re currently trying to pinpoint the exact exit point, but we’re going to need to cut off that route if we want to force the Parpaldians to let themselves be encircled around the Palace.”

Clown glanced at this console, double-checking the ordinance his Falcon was currently carrying.  “What are you thinking, Sky Keeper?”

“If we can find the exact point based on the intel the Director’s given us, we can cause a cave-in and seal off the escape route; otherwise, we’re going to need to send an airborne unit to stop the Emperor once he comes out.  Does anyone have any bombs?”

“Golem’s only equipped with air-to-ground missiles and anti-air weapons,” Knocker gruffly replied.  “We don’t have anything that could flatten the exit point—Clown, Trigger, you guys have anything?”

“I’ve got the bombs, don’t worry.  We just need to find the actual location; Trigger, mind lending me a hand in swatting off anyone who tries to stop us?”

Mage Two’s wings flipped and twirled in acknowledgment.

“All right, listen up—the records in the Foreign Affairs Department are very old and partially damaged, but we’ve managed to pinpoint at least five possible approximate locations for the exit points.  Use discretion when launching your ordinance, Mage One—we’re looking to minimise as much collateral as possible, and those GPBs in your inventory aren’t exactly precise.”

“Sky Keeper,” Wiseman interjected, “Cyclops Three and Four also have SFFS munitions—the collateral damage is potentially going to be a lot larger than a guided bomb, but we’ll be able to deal with the possible exit points as quickly as possible.”

“Hmm, I guess we’ll have to be quick if we want the war to end today.  All right, you’re cleared to strike the five points on your radar—Mage Two, keep those Wyvern Overlords away from the birds!”

From a balcony in the Imperial Palace overlooking the battle, Ludius watched in growing despair as the three metal wyverns swooped down into the city itself, leaving a column of explosions in their wake.  

A singular metal wyvern stood watch above its fellow crafts, moving swiftly to strike a wing of Overlords looking for a desperate chance at a quick kill—the would-be predators were almost instantly turned into prey, brought down in a series of aerial acrobatics that would render even the best wyvern knights unconscious.  The green explosions that marked their demise only served to further illuminate the markings on the mystical aircraft: three white strikes, brightly emblazoned on its wings as a clear identification of the man’s identity—Ludius had a sneaking suspicion that he had seen that particular Osean before, not too long ago…

With no remaining enemies in the sky to challenge the Oseans, their metal wyverns struck Eshirant’s remaining defences with complete impunity—the threadbare barracks and warehouses that the Parpaldians had barely managed to erect were wiped out in an instant, the equipment and supplies within lost, only further reducing the amount of time Ludius’s planned resistance could hold out once the capital truly fell.  

An aide rushed out into the balcony, bowing even as he hurriedly addressed the Emperor.  “Your Excellency, we’ve lost contact with the soldiers sent to guard the northern end of the secret tunnels.  We’ve sent a patrol out to investigate, but the damage to the network seems to rather considerable—”

Another explosion, this time larger than the previous, rocked Eshirant.  Glancing to the north, Ludius saw a fireball where the Ancient District was located—and it was the approximate location of where his escape route would have ended, he realised.  Had he been betrayed by one of his own men?!

“Damn it…Parpaldia will have to do without me…”

“Your Excellency?  Emperor Ludius, we need to bring you back inside the Palace—the deeper levels of the complex should provide some cover against the Osean artillery and guided arrows…”

As he let himself be escorted back inside the Palace, Ludius caught a final glimpse of the singular Osean aircraft that had somehow dealt even more destruction to the Parpaldian Empire than anything else—next to the white lines was a small orange demon, its eyes staring at him almost mockingly, daring him to do anything to try and stop him.

Three Strikes was nothing if not a sign of ill omen, the Emperor mused to himself.

“The beachhead is ours!  We’re moving in to secure the Embassies and link up with our ground forces!”

“Western defences have fallen, and the remaining Parpaldians have either surrendered or are pulling back to the Imperial Palace.  How copy?”

“We’ve taken the eastern defences and are setting up artillery pieces to pound the Palace’s external walls!  Ground forces are en route to meet up at the Embassies!”

Listening to the radio broadcasts, Long Caster nodded in satisfaction.  “Golem, Mage, Cyclops, Strider, Sky Keeper—Parpaldian forces are disintegrating as we speak, and Osean forces will be arriving at the outskirts of the Imperial Palace shortly.  Good job, everyone; this war’s almost over.”

“Man, don’t jinx us!  We don’t know everything about what these Parpaldians have against us—or whatever else is in these parts,” Wiseman annoyedly complained.  “Would be a terrible time for something to happen to us, you know…”

“What, exactly?  We’ve completely trashed the Parpaldians—they literally have just the palace left, and that’s it!”  Knocker glanced down at the place in question—already, he could see the explosions from the Osean naval and ground artillery barrage as tanks and APCs began to encircle what remained of the castle walls.  “We’ll probably have to take out a few ballista pieces, and that’ll be it—”

From his console, Sky Keeper frowned.  “Hey, what the hell?  Long Caster, due north, approximately fifteen kilometres north and closing…”

“It’s not just you—all callsigns, be advised!  We’ve got something huge coming in from the north—it’s bigger than anything we’ve picked up so far in Elysia, almost on par with Nosgorath!”

“Copy, we’ve got a visual—what the…”

A vast, circular aerial craft nearly rivalling the Arsenal Bird in size floated swiftly from the northern outskirts of Eshirant, its austere metallic exterior a clear contrast to the aesthetic white sported on the Arsenal Birds or even their predecessor of old.  The numerous guns emblazoned on each end of the outer ring swirled to attention, a vague humming emanating from within signalling to all those present that they would likely be unleashing their payload fairly soon.

“Long Caster, what the hell is that thing?!  Parpaldia shouldn’t have the capability to create, let alone use superweapons on par with our own Arsenal Birds!”

“Stand by while HQ tries to figure that out!  In the meantime, stop that UFO before it poses a threat to our ground forces—shoot it down if you have to!”

Whirling to face his wingmen, Wiseman quickly barked out, “All right, you heard the man!  Follow my lead and fire everything we’ve got at that UFO!  Let’s see what Elysian superweapons are capable of, shall we?!”

Strider and Cyclops Squadrons swept around to face the incoming craft—a stream of missiles and gunfire hit their marks and scored a series of explosions on the surface, leaving a plethora of dents, scratches, cracks, and even fissures of smoke along the exterior.  The Elysian aircraft was quick to react, its guns now swirling around to face their new targets—a storm of magical fire began to stream in the general direction of the LRSSG, even scoring a few light hits on the Raptors as they soared by.

“Effective hits!  Mage, Golem, your turn for another sortie!  Cyclops, Strider, damage report!”

“Nothing we can’t recover from, Sky Keeper.  You folks are doing alright back there, too?”

“Looks like it, Wiseman.  Conventional aircraft fire seems to be doing the trick for the UFO; we could also get the Puffin to provide additional fire support—their guns should be more than enough to pierce through the hull if our missiles can already do that much damage!”

“Good call, Jaeger,” Long Caster noted.  “Puffin, you’re cleared to fire on the UFO—”

Atop the unknown vessel glowed a circular halo—in a matter of seconds, the blue circle expanded to form a spherical field that completely enveloped the aircraft.  A series of explosions from a new barrage of missiles fired merely moments beforehand caused the shield to flicker for the briefest of moments, yet it still quickly regained its strength and flared as brightly as ever.

“Shit, that thing’s got the same shield capabilities as the creatures up north!  We don’t have any railguns on us, do we?”

“We can attempt a saturation attack on the shield,” Long Caster hurriedly theorised, “which should theoretically be able to overload the shield and cause it to break down.  We’re going to need help from our naval assets, however—”

“Already at it!  This is the Puffin, coordinating with the rest of the Kestrel II fleet—magic-tipped cruise missiles are ready at your command!”

“Nice, we already have a plan!  All fighters, form up on Trigger—he’s the closest to the UFO—and fire on my mark!”

Six fighters formed up on each flank of Mage Two’s aircraft—F-16s on one side, F-15s on the other.  Below, the missile bays on over a dozen Osean vessels opened up, the final checks being run on every guided projectile available as soldiers, civilians, and naval personnel alike scrambled for cover.

“Mage Squadron, standing by!”

“Golem Squadron, standing by!”

“Strider Squadron, standing by!”

“Cyclops Squadron, standing by!”

“Puffin, standing by!”

”This is the Ramayana , standing by!  We don’t have any guided arrows, but our cannons should be more than enough for the job!”

“Long Caster, all fighters and ships are ready to fire at your command.  Give the order!”

“Copy,  in five, four, three, two, one— fire!”

The city of Eshirant rumbled as dozens of missiles and other assorted guided projectiles launched into the air with a thunderous roar—from the Royal Palace down to the smoking embers of the former coastal defences, the people of Parpaldia watched in astonishment as each and every arrow streaked through the sky and found their target with pinpoint accuracy.  Taking on the complete brunt of the Osean barrage, the magical barriers shuddered and crackled from the sheer force being exuded upon it before finally starting to crack—a pair of Aegis missiles from the Kestrel II impacted and detonated their magic-infused warhead, resulting in a fatal feedback loop within whatever components were generating the ship’s magical shields, shattering the barrier altogether in a blinding flash.

Shockwaves reverberated for countless kilometres beyond the city limits of Eshirant itself, shattering windows and causing the Osean and Muan vessels to rock, shudder, and tumble as the waters splashed violently in response.  From his cockpit, Wiseman’s eyes widened as the smoke surrounding the vessel—the object above the Parpaldian capital had finally lost its sole line of magical defence and was now ripe for the taking.

“The shields have collapsed!  Free engagement; I repeat, free engagement!”

The cannons and turrets lining the exterior of the warship rumbled back to life, yet even their presence was negligible towards the vessel’s defence: panels and key components ruptured and were ripped apart, ammunition holds igniting and further cascading into vital systems as the Osean weapons remorselessly tore into the warship’s frame.  Its arrival had seemingly been meant to jolt the newcomers out of their sense of superiority, but its imminent demise all but demonstrated that any such impressions had long since been established to have had merit.

With a mighty groan, the giant vessel listed over and exploded as it crashed onto the ground, crushing entire blocks with its gutted carcass and enveloping entire neighbourhoods in clouds of smoke and debris.  The ancient ship—a former symbol of the terror of an ancient empire—now lay lifeless within the ruins of Eshirant, brought down by weapons it was never designed to face firsthand.

“Shit, there’s going to be a ton of casualties over on that side of the city!  Long Caster, we’re going to need search and rescue operations once this is all done!”

“Already on it—several Muan and Qua-Toyne medical units are already on their way to the crash site; they shouldn’t have any problems securing the UFO and finding any civilians within the debris.  Return to the main objective for now, and give our Osean forces cover until they reach the Imperial Palace.”

“Copy, Long Caster.  You heard him, folks—let’s bring this war to an end!”

“All callsigns, be advised: we’ve surrounded the Palace and cut off all means of escape.  Ground forces are preparing to call on the Emperor to come out and surrender; otherwise, we’re going to start pushing in—”

“Hang on, hang on!  We’ve got someone coming out with a white flag!  It’s some woman in a dress—that’s the Auditor herself!  Be advised: I think Auditor Remille’s attempting to request a sortie!”

“Hang on, stand by…stand by, hold your fire…alright, all units within the castle perimeter are to cease fire and only engage if fired upon by the defenders!  We’ve got orders straight from Bright Hill—bring the Auditor to the OFS Puffin at once!”

OFS Puffin, Eshirant, Parpaldia Empire — December 25, 2019

Remile stood tall before Ambassador Harling, her expression resolute even with her haggard appearance—witnessing the collapse of Eshirant and the subsequent capitulation of the Parpaldia Empire had no doubt taken a toll on her and the rest of her staff.  It must have been some kind of personal training on her part to somehow continue to project the typical Parpaldian self-confidence in spite of her people’s current situation, Vincent reckoned.

“Before anything else, let it be made clear that the Parpaldia Empire has no knowledge about the vessel that attacked your ships today.  We would also desire to secure conditions for the immediate cessation of hostilities between Parpaldia and the Osean Federation, as well as the various nations also involved in your military alliance.”

If Harling had any intention of highlighting the irony of the current situation or how the tables had somehow turned on Remille and her superiors in the span of a few weeks, the ambassador showed no signs of doing so.  Instead, his face expressed a mixture of curiosity and mild satisfaction as he leaned forward on the table, focusing on his beleaguered counterpart as he responded, “Lady Remille, I take it then that you will be willing to submit to the terms of surrender demanded by Osea and its allies?”

The Parpaldian diplomat straightened her pose, seemingly even more confident of herself and what she had to offer.  “We would like to negotiate those terms so that both the Oseans and the Parpaldians will benefit from the end of this wasteful war.  Clearly, your nation has demonstrated that it can stand up to even the mighty superpowers of Elysia—we are now willing to work with you and your superiors as equals, as we were loath to do prior to the start of the war and as what we now realise that we should have done the moment we first encountered your nation a long time ago.  As such, we are offering several conditions for all sides to cease fighting and return to their respective lands at once.”

“Very well—”

“In return for an immediate end to hostilities and the return of all prisoners of war, Parpaldia will renounce all territorial and political claims made prior to and during the ongoing conflict and release all protectorates from its supervision, alongside paying financial compensation to the Kingdom of Altaras for damages dealt to its armed forces during the failed invasion.  We will also consider complying to the regulations and standards required by the International United Nations, in the hopes that we will be able to be fully integrated to your organisation once reconstruction has been completed—as a gesture of thanks, we will also be willing to propose to the upcoming World Leadership Conference that the Osean Federation be officially recognised as a fellow superpower.”  The Auditor turned to face the conference table where Vincent was currently seated, as if daring him to somehow challenge her claims—almost as if she somehow still thought the terms she brought, already far more than what she had originally brought so long ago, would be sufficient to make up for what Parpaldia had done to this world.

Harling sighed, and looked Remille squarely in the eyes.  “Remille, you and the Emperor still don’t actually understand the position that Parpaldia lies in, do you?”

“What?  I don’t understand—”

“Your Empire at this point extends only as far as the Palace gates, and you somehow still imagine Parpaldia to still be the superpower of the Third Civilized Region, to be in a position to offer anything of value to your counterparts in Elysia or even your own neighbours?  Your government would be so delusional to think that it has some way of avoiding the consequences of its own actions, when Parpaldia makes every effort to burn every bridge and refuse every offer of friendship and peaceful cooperation between themselves and everyone else?”

“I—”

“Your navies are gone, your armies annihilated, your experimental wyverns destroyed and outdated long before they even made it into service.  Your colonies have either broken away or formed their own successor states, and your partners both powerful and miniscule have long since either broken off ties with you or gone over to our side.  You would have no doubt killed countless Oseans with your machinations—myself included—had you played your cards right, but there was no scenario in this conflict where you and your glorious empire would have somehow prevailed in a open war against a nation that’s long planned against foes far greater and more terrifying than you.  We have seen superpowers vaporised by the dying wishes of utter madmen and faced annihilation as one world when the skies split open and rained down, and yet we survived—what makes you think that the arrogant words of a lofty woman with no concept of total human extinction means anything to us?   The Parpaldia Empire, the Kingdom of Mu, the Holy Milishial Empire, even the Ravernals of yore—their powers are considerable and their affairs are nothing to be ignored or taken lightly, but they are nothing— nothing , I tell you—compared to what the Osean Federation and our old counterparts have had to deal with in our own world.  And as of right now, we have troubles far more pressing to deal with than whatever you or your Emperor desire out of us.”

The Auditor’s eyes flashed for the briefest of moments, and for the first time Harling saw a crack in Remille’s facade—there was fear in her expression: fear for what faced her nation and what she herself faced for the actions she took to bring the entire Empire to this point.  The bluster was all that the diplomat knew it was—bluster—yet it came from some kind of desperate refusal to acknowledge what was going on around her.  She either didn’t know or refused to recognize it, but Harling knew that his counterpart was all too aware that the glorious Empire she once knew was dying out with each passing second.

“So let me make this clear, and you will ensure that any remaining supporters of your regime understand as well: the Parpaldia Empire as a whole will agree to immediately cease all hostilities with all other parties and sign this document of unconditional surrender, and assign a delegate or series of delegates to participate in the peace talks in Selatapura this upcoming year.  Otherwise, the consequences will be both severe and succinct: you will be arrested immediately in this room for crimes against humanity and every other atrocity that you and your Empire committed against the nations of the Third Civilization Area, and your Emperor will be hunted down and either rightfully arrested or killed as the war criminal that he is.  Tell him that he may try and hide, but our eyes spread far and wide—the Ravernals may have once touched the skies, but we freely venture in the heavens above.  Any village, any cave, any hole in the ground—we will find him and show him what happens to those who dare threaten the world with their delusions of grandeur and glory.  The Parpaldia Empire is dead —do you understand?”

Quietly, Remille nodded.

“Good.  If you agree to sign the Instrument of Surrender, then you and your diplomatic staff will be formally escorted to the Kestrel II—the signing ceremony will take place there, and your government will receive further instructions afterwards regarding the formal peace process.  Is that clear—”

A pair of hands slammed on the desk, the Auditor looking up at Harling in visible terror—all pretence of dignity and arrogance was gone, and Remille’s expression was that of a woman with nothing left to lose, the existence of her nation and her own very life and career on the line. “Please!  Show Parpaldia mercy—this is all we have left!  We were everything before your kind showed up—don’t let us fade into nothing like the empires and kingdoms of old!  Our pride, our people, our empire, this was everything that we had to avoid being left in the wayside—for the sake of Eshirant and what remains of Parpaldia, don’t take this away from us!”

“Oh, don’t worry, we won’t take a page from your playbook once this war comes to an end—I would certainly think the past few months would show that we are far more different than Parpaldia or even the rest of Elysia would have thought.”  Harling rose from his seat, his face seemingly placid as he pushed forward once more a copy of the Instrument of Surrender.

“Then again, perhaps that was the problem, wasn’t it?”

“Long Caster to all callsigns, be advised: the Emperor and his government have surrendered!  All units are to cease fire immediately and prepare for further instructions—”

The AWACS operator’s voice was defeated by the cheers of every individual within the plane and every other vessel within the seas and skies of Eshirant; Oseans, Muans, Altarans, Qua-Toynans, and more than a dozen nationalities alike began celebrating even as they began to clear out the remaining pockets of Parpaldian resistance throughout the smoking ruins of Eshirant.

“Hang on, hang on!  Clear comms while I convey orders—all callsigns, break, break, break!  Damn it, everyone’s already partying—calm down, we haven’t—”

“The experiment is complete, Director Zamuras, but the results are not as promising as we would have expected.”

“Astonishing…for them to disable a Pal Chimerae that quickly…I will inform the Emperor about this development.  Continue your efforts to monitor the Oseans for now, and begin preparing the test subject for deployment at once.  May the Ancestors guide our endeavours.”

“May the Ancestors guide our endeavours.”

Osean Broadcasting Corporation, Oured, Osean Federation — December 25, 2019

President Jack Bartlett today confirmed that the war between Osea and Parpaldia has now drawn to a close; in a special Christmas address, the President confirmed that the capital of Eshirant fell to a joint effort by the Osean-led military coalition that lasted for several hours but ultimately resulted in the complete destruction of the Parpaldia Empire’s remaining military assets within its core territories.  Outside of the now-neutral Eastern Provinces and several isolated pockets within the Heartlands, the Empire itself is no longer believed to be capable of providing any effective means of resistance to the near-complete military offensive by the Federation and its allies; while reports of a possible new Parpaldian superweapon briefly posing a threat to Osean forces before being decisively defeated in Eshirant have been circulating in the past few hours, neither the President nor any other official in Bright Hill have commented or verified these claims as of now.

In a formal ceremony aboard the Kestrel II, delegates of the Parpaldia Empire signed the Instrument of Surrender, officially ending hostilities between the former superpower and the Osean Federation along with its partners and allies in the International United Nations.  Effective immediately, all remaining Parpaldian forces outside of Eshirant have been instructed to surrender to the nearest coalition-backed forces as soon as possible—other terms also in the Instrument include the formal recognition of the independence of all former Parpaldian colonies and vassals, the abolition of slavery, and the handover of financial compensation to the Kingdom of Altaras in return for the safe return of all prisoners of war.  While no official timeline has yet been established for several of these clauses, efforts by the IUN are now currently underway to gauge the logistical and financial efforts required to achieve these aims and bring a satisfactory conclusion to the largest conflict faced by the Osean Federation since the Circum-Pacific War.

In other news, preparations are now underway for the start of formal peace negotiations between the various factions of the Osea-Parpaldia War in Selatapura, which is expected to begin on New Year’s Day.  While the Instrument of Surrender was signed with the intention of ending the conflict between Parpaldia and the Third Civilization Area, these talks are expected to begin laying the foundation for a postwar settlement between the countless nations and peoples affected by the collapse of the Empire itself.  Details remain scarce as of right now as to where exactly the Conference will be taking place, but Bright Hill has confirmed that it will be releasing further details leading up to the start of the event…

Basset Space Center, Osean Federation — December 25, 2019

“T minus ten, nine, eight, seven—“

Along the curved track of the Space Center’s mass driver lay the largest spacecraft ever constructed in over two decades, dwarfing even the mighty Arsenal Birds by a significant margin.  Yet there were no propellers to keep the ship afloat in the skies—for where this vessel would venture, not even the mighty Ravernals could have ever dared touch with such impunity as that the Oseans now achieved on a regular basis.  The Space Elevator had proven to be a vastly efficient way of transporting Elysia beyond the heavens, but now a resurrected monument to decades of scientific research and cooperation was about to make its fiery return to the skies.

“—six, five, four, three, two, one—”

A dozen engines and boosters ignited simultaneously, working in close conjunction with the mass driver to rapidly accelerate the spacecraft to subsonic, then supersonic speeds; with clean efficiency, the ship neatly detached from the driver and glided upwards, cutting through the clouds and the atmosphere above with almost no visible effort.  It was a majestic sight, graceful to the eyes yet astonishing to any native Elysian that happened to be in the area—could this be the beginning of something new for the entire world as they knew it?

“Liftoff; I repeat, we have liftoff!  Ladies and gentlemen, we have a successful launch!  The Arkbird has taken flight once more!”

Chapter Text

IUN Northern Philades Air Base, Berngen, Kingdom of Topa — December 25, 2020

Alright, convicts, listen up!  As you all no doubt know, your mission is to atone for your collective crimes—alleged, confirmed, or otherwise—by performing missions that the regular forces have neither the time nor resources to fulfil themselves.  To this end, you have all been deployed here to the Kingdom of Topa to assist their efforts to relieve the Kingdom of Esperanto of a demonic incursion within their borders.

Because High Command believes that it’s important for you convicts to actually have a basic understanding of what’s happening here, I’m only going to say this once: Topa asked the IUN to assist in exploring the Grameus continent in search of a supposed fabled kingdom sworn to destroy the demon hordes along these parts.  Well, they clearly didn’t do a good enough job—we’re looking at a sizable mass of monsters and unnameable bastards only barely distinguishable from you lot descending on their capital, and not even the Osean contingent currently in the city’s going to be enough to hold them back.  That’s where you lot will be coming in—your planes are all being loaded with ordinance as we speak, and you’ll be flattening every single square inch of land between the city walls and the last unholy cretin fleeing for its life.

This should be a perfectly simple mission for you to accomplish—I don’t want to hear about any planes getting shot down or crashing, or some kind of weird magic making a single bomb not work properly!  I’m kind enough to even let you out of your jail cells specifically for this, so don’t abuse my generosity with whatever bullshit you convicts manage to cook up, got it?

Now, get out of here!

Kingdom of Esperanto — December 26, 2019

“No command structure again?  Guess I’m going to be flight lead once more, then—“

“Yeah, sure, Count, as if anyone’s going to follow your arrogant ass,” another Spare pilot drily replied, “and as if you’re not going to suddenly claim more kills than every single one of us at the end of the sortie again!”

“Hey, that was one time—”

“Alright, cut the chatter,” AWACS Bandog cut in, “Osean ground forces have a visual on the first wave of attackers.  Help out our guys by softening them up with your weapons, and that’ll be mission complete.”

“Nice and simple, huh?  No wonder the Colonel was more anal than usual about us coming back without a scratch.”

“Damn, you see all of that?  That’s quite the army!”

“Not much against a good bomb, though—hey, Bandog!  Are we cleared to engage yet?”

“Spare Squadron, engage.  I don’t want to see a single weapon left in your weapons bays after this, so get going!”

Spare Squadron swiftly swept across the battlefield, unloading their respective payloads on the advancing monster armies—a deadly combination of bombs, missiles, and machine gun fire made swift work of the first wave of attackers even as they advanced on Esperanto’s city walls.  Another pass transformed the valley itself into a riverbed of blood and death, with a rapidly advancing wall of fire and flame incinerating whatever lifeforms managed to survive the initial onslaught.  The effect was immediate: the advancing lines were either wiped out or collapsed altogether, the would-be conquerors fleeing the battlefield for parts unknown.

Count sighed in irritation as his Flanker made another pass, mindlessly ripping through another swathe of monsters with his machine gun.  “This is boring!  Aren’t there supposed to be any big monsters around these parts for us to fight?”

“Count your blessings, Count,” Bandog drily replied.  “We could be dealing with a horde of wyverns to fly into your engines or a mage with EMP capabilities, but HQ’s already generous enough to give you convicts a simple task of sorting out the local politics in these parts.  Finish this mission to my satisfaction, and perhaps we might get something more in line with your sensitivities.”

“Oh, I’ve been reading the files Full Band managed to find—we’re here because Oured decided at the last minute to send us here instead of the Fenn Kingdom for some reason.  Imagine, all of us enjoying a sunny day out and enjoying something straight out of the ancient Comona Shogunate instead of freezing to death in the middle of nowhere and shooting random nonsense—”

“Wait, Full Band managed to bribe someone into letting him use their terminal again?  How the hell does he manage to do that?”

The interloper snorted self-assuredly.  “Nothing that hasn’t worked just yet, High Roller.  Trade secret; I’d probably have to lose a bet with you first before I tell a single thing—”

“That, or we actually have you shot for espionage instead of the regular solitary, Spare 6,” Bandog quickly interjected.  “Focus on your mission—besides, it’s not like you would have seen anything different in a prison cell in Fenn rather than here in Grameus, Spare 2.”

“Hey, at least we might have actually been locked up in an actual castle for a change!”

“Got eyes on the second army marching on Esperanto—damn, that’s a large horde,” Full Band remarked.  “Are you sure we’ve got enough ordinance for all of that?”

“Don’t worry—HQ’s been generous enough to give us a return line in case all of your bombs run out.  Don’t take this as an opportunity to skive on the job, mind you—I’ve got eyes on all of your weapons, so don’t try and claim you’ve already run out!”

“Fiiiiine, Bandog.  Man, I wish we had to fight something big like the regular troops do on a regular basis—they get to fight spaceships and large dragons!  I’d take on one of those in a heartbeat, and I’d win!”

“Break, break—copy, hang on…standby…shit.”

“Bandog,” Full Band chimed in, “what’s up?”

“Spare Squadron, be advised: you have been given new orders—you are to ensure not a single individual from outside Esperanto makes it inside.  The Castle and its contents now take precedence above anything else—even your own lives, got that?”

Count blinked in surprise.  “What the—shit, what the hell happened?”

“That’s above your paygrade, convict—suffice to say, if Esperanto falls, even solitary will be the least of your problems.  Is that clear?”

“Alright, chill,” Spare Two drily interrupted, more audibly annoyed than concerned by the AWACS operator’s unexpected change of tone, “it’s not like we’ve got anything left to be concerned about—everything below us is dead, remember?”

“Hey, is anyone seeing that mountainside twenty kilometres to the east?  Something’s not right with that thing—”

“Focus on the mission, Spare 8!  Stop getting distracted by the local geology!”

High Roller frowned, glancing to where Champ was gesturing.  “I’ll be damned—Bandog, that volcano looks like something’s about to burst out of—”

A thunderous explosion rocked the valley as the mountain was instantly shattered into thousands of rocks and debris that began to rain down on the valley itself.  The aircraft that made up Spare Squadron and Bandog quickly found themselves weaving back and forth amidst the falling projectiles—some even larger than the E-767 Bandog and his crew were hosted in—all while an unusual yet not less ominous roar could be heard from where the distant landform used to be.

From the cracked ruins of the now-destroyed Vaglar Volcano, a pair of wings unfurled as one—no, two—no, three —heads emerged from the fire and embers.  The Kingdom of Esperanto trembled as an ancient screech from a time long gone echoed, signalling the return of the most dreaded creature of all—

“Aji Dhaka!  Aji Dhaka returns!”

“Dust Mother, what the flying fuck is that?!”

“Dragon!  Dragon!  Bandog, we’ve got another dragon in the AO!”

“Technically, according to Emmerian mythology, that’s a hydra with the three heads and potential regeneration abilities—“

“Worry about the semantics later, Full Band!  We’re not equipped for this, Bandog—I’m getting out of here!”

“Negative, Spare Two—engage that dragon before it poses a threat to the forces on the ground!  Desertion is punishable by solitary!”

Count paled.  “What?!  But we don’t even have the weapons to fight an enemy of that size; we need ground troops or even the Navy for this!”

“You’re all that we’ve got at the moment, Spare Two.  Besides, don’t you have missiles and machine guns?  Just keep shooting that thing until either backup arrives or it no longer poses a problem, got it?”

“Easier said than done, Bandog, but—well, here I go!  Spare Two, engaging!”

A stream of missiles struck the Aji Dhaka with noticeable effect, dealing gaping wounds upon the creature’s torso.  But as Count watched, the injuries quickly began to heal, visibly shrinking with each passing second even with more missiles and bombs from Spare Squadron finding their mark—if anything, their first salvo seemed to have only further agitated the mighty creature itself.

Its mouth opened, and a faint orange glow began to emerge from within—

“The dragon’s going to release its fire!  Spare Squadron, evade!”

“Shit, moving!  Spare Ten, get out of the blast zone!”

“Don’t tell me what to do, Spare Two!  I’m already doing it, anyway!”

A significant portion of the skies above Esperanto were instantly bathed in dragonfire, incinerating anything caught in its path.  Yet already the Aji Dhaka was on the move once again, moving to swat away the small aircrafts now harassing it like flies as it began to extend its wings and launch itself into the sky—

“Spare Fifteen, look out!”

“Holy Dust Mother!   I can’t—”

With a sweep of its wings, the Aji Dhaka caught a MiG mid-maneuver, swatting it out of the sky as the beleaguered fighter was crushed in an instant and burst into an orange fireball—with visible horror, Bandog watched as the flaming wreckage of the first Osean fighter to be destroyed since the Transference itself crumbled and crashed into the valley below.  The effect on Spare Squadron was instantaneous: in a matter of seconds, any sense of cohesion within the penal unit instantly disappeared.

“Ground to Bandog—we just saw one of your fighters go down!  What the hell’s going on up there?!”

“We just lost one of our own guys to that thing!  Shit, Spare Fifteen’s down!”

“Wait, that thing’s opening its mouth again—”

“Shit, Spare Twenty—evade!”

“It’s no good—we’re losing people too quickly!  Retreat!”

“Retreat is not an option!  Engage that creature or face punishment!”

“Don’t tell us what to do, guard dog!  Woof, woof!”

Bandog snarled.  “You’re actually fleeing from that hydra, Spare Squadron?  Whatever happened to atoning for your crimes?”

“It’s not atoning if you’re just sending out people to be slaughtered, asshole!  We’re not exactly capable of killing that hydra, and you know it!”

“Shut up!  Turn around and shoot that thing down, now!”

“Wait a minute,” Count interjected, “what the hell’s that coming from my headset—”

A burst of feedback unexpectedly screeched through the squadron’s frequency, causing Bandog and the Spare pilots to wince in pain.  Cursing, Bandog hastily reached for a dial and twisted it, speaking urgently onto his mic.

“Damn it!  HQ, Ground, McKinsey, be advised: morale has collapsed and Spare Squadron is deserting the AO.  We require additional reinforcements in order to defeat the creature, or we will be unable to defend Esperanto!”

“What?!  How are those reprobates not doing their job, Bandog?!  Have them turn around and re-engage that dragon, or I’ll have you flying out to shoot down that thing in a penal fighter yourself!”

“McKinsey, kindly maintain radio silence for a moment.  Bandog, this is HQ—Ground has notified us of the situation in Esperanto regarding the Aji Dhaka, and we’re deploying an experimental unit to your AO shortly.  ETA is—actually, stand by…she’s already patched herself to you right now—“

“Bandog, this is Captain Kei Nagase, callsign Edge.  Have your fighters draw the Aji Dhaka away from Esperanto and head towards the following coordinates—you’ll have ten seconds to get clear afterwards as well.”

Bandog blinked in surprise, not expecting Kei Nagase of all people to be speaking to him on the radio.  “Err…roger that, Edge.  Spare Squadron, I’m sending a set of coordinates to your HUD—get the dragon to follow you to that place and get out before HQ does whatever they’re planning to do.  Go!”

“Hey, wait a minute, was that—”

“Nagase?  As in the poster girl for the OADF herself?  I’ll be damned!”

“Well, at least I’m gonna die having heard her lovely voice, amiright?”

“Hell yeah!”

“Well,“ Champ barked, “you chumps heard the pretty lady—let’s go kill ourselves a dragon!”

Closely pursuing the Aji Dhaka on an off-road vehicle from his homeland, Darkshield grinned to himself as the hydra made quick work of the Osean fighters above.  At last, the mighty Annorials finally had a weapon capable of striking back at these Osean interlopers!  Just wait until he returned to the homeland—with Philades in ruins and a revival beacon to boot, his superiors would surely reward him well for his efforts—

A blue light abruptly began to shine down from the heavens, illuminating the Aji Dhaka in bright azure glow.  Around it, the air began to heat up—the vegetation within the valley began to shrivel and crispen, the very instruments aboard Darkshield’s car flickering and shuddering as the agent—having long avoided the warmer climes of Philades where a warm and sunny day at least a dozen times a year was an absolute certainty compared to Grameus—began to physically sweat for the first time in years.  Peering out of a window, Darkshield frowned as he glanced upwards to see if he could spot the source of this unusual phenomenon.

His eyes caught sight of an angular object, barely visible to the naked eye—his eyes widened in confusion and surprise.

“What in the name of the Ancestors—”

From outer space, a singular beam shot down enveloped the Aji Dhaka, slamming it onto the ground and shattering the surrounding hills and mountains in the span of a single second—yet the laser grew brighter and brighter, microwaving the entire valley and triggering a critical reaction of core magic as ancient sorcery was undone in an instant by raw light and the power of a small sun was focused upon a singular point in Elysia: another ancient weapon of the Ravernal Empire designed to strike fear upon the world—

A blue ball of plasma and light exploded and expanded outwards as shock waves reverberated throughout Esperanto, shattering windows and blasting wagons and vehicles alike—from Eshirant to Calamique to even November City within the Osean mainland itself, a faint seismic rumble announced the death of the terrible beast.  From the castle at the centre of Esperanto, the King himself risked a glance as the light gradually faded and the near-apocalyptic shaking came to a halt.

“B-b-by the gods…”

Where a valley filled to the brim of monsters and demons once lay, a large crater glowed, its surface hot to the touch and mere degrees away from melting altogether—smoke billowed from within as debris and the crisp organic remains of the creature and its escorts began to rain down on the surrounding landscape.  Recognizing the familiar shape of the blackened skeleton barely visible amidst the fires and devastation, Bandog nodded in approval.

“Edge, looks like whatever toy you’ve got there did its job.  The Aji Dhaka is gone—and so’s the entire valley itself.”

“Well, at least we now know that the laser itself works at maximum capacity.  Thanks for your cooperation, Bandog—and give my regards to the rest of you boys down there, too, out.”

“You’re welcome, Edge, out.  Hear that, convicts?  Looks like Kei Nagase herself likes you boys a lot, for some reason.  Mission complete—there’s not a single living thing left for us here to kill; RTB.”

Cheers and catcalls echoed in the radio from every surviving member of Spare Squadron—more than a decade had passed since the Circum-Pacific War, yet the Nagases themselves were still universally considered nothing less than the most beautiful women in the entirety of Osea.  From his cockpit, Count grinned to himself.

“Hey, who wants to bet any of us might have a chance with Kei Nagase herself?”

“In your dreams, Count—even I know that’s never gonna happen,” High Roller drily remarked.  “How about we bet if we all get thrown into solitary for losing some of our planes against that hydra?”

“Now that’s something I’d be willing to bet my own money on!  Twenty bucks says it’s Count for running his mouth off again!”

“Make that thirty!  Damn moron asked for something bigger than blowing up demons, and we damn well got it!”

“Oh, for f—”

Bright Hill, Oured, Osean Federation — December 27, 2019

“Remind me again, Lieutenant General—who exactly are the 444th Air Squadron?”

From his seat, Lieutenant General Shepherd shifted uncomfortably as he tried not to shrink before Vice Chairman Edwards’s disapproving expression.  With news having spread about the situation in Esperanto, the officer had been summoned all the way to Bright Hill to personally explain the situation to one of the highest-ranking officials in the Osean armed forces—the man himself continued to stare expectedly at Shepherd, waiting for an explanation as to how the Osean Federation was now looking at its first major military losses since its arrival in Elysia.

“Sir, the 444th Air Squadron is a personal project run by Colonel David McKinsey—it’s his idea of recruiting military convicts with experience in flying aircraft to conduct missions on behalf of the conventional Osean military in return for commuted sentences.  With the ongoing situation in Philades and the majority of our forces either conducting postwar operations or patrolling the East Coast, it was his belief that an additional penal unit would be essential to continue our standard peacekeeping operations even while the IUN’s busy in Eshirant.”

“And so you sent them to Esperanto to what was supposed to be a standard shock and awe operation on par with our Louria campaign—and they somehow managed to awaken a large dragon that required not just our first major casualties in Elysia but the premature deployment of our Arkbird?  How do you explain that, when the situation with Nosgorath in literally the same region would have suggested at least some form of anti-monster armaments would have been necessary?!“

“At this point, sir, the only special weapons we have that are capable of dealing significant damage to monsters beyond conventional missiles and naval artillery are railguns and some experimental laser modules like that on the Arkbird—and even assuming we would even be able to train the pilots of the 444th to use such technology on such short notice, it would be a significant security risk and a violation of several military regulations to place such items aboard the aircraft of known military convicts in the first place.” 

Clements glowered, “So it never actually occurred to you or McKinsey that judging by the number of missions within that particular area that ended up involving sizable creatures of considerable power, that more firepower would have been required, then?”

“Underestimating the potential scale of the monster threat was, admittedly, a failure on my and Colonel McKinsey’s part—even with Osea’s past history with Calamique and Topa, we didn’t believe that the situation would have escalated to the point that the Arkbird would have been required.  It would be on par with sending a pair of police officers to somehow repel an entire Yuktobanian landing fleet on Sand Island—the 444th simply did not possess the skill, equipment, or manpower required to single-handedly eliminate the monster in comparison to their IUN counterparts.  And even they had to rely on the assistance of the Navy to deal the final blow on both creatures in Calamique and Topa, mind you—if the 444th required additional support in order to complete its own missions, it would have ultimately defeated the whole point of deploying them as an auxiliary unit in the first place.”

The Vice Chairman sighed.  “So what you’re saying is that the 444th was simply at the wrong place and at the wrong time?”

“Indeed, sir.”

“Very well—I hope you’ll be able to defend that position when the Legislature hauls you and McKinsey in for their subcommittees.  Anyway, were we able to recover the crashed aircraft?”

Shepherd nodded, more than happy to steer the conversation away from Spare Squadron’s shortcomings as a unit.  “It was one of the very first things the local IUN units accomplished as soon as the Aji Dhaka was confirmed to be dead.  We’re in the process of shipping the remaining parts back to Sand Island—needless to say, the locals—or any other interested parties in Elysia willing to go all the way to Grameus, for that matter—won’t be able to examine our aircraft anytime soon.”

“And the creature itself?  Anything of interest from what little of it was left?”

“Actually, there was something we found on the corpse that might be of interest—”

The Lieutenant General pulled out a briefcase from his coat and placed it on the table; opening it, he pulled out a series of photographs: a collar of unknown metallic composition the size of a tank, wrapped around the charred remains of the monster’s neck.  A series of runes and alien text emitted a pale teal light, and a holographic console that a Milishial researcher was manipulating with visible horror.  Clement’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

“So…we’re looking at a Ravernal weapon like Nosgorath?”

“It would appear to be the case, sir—that is, if we hadn’t found this as well—”

Another set of photographs was placed on the table: a scorched mainframe of what used to be a vehicle, with the skeletal remains of a humanlike figure inside.  If not for the odd winglike frame on the skeleton’s back, it would have actually passed for another humanoid like the Elysians or even the Oseans themselves.

“Crap…do we know what happened to this person?”

“Based on where we found him in proximity to the creature, our John Doe was closely pursuing the monster on its rear when the Arkbird fired its experimental laser—our guess is that he likely got caught in the blast zone and was killed instantly.  It would have been a case of collateral damage, if not for the fact that—”

Clement’s eyes widened as he saw the last photograph.  “Wait, he was also in possession of a similar device?!”

“From our attempts to interface with both devices, we think that the individual was controlling the creature with the intent of using it on Esperanto.  With the revival beacon we recovered from the Kingdom in mind, we think that it might have been what this individual was looking for—whoever this individual was, he was seeking to obtain and potentially use Ravernal weaponry.  For what purpose, we’re still investigating, since…well, we can’t interview a corpse just yet, sir.”

“Do we have any more information about the individual itself?  Possible identification, DNA samples, forensic observations?  Maybe someone from Esperanto might be able to ID the poor bastard?”

Shepherd pulled out a stack of documents, carefully parsing through the contents as he handed them over to Clements.  “The locals in Esperanto believe this person to be an individual named Darkshield—not the best of reputations considering he’s reportedly the man behind the whole situation in Esperanto, and a tad bit of a resemblance to the Ravernals of old.  Our resident Milishial researcher in the IUN contingent believes he might be related to the Annorials—we have been detecting and observing some odd things over their part of Elysia as well, lately…”

“A possible third party interested in the Ravernals as well…” Clements sighed in frustration, already sensing a possible conflict of interests—at best—in the distant future.  “We haven’t even established diplomatic relations with the Annorials just yet, and already we’re getting mixed signals from these people?  Foreign Affairs might just be right about being careful…”

“It would corroborate with the devices we were able to recover from the downed Pal Chimera over in Eshirant—whoever these Annorials are, they’re already moving in response to our activities in Rodenius and Philades.  It would seem that they don’t necessarily agree with our current administration’s ideas for unifying Elysia through peaceful means.”

Clements nodded agreeingly.  “We’ll deal with them when their time comes.  Alright, give the 444th their due reward for their actions and find McKinsey something appropriate—maybe a medal or some kind of commendation.  Afterwards, have them deployed somewhere where we can keep a closer eye on them like Louria or Parpaldia—and stick to conventional air squadrons from now on when operating in Grameus.  Bring in the Vulture carrier fleet from Calamique if you have to, is that clear?“

“Crystal, sir.”

“Now, is there anything else that needs to be brought up to the President?”

“Oh—we’ve received a radio message from the Gra Valkans, sir.  They’re apparently requesting permission to attend the Peace Conference as an observer, and are also interested in formally establishing diplomatic relations with us as soon as they arrive.”

Clements’s eyebrows rose in surprise.  “Wait, they actually want to come to Selatapura?  Do they have any details about their retinue or how exactly they’re heading here?”

“We managed to intercept a radio broadcast from Ragna yesterday, sir—around the same time that Ambassador Harling was taken hostage by the Parpaldians, the Gra Valkans apparently launched a major diplomatic tour of the Elysian superpowers with their First Conquest Fleet.  I’m fairly certain a report was sent to both your and the President’s offices regarding that particular development, but the situation with Eshirant likely took precedence at that point.”

“And with Parpaldia out of the picture, they decided to make one last stop to the Osean Federation before heading back home.”  The Vice Chairman groaned in thinly-veiled irritation, wearily massaging his temple with his free hand.  “We’ve barely even finished dealing with the antics of one local superpower, and now we have to deal with these guys as well?”

“Sir, I know that the details about what happened during Operation Lighthouse Keeper are still heavily classified, but perhaps the actions of the Gra Valkans during that particular incident would suggest they’re a lot less likely to do something reckless like the Parpaldians would have done—that said, we are still dealing with the traditional mindset most of the locals still seem to have…”

Clements paused, pondering the choices available before him.  To recommend refusing the Gra Valkans entry to the Conference despite the rather abrupt nature of their arrival would needlessly sour relations between the two nations and seem somewhat ungrateful, while to delay dealing with the First Conquest Fleet would only serve to kick the can down the road and potentially leave Gra Valkas out of what would likely be a pivotal moment in Elysia’s history—but would agreeing to being a willing recipient of gunboat diplomacy be any more different than sending the Kestrel II to establish first contact with Eshirant all those months ago, or simply let less powerful but no less arrogant powers attempt to wield their influence before Osea?

“What exactly are we looking at when we’re talking about the First Fleet?  A standard carrier fleet, the Grade Alastar we’ve heard so much about?”

“Pretty much, sir.  Here’s the latest satellite imagery we’ve managed to obtain when we last sighted them off the coast of the Marl Kingdom—they’ve definitely brought the Grade Alastar with them along, and at least the equivalent of two carrier fleets.  Likely their version of demonstrating their own capabilities and the fact that they’re not really something to be going up in a fight against…”

Shaking his head, Clements decided to let the actual people in charge of diplomacy deal with the information in his hands—whatever they decided, it would be up to him to translate into tangible military action, after all.  “All right, I’ll notify the President about the Gra Valkan delegation, and Jack’ll probably have the Foreign Affairs Department prepare something appropriate for the situation.  Just keep an eye on that naval fleet as it heads towards us—the last thing we need at this point is something, or someone, crashing the party we’ve got planned back in Selatapura.”

“Yes, sir.  I’ll inform our ISEV boys to continue their observation efforts, then.”

Osean Broadcasting Corporation, Oured, Osean Federation — December 28, 2019

An IUN coalition of forces under the Osean Federation and the Kingdom of Topa formally established contact and diplomatic relations yesterday with a new nation in the Grameus continent: the Kingdom of Esperanto, believed to be descendants of a Topan expedition sent to the north to relieve Topa of demonic incursions.  

Esperanto itself was on the brink of becoming overrun by a horde of demons when the IUN coalition arrived, resulting in a protracted military engagement that resulted in several casualties within the Osean armed forces.  Reports on the release of several monsters on par with Nosgorath of Topa and Diobehemoth of Calamique being present have yet to be determined, but a Milishial diplomat in Oured believes that such claims might have merit to them:

“The Grameus continent was a former stronghold of the Ancient Sorcerous Empire during its reign of terror, so it wouldn’t be of much surprise that some of their ancient weapons would still be in storage within those desolate regions.  That even Osean Heavenly Flying Ships would somehow be unable to bring them down without significant effort would be a cause for concern, though—perhaps the Holy Milishial Empire might be able to lend a hand?”

In other news, the Gra Valkas Empire’s First Conquest Fleet arrived in the Kingdom of Atlaras as part of Ragna’s diplomatic tour of Elysia.  In a formal ceremony, the King and Princess of Altaras received delegates from Gra Valkas while their vessels refuelled for the next leg of their voyage in Elysia; as per previous hosts of the First Conquest Fleet throughout its voyage, Altaras formally opened diplomatic relations with Gra Valkas and gave the delegates a full tour of the ongoing reconstruction efforts in Le Brias before hosting a special dinner in the Royal Palace. 

Due to the collapse of the Parpaldia Empire, its subsequent loss of its position as a so-called superpower, and the still-volatile situation pending the start of the Lighthouse Peace Conference, Ambassador Gesta, the head of the diplomatic team leading the First Conquest Fleet, confirmed that Gra Valkas would be postponing its visit of Eshirant “for the foreseeable future” and would instead be contacting the postwar government through other means “at a later date”.  Instead, the First Conquest Fleet will be headed to the Qua-Toyne Principality before setting off to the Osean Federation itself—whether they will be staying to simply establish relations or to attend the upcoming Peace Conference has yet to be confirmed by either Gra Valkas or Osea, but a spokesperson from Bright Hill confirmed that the two nations are currently in talks regarding the upcoming visit.

In an official statement, the Osean Space Agency confirmed that the Arkbird is performing “as expected” and will be ready to conduct scientific research postponed since its predecessor’s destruction in the Circum-Pacific War over a decade ago…

Outskirts of Redmill, Osean Federation — December 30, 2019

“—after pondering deeply the general trends of the world and the actual conditions obtaining in our Empire today, we have decided to effect settlement of the present situation resorting to an extraordinary measure—“

The countryside throughout the eastern provinces seemed vaguely harsher and rugged than the rest of Osea, Ambassador Mugei mused to himself as he and Captain Rubiso made their way to their destination: a rugged, semi-abandoned airfield that served as a scrapyard and a warehouse that also functioned as a small business in Osean aircraft.

Mugei shook his head as a nearby radio continued to broadcast Emperor Ludius’s surrender speech.  “Still working to save face, the young fool…”

“Excuse me, are you Avril Mead?”

A short-haired woman looked up from underneath the jet engine she was working on, frowning at the two men.  “What?  What do you boys want now?  Hang on, you’re not one of Harling’s lackeys—“

Carefully extricating herself from underneath the aircraft, the Osean mechanic rose to her feet as she warily eyed the two Muans—Rubiso and Mugei did likewise, mentally refraining themselves from staring at the exposed skin along her shoulders and arms.

“Fancy clothes, but none of the snobbish attitude of the Parpaldians…no pointy ears, so not Milishial either…can’t remember who else exists out there nowadays…”

Mugei cleared his throat.  “Ambassador Mugei of the Kingdom of Mu.  This is Captain Andel Rubiso of the Royal Muan Air Corps—do you mind if we refer to you as Ms. Mead?”

“Avril will do perfectly fine—calling me Ms. Mead makes me sound like some kind of school teacher.  Now, what business do you two have in these parts?”

“As you are no doubt aware, Mu was involved in the recent peacekeeping operation in Philades—in exchange for our country’s participation in the war against Parpaldia, your government agreed to hand over to us several decommissioned fighters alongside a few mothballed prototypes.  We were interested in inquiring if it would be possible to acquire your services as a mechanic and a technical expert on these planes in particular.”

“What, you want to have me tune up the jets in the back for your people to fly back to your parts?  Well,, that shouldn’t be too much trouble, for the right price, of course—“

“Actually, we would like you to come to Otatheit with us and our associates and operate your business in Mu.”

Avril paused.  “Well…that’s…that would cost significantly more…”

Glancing at Mugei, who nodded back in response, Rubiso pressed forward.  ”Respectfully, ma’am, we’re not planning on simply acquiring a few planes for our researchers and engineers to examine.  The Muan government wants to modernise its air fleet in order to begin working towards Osea’s technical capabilities—or, at least for now, be capable of outfighting aircraft more powerful than even our own Marin fighters.  We’re looking for mechanics, pilots, engineers—basically any individual with experience behind these aircraft to guide us on how to maintain and operate these planes for a long time.” 

“You will be paid triple of what you regularly receive for your regular commissions, and all necessary expenses for transporting your business to Mu will be compensated by the Muan government,” Mugei added.  “And, suffice it to say, you will be given equal treatment as given to all citizens of Mu for your services to our country.”

Regaining her composure, the mechanic frowned as she stared at the two Muans in suspicion.  “All right, but why me?  You’ve got General Resource running a research park about ten kilometres to the north from here, and Gründer’s more than capable of making anything you want from toasters to experimental aircraft—surely they haven’t approached you about providing the technology and knowhow you’ll need?  You’d be definitely getting more value for money hiring them, their business practices notwithstanding.”

Mugei sighed.  “You would be correct in your assumption, ma’am, but we’re also aware that General Resource and Gründer Industries have their own reputation.  We’re not naive, ma’am—we desire individuals of expertise whom we can be sure aren’t also actively working for Osea or what other factions may also exist in these parts, and these other organisations simply can’t offer that guarantee.”

The woman simply smirked in response, crossing her arms as she leaned her head towards the Starfighter besider her.  “So what if I turn out to be another spy, just like the likes of General Resource or Gründer?  What makes you a good enough judge of character that a loner in the middle of nowhere somehow makes for a better mechanic than a cogboy from the most advanced companies in not just Osea, but arguably the rest of Elysia?”

“Simple,” Mugei replied, “quite simple—we’ve been given your personal file by the OIA.”

Avril’s smile was wiped in an instant.  Rubiso simply grinned, throwing the mechanic’s smug expression right back at her.

“We are aware that your father died in combat during the last major armed conflict between Osea and the Union of Yuktobanian Republics, and that you’ve generally harboured a deep personal distrust of Ambassador Harling and the Osean government ever since—a bit unfair to view Vincent solely as responsible for your father’s death, in my opinion, although that’s neither here nor there—and that you’ve basically spent the vast majority of your life here, working on repairing and refurbishing seemingly unsalvageable fighters and abandoned experimental aircraft.  There’s a record in the Osean Air Force logs where they intercepted a sixty-year-old decommissioned fighter that somehow performed in perfect condition and could even keep up with a pair of top-of-the-line Eagles sent to escort it back to the nearest air base—“

Rubiso whistled in approval.

“Ever since then, you’ve established a successful local business converting mothballed planes into recreational aircraft for both Osean airspace enthusiasts and the occasional Elysian tourist, and more than a few individuals from both this country and an assortment of nations within the First and Third Civilization Areas have been interested in acquiring your services for the betterment of their own national defence.  There’s a nickname you’ve apparently given yourself, too—the ‘Scrap Queen’, I believe?”

The self-proclaimed Scrap Queen sighed, dropping her arms in defeat.  “Fine.  So what do you want—no, how is this going to go?  You’re going to blackmail me into joining your air force and have Harling send some goons at me if I refuse to cooperate?”

“On the contrary, I’m here to give you an offer, in full acknowledgment of whatever views you may have of Osea and the skills you possess as a fighter mechanic and pilot—”

Rubiso abruptly chuckled, causing Mugei and Avril to look at him in surprise.  “Look, Avril, let me put it this way: have you been directly involved in any military takeovers of a legitimate government?  Actively conspired to undermine the affairs of a nation-state for a foreign power or your personal benefit like certain businesses and organisations we could mention?”

“Huh?  I—no—”

“Then it’s simple—you’re not in trouble for your actions, regardless of your own beliefs about us or Osea in general.  Let me put it this way: if you don’t wish to join us, then we’ll leave you alone and no one from either Otatheit or Oured will bother you for as long as you desire.  Or, alternatively, you could come and help us ensure the freedom of my people for at least another generation—if you want money and riches in exchange, we can offer that; if it’s fame and recognition in Elysia you want, we can offer that as well; if it’s something as simple as not having to ever step foot in Osea again for the foreseeable future, then, well…”

The captain shrugged, the implications of his statement all but obvious to the target of his persuasions.  Avril glanced around, carefully looking at the individual corners of the workshop with what seemed to be an unexpectedly nostalgic expression.

“My family lived and worked in these rooms for the last four generations…it’ll be the last time a Mead ever comes here to fly a plane…”

Mugei and Rubiso were silent, awaiting the Scrap Queen’s response.

“My grandfather told me when I was a child that his kind would soon disappear—many fighters here in Osea don’t even use pilots anymore, do you know that?”

The Muans blinked, a combination of mild confusion and shock at that particular revelation—the Oseans were somehow able to manipulate fully armed aircraft as the mechanical equivalent of magical familiars?  Avril shook her head, ignoring their perturbed expressions as she continued.

“I’ve seen the aircraft you Muans use—my great-grandfather used to fly planes like those back in his day.  You’re going to have to cover a lot of things if you’re planning on using and maintaining anything even close to the old planes I’ve got in the back—are you and your fellow pilots willing to do your best to bridge that gap?”

“For the safety and freedom of our people—even if it takes us four generations to get from where we are to where your nation currently is—we must.”

“Alright.”  Avril suddenly smirked again, extending her hand forward to Mugei.  “I can’t give you the equipment and components of Gründer or the piloting skills of the Razgriz, but I can give your flyboys and cowboys the basic concept of how to keep my planes running and not crashing onto the ground.  Will that be enough, Ambassador?”

Mugei nodded in satisfaction, reaching to shake the Scrap Queen’s hand.  “More than we could ask for.  On behalf of the Kingdom of Mu, welcome to the Royal Muan Air Corps.”

Noticing something in the periphery of her vision, Avril turned to Rubiso—her eyes narrowed in suspicion.  “See anything you like, flyboy?”

The Muan felt the blood rushing to his face, his eyes averting once more from her bare shoulders.  “ No —no, ma’am.”

“Mayday, mayday, mayday!  This is the Grade Alastar to anyone who can read us—we are under attack by sea creatures!  To anyone who can hear us, we are being attacked by a giant sea monster, and our fleet is taking heavy casualties—“

“This is the IUN Lighthouse Division to Grade Alastar: we read you, loud and clear.  Hang on tight, we’re coming in to help!”

Chapter Text

Tampines Air Base, Selatapura, Osean Federation — December 29, 2019

Attention, pilots of the Lighthouse Division!  The circumstances surrounding your premature deployment are regrettable, but our presence is required nonetheless—you have been selected from your respective squadrons and your respective nations as the best and finest pilots that Elysia has to offer.  Some of you are here as part of the Osean Air Force prior to the Transference, while others are individuals from the Third Civilisation Area who have been selected for their potential as pilots of the most advanced aircraft in the arsenal of the IUN; regardless of who you may be and where you may come from, you are now here to ensure the safety of the Lighthouse and to help us establish a lasting peace throughout Elysia.  Congratulations—you’re in the big leagues now.

Now, for our briefing—as you all know, the Lighthouse Conference is set to begin in less than two days, and delegates from the governments of the entire Third Civilization Area have been coming to Selatapura to attend.  With their cooperation, the Osean Federation seeks to draft a permanent treaty that will effectively redraw the balance of power in the former sphere of influence of what was once called Parpaldia—with such a significant and unprecedented event in the entire planet, representatives from beyond the Third Civilization Area have also arrived to observe the Conference and potentially influence the final agreement.  Needless to say, it is critical that the safety and security of the Conference itself is not placed at risk in any way—whether it be the machinations of Parpaldia, or any other third party looking to disrupt this pivotal event.

One hour ago, we received a distress signal from a naval fleet belonging to the Gra Valkas Empire, a new industrial nation with highly militaristic tendencies on the other side of Elysia: their transmission was vague, but suggested that their ships were being attacked by sea monsters.  We’ve already tasked an Arsenal Bird to provide aerial cover and reconnaissance, but we need eyes in the air to determine what exactly is going on and how we can help—arm your planes for a Grameus-class engagement, and make as much use of our experimental weaponry currently available as you see fit.

We believe that this fleet is escorting Gra Valkas’s diplomats and observers to the Lighthouse Conference—it is imperative that they survive and are safely brought to Selatapura, but you are to exercise as much discretion as possible once you have begun to engage the creatures in question.  This will be the official first contact between Osea and Gra Valkas itself, and we don’t need any unnecessary hiccups to what will be their personal introduction to what we have to offer, got it?

Are there any questions?

The Expanse, 100 km south of Selatapura — December 29, 2019

The skies buzzed with flak and gunfire as the Grade Alastar and its escorts desperately fought for their lives, blasting through sea monsters and krakens alike as swarms of Antares fighters shot and fired where they could.  Yet where one creature was slain, another dozen seemed to emerge, each dragging yet another Gra Valkan vessel into a watery grave—with the sheer number of casualties piling up and no sign of any reprieve, Fleet Admiral Caesar Roland reckoned, the entire fleet would be joining them within the hour.

A stream of angry shouts disturbed Caesar’s thoughts as his attention was turned towards the bridge he had just left in order to observe the ongoing battle—the diplomatic delegation had emerged from below deck to inquire about the situation up top.  Visibly annoyed at the intrusion yet understanding about their clear concern about their collective continued well-being, the fleet admiral decided to return inside and calm the Foreign Affairs officials down.

“Director Gesta, I would kindly ask you to return to the panic room while we continue to fend off these monsters; the situation is not yet—”

“Oh, forget that, Admiral!  What’s going on with our naval forces, and why haven’t they dealt with the remaining creatures?!”

“It’s an entire horde, Director—our guns and fighters are holding off the vast majority of the creatures, but we need more time and firepower if we’re going to be able to make it out of here alive!  Director, if I may be so kind as to—”

“Sea creature, emerging between us and the aircraft carrier Valhalla !  It’s a hydra, Admiral, and it’s even bigger than all the others!”

Caesar paled.  “Release all of our remaining depth charges and open fire on the hydra with our batteries!”

In a matter of seconds, the vast majority of the Grade Alastar’s forward batteries swivelled to face the hydra as its tail rocked the Valhalla and spilt a nearby cruiser in half—with a deafening report, the cannons scored several direct hits on the largest sea monster Gra Valkas had encountered yet.  Yet even this significant victory was already beginning to backfire on the Empire’s prized flagship: the sheer scale of the cannons’ attack had scored gaping wounds on the hydra’s chest, causing tons of poisonous internal gases to spill out onto the Grade Alastar directly below.

“Admiral, the forward batteries have been flooded with gas!  We’ve lost contact with the firing crews inside!”

“Evacuate the main deck and order all crew to equip all available gas protection at once!  Concentrate fire on that beast until it goes down—”

“The hydra—it’s regenerating!”

Looking out from the front windows, Caesar watched in horror as the gaping wound on the hydra’s chest began to rapidly decrease in size even as the toxic gases remained around it like a menacing mist.  The creature began to roar angrily as it held its heads back to unleash a devastating burst of dragonfire—

“Projectile sighted directly north of us, sir!  Incoming—”

An object, travelling in what clearly appeared to be well beyond the sound barrier, scored a direct strike on the hydra’s head—an orange fireball emerging from the impact rapidly expanded and changed colour into a dramatic blue as the shockwave seemingly accelerated across the fleet, knocking debris and unwitting sailors overboard.  The effect was immediate—the direct strike had interrupted the hydra’s attack and dealt significant damage to the back of the creature’s head, causing it to emit a howl of pain and briefly retreat in pain.  

“All stations, report!  What the hell was that?!”

“That wasn’t from us, Admiral!  Something struck that hydra before it launched its fire attack on us—some kind of rocket or guided projectile!”

“Ten sailors just went overboard as a result of that blast, sir!  We’re hauling them back up abroad, but the gas is making its way through our mask filters!”

“All guns apart from the frontmost batteries are in working condition and standing by—resuming fire patterns as ordered, sir!”

“Admiral, unidentified object in the air!  Ten kilometres off our port, ten o’clock!”

Even amidst the chaos, Caesar paused.  “Wait, what?!  I need a description on that object, now!”

“It’s some kind of fixed-winged object—it looks like a plane, but it’s even larger than several of our own ships, sir!”

Hauling himself out of the bridge and onto the portside observation desk, the Fleet Admiral grabbed his binoculars—there, as the helmsman pointed out!  What the devil was that, floating right above the fleet with nothing beyond a set of gigantic propellers to keep it afloat?  On the underside—

As Caesar watched, dozens upon dozens of small objects detached from the underside and whirled round to unfold a pair of smaller wings, each then proceeding to launch downwards towards the fleet— towards the fleet, he realised—

“Possible hostile air units inbound!  All AA units and air squadrons, prepare to intercept those unidentified aircraft before they pose a threat to our fleet—”

A nearby operator gasped inside the bridge, whirling towards Caesar in surprise.   “Admiral, we need to belay that order!  I’m receiving several radio transmissions from the Oseans—those are friendly air units sent to reinforce us!”

Director Gesta’s face turned purple.  “Reinforcements?!  What kind of reinforcements are those?!”

“Admiral,” another radar operator called out, “we’ve got several air contacts approaching us from the north as well—they’re definitely not ours, either!”

“Visual contact, ten kilometres north of us and closing in from above!  We’ve got fifteen fighters and a large aircraft on an intercept course—” 

The operator froze.  “It’s the Oseans, sir—they’ve arrived!”

“Gra Valkan fleet, this is the AWACS Long Caster of the Lighthouse Division.  We’re here to relieve you of your sea monster problem—can you inform us of your current status?”

“Long Caster, this is Fleet Admiral Caesar of the Gra Valkas Empire, transmitting from the battleship Grade Alastar—we have suffered heavy casualties and are on the brink of losing our carriers and flagship.  We require air support to fend off the remaining sea monsters and relieve my vessel and its passengers—are your planes capable of achieving that?”

“Affirmative, Fleet Admiral—the UAVs and the Arsenal Bird to your northwest are under our command and are directly engaging them as we speak.  Additional reinforcements have just arrived in the form of manned fighters—we’ll take care of them for you; just hold on a bit longer!”

Switching a dial to address a different frequency, Long Caster spoke,  “Lighthouse Division, this is AWACS Long Caster—if you’re part of Strider, Cyclops, and Mage Squadrons, you’ll probably remember me.  The situation is as follows—sea monsters are threatening to sink the Gra Valkan carriers and flagship, and they need us to buy them some more time.  All air contacts not registered as an Osean UAV or an organic lifeform are considered friendly, so try not to collide with them or accidentally shoot them down—in other words, engage the creatures and protect everything else, got it?”

“Roger, Long Caster,” Wiseman replied.  “We’ve got the entire arsenal ready for this engagement, people—let’s use each and every single one of them before anyone else gets brought down!”

From above the altitudinal range of even the most experienced Antares fighters, fifteen F-15s shot down towards the vicious battle below, weaving through Gra Valkan fire and firing a fusillade of cruise missiles, lasers, and railgun shots at the offending creatures.  The effect was immediate—sea monsters and krakens alike were thoroughly eviscerated and ruthlessly pulverised in a matter of seconds, with ludicrous gibs and globs of organic matter raining down on the beleaguered Gra Valkan vessels.  Aboard the individual ships, sailors and officers alike stared upwards in clear incredulity as the Osean fighters shot cleanly above the fleet and turned around for yet another pass.

Elsewhere, the Arsenal Bird’s drone fleet quietly ploughed on with their own respective tasks—the UAVs each continued to score individual hits on the armour and body parts of the krakens and sea monsters, while the Justice’s laser methodically cooked the internal organs of each monster that attempted to swipe at the hornet-like machines that swarmed around them.   It was effectively a death by a thousand pricks for many a monster as the onslaught was gradually whittled down with an eerie accuracy and effectiveness that almost seemed insulting to Caesar—his own men had struggled so hard against such formidable creatures, and yet these foreigners had somehow managed to outmatch them this easily?!

The Gra Valkan delegation had come out onto the observation deck to watch the Osean fighters zip around, their eyes observing with visible astonishment as the planes easily shot past their Antares counterparts and pulled off mind-bending manoeuvres that not even the most skilled aces of Ragna Squadron could even hope to achieve.  Director Ciella pointed in wonder at a single fighter that seemed to be punching well above its weight, even considering the formidable abilities that his own wingmen already possessed—three strikes and an orange demon emblazoned on its rear wings as a dozen creatures simultaneously died in its wake.  From its underside, a bizarre cannon-like object spat out a straight line of red light, arcing and slicing through monsters and clouds alike or igniting internal organs within a few seconds of direct contact, causing a kraken to screech in audible pain as it burnt from the inside out.

Seeing the tide of battle starting to turn in their favour, the surviving crews of the Gra Valkan fleet started to cheer as the sea creatures around them continued to fall, left and right—even the Antares fighters in the air had began to regroup and reorganise, now that the situation had begun to abate and allow them to gather their bearings.  With the Oseans busy with the largest threats to the Grade Alastar and its escorts, the smaller squadrons began to refocus their efforts towards cleaning up what few creatures managed to escape Osea and Gra Valkas’s combined wrath.

“Long Caster, we’ve swept away the vast majority of the threats to the Grade Alastar’s escorts; we’re moving in to finish off the hydra itself!  Tell the Gra Valkans to keep their heads down!”

“Affirmative, Cyclops One—Grade Alastar, our fighters are striking the hydra next to you.  Danger close, I repeat, danger close—”

“Wait!  Tell your Osean fighters to hold their fire—the hydra we’re directly engaging is filled to the brim with toxic digestive gases!  If your projectiles blow up the creature, you’ll release the entire load and flood the Grade Alastar with the biological hazard—you’ll kill us and our entire diplomatic team onboard!”

“Shit, copy—all fighters, wave off of the creature!  We’ve got possible chemical gases within that creature that’ll spill onto that ship!  Cease fire, cease fire!”

“What?!  How exactly do you expect us to kill that thing, Long Caster?”

“Stand by, Mage Three—we can probably try to lure the creature away with machine gun fire so the Grade Alastar doesn’t get caught by the internal gases, or we can try and use our laser weaponry to microwave the hydra from the inside.”

“That’s going to be a long process, Long Caster—and that’s depending on whether we can even lure it away from that battleship.  Don’t we have any other assets available?”

Long Caster’s eyes widened in realisation.  “Stand by, Wiseman.  We might actually have another asset on standby that we can call for assistance, stand by.”

Twisting a dial to change frequencies, the AWACS operation called on his radio, “Arkbird, this is the AWACS Long Caster, in need of orbital support.  Come in, Arkbird, do you read me?”

OFS Arkbird II, Low Earth Orbit, above the Expanse — December 29, 2019

“Long Caster, this is Captain Kei Nagase of the Arkbird, callsign Edge.  Are you in need of assistance?”

“Affirmative, Edge—we have a hydra on the following coordinates in need of an immediate laser strike.  Be advised: danger close—there is a battleship within close proximity of the target with multiple VIPs aboard, and we believe that the hydra may contain toxic gases that cannot be allowed to escape the target.”

Peering through a telescope looking down at Selatapura, Nagase quickly identified the creature in question.  “Copy, Long Caster—we have a visual on the hydra.  It’s too close to the battleship in question for us to attempt a laser strike at full power; can you ask that vessel to move away from the hydra?”

“Negative, Edge; the hydra is directly attempting to target the Grade Alastar itself, and our machine gun fire will either only further aggravate it or risk releasing more gases.  Is there anything else you can do?”

“Stand by…” Nagase frowned, running several calculations in her head.  “Long Caster, how many heads are on that hydra?”

“Three!”

“Copy.  Is the Arsenal Bird in your AO the Justice?”

“Affirmative!”

“Alright, here’s the plan: the Arkbird will fire both of its primary lasers at two heads of that hydra, while the Arsenal Bird fires on the third head—we’re going to need any fighters or vessels with lasers to designate our two targets as well, just so we can avoid directly hitting the friendly battleship.”

“Copy, Edge; I’ll inform our fighters on the ground to use their lasers to mark the heads down for you.  Best of luck, out!”

Whirling her head behind her towards the corridor leading to the bridge, Nagase yelled out, “Blaze, did you hear that?!  I need you to rotate the Arkbird ninety degrees clockwise!  Everyone else, grab onto something!”

On the observation deck of the Grade Alastar, Director Ciella gasped.  “By the gods—”

From somewhere up in the heavens, a pair of sharp lights joined over half a dozen beams from the fighters above the air as it struck two heads of the hydra, slowly microwaving the creature’s brains with each passing second—from the great winged machine amongst the clouds, a third light struck the final head with frightening speed and accuracy.  The hydra writhed, swivelled, and twisted in pain, frantically attempting to swat off the countless beams of light burning its head from the inside out—yet the lasers were remorseless and efficient, continuing their deadly dance of death as they matched the creature’s movements and incinerating its internal neurons until all basic concepts of sight, sound, smell, hearing, and touch were all but snuffed out.  With a final roar, the creature that would have sunk the Grade Alastar in another time shrivelled and died, its three heads and limp torso sinking back into the ocean with a great splash.

“Arkbird, the hydra is dead!  I repeat, the hydra is dead!  All callsigns, be advised: the hydra is dead, and all other sea creatures are either incapacitated or retreating—mission complete, the Grade Alastar and its escorts are safe!”

Cheers erupted from the Gra Valkan fleet and their Osean rescuers as the lasers simultaneously died off, the Grade Alastar and its accompanying ships immediately shifting to search and rescue operations for the vessels that didn’t survive; in the air, the Antares fighters began to patrol the skies for any remaining interlopers or return to their respective carriers for refuelling and repairs while their Osean counterparts circled above.  The Arsenal Bird itself began to circle back in the general direction of Selatapura as its drones slowly returned to the fold, a convoy of Osean naval vessels and helicopters swiftly pushing towards the scene of the battle below. 

“Grade Alastar, this is Commodore Robin Airey of the OFS Puffin, requesting your commanding officer.”

“Puffin, this is Fleet Admiral Caesar Roland, commanding officer of the Grade Alastar; send message.”

“Fleet Admiral, we’ve been tasked with assisting your fleet with retrieving survivors and escorting your diplomats to Selatapura as soon as possible.  Will that be alright?”

“Grade Alastar to Puffin, that will be much appreciated.  Long Caster, we are in your debt and your men have our gratitude—and whoever else you have out there, give them our thanks!”

Long Casted nodded to himself in satisfaction.  “All in a day’s work, Grade Alastar, out.  Lighthouse Squadron, RTB!”

“Fleet Admiral, we have a visual on the—by the Gods…”

“What?  What is it—” Caesar froze, his eyes glimpsing for the very first time the needle in the distance that threaded upwards into the skies above.  “Directors, y-you’re going to want to see this…”

Selatapura, Osean Federation — December 29, 2019

Due to the sheer size of the Gra Valkan fleet arriving at Selatapura, a long-winded debate began between the various departments of Osea’s executive branch and the local government within the nation-state itself over where they would be stationed for the duration of their visit.  Bukit Purmei and Brani Terminals (themselves already slated for imminent closure and conversion into new coastal developments) were both ruled out due to their sheer proximity to the main thoroughfare to the Lighthouse, while Tuas Harbour was deemed too far to central Selatapura for the convenience of Gra Valkas’s diplomats; the South Pier, while convenient in terms of location, was incapable of hosting a battleship, two aircraft carriers, and its escorts, while Jurong Island was also deemed too much of a security risk due to the secondary access road beneath the Strait to the Lighthouse.

In the end, the surviving vessels were redirected to Pasir Panjang for repairs and dropping off their passengers; in the port, Harling and Clarkson were waiting along with a sizable honour guard as the Grade Alastar docked into the port.  As the Gra Valkans set up the ramp to allow their passengers to disembark, Vincent was able to grab a glimpse of the delegation—led by four individuals, one woman and three males, all were garbed in sharp yet flowing military uniforms and neat in appearance (save one noticeably dishevelled individual who appeared to be glancing at the Lighthouse and the Arsenal Bird approaching the harbour with clear incredulity), visibly emphasising the highly aggressive nature of their visitors.

Briefly shooting his colleague an uneasy glance, Vincent turned towards the approaching guests and extended his hand in greeting.  “Deputy Director Gesta, I presume?  I’m Ambassador Vincent Harling, and this is Ambassador Gabriel William Clarkson—I believe we’ve conversed on the radio before.”

Deputy Director Gesta—a visibly aged man yet still tall and proud in his composure—accepted Harling’s greeting.  “Ah, Ambassador Harling—it’s a pleasure to finally greet you in the flesh.  My associates and staff: this is Director Ciella and Vice Director Dallas Claymond of the Eastern Relations Department; and the Crown Prince of the Gra Valkas Empire himself, Cabal Eloue Luk Fordem Hallova Elidor von Granderia.”

The various officials of the Gra Valkan delegation shook Harling and Clarksons’ hands in greeting, the vast majority of them glancing at Harling with noticeable curiosity.  Whether or not the details behind the Empire’s involvement in Vincent’s rescue from Eshirant had been revealed by their government to them or not, the diplomat couldn’t quite determine—it could have just easily been recognition from the various news broadcasts from the Milishials, he reckoned.  “I apologise if our first meeting may not have been under the best of circumstances, but I hope that your visit to the Osean Federation proves to be significantly less eventful.”

“You’ll find that the vast majority of us share that particular sentiment, Ambassador—another dark reminder of the threats that our nations both face in this New World, I suppose,” Gesta handily replied.  His face darkened, as if the scale of the attack that he had just survived only just dawned upon him.  “Will my people be able to recover the wreckage and bodies of our sailors off the coast?”

“We’ve got Osean ships securing the entire area as we speak,” Harling somberly responded.  “We’d be more than happy to lend assistance in finding your fallen men at the bottom of the Expanse, if your government so desires.” 

“I believe that would most certainly be in order, Ambassador—many thanks.”

Bright Hill, Oured, Osean Federation — December 31, 2019

The meeting room within Bright Hill where the Gra Valkan and Osean delegates convened was similarly austere yet quietly commanding as the rest of the Presidential Palace; dominated by a single long table, the Gra Valkans sat directly facing their Osean counterparts, their backs to the windows as the negotiations between the two nations began.  At the centre of the Osean side was Ambassador Clarkson, flanked by Ambassador Harling and the rest of the Cabinet and their respective staff; on the other end, Director Gesta and Prince Cabal were seated at the centre of the Gra Valkan delegation.

“Now,” Clarkson began, “in order for basic diplomatic relations to be established, the Osean Federation has certain international laws and regulations under the IUN Charter, as a member-state of the International United Nations, that it requires all of its partners to adhere to.”

Gesta frowned.  “We are not members of the International United Nations and do not intend to join the organisation as of right now, yet you’re asking us to adhere to the laws of peace and war outlined by the IUN.  Would our refusal to adhere to these laws affect our relations with you?  We are aware that diplomatic ties did exist between Osea and Parpaldia prior to the recent conflict, and our sources suggest that the former Empire did not exactly adhere to these regulations in spite of this.”

The Osean ambassador’s face hardened at Gesta’s response.  “The Osean Federation established ties with the Parpaldia Empire due to its geopolitical importance in the Third Civilization Area—if not for its economic, political, and military presence in Philades and Rodenius, we would have likely isolated Parpaldia from the rest of Elysia for its inhumane practices or outright ignored it altogether.  The Gra Valkas Empire, on the other hand, did not appear to have any major ties with the rest of Elysia prior to the recent war beyond a perfunctory diplomatic relationship with the IUN’s members within the Second Civilization Area—if it desires to remain isolationist instead of establishing connections with the Osean Federation, then we will respect your decisions but condone whatever military conduct violates the terms of our Charter.”

“I should quickly add,” Ambassador Harling hurriedly interjected, “that the regulations within the IUN Charter were established prior to the creation of the IUN—the body itself was founded mainly as a body to ensure that the laws were respected, but it has since also expanded to fulfil various humanitarian and geopolitical obligations.  Joining the IUN is not strictly required for nations whom we establish ties with, but adherence to basic laws of civility is a practice we have come to appreciate from our neighbours, both here in Elysia and beyond.”

Harling’s response left room for the Gra Valkans to form a compromise of sorts with the Oseans, Gesta noted—no need to delay a long-overdue meeting over a few minor points (that they themselves used to follow prior to the Transference anyway) and risk Elysia turning Osea against Gra Valkas’s interests in a few years time, when a suitable alternative already existed for now.  “If we were to agree to follow these rules but refrain from immediately joining the IUN, would this arrangement be suitable for the Osean Federation?”

Clarkson glanced at his superior, who nodded in affirmation.  Turning back to face the Gra Valkans, he replied,  “We’re happy to work with this arrangement, Director.”

The meeting continued, with the Gra Valkans receiving a series of documents detailing the general rules and regulations laid out by the Charter; apart from a few points of contention that were soon smoothened out, the diplomats saw no reason to refuse the Oseans’ demands.  There was one particular area that Gesta noted appeared to be absent from the discussions, however—something Ciella herself was quick to remind her superior.

“What is it, Ciella?”

“Sir, the Oseans do not appear to be discussing their space capabilities or any kinds of international regulations regarding space warfare.  We should probably broach the topic to them, in case we might inadvertently leave Gra Valkas at risk of attack.”

Dallas frowned.  “Director, we don’t even have the ability to reach outer space.  Why should we worry about that just yet?”

“Osea has the capability of creating a space elevator capable of exceeding the distance between themselves and Gra Valkas by multiple factors in a matter of hours.  What makes you think they haven't already made weapons in space that can strike the mainland or even Ragna itself if we start a war with them?  Where do you think the weapon that helped kill that hydra came from?”

His face paleing in realisation, Gesta quickly nodded.  “Good point.  Thank you for the reminder, Ciella.  Ambassador Clarkson, a question.”

“Go ahead.”

“Does the Osean Federation or the IUN follow any laws about conduct in outer space?  Gra Valkas is aware of the spacefaring capabilities of Osea, and we are concerned about the potential of space technology potentially being used against us.”

Clarkson glanced at Harling, who decided to respond to the question.  “Unfortunately, we do not have any active international laws against warfare in outer space—the superpowers of our own world abandoned the vast majority of such regulations over forty years ago prior to the Belkan War, and the Ulysses Disaster forced us to abandon the rest in order to clear our atmosphere of remaining asteroid debris.  In any case, it was an unspoken rule prior to the Transference that all international regulations regarding combat in the air also applied to potential combat in outer space—we would be willing to adhere to such regulations here in Elysia, of course.”

Gesta glanced at Ciella and Dallas uneasily.  Without any direct instructions from Emperor Gra Lux about the matter (the Emperor himself understandably quite confused by the concept and not fully cognizant of the destructive potential of space-based warfare even with the Lighthouse being confirmed to be real), the diplomat was unfortunately not in a position to contest the Oseans’ viewpoints on the matter.  For Gra Valkas, space itself was a still-untouched frontier from science fiction that the Empire had barely begun to explore, let alone conceive—to somehow determine complex concepts such as warlike conduct and behaviour in that unknown realm was something Gesta himself knew he was not fully qualified to decide upon as of now.  Deciding to go along for now with Osea’s recommendations, he glanced back at Clarkson.

“The Gra Valkas Empire will agree to adhere to such regulations in both the air and outer space, although it will condemn any space-bound actions that threaten our security and will seek to renegotiate such terms once we ourselves achieve the ability to reach outer space.”

Ciella and Gesta felt their spirits sink as Clarkson nodded in acknowledgment.  To think that another nation within their own world not only traversed space with near-impunity but also already experimented with a new field of warfare beyond their current abilities was a sobering fact to absorb—with each passing minute, the sheer technological gap between Gra Valkas and Osea only seemed to be growing larger and larger.

Carefully sorting through the final stack of files that determined the basic diplomatic relations between the two superpowers, Ambassador Clarkson nodded in satisfaction.  “That basically sorts out the standard relations between Osea and Gra Valkas.  Are there any other agreements that the Empire desires to make?”

The discussion continued on to a variety of topics: an economic deal was hashed out where both nations agreed to export raw materials in return for importing goods and products from each other, alongside a basic exchange rate based on existing financial data, and then segued into other materials—

“The Gra Valkas Empire wishes to inquire about the possibility of acquiring fighter technologies from the Osean Federation.”

Clarkson paused.  “There are currently active restrictions on the export of technology including computer products and aircraft technology.  Such an arrangement would be in violation of such policies, and would also be a cause of considerable concern within the international community—especially in light of your nation’s current reputation in Elysia.”

Gesta’s eyes narrowed in anger.  “Our actions in Leifor and Paganda were legitimate responses to the affront dealt to our ambassadors in our own attempts at establishing the same peaceful coexistence that the Osean Federation now enjoys—offences that your own diplomats also suffered against Parpaldia!  We also know that the Kingdom of Mu is in the process of receiving fighters from Osea in return for their assistance in rescuing Ambassador Harling from Eshirant—such technologies easily outpace our own and also place our lands at risk!  Surely Gra Valkas also deserves a gesture of thanks for our own part in the confrontation in Parpaldia?”

“The aircraft that we gave Mu are over seventy years old—hardly equivalent to the fighters currently used by the OADF,” Clarkson cooly replied.  “Considering our assessments of the current military and technological capabilities of both Mu and Gra Valkas, we estimate that your nation will be able to develop fighters capable of matching or even outright exceeding their planes in less than a decade, either way—”

“Perhaps we might be able to come to a compromise,” Harling interjected, not wishing the current argument to further deteriorate, “if you could all have my attention for a brief moment?”

Slowly, the two parties warily turned to face the ambassador.

“As you are all aware, the presence of Gra Valkan forces in Eshirant during my rescue is, and remains, a tightly-kept secret—using the same justification as used with Mu to exchange technology would require us to reveal the actions of Gra Valkas on that day, which is an outcome that would, quite frankly, produce more questions that neither myself nor the Osean government would be comfortable answering at this time.  Therefore, any gesture of appreciation will have to be made in a strictly confidential nature.”

Seeing no reason to object to Harling’s argument, Gesta carefully asked, “And what kind of gesture would the Osean Federation be willing to make?”

“One of the proposals that my government was going to make for this meeting was an information exchange—a friendly transfer of information, culture, and knowledge with the intent of creating closer ties and establishing a mutual understanding about each other as nations.  It could, theoretically , also be arranged that a few of the experts we send to Gra Valkas could potentially have a background in fighter technology—”

“Which would allow us to potentially close the new gap between ourselves and the Muans,” Gesta finished, realisation dawning upon him.  “Theoretically, of course,” he hurriedly added.

An agreement was quickly hashed out to facilitate an information exchange between Gra Valkas and Osea, with additional details made for “certain” experts to be brought along for a trip to Ragna.  The discussion moved onwards to who exactly Osea would send—

Harling briefly pulled Clarkson aside.  “What if we sent someone from Gründer Industries as part of the group?  They might be more likely to get along with their Gra Valkan counterparts with the similarities in their culture and language, which would also play well into—“

“Are you sure that it would be a good idea to involve Gründer with the Gra Valkans?  You of all people should be aware of their reputation, Vincent—“

“I’m sorry,” Gesta interrupted from the other side of the table, “but could you perhaps explain what you’re talking about?  If there are any concerns regarding the individuals you aim to bring to Gra Valkas, then perhaps we would appreciate being able to determine for ourselves whether they would be worth the risk.”

Clarkson shot Harling an uneasy stare, who slowly nodded.  Turning back to face Gesta with a visibly sour expression, the younger ambassador decided to be frank with his explanation.

“Gründer Industries is our primary weapons manufacturing firm and the source of many of our best fighters within the past thirty years—however, they were formerly part of the military complex of a rival superpower within the Osean continent—”

“The Principality of Belka,” Harling clarified, “the very same nation that decided to wield nuclear weapons on its own people or else face total collapse at the very end of the Belkan War.”

“Their loyalties have never been confirmed ever since they were integrated into our military industry, in spite of our attempts to weed out those still loyal to the old regime—we also have reason to believe that they may have also been involved in manufacturing and inciting conflicts throughout our old world, offering their best technology in return for encouraging warmongers and hardliners amongst their clients to pursue endless campaigns of conquest and subjugation.”  Clarkson’s words were bitter and angry, memories of Grey Men and falling stars over Oured coming to mind as he spoke.

“If you so choose to associate yourselves with the likes of Gründer,” Harling warned, “it would be equivalent of making a deal with the Devil himself—you would be capable of outfighting every piece of magic and technology that Elysia has to offer, but you will be potentially risking an entire generation being forced to fight in endless wars to sate the whims of a few madmen from a bygone era.  Would your people be willing to take that risk, Director Gesta?”

Gesta glanced at his staff, whose expressions were similarly disturbed by the uneasiness of their Osean counterparts.  His own thoughts went towards the warmongers in the Senate, who loudly called for conquest and glory denied to them by the Transference—Gesta himself would have lied if he claimed he did not agree with their belief in the inevitable destiny for Gra Valkas to become the sole conqueror of the world, but there was definitely a sizeable portion within that faction who would genuinely call for war even if the circumstances clearly demonstrated the stupidity of such an action.  What would the Empire look like if that anger was nourished by a false prophet and allowed to overtake the hearts and minds of every Gra Valkan citizen, overtaking all sense of logic and reason in a war against every single nation in Elysia?  Where would that anger end, if their attempts at world domination failed and the Empire began to look for someone to blame?  And how exactly would even the Emperor himself stop that poison in his people’s mind, when the very circumstances that had brought his Empire to this point encouraged and fortified that very same notion that, yes, Gra Valkas was truly superior to everything and everyone else?

Gesta recalled the introductory video that Harling had shown the diplomatic team at the start of the meeting, his mind processing with horror the sight of seven mushroom clouds erupting into the evening sky.  Would that be Gra Valkas in a few years time, its own cities and monuments vaporised in the blink of an eye?

Unnerved by that unnatural train of thought, Gesta hurriedly decided to put that aside and deal with other matters.  “I believe this would be a matter that other members of my government would be more qualified to discuss.  In any case, perhaps we should continue this particular avenue of discussion at a later time, Ambassadors.”

“One final query, before we conclude this meeting.”

“Very well, what is it you wish to discuss?”

“We are aware that the International United Nations, as you’ve previously mentioned, has expanded beyond being a body for nations to discuss foreign affairs and enforce the Charter; in light of recent events in Parpaldia, we would like to inquire: is the IUN in its current form a military alliance?  Should the Gra Valkas Empire threaten the security of a nation currently part of the IUN, would we expect a response from the likes of Mu, the Milishials, and the Osean Federation in the form of military aid?”

Harling raised an eyebrow at Gesta’s query.  “Officially, the member states of the IUN are not necessarily obligated by international law to directly participate in peacekeeping operations agreed upon by the Assembly.  That said, a considerable majority, if not nearly all of the major nations within Elysia, are already members of the IUN—if a situation involving the Gra Valkas Empire violating the Charter were to take place, your nation would quickly find itself very much isolated within the international community.”

“And if we were to object to such measures, either through diplomatic means or otherwise?”

“If Gra Valkas was to somehow prevail in a conflict against the IUN, it would have to win by conquering the entire planet without starving to death and defeating the Osean Federation in direct combat.”  The ambassador smiled, his expression frank as he stared back at Gesta and his colleagues.  “And I think we all know by now how that particular conflict would pan out, wouldn’t we?”

And therein lay the problem, Gesta mused—somehow, Osea had managed to achieve in less than a year what Gra Valkas had failed to accomplish throughout its centuries of conquest: to unite nearly the entire world under a single banner.  With the promise of peace after millennia of conflict and war and the technology of the distant future to back their own words, the Oseans had won the hearts of the peoples of Elysia, earning a loyalty that no amount of Gra Valkan guns and brutality could ever hope to achieve.  What exactly could an Empire driven by conquest and conflict hope to achieve when faced against a foe that could not only beat Gra Valkas in its own game but show the world that the very same game need not be played?  Could the Empire persuade its own people to change its old ways, or would Gesta see the nation he loved destroy itself in a futile attempt to force the New World to kneel?  Or was there another outcome out there, yet unseen, where the Gra Valkan Standard somehow, through one twist of fate or another, still flew from Ragna to the top of the Lighthouse?

“Should the Gra Valkas Empire join the International United Nations, what would it stand to gain?”

“You would be recognised by the Osean Federation and its partners as a fellow nation, equal in power and footing, regardless of whatever the Milishials or Muans would have you believe and independent of any perception within Elysia of civility or barbarism.  And if any other nation would seek ill will regarding your Empire, then the Federation would be willing to lend a hand—the same way your nation did to ours not so long ago.”

An unacceptable outcome, if Gesta and the Emperor still sought to see Gra Valkas achieve its long-awaited destiny as the sole superpower of the world.  Yet somehow, Gesta mused, it still seemed to be the only option remaining that wouldn’t see everything they had both fought for burnt to the ground.

In another place and time, perhaps…

“Your Holiness, the mission to destroy the Grade Alastar and its escorts ended in failure.”

“…explain.”

“The sea monsters we sent to engage the Gra Valkan fleet successfully destroyed several ships and submarines, but the main fleet was able to send out a distress signal to the Oseans—their weapons were successful in incapacitating or outright killing our creatures, and our observers have confirmed that the surviving vessels have now been safely escorted to Selatapura.  As a result of our defeat, the Gra Valkas Empire and the Osean Federation are now formally establishing diplomatic ties as we speak.”

“Director Zamuras, I would have thought that Darkshield’s actions in Grameus, in spite of the sheer number of protocols he violated in his impulsive actions, demonstrated that our most prized possessions would be more than capable of outfighting the Oseans’ weapons?”

“Your Holiness, it would appear that the Oseans themselves also adapted to their encounter with the Aji Dhaka—they appeared to have developed new weapons capable of dealing significant damage to our asset, which decimated our forces in a matter of minutes.  We also detected signals from the upper layers of the atmosphere, indicating some kind of orbital weapon was also used by Osea to destroy the largest of our sea creatures in a matter of seconds.”

“Disappointing, most disappointing indeed.  Remind me again, Director, what led you to believe that this operation was a viable plan?”

“The destruction of the Gra Valkan fleet would have undoubtedly driven a wedge between Osea and its western counterpart, to say nothing to the damage such a significant loss would have done to its reputation.  And who else would the world have blamed for the disappearance of two carrier fleets and a flagship in such close proximity to their lands, when no other nation in Elysia even comes close to the technology that they possess?”

“And yet it would appear that we have underestimated even the sheer scale of Osea’s capabilities—why did we not anticipate that reinforcements could be capable of responding this quickly?  Why were we not able to eliminate the Gra Valkans just as quickly?”

“We expected that the Gra Valkans’ technological capabilities would have meant that a longer, more protracted engagement with their fleet would have been required in order to successfully destroy them, Your Holiness—what we did not expect was for their flagship to fend off our sea creatures with the sheer precision and frequency we detected from orbit.  Our previous point of reference in regards to non-magic-based technology, I must point out, were the Muans—a similar engagement over a decade back with their level of technology suggested that the approach we adopted would have produced the same results.  This, combined with the response time of the Oseans, meant that the delays we encountered in our efforts to sink the Gra Valkans ultimately proved to be fatal to our primary objectives.”

“So how would you describe this failure of yours, Director Zamuras?  Incompetence, or a mere aberration in your self-purported ability to produce favourable results?  Is there anything that we can learn from this disastrous venture of yours that might just prevent your immediate execution on my orders?”

“Y-your Holiness, this operation was indeed a failure in my ability to perceive that the Gra Valkans and Oseans could potentially possess technology that would almost begin to catch up to that of our Ancestors.  However, we have been able to gather valuable data regarding the military doctrines of the Gra Valkans and Oseans in response to our standard approach to direct confrontation—if anything, we might be able to devise a strategy to potentially counter their capabilities once we rejoin our Ancestors in their conquests, or even if we so desire to weaken the inferiors in preparation for Their return.”

“Very well—develop these plans and have them brought to me by tomorrow night, or I shall immediately see to it that your successor be found and ordered to execute you personally.”

“U-understood, Your Holiness!”

“Now, about this Conference—I understand that several of the inferior nations’ delegations will be arriving at the Lighthouse, and that even several of their kings and rulers will be present.  The loss of so many important figures would surely pose quite a setback to their efforts to stop the ascension of our Ancestors—Director, would a direct attack on the Lighthouse while the Conference is in session serve our purposes of countering the capabilities of the Oseans?

“Unlikely, Your Holiness—even if we were to somehow penetrate the formidable Osean defences around Selatapura and destroy the Lighthouse, such a blatant act of aggression would not only fail to negate any of the other technological capabilities that Osea possesses—to say nothing of their orbital platform hovering above us—but also outright expose us to the rest of Elysia as the heralders of our Ancestors’ return.  We would be risking too much for an outcome that could ultimately prove to be all for nothing.”

“In the same way that attempting to destroy the Gra Valkans off the coast of Selatapura proved to be unequal in promise compared to the risks we now face with Ragna and Oured potentially unified against us?”

“…that would be the case, Your Holiness.”

“Very well.  Is there any other way that we can undermine the efforts of the IUN to unify Elysia before the return of our Ancestors?” 

“Your Excellency, our method of countering Osea would have to be twofold: firstly, we will need to accelerate our efforts to retrieve the revival beacons; secondly, we will need to incite further conflicts throughout Elysia and target key individuals throughout the IUN—with Osea distracted with various proxy wars across the continents and their leaders either incapacitated or out of the picture, their attempts to unify the main superpowers and prepare the Milishials and their allies for our Ancestors should encounter significant delays.”

“Valuable time for us to continue our own efforts, indeed.  I suppose that brings us to our next topic; as for the situation in the Mu continent, what is our status on that particular front?”

“Our efforts to retrieve the beacons within these continents are still underway, although the current operations of the Gra Valkans in Nigrat and Hinomawari have forced our spies to operate with a significant degree of caution.  It would appear that the Empire as of this time remains unaware of the true nature of our existence, but further contact with the Oseans may alert them of our intentions—assuming that Osea already is aware of our actions in Philades and Grameus.”

“Then continue your efforts, Director: be patient, yet be expedient—the success of our Ancestors depends on us…”

Osean Broadcasting Corporation, Oured, Osean Federation — December 30, 2019

In a shocking turn of events, a naval fleet escorting a diplomatic mission from the Gra Valkas Empire was attacked by sea monsters less than a hundred kilometres off the coast of Selatapura—the fleet suffered significant casualties and was only saved in the nick of time by a contingent of IUN fighters deployed in response to a general distress call intercepted by Osean naval patrols in the area.  The sea monsters in question were quickly pacified or eliminated, and the fleet and its diplomats were escorted to Selatapura without further incident, where they were received by Ambassadors Vincent Harling and Gabriel William Clarkson.

In an official statement, the Gra Vakan diplomats formally thanked the Osean government for their swift response and paid their respects to the sailors and pilots who lost their lives in defence of the fleet, and confirmed that they would be attending the Lighthouse Peace Conference tomorrow morning.  The Embassy of the Kingdom of Mu refused to comment on the situation, instead stating that it looked forward to the upcoming peace talks in Selatapura.  From Bright Hill, President Bartlett confirmed that the Conference will begin tomorrow as planned—with delegations from all over Elysia set to attend the beginning of peace talks that will determine the future of the Third Civilisation Area, the President reassured the public that the Osean Federation would take steps to ensure that the event will take without any further incidents.

In other news, General Resource has confirmed that plans to purchase nuCOMM will be continuing as planned; both corporations were cut off from their main headquarters in the Usean continent during the Transference, and the merger is planned to help consolidate their operations in the face of a dramatically changed economic environment.  In an official statement, the CEO of General Resource, Paul Anderson, stated that combining the two former rivals would allow the corporation to expand its operations within and beyond Osea as competition with the North Osea-based weapons manufacturing firm Gründer Industries continues to rise:

“With its dark legacy as a harbinger and initiator of global conflict, Gründer remains a liability to the safekeeping of Osea’s peace and security—they cannot be the sole source of the Federation’s weapons and hardware!  We hope that we can prove to the Osean government and its allies throughout Elysia that General Resource is not only a viable alternative to the superplanes and superweapons of Belka’s heyday but a path to expanding beyond the Zone of Endless and the next generation of Data Swallow: we, too, can deliver the hardware needed to ensure a lasting peace for the next hundred years—”

Albion Castle, Runepolis, Holy Milishial Empire — December 31, 2019

“The Gra Valkans?   The Oseans remain ambivalent to our offers of friendship, and now they’ve opened relations with the Gra Valkans?”

Emperor Milishial’s expression appeared far more serene compared to the visibly agitated Minister Phiam on the mannacom, yet internally he felt just as much concern regarding the unexpected development his beleaguered subordinate had just revealed.  The other ministers and officials present in the meeting room held no such inhibitions; murmurs and grumbles of dismay and anger echoed across the table with the news that their colleague in the Osean continent had just revealed.

“Both governments have yet to release any major details regarding the nature of their new diplomatic relationship, but we have reason to infer that any agreement between the two nations will have been similar to ours when we first opened relations with the Oseans—a formal agreement to respect international laws, and a standing invitation to observe procedures within the International United Nations.  Considering the highly unusual circumstances surrounding their official first contact, it would be unwise to assume that Gra Valkas does not possess a key interest in potentially furthering their newfound connections—an alliance of two highly-advanced nations with interests that may potentially conflict with our own could easily prove to be disastrous to ourselves and the rest of Elysia!”

Milishial sighed.  “Minister Phiam, your concerns are well noted and without doubt have merit, but cooler heads will need to be present if we are to be able to develop an adequate response to this newfound crisis.  Why exactly would the Gra Valkans seek to become friends with the Oseans, when their actions towards the rest of Elysia would suggest that their intentions for our world are nothing less than total conquest?”

Director Arneus stood up.  “Your Excellency, I may have a possible theory.”

“Very well, speak your thoughts.”

The aged man sighed, resting his hands on the meeting table as he responded.  “The entire situation behind the fall of Parpaldia and the destruction of Leifor and Paganda came as the direct result of a false perception of power based on what our civilization has come to rely upon for the past few centuries—the concept that civility could only originate from Mu, Milishient, and Philades.  It is an accepted truth that most, if not all other regions beyond these continents are considered the land of mere barbarians—is that not correct, Your Excellency?”

“That is correct, Director.”

“With the arrival of Osea and Gra Valkas, we are now faced with two significant aberrations to that accepted truth: to the west, we have a superpower that pays no mind to our concepts of civility and boasts technology that makes even ourselves seem near-quaint in comparison.  To them, we are just as inferior as a farmer in Topa or Paganda may be to us—yet with our own logic, their geographical distance from all previous lands of civilization makes them mere barbarians.  Two conflicting beliefs, yet one is clearly false—otherwise, Leifor would have never fallen.

“To the east, however, is something far more different than anything we have ever encountered: the Osean Federation, as it stands, is the only superpower within Elysia that does not subscribe to any known concepts of superiority, civility, and barbarism that we of the civilised world indulge in on a day-to-day basis.  A merchant of Qua-Toyne would have just as much say in the affairs of Elysia as a dragonfolk of Emor in the world that Osea calls for—and much as it galls me to admit, that realm of ludicrous fantasy may actually be feasible with the progress that the International United Nations has achieved, regardless of whether or not we agree to cooperate.  When all of Gra Valkas’s immediate neighbours were superpowers and nations that looked down upon them as inferior and barbaric—inaccurate as those sentiments turned out to be—why wouldn’t they turn to befriend a powerful nation from the other side of Elysia that views them as equals?”

“But what about their subsequent campaigns of conquest,” Phiam interrupted, “would that not suggest that their intentions of conquest have hardly abated even with the arrival of the Federation?”

“A superpower insults a newcomer and threatens the lives of their diplomats in the mistaken belief that they will emerge just as victorious as every similar situation before.  Am I describing Leifor and Paganda, Minister Phiam, or am I describing Parpaldia?”

“Director,” Milishial interjected, “your theory hinges upon three assumptions: firstly, that the invasion of Leifor and Paganda were made under the same reasoning as Osea with their campaign in Parpaldia; secondly, that their potential goals for the conquest of Elysia were developed once diplomacy with the civilised nations such as ourselves failed; and thirdly, that such expansionist goals could potentially be affected or even reversed altogether by a positive relationship with the Osean Federation.  Do we have any evidence to suggest that either of these assumptions have any merit to them?”

“We have the words of the Gra Valkans themselves about the war with Leifor and Paganda; assuming we can trust their claims and that the surviving accounts of their first contact with the two nations and their subsequent actions were accurate, we can reasonably suggest that our first point may be true.  Whether or not the next two points are also accurate depends on what information we can obtain from the Oseans and Gra Valkans themselves, alongside what actions they may take in the near future.”

Supervisor Liage spoke up, “You also speak as if the Gra Valkas Empire operates under a single mind—the Emperor himself may be the sole individual with the power to determine the future of his Empire, but we know next to nothing about the internal politics within his government.  Osea may persuade Gra Valkas’s government to tone down its plans of conquest and subjugation if their relationship grows further, but the people of the Empire may yet decide to pressure their leader to continue the path of destruction that they have already embarked upon.  And what if the Emperor dies, or is replaced by a new figurehead who doesn’t share his sympathies?”

“And assuming that Director Arneus’s theories are correct,” Phiam added, “what would such a development mean for the Holy Milishial Empire?  Our own concepts of civility and barbarism would be cast aside, our status as the premier superpower vastly diminished as Elysia flocks to both ends of the known world to the benefit of both Gra Valkas and Osea and our detriment—and what would we have left?  The Oseans refuse to offer their technologies and weapons, the Gra Valkans look down upon us for our own previous refusal to engage with them as equals—where would that lead us, once the Ancient Sorcerous Empire makes its inevitable return?”

“Consolidating our position both within Elysia and the IUN would serve to maintain what prestige we have left, Your Excellency,” Minister Pao recommended.  “And any effort by the Gra Valkans to ally with the Oseans would need to be stopped at the very moment of conception, even if it risks the chance of a war between ourselves and our newcomers to the west.”

“But are we prepared for such a war?” asked Arneus.  “Are we prepared to ask our allies in Mu and our own continent to fight a war against an enemy whose firepower threatens to eclipse ours?  If we do not tread carefully in the route that you suggest, we stand to risk complete defeat and the Milishials greatly weakened, right before the arrival of the Sorcerers—we would lose so much, just for us to end up exactly where we sought to avoid!  Can we take that risk, Your Excellency?”

Slowly, the Emperor sighed.  “As much as I would desire to make an immediate decision regarding this newfound development, we rely upon far too many hypotheticals and assumptions at this point.  The First Civilization Area needs our wise judgement to survive these unprecedented times, but we simply do not have the information that we need to determine what path to take.  That said, certain truths are clear: an alliance between the Gra Valkas Empire and the Osean Federation would be disastrous for us, but an outcome where the Gra Valkan threat diminishes to a degree that we can safely ignore is not something that we can easily overlook.”

Turning to his ministers, Milishial gave out his commands.  “Arneus, you are to continue your efforts to gather information about the nature of the Gra Valkans’ expansionist nature and their immediate plans for Elysia.  If it emerges that our western neighbours can be talked down from their ambitions, then we may yet be able to end this crisis with minimal loss of life—otherwise, you are to see how we may persuade the Oseans to side with us in a possible war with Gra Valkas.  Pao, you are to find ways to ensure that more of the Oseans’ technology can be replicated and produced here in Runepolis for our own internal security.  Liage, you are to continue your efforts to ensure the continued support and loyalty of the First Civilization Area to us—and continue developing proposals for how we may prevail against the imminent arrival of our Ancestors.”  Lastly, the Emperor turned to face the mannacomm, where Phiam was still waiting for his orders.

“Minister Phiam, your mission in Selatapura remains the same—you are to represent the interests and aims of the Holy Milishial Empire in the Lighthouse Conference, to further explore the technological capabilities of the Oseans, and to ensure that the image of the Empire remains as pristine and intact as it has always been within the past millennia.  But you must, and I cannot emphasise this enough, to the full extent of your abilities ensure that under no circumstances does a deal be made that sees Osea and Gra Valkas unite!”

International Space Elevator, Selatapura, Osean Federation — January 1, 2020

Stepping out of his vehicle and into the lobby of the Lighthouse, Ambassador Mugei looked around in fascination as the cool breeze of the air conditioning from inside drifted around him and his retinue.  The receiving area was white and austere compared to the architecture of Muan monuments, yet the sheer size of the reception and the utterly otherworldly methodology adopted by the Oseans behind the angular curves and flat, futuristic surfaces elicited the same feeling of awe and astonishment.  By Muan standards, this would have been considered even beyond avant-garde—Mugei’s thoughts went towards Harling’s interview with the Milishials all those months ago; what was the term that the ambassador had used to describe this style?  Brutalist?  Neo-futurist?  Minimalist?

As if summoned by his thoughts, Ambassador Harling himself appeared from within the crowd of diplomats, kings, queens, nobles, ambassadors, and reporters already here—as the eyes of hundreds of people turned to him, Harling walked purposefully towards his Muan counterpart and extended his hand in greeting.  “Ambassador Mugei?”

“Vincent, a pleasure to see you again.  I take it that you will be leading the Osean delegation in the Conference?”

“Indeed; I’ve also been tasked with hosting the Conference itself, so perhaps you might end up conversing with Ambassador Clarkson more often than not.  Still, it should be a pleasure working with Mu again for hammering out the details of the peace treaty itself…”

Finding more familiar footing within the unusual environment with Harling’s conversation—and sensing his superior also emerging from the vehicle behind him—Mugei decided to segue towards more immediate matters.  “Prime Minister, I’m sure you remember Ambassador Harling from the official ceremony in Oured?”

“Indeed, I do!”  Sinclair deftly swept his top hat from his head in greeting as he similarly extended his hand forward, a firm grip on Harling’s digits and a polite nod even as he looked around his surroundings in clear wonder.  “Ambassador, I’m very much aware of the details regarding the Lighthouse itself, but I really do need to confirm this for myself—are we really going to ride this Space Elevator to the venue?  I thought it might have been some kind of hyperbole, but these are some rather fascinating times…” 

Harling smiled—a particular expression, Mugei noticed, that often came across whenever an opportunity came across to showcase (or show off, to some) what Osea had to offer—and simply gestured to the centre of the reception, where a hallway extended onwards to the capsules that would be transporting the collective governments of over a hundred nations over one hundred thousand kilometres above the surface of the earth.  “The ride might be a bit fast for the uninitiated or queasy, but you have my word when I say that it will be a smooth and swift ride to the very top of the Lighthouse.  There are measures in place just in case an emergency occurs, of course—I should know, having seen the designs for this place myself when it was first constructed.  I wouldn’t worry too much about it, to be honest.”

Sinclair’s face changed into a wide variety of expressions—trepidation, fascination, curiosity, shock, awe—and Mugei himself felt oddly intimidated by the sheer scale of what Harling implied was about to happen.  If it really was true about what the Oseans had planned, and if it could actually be feasibly pulled off, then he and the Prime Minister would be the first Muans in the history of Elysia to experience—

“Well, Prime Minister, are you ready to travel up to outer space?”

Chapter Text

International Space Elevator, Low Earth orbit — January 1, 2020

“Welcome back to the Milishial News Network, where we pride ourselves at providing news almost as fast as it happens!  I’m Alana Forlen, here in the Lighthouse Peace Conference—I would say that I’m in the Osean city of Selatapura, but we are currently located in what many have said to be completely unprecedented in the entire history of Elysia—”

The camera panned to the window, where Elysia itself was but a mere blue marble in a black sky—a single needle seemingly anchored the Lighthouse to the ground, and three crafts buzzed back and forth as a near-endless stream of visitors continued to ascend from Selatapura below to the orbital platform above.  

“—we are, according to our sources, nearly 100,000 kilometres above the surface of our planet.  As you can see, we’re right over the continent of Osea itself, but you can clearly see Philades and Rodenius right along the distance—a fitting reminder of the circumstances that have brought delegates and leaders from every superpower in the Civilized Regions and beyond to this very place.  Ladies and gentlemen, this is the second time that I’ve been at the very top of the Lighthouse, but believe me when I say that this sight never ceases to amaze me…”

Inside a pub in Cartalpas, several patrons promptly fainted at the sight or began loudly swearing that they would be giving up the bottle.

“The Lighthouse Peace Conference will be taking place over the following month, in low orbit over Selatapura.  Delegates and representatives from Osea, Parpaldia, and the coalition members present during the IUN peacekeeping operation in Philades will be discussing the reorganisation of the former Parpaldia Empire and the subsequent rearrangement of power in the Third Civilization Area; members from most if not all other superpowers have also arrived to observe the proceedings, and even smaller nations from throughout Elysia also now seek to lobby the Conference on matters both relating to and independent of the situation in Philades—“

Alana paused as a voice in her mannacomm quickly spoke to her, relaying news of a new development.  The elf’s eyebrows rose in surprise as she turned to address the camera once more.

“I’ve also just been informed that a delegation from the Gra Valkas Empire has also arrived to attend the Peace Conference—it would seem that their arrival to establish formal diplomatic relations with the Osean Federation for the first time happened to coincide with the event itself!  Rather fortuitous, if I may say so myself…”

“We are joined today by Prime Minister Sinclair of the Kingdom of Mu!  Prime Minister, thank you for agreeing to this interview.”

“It is always a pleasure to be interviewed by you, Miss Forlen.  Ambassador Mugei sends his regards, by the way.”

Alana covered her blush with her free hand, gracefully hiding her flustered expression from the grinning Prime Minister.  “Oh, you’re too kind!  Give Mugei my deepest thanks on behalf of myself and the staff of MNN—now, perhaps we should get on with the interview.”

“Indeed.”

“Now, for those who have been unaware of recent events, the Kingdom of Mu was involved in the daring rescue of Ambassador Harling from Eshirant and the subsequent peacekeeping mission that saw the collapse of the Parpaldia Empire.  May I ask what prompted the superpower of the Second Civilisation Region to join Osea in bringing down its counterpart in Philades?”

Sinclair nodded in acknowledgement.  “It would appear rather odd from an outsider’s viewpoint, perhaps, for superpowers to directly interfere in the affairs of its fellow peers.  However, we recognised from the moment that we first came into contact with Osea that they might actually be on par with even the Milishials—the conduct of the Parpaldians, on the other hand, suggest that either this never seemed to be the case or they lacked the ability to devise an alternative approach beyond making threats and violating the most basic of diplomatic norms.  The fact that Muan citizens were tragically caught in the crossfire most certainly did not improve the situation, and also served as a critical catalyst behind our decision to join the Oseans’ campaign of retaliation.”

”The conduct of Parpaldia, even before the war, would have served to be a point of concern amongst its peers,” Alana candidly admitted.  “What does Mu now seek to gain from the Peace Conference, now that the conflict has concluded?”

“While we possess no interest in participating in the local affairs of the Third Civilisation Region outside of the trade deals we have already established with Osea and its partners, we’re looking into ensuring a peaceful transition of power takes place between Parpaldia and Osea as the new superpower of this part of Elysia,” Sinclair handily replied.  “We’re also looking to perhaps receive some economic or technological benefits from Osea in acknowledgement of our contributions to their campaign in Parpaldia, as well.”

”As a gesture of gratitude, no doubt!  Now, you’ve no doubt heard by now about the arrival of the Gra Valkans to the Peace Conference.  As your nation now borders their Empire with the conquest of Leifor, what are your thoughts on the matter?”

Sinclair’s face noticeably soured at the mention of the Muans’ infamous newfound neighbours.  “The Gra Valkans?  What do they seek to gain from a conflict over several thousand kilometres away and which they had no role in?  Then again, we do have delegates from the Conshal Islands and an individual claiming to be part of the now-defunct Leiforian government, so perhaps there’s something I’m not yet aware of…”

“Last but not least, you’ve travelled up the Space Elevator, made it to the edge of the heavens, and saw Elysia as a singular planet—what are your impressions of the view from up here?”

“It’s…” Sinclair paused, his eyes suddenly distant.  “It’s…well, how do you describe a sight like that?  It’s…”

Alana was silent, letting the Prime Minister gather his thoughts.

“…you see many things in your travels, witness wonders and marvels, mechanical and magic alike.  I’ve been to Runepolis, I’ve been to Emor—hell, I’m lucky enough to have seen Leiforia before the Gra Valkans razed the city to the ground.  But this…you need to witness this with your very eyes to understand the beauty of it all.  I do hope you understand that, Miss Forlen, for I have a feeling some things might be lost completely in translation—”

“Oh, no, I do understand that!  Perhaps someone might be able to describe it better than you and I can—”

“Perhaps, Miss Forlen,” Sinclair chuckled amusedly, “perhaps someone else can say it far better than either of us can…”

“Ambassador Harling?”

Turning around, Vincent’s eyes widened in recognition.  “Princess Lumies?  What a lovely surprise!  I thought I saw you within the Altaran delegation earlier…”

Garbed in flowing robes and a thick veil that sheltered her head from the winds and heat of her homeland, the Altaran princess smiled back with an enthusiastic grin.  “My father believed it prudent to send me along with our diplomats as part of the peace negotiations—he would have also come to visit the Lighthouse himself, alas…”

Harling nodded understandingly.  “Affairs of the state, no doubt.”

“All of Philades and Rodenius have Osea to thank for destroying the threat Parpaldia posed to us, but we’ve had growing reports of pirates and bandits taking advantage of the situation and raiding shipping and isolated villages along our shores—until a lasting peace can be established, my father has sworn to remain in Altaras and focus on rebuilding our navy.  I believe it may be a necessity for my kingdom to step up its efforts in modernising its armed forces—part of the reason why I’ve come to the Conference, in fact.”

Vincent frowned, silently noting down the Princess’s remarks to discuss with Bartlett later.  “Osea has been more than happy to compensate for the disappearance of Parpaldia’s efforts—”

“A fact that the Kingdom is profoundly grateful for,” Lumies soberly nodded, her expression sombre yet determined.  “But we cannot merely rely on your nation’s generosity for our long-term survival, Ambassador—it would not be a fair arrangement for either ourselves or for your government, especially with how Elysia itself continues to dramatically change with the past few months.  Osea has protected us from Parpaldia’s wrath before—could your nation perhaps teach us your ways to defend ourselves in the future?”

The ambassador paused as he stroked his chin in thought.  “The policies restricting the flow of Osean technology are unfortunately still in place, but my government might be able to provide weapons and decommissioned vessels still above the capabilities of the average pirate vessel—that said, perhaps our mutual relationship with the Muans might also sway them to provide some assistance of their own.”

Satisfied by Harling’s assurances, Lumies smiled.  “That would be most helpful, Ambassador.”  Glancing away from the grey-haired diplomat towards the window, the princess’s eyes gazed upon the view of the stars above.  “So…is this the future?”

“Oh?”  

Noticing the Altaran’s starstruck expression, Harling turned to where the princess was looking—from their side of the Space Elevator, the Sun shone over the distant curve of Elysia’s horizon and illuminated both Rodenius and Philades; Altaras itself was barely visible amidst the clouds between Louria and Parpaldia, a mere speck amidst a vast sea of white and blue.  Even around them, several onlookers appeared to be similarly mesmerised by the sight—a few Muan guests had managed to bring cameras and were now photographing the otherworldly view, while a Parpaldian guest on the side was quietly putting the scene to paint.

“Well, in a sense, it is…then again, even less than a decade ago, a view like this was still very much in the realm of the imagination.  Who knows what the next decade has to offer, Your Highness?” 

“Ambassador, if I may, a question.”

“Oh?”

“Will there be any more of these Lighthouses, Ambassador, or will this be Osea’s sole monument for Elysia to gaze upon and wonder?”

Sensing the Altaran princess’s hesitation, Harling’s thoughts panned over to a certain painting tucked away in a quiet corner of the main lobby down in Selatapura—perhaps he ought to ask someone to have the artwork relocated to a more prominent spot later, he reckoned.  “There were some basic ideas for more Lighthouses to be constructed elsewhere in my world, wherever Ulysses had managed to scar the surface of the Earth.  Selatapura, for instance, was an unwilling recipient of both the disaster itself and the war that followed—even days before we were transferred to Elysia, we were being approached by our counterparts about having Lighthouses of their own.”

Vincent paused, the brief, fleeting recollections from his final words with his colleagues in Gracemeria and Cinigrad before they were unexpectedly whisked away, passing through his mind just as quickly as they arrived.  A thought emerged in the back of the ambassador’s head: how many Oseans would still remember such places, the lands of the Old World, in the span of a few decades?  The stories and lessons that the thirty years preceding the Transference had imparted upon Osea in such a brutal manner; would the legacy Harling’s generation left behind be remembered as the tales of falling skies and nuclear apocalypse faded away into legend?  Would the Federation even be around when the Ravernals made their fated return, or would whoever brought Osea to Elysia decide to spare them the fate of Mu and Gra Valkas and bring them back?

“I suppose, with a few more years, the idea might be brought up again as more nations start to reach our level of technological capabilities, Your Highness.  The Lighthouse was meant to inspire an entire continent to lay down their arms in favour of other, more productive pursuits—perhaps we might see the same happen with an Elevator over Cartalpas, or Leiforia, or perhaps even Philades in a century’s time.”

Perhaps that would be the legacy of Vincent Harling’s long and varied life, the ambassador mused: the man who introduced Osea to the New World as the nation that touched the skies for the very first time.  Perhaps, if anything else, that would be the one accomplishment that he would be able to finally see become reality and be proud of—it was definitely something he could live with, he decided.

Lumies looked down towards the planet where Altaras was, her expression somewhat different as a distant image of a needle threading upwards from Le Brias began to manifest in her mind.  “Perhaps, Ambassador, perhaps…”

Carefully making his way through the crowd, Director Kaios’s attention was focused on four Osean aircrafts proudly displayed in a special exhibit inside the space station.  Two of the metal wyverns Kaios quickly recognised were of a particular type present in the engagements at Eshirant, while the other two were each of an unfamiliar type—the last one, however, seemed rather familiar…

At the very front, Alana Forlen stood beside an Osean delegate—Kaios quickly recognised the moustached individual as a man named Gabriel William Clarkson: Harling’s subordinate who had managed to stall for time while his superiors somehow found and extracted the famed diplomat from Eshirant.  If the man recognised Kaios, he showed no sign of it as he turned to face the Milishial reporter.

“…and we are joined today by Ambassador Clarkson of the Osean Federation, who is here today to introduce the IUN’s new Lighthouse Division—a new peacekeeping taskforce dedicated to ensuring the safety of the International Space Elevator and providing a rapid response to threats to Elysia’s international security!  Ambassador, thank you for joining us today.”

“It’s our pleasure, Miss Forlen.”

“Now, perhaps you could show to us the Osean aircrafts in this exhibit?  I take it that these will be part of the Lighthouse Division once it’s formally established.”

“Indeed, they will be!  Now…”

Ambassador Clarkson turned towards the two fighters behind Forlen—one had grey tips on all its wings and a snarling red hound as its symbol, while the other had a grey livery with a strikingly familiar three-line emblem on its rear wings.

“The first fighters in our exhibition are these F-15 Eagles—these are the standard air superiority fighters that most Elysians will be familiar with from our peacekeeping missions throughout the Philades and Rodenius continents.  As arguably our most successful aircraft in the past fifty years, we expect these to be in operation for at least another decade even as we begin to introduce our next-generation aircraft into service.”

Alana gasped in astonishment.  “Three strikes on its rear wing—this wouldn’t be the aircraft that was widely observed in Parpaldia throughout the recent war?”

Clarkson beamed at the reporter’s question.  “Ah, yes, this is one of the aircraft used by our best pilots during the IUN peacekeeping campaign—he’s still a young rookie, but he’s nonetheless demonstrated a profound ability to outperform even our most experienced pilots within the field.  We’re looking forward to observing his career as a flight lead in the Lighthouse Division.”

“And this other aircraft…”

“This Eagle belongs to a notable individual known mainly on our military records as Cipher—he was one of the greatest pilots to have ever served in the Belkan War over thirty years ago, where the individual and his wingmen were responsible for almost single-handedly winning the conflict and saving millions of lives from nuclear annihilation.  For his unprecedented abilities in wiping out entire enemy fighter squadrons and destroying world-threatening superweapons left and right, he’s also referred to by veterans of the war as the ‘Demon Lord of the Round Table’.”

“Surely such a moniker would have been given in acknowledgement of his skills, Ambassador?  To perform such feats with this aircraft…”

“The presence of these two Eagles stand as testaments to the achievements that our planes were able to accomplish—the skills that our pilots have are unique, but they also required nothing less than the best planes in order to hone these skills and utilise them to their greatest potential.  And for the next generation of heroes and aces, we’ve already begun work on their successors—”

The camera panned from the two Eagles to a new aircraft—one considerably larger and flatter, yet somehow more intimidating in comparison with its dark and sleek exterior.  A sizable crowd had already begun to form around this particular model, just as curious as Alana herself as to what exactly this was.

“This is the SR-72, which our engineers have also dubbed the ‘DarkStar’.  A new prototype designed with speed and range in mind, this aircraft was originally designed to be an advanced reconnaissance unit but has since also been developed to function as a long-range multirole fighter.  As part of the Lighthouse Division, we’ll be testing the DarkStar’s capabilities through the various missions we expect the IUN’s peacekeeping forces to undertake in the near future: anti-piracy operations, monster attacks, rogue satellite interceptions, the list goes on.”

”Oh my…how far can this aircraft go?  We’ve heard Osean planes are more than capable of breaking the sound barrier, but considering your nation’s ability to easily reach outer space with the Lighthouse alone…”

Clarkson glanced towards the surrounding crowd, who were listening in with keen anticipation.  Better to be blunt with the details than risk having the oftentimes self-assured Elysians mistake being humble for a lack of ability, he decided, turning to face Alana again.

“Osea uses the term Mach One to describe the speed of sound, or 1,192 kilometres per hour—the fastest a conventional fighter aircraft has been able to reach back in our world was Mach 2.83.  If our estimates are correct and no major technical issues are detected, we are confident that the DarkStar will be capable of achieving Mach 10 with no difficulty.”

A Muan engineer within the crowd gasped in disbelief.  “Impossible!”

“With these speeds, we intend to maximise the range through which the Lighthouse Division can respond to threats even beyond the borders of the Osean Federation.  If there’s a sea monster rampaging in Altaras, or a pirate fleet near Cartalpas, or even a rogue warhead inbound for Otatheit, then we will be able to respond to the situation in a matter of hours.  I’m reliably told, in fact, that with this fighter we can actually leave for Mu or even Gra Valkas right now and still make it back without refuelling, all in time for dinner!”

From the side, several Milishial and Gra Valkan diplomats visibly paled.  Alana herself retained an appropriately astonished reaction from Ambassador Clarkson’s remarks, knowing all too well that even with the Lighthouse now widespread knowledge the Holy Milishial Empire still desired to maintain its image in spite of the sheer technological disparity between themselves and the Oseans now all too obvious.

“Truly impressive, Ambassador Clarkson.  Now, perhaps you could explain to us what this final aircraft is?  It definitely seems considerably different compared to the DarkStar or even the Eagles…”

In the background, Director Kaios’s eyes widened in recognition.

Clarkson’s hands slowly brushed his moustache as he pondered the red fighter before him—a sharp, jagged aircraft with angular forward wings and fins extending from a canopy where the cockpit would normally be.  Even from up close, the numerous circular cameras embedded onto the surface seemed like countless eyes staring down at its onlookers as the lights from the Lighthouse reflected off their lenses; by Elysian standards, the ambassador reckoned, there might as well be no difference between an Osean fighter and an eldritch creature out of the stories of Razgriz or whatever gods and goddesses existed out here, with the sheer power it wielded.

“This is the ADF-01 FALKEN, an experimental aircraft that has been in continuous development for over the past twenty-five years but is now finally ready for mass-production.  Compared to the DarkStar’s experimental long-range capabilities, this particular model was designed with showcasing the pinnacle of our old world’s technological capabilities—the FALKEN is the first of Osea’s fighters to use the Connection For Flight Interface, which minimises conventional controls such as buttons and sticks in favour of eye movements and vocal commands.  We’ve had basic proposals for exploring using the mind as a primary means of direct control, but we’re still keen on having a tangible, physical approach to our controls for now.”

“Oh, my!”

Alana gasped as the cockpit of the FALKEN abruptly opened, revealing the interior—projections of the surrounding room were displayed around the canopy through a series of hexagonal grids, while the display was illuminated by blue lights that gave the seat and controls a cooling glow.  Several pilots and wyvern knights from throughout Elysia peered curiously inside, the scent of a freshly sown fabrics and newly manufactured parts committed to memory as dreams of fancy and ambition began to take root—decades would likely pass before even the Muans would ever step foot into the likes of the aircraft before them, but to someday fly an Osean fighter for the glory of Qua-Toyne, or Parpaldia, or Mu, or even Gra Valkas was something many were now willing to wait or even fight for.

“Truly, your fighters are unlike anything else we’ve ever seen in Elysia—and you say that this is the latest of its kind?”

”It is, indeed, Miss Forlen.  With luck, this will eventually replace the Eagles of the IUN and the OADF—and perhaps, someday, a hero of Elysia might just fly a FALKEN like this one to continue our legacy of bringing peace and prosperity to our world.”

“Not just for Osea?”

Ambassador Clarkson shook his head, gesturing towards the large window where their planet loomed from below.  “Not just for the sake of a nation like Osea or for personal gain, but for every living being that exists and breathes on this planet.  For that, there can be no greater achievement.”

And perhaps there was no greater achievement, many of the guests present admitted to themselves, as their thoughts turned to consider where they were—a hundred thousand kilometres above the surface of Elysia, where all the troubles and concerns that they dealt with on a regular basis were but a mere blue bubble amidst an infinite sky.  No wonder the Oseans never did seem all that concerned with whatever the likes of Remille and Ludius had to say or claim—why trouble themselves with puny, arrogant creatures ignorant of their full potential, when the skies beckoned from above?

We never did have a chance of winning, did we?

It was a humbling thought, Kaios mused to himself, as he turned back toward Ambassador Clarkson and Alana Forlen.

“…thank you for agreeing to this interview with MNN.  We’ll be right back after this commercial break.”

“Impressive sight, don’t you think?”

Standing at the observation window and staring at the planet below, Prince Cabal was momentarily confused before recognising the individual beside him, extending a hand in greeting.  “Quite the view, indeed.  Director Kaios of the Parpaldia Empire, I presume?”

Shaking the Prince’s hand, Kaios replied, “Guilty as charged, Your Highness—I’m part of the delegation for what used to be the superpower of the Third Civilization Area, before…well, this happened.”  Kaios gestured vaguely at the space station they were currently in, his point painfully obvious to the Prince.

“I take it you’re not in the best of positions, considering Parpaldia’s circumstances?”

“Well, both Osea and Parpaldia have agreed to place me in charge of the postwar Parpaldian government, so it’s not that bad—that said, it’s not every day that you’re tasked with dismantling the very empire you love and live for right after it’s burnt itself to the ground.”

Cabal winced, his own thoughts instantly turning to his own father’s struggles to keep Gra Valkas together.  “My apologies, Director—that must be quite a bitter experience.”

“I’ve chosen not to think too hard about it, Your Highness—Parpaldia’s fall would have come sooner or later, now that I’ve had the time to think about it.  Imagine, even thinking that our weapons would have somehow managed to prevail against everything that the Oseans achieved…I suppose that’s what Leifor thought when your Empire arrived, perhaps…”

The Prince paused, his mind abruptly finding itself going down an unfamiliar path as he placed himself in the Emperor’s shoes: once seemingly the most powerful man in his own little world, yet abruptly faced with the prospect of losing centuries of progress and history in a single day—he was suddenly faced with an incredibly uncomfortable thought: what if that could have been us?

Cabal quickly buried that notion—no use pondering in the past, when the matters of the present and the problems of the future awaited.  “Leifor was weak, and failed to see the logic in submitting to Gra Valkas or joining us as equals.  They suffered the consequences as a result—and I suppose, at the risk of being rude, the same must have befallen your nation when it came to the matter of the Oseans.”

If Kaios took any offence at the implied slight at Parpaldia, he showed no sign of it; instead, the director shook his head and sighed.  “Perhaps we were weak—but to everyone else until Harling came to our shores, they were the weak ones.  Take care, Your Highness, that Osea does not end up seeing Gra Valkas in the same light as Leifor or even us.”

Frowning, Cabal began, “If you presume to—”

“Consider my advice, from one Empire to another: Parpaldia could have chosen to walk amongst the stars with Osea, yet it chose to cling to its past—and now, it shall stay there, consigned to a dusty footnote in an ancient book of Elysia’s early history that no one shall care to look at.  I hope your nation can look at us, Prince Cabal, and choose not to follow our path.”  

Kaios took one last glance at the window, where Osea loomed once more from below.

“And why would you choose that, when this world has so much more to offer?”

Opening Address by Ambassador Vincent Harling to the Lighthouse Peace Conference, Low Earth Orbit — January 1, 2020

Delegates, Ambassadors, Mr. President, Your Highnesses, Your Majesties, Prime Minister:

Twenty-five years ago, the Osean Federation was embroiled in the most violent war our world had ever faced in a century—you will no doubt have seen the numbers of people dead, the artefacts of nuclear warfare in our museums, the recordings and eyewitness accounts.  But it’s a far different experience to be standing on the Belkan border, watching seven nuclear explosions billow over the horizon and observing the devastation that followed—and know that the horrors that just unfolded were partly the products of your own actions—of your countrymen, of your government, of every person whose contributing actions all built up in some way to the annihilation of over ten thousand people in the blink of an eye.  The cascade of events that led to that moment happened for a reason—a series of factors that could have been individually prevented at any time but were simply allowed to transform into the catastrophe that brought a fiery end to the Belkan War.

Without terrors such as the Ravernal Empire and the relics they left behind, the only monsters we had in our old world were ourselves—and the Osean Federation was no exception.  We were ambitious, confident, assured in ourselves and our own ability to demonstrate our superiority to the rest of the world—and so were our neighbours.  We had our own Mu and Gra Valkas, our own Milishial and Emor, our own Parpaldia and Altaras—their names are but memories to us now, but their legacies and our collective actions shall forever remain etched into our collective conscience.

In our own arrogance and ignorance, we failed to consider that not only were our enemies just as arrogant as us but had the sheer power and strength to back up their claims.  And so when our own actions went too far, the very excesses that the nations of our old world indulged in came crashing down on our faces—a war began that would see entire nations subjugated and cities burnt to the ground as old grudges were resurrected and our weapons were brought to bear.  But this came at a great cost, and the very end saw our entire world take one step into the brink of nuclear oblivion—all the while ignorant of a far greater threat that transcended borders and threatened our entire realm of existence.

Imagine your entire life: your dreams, your goals, your ambitions, your fears, your family, your accomplishments, and your failures.  Now imagine those of your neighbours, your friends, and your enemies, and imagine every single aspect that makes the lives of every single individual in your world, well, your world—and erase it all.  

You are faced with a blank slate, a complete annihilation of an entire universe in the blink of an eye—for us, still struggling in the ground to prove that we were the greatest nation amongst them all, this was what we faced: one hundred thousand fragments of an asteroid called Ulysses were poised from a realm we paid little to no attention to annihilate everything we knew to be our world.

Through great effort and determination, we survived—but barely.  Yet even as we stood back on our feet, we had come to a realisation—that an entire world, untouched, existed above us, blissfully indifferent to all our petty wars and selfish ambitions.  And so we made our choice, to change—to set aside our differences, to set aside our struggles and recriminations, and to step forward into the heavens as one.

For what is a nation up here when our Earth is just a simple blue marble floating amidst an infinite sea?

We are present here today amidst the legacy of the two catastrophes of Ulysses and Belka—one as a haunting lesson on the excesses of ambition and self-interest, and one as a reminder that far, far greater and more terrifying things exist above our worlds beyond mere squabbles about power and influence.  In the decades since the aftermath of the two darkest moments of our history, the Osean Federation made it its mission to ensure that no such horrors should ever be repeated again—it is a goal that we have struggled with time and time again, but always have prevailed in the end.  And now, twenty-five years afterwards, we are faced with perhaps our greatest struggle yet.

It has been a year since Osea arrived in Elysia—a world so fundamentally different from our own, yet nonetheless plagued with so many of the same problems that saw our own world torn about and bathed in nuclear fire.  We are lucky not to be cursed with another Ulysses, but we are nonetheless present here today to turn a page in Elysia’s history—to ensure that we can confine the excesses of at least a small part of this world to history, where it belongs.

It is perhaps fitting that we are hosting this Conference above Elysia—here, we are but a single planet where borders and nationalities vanish into the distance.  Here, there are no Oseans or Parpaldians or Milishials or Muans or Gra Valkans—we are the peoples of Elysia, and may whoever exists out there witness us speak as one.

We, the peoples of Elysia, standing here amidst the stars, stand between two paths: one where we turn our backs to the skies and remain in the shadows of madmen and fire, and one where we make a choice—to step beyond our own world and venture beyond, to seek out what exists out there and become part of something greater than ourselves.

I’m not under the delusion that this Conference will single-handedly bring about a universal world peace overnight—but perhaps we might all come back down to Elysia with an idea of a future that we Elysians might be all able to share one day.  And so we might meet again, and again, and again, and we might turn another page, and another page, and another page—until one day, we will reached a point in the story of Elysia where a Gra Valkan and a Muan will work side by side or where a Parpaldian and an Altaran can live together without cause for harm or violence.  And so Elysia will turn away from a world where violence and might rules these lands and look upwards—and we’ll be watching down, and waiting.

To those listening, I ask you: will you join us?

Chapter Text

Tampines Air Base, Selatapura, Osean Federation — January 3, 2020

Trigger, we’ve selected you from the rest of the Lighthouse Division as one of the best pilots that the OADF has to offer, for a special mission to both test out our most advanced aircraft and to showcase to Elysia what our technology has to offer: you are to fly on a round trip on the SR-72 Darkstar from Selatapura to the Gra Valkan capital of Ragna and back.

For maximum fuel efficiency, you will first launch from here in Selatapura and head on a southbound route above the Rodenius and Vestal continents, passing by the Annorial city of Bushpaka Lakan before cutting through the Conshal Islands and the Mu continent towards Gra Valkas.  Your return path will be through the northern half of Elysia, passing by Leifor and the northern extremities of the Agartha and Emor Kingdoms before cutting through Topa to reach the Osean mainland—with the long-range capabilities of the DarkStar and your weapon loadouts optimised for the standard operations that this aircraft is expected to participate in for its service in the Lighthouse Division, we believe that this aircraft will perform well within its operational limits with the most qualified pilots of the Osean Federation at the controls.

Due to the sheer scale of this operation, you will be reporting to multiple units in different stages of your trip: from takeoff in Selatapura until you begin scramjet procedures, AWACS Sky Keeper will be overseeing your flight.  Between here and Gra Valkas, both the Arkbird and Basset Space Center will be monitoring your route to Ragna and back, while AWACS Long Caster will assist with your final approach to Selatapura.  In the unlikely event of an emergency occurring mid-flight, you are to immediately head back towards Sand Island—if that does not appear to be feasible, HQ and the Osean government will make the necessary arrangements with either Mu, the HME, and Gra Valkas for an emergency landing at their nearest airbases.  Needless to say, such an action would be of a last resort, if every other option appears to have failed—for what would perhaps be rather obvious reasons, it would be ideal if we would not have to rely on such an outcome.

The Arkbird has determined that no foreign satellites or objects will likely be within your flight path, but is prepared to take immediate action if anything poses a direct threat to yourself or the aircraft—a significant portion of the Ancient Sorcerous Empire’s satellite network remains active, and we have yet to fully determine the scale of the threat they pose.  Further details are available to you on the documents before you; HQ recommends you take a quick look at them before you head off.  Regardless, if anything acts against you, move swiftly and decisively with your weapons at hand—your actions could easily determine how the next generation of warfare pans out for us with our present course.

Trigger, do you have any questions?

Selatapura, Osean Federation — January 3, 2020

News had spread quickly about an imminent demonstration by the Oseans of their new fighters—the details surrounding the newly-unveiled DarkStar and FALKEN had been met with near-disbelief amongst the Elysian delegates present, with even some of the most open-minded members present suspecting some kind of hyperbole on their hosts’ part.  Yet the very nature of the Lighthouse seemed to suggest that perhaps there was a certain element of truth behind the Oseans’ words, and a mixture of reporters, tourists, and observers had managed to make their way to Tampines Airport (or took a ride aboard a La Chaos aircraft that a particularly foresighted and enterprising Muan noble had managed to bring to Selatapura for sightseeing) to witness the advanced aircraft take flight.

From an observation deck within the spacious Tampines Airport itself, a Qua Toynan merchant pointed towards a distant runway in astonishment.  “Look, over there!”

A black, sleek, angular craft fired its engines (blue dragon-like flames shot out from its exhausts, eliciting several gasps) as it rapidly accelerated and ascended into the skies in a matter of seconds—brief layers of air shimmered on the aircraft’s surface as the aircraft broke the sound barrier with shocking nonchalance, easily exceeding the capabilities of even the fastest Alpha-3 fighters in existence.  The skies themselves boomed and echoed, what came across to the guests as a report of a massive cannon; already the DarkStar was quickly vanishing into the distance, continuing to accelerate faster and faster even despite its sheer speed at that very moment.

Walking away from the display within the Lighthouse, Minister Phiam caught a glimpse of Director Gesta observing the spaceplane’s ascent with visible defeat, the Gra Valkan diplomat seeing his country’s martial ambitions receding yet further into the realm of improbability.  Much to his own surprise, however, the Milishial minister found himself somehow sharing his counterpart’s sense of dread—with such advanced technologies easily exceeding the legendary weapons of the ancient Ravernals by decades, how could the Holy Milishial Empire even hope to pose a defence against the DarkStar and whatever else the Oseans could come up with?

Was there even anything that could even remotely pose a threat to the Osean Federation at this point?

“Trigger, you’re approaching the outer limit of our radar range.  We’re going to transfer you over to the Arkbird—in the event of an emergency that affects the Arkbird’s communication relay, you’ll both report to Basset Space Centre as planned, copy?”

Nodding to himself, Trigger pressed a couple of buttons on his communication device, signalling his affirmation to the AWACS operator.  

“All right, Trigger.  The Arkbird will be reporting to you shortly—the callsign for the Captain herself is Edge.  Follow her instructions and remember the training you received for this aircraft—we’re not expecting anything to affect your flight, but Elysia might have something up there that we haven’t detected just yet.  Arkbird, do you copy?”

“Reading you loud and clear, Sky Keeper,” a female voice cut in.  “Thanks for watching out for our young nugget; we’ll take it from here.”

“Roger, Arkbird.  Sky Keeper, signing off—”

The static from Sky Keeper’s broadcast abruptly cut off as Trigger switched over to the Arkbird’s frequency, clearing up the background noise until the woman’s voice was perfectly clear.  Edge spoke again, and Trigger’s eyes widened in recognition.

“Hello, Trigger.  I’m Captain Kei Nagase, but you can just call me Nagase or Edge.  Is that all right?”

Even if the pilot could actually speak, the burning sensation on his cheeks would have prevented him from doing so as his grip on the controls abruptly hardened.

“Ah, I remember reading your file—you’re not exactly the talkative type, are you?  You remind me of Blaze; the two of you would definitely get along.   Actually, he should be on this radio channel as well, shouldn’t he?  Blaze, come here and say hi, will you?”

A vague murmuring noise could be heard in the background.  Nagase laughed, a sweet melodious sound to Trigger’s ears.

“Anyway, as you no doubt already know, the process for you to reach Mach 10 involves multiple steps—first, you’ll need to be able to exceed the sound barrier; next, you’ll need to transition from standard jets to the DarkStar’s scramjets to exceed Mach 3.5 and gradually transition to Mach 10; lastly, you’ll be maintaining this speed as you continue your flight above Elysia to Ragna and back.  Now, as you’ve already gone through the official training procedures back in Basset Space Centre, I’ll just be monitoring your procedures and informing you if anything happens in the air—or right below the Kármán Line, for that matter.  Do you copy?”

Another press on the communicator signalled Trigger’s affirmation.  Nagase smiled.

“Excellent, Trigger.  Now, you’re already accelerating past the sound barrier—you’ll now need to prepare to transition to your scramjets.  On my mark, point down and prepare to execute the next manoeuvre in five, four, three, two, one, mark—”

On that day, a singular manned aircraft reached the edge of outer space for the very first time.

The DarkStar’s tips glowed a faint orange as the sheer speed of the hypersonic aircraft cut seamlessly through the few air particles that existed in the upper layers of the atmosphere; from the small windows in the cockpit, Trigger could see the horizon’s curve as the Elysian planet itself almost began to slowly recede into the distance.  With the speed that the hypersonic fighter had now achieved, the Osean pilot was now soaring steadily above the eastern islands at the edge of Qua-Toyne; in a matter of minutes, the DarkStar would soon reach Altaras and leave the Third Civilization Area behind.

From television screens (or their magical equivalents) throughout Elysia, countless eyes saw with awe the horizon along the DarkStar’s rear—it was early in the afternoon in Selatapura, but the sun had barely risen in Leiforia; it would be early morning in Ragna with the expected arrival of the Osean aircraft.  With the pilot’s sheer speed, the sun seemed to be slowly retreating behind the cover of Elysia itself as the bright blue colours of the planet’s surface gradually gave way and transitioned into a deeper, darker hue; even now, the spacecraft’s scramjets continued to blaze bright as the DarkStar maintained its unprecedented speed.  Trigger’s eyes never turned away from the display, that said—with each careful gesture, the aircraft slowly adjusted its trajectories with near-robotic precision, following the instructions of the Arkbird as it guided the pilot’s path above Elysia.

Elsewhere on the surface on the planet, however, other preparations were now being made.

With a ferocious roar, four boosters attached to a central rocket burst to life as a sizable spacecraft slowly lifted itself into the heavens.

As two winged researchers observed from a platform below, the rocket similarly began unleashing its fiery fuel as it continued to accelerate further above the clouds and into the hazy border between the blue skies and the blackness of space.  Its target: an aircraft currently making its way above the northern waters of the Annorial Empire—

Aboard the Arkbird, Nagase’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.  “Basset Space Center, are you picking this up?  I’ve just received signals suggesting some kind of missile launch coming from the Branchel Continent, and its estimated flight path has a possible chance of intercepting with Mage One.  Please advise.”

“Basset to Arkbird, standby while we contact HQ.  Recommend you keep an eye on the unidentified object for now and have Mage One perform the necessary manoeuvres to avoid a potential collision, over.”

“Copy, Basset.  Trigger, just a heads up: we’ve detected an object rapidly ascending from the Branchel Continent to your southwest; we’re still trying to determine what it is, but keep an eye out in case it tries to intercept you.  Got it?”

A signal from Trigger confirming his acknowledgment of the situation.  Nagase turned back to her instruments and frowned, pondering on what to do.

The Annonrial Empire was known throughout Elysia for their reclusive, isolationist nature and their suspected heritage from the infamous Ravernal Empire of old.   Both unconfirmed rumours and classified intel had gradually come to Nagase’s knowledge about a potential superpower in hiding wielding weapons on par with the pre-War Belkans, silently taking a page from the Grey Men themselves with their not-so-subtle interventions in Eshirant and Esperanto—intercepting the DarkStar mid-flight as it flew near their borders would definitely be a possible way for the Annonrials to undermine Osea’s international standing as well as to gauge their technological capabilities.  But would they be so brazen as to do so while the entirety of Elysia was watching?

“Basset to Arkbird, be advised—HQ has determined that the DarkStar is to either evade or directly intercept and eliminate any potential weapons or objects that could pose a threat to the aircraft.  Use the Arkbird’s laser capabilities to protect the DarkStar if you have to, Arkbird.”

Nagase frowned.  Wasn’t the Arkbird’s presence restricted knowledge to non-Oseans?  “Basset, we run the risk of exposing our military capabilities to the rest of Elysia if we do so—”

“And we run the risk of losing a valuable prototype and damaging our image if the DarkStar is destroyed, to say nothing of the pilot on board.  Don’t worry, Bright Hill’s already assessed the possible consequences of a premature deployment of the Arkbird, and we have reason to believe our counterparts might already know of its existence—our space plane takes precedence, Arkbird, copy?”

The Captain sighed, seeing no further cause in arguing against her orders.  “Understood, Basset.  We’ll protect the DarkStar if we have to—we’re changing our course to intercept the object, over.”

In anticipation of a possible Ravernal or Annonrial orbital weapon attempting to interrupt the DarkStar’s inaugural flight, the Arkbird had glided in low orbit along the planned flight path ahead of Trigger and begun gradually clearing out debris and satellites that Osean scientists had calculator to pose even a slight risk to the aircraft with its laser modules, microwaving materials into minute particles in a matter of seconds.  Now several dozen kilometres above Cartalpas, the Arkbird gently turned and changed course under the careful ministrations of its pilot, the seasoned veteran quietly calculating the best route to quickly insert the spacecraft between the DarkStar and its potential partycrasher.

“Alright, Blaze; we’re right on track—damn it, something just happened to that object!”

“Basset to Arkbird, what are we looking at?”

The unidentified object—clearly artificial in nature—split off from what Nagase recognized as a secondary rocket stage, two smaller objects detaching from the main body and each expelling an outer layer of fairing to reveal a barrel-like device.  Two corresponding pairs of solar panels rapidly unfolded from the satellites, and Nagase’s eyes widened as the two secondary objects began to slowly shift towards the general direction of the approaching DarkStar—

“We have possible hostile orbital weaponry targeting Mage One!  Trigger, I’m calculating the direction of those weapons and sending the data over to your HUD—evade whatever they throw at you as much as you can!”

The two orbital weapons glowed and discharged their magical firepower, producing a series of concentrated blasts of energy directed at the estimated path of the DarkStar.  Trigger yanked on his controls as the fighter slowly navigated out of the incoming enemy fire, weaving through the barrage at hypersonic speeds and quickly running several diagnostics checks on his aircraft’s condition and the status of his armaments—Nagase similarly continued to track the movement of the hostile satellites, relaying critical information to both Trigger and Basset while her pilot swiftly positioned the Arkbird to prepare to fire its own countermeasures.

“Good job, Blaze!  Basset, Trigger, be advised: we’re preparing to fire our lasers at the satellites attempting to destroy the DarkStar.  If that doesn’t work, use your hypersonic missiles to eliminate the problem, copy?”

“All callsigns, break—we’re detecting additional movement from the main satellite itself!  Watch out in case that—“

The rocket that the two satellites had detached from reignited its engines, now rapidly accelerating towards the DarkStar even as it began to rotate in a similarly increasing speed—

An explosion unexpectedly struck the unknown spacecraft, instantly disintegrating the main satellite into countless smaller objects, microparticles, and debris all hurtling in the general direction of Trigger; Nagase’s eyes widened in horror even as she began to mentally calculate trajectories of the approaching projectiles for the DarkStar to avoid.  The astronaut whirled her head towards the general direction of the cockpit, but the pilot was already reacting to the rapidly deteriorating situation—a pair of lasers began systematically vaporising debris left and right even as the spacecraft they were protecting began to weave through the cloud of instant death with breathtaking precision.  

Leaning forward, Trigger’s hands seemingly froze—his adjustments on the joystick reduced to mere micromovements as the supercomputers aboard his hypersonic aircraft began running trillions upon trillions of calculations per second to identify their two main targets—and squeezed hard on the controls.  On the underside of the DarkStar, the weapons bays shot open and a pair of anti-satellite missiles fell out: originally designed to eliminate Yuktobanian satellites, the redesigned ASM-135s burst to lift and soared through the vacuum of space towards the orbital satellites.

“Mage One, Fox Three!”

With miniaturised microwave shielding embedded onto the missiles, the two projectiles cut through the cloud of microparticles and debris like a knife through butter; the faint blue cover shimmered and scattered as countless objects burnt and spread through the surface like raindrops on a puddle.   Nagase watched from her display as the ASMs rapidly decreased their distance from the satellites, silently praying to the gods that the projectiles would find their targets—

A pair of bright flashes instantly outshined the sun for the briefest of moments, revealing the rapidly disintegrating remains of the two hostile satellites.  From the cloud of debris, the DarkStar shot through, a stream of lasers searing a path through the storm of hypersonic death with the aircraft itself looking none the worse for wear.  Nagase sighed in relief, collapsing onto the console as the tension of the past five minutes instantly dissipated.

“Mage One, splash two!  Trigger, you might just actually give Blaze a run for his money with that flying there—well done!”

“Basset to Arkbird, what’s the situation up there?  Is the DarkStar still functional?”

The captain quickly glanced at the readings for Trigger’s aircraft.  “Affirmative, Basset; the aircraft took some slight damage on its control surfaces, but all of the key systems on the DarkStar are otherwise at peak efficiency.”

“Roger.  Be advised, HQ has authorised us to abort the mission and return the DarkStar to Selatapura as possible—sorry, correction: we’ve been ordered by HQ to abort the mission altogether.  Have Mage One begin the necessary protocols to change course and head back to Sand Island or Tampines—we’re not going to risk losing the plane and its pilot after what’s just happened.”

Nagase sighed.  “Copy, Basset.  Trigger, standby for—”

A stream of signals interrupted the captain’s orders, causing her to look at the console in surprise.  Her eyes widened even as she read the message being transmitted.

“Trigger, are you sure?  We don’t know how the DarkStar is going to fare if we attempt to repeat the Mach 10 procedures heading back from Ragna—”

Another stream of signals came in.  Words of reassurance and confidence.  A request for faith.  A query—no, a plea.

The astronaut blinked.  Coming to a decision, she turned towards the communications console.

“Basset, we’re countermanding that order.  Trigger’s already returned to his original course and his aircraft has more than enough fuel to complete the trip well within the mission parameters—the mission will be continued as planned.”

“Arkbird, switch to secondary radio frequencies; we repeat, order the DarkStar to—“

Rolling her eyes, Nagase reached for a nearby dial and tuned out the voice speaking into her earpiece—no need to let their Elysian observers publicly know they were blatantly violating orders from the top.  “Standby, Basset—we appear to be experiencing some issues with our communications module…stand by…do you copy?”

“Arkbird—”

“Alright, Trigger, you’re cleared to proceed with the rest of your flight—we’ll keep an eye out for any more partycrashers up here.  Safe travels!”

Ragna, Gra Valkas Empire — January 3, 2020

From several vessels anchored or stationed along the southern waters of the Imperial Bay, several sailors caught sight of a singular angular object cutting above the sea in speeds beyond even the fastest known Antares fighter could achieve.  Yet even as they managed to reach for their binoculars or even radio the Capital Defense Force to alert them of the unknown object, the craft had already shot past the vessels in the direction of the Gra Valkan capital to the north, the sky warping to form sharp clouds across its surfaces and the waters themselves seemingly parting in its wake.

With an increasing trickle of reports of an unknown object rapidly approaching Ragna, all major radar installations both along the coast and within the Conquest Fleets stationed throughout the Empire’s major bases were placed on high alert—yet even as eyewitness accounts continued to circulate (each one distressingly closer in origin to Ragna itself), no abnormal radar signatures were detected or observed throughout the entire continent.  In desperation, all Antares squadrons within operational range of the capital were ordered to launch immediately, their orders succinct yet explicit: intercept the object, and protect the Imperial Capital at all costs.

An earth-shattering crack in the skies shook the streets and buildings of the glorious capital of the Gra Valkas Empire, shaking hundreds of thousands of civilians, soldiers, and government officials alike from their morning stupor.  In an instant, all semblance of a routine tradition of typical industry ceased as the entire population of Ragna slowly trickled out of homes and officers into the streets, looking up in wonder at the unknown object in the sky.  From the Imperial Palace, the Emperor and his advisors stared at the aircraft in shock; from the Senate, Doves and War Hawks alike squinted at it with confusion—had the Empire’s scientists created some kind of new technology to assist their nation in its plans of conquest?

Far above the towers and buildings of Ragna, the aircraft peaked in the skies amidst the clouds and slowly began to descend back down, circling across the districts of the capital with fluid circular movement and clear precision as its two engines glowed a bright blue and the three claws emblazoned on its wings shined against the reflection of the sun.  From a rooftop below, a Gra Valkan information technician quietly pondered the appearance of the fighter itself—compared to the industrial and mechanical appearance of the Antares or even the prototype Orsen jets, this aircraft was austere yet complex, graceful yet sharp in its design; its futuristic aesthetic highlighting its heavily advanced nature and making even the state-of-the-art designs of Gra Valkas’s future planes look near-barbaric in comparison.  

The thought made Heimdall shudder—what truly powerful nation existed out there that could easily reach Ragna and potentially pose a direct threat to the Empire even with such aerodynamic grace?  Was this what the fabled Oseans themselves were capable of achieving?

In the Royal Palace, an aide rushed to the Emperor, hurriedly whispering a message to his liege.  Gra Lux’s eyes widened in surprise as he turned to the officer, the aged man clearly at a momentary loss for words.

“…from the Osean Federation, Gesta says?  Fascinating…”

“Sir?”

“…very well, it seems that we might truly have to rethink our long-term plans.  Summon the War Committee to the Castle at once.”

Genette, A. et al. (2020) ‘Viewpoints on the Lighthouse Conference: Peace, Globalism, Unilateralism, or Neo-Colonialism?  A Range of Opinions”, GAZE Magazine, 7 January, p. 15. 

Our now-concluded conflict with the former Parpaldia Empire stands as a stark reminder of the complete disparity in viewpoints over the concepts of civility and so-called “barbarism” in Elysia, as the likes of Jin-Hark and Eshirant once promoted to the rest of the Third Civilization Region: compared to the seemingly self-evident truths held by our peers in our old world where rules of conduct in war and peace supported the interests and concerns of nations and peoples alike, a belief of “might makes right” prevails over the countless kingdoms and nation-states vying for power and survival.  

The total defeat of Parpaldia has demonstrated to the nations of Elysia on their own terms that the Osean Federation and the International United Nations is a force to be reckoned with, but we need to demonstrate beyond our immediate neighbours that we do not desire to display our own potential as a nation-state through subjugation, conquest, and the destruction of our potential enemies in war—such a path runs counter to our views of peaceful cooperation with the nations of Elysia, and invites only further aggression from the powers that see our exploits through their own lenses as the actions of yet another rival vying for domination of the known world.   With these conditions in mind, the Lighthouse Conference is meant to accomplish two different goals, similar in aims yet comprehensively different in how the successful execution of these plans will affect our international standing: to show to Elysia in their own terms about what we as a so-called “superpower” can achieve compared to its peers, and to show to Elysia on our own terms what we can offer to Elysia as a nation dedicated to spreading our own ideas of peace, prosperity, and the mutual benefit of nations and peoples alike through technology, multiculturalism, and science—regardless of whether or not traditional perspectives would consider us and our ideals to be “inferior” or not. 

In the eyes of Elysia, no single nation in known existence barring the Ravernals themselves have ever touched outer space—the Lighthouse’s presence in Elysian terms stands as the ultimate sign of Osea’s position as a so-called superpower, a symbol of what any would-be aggressor from beyond the Third Civilization Area would have to face in order to impose their version of superiority upon the Federation and its partners.  Mu and the Holy Milishial Empire have barely begun their ventures into the skies, and even the Gra Valkans have several decades to go before they can even consider reaching their pre-Ulysses Belkan counterparts—and mind you, this is as much as we know regarding the “superpowers” that have even bothered to publicly make their presence known.  The Annorials are an unknown entity (and their suspected Ravernal ancestry has through multiple well-documented incidents already been a cause for concern), and even with our new satellites and orbital facilities, we still know little to nothing about what lies beyond our eastern and southern borders.  We could easily talk about peace and cooperation with every nation we encounter, but without a show of force to back our words, we are just as likely to see another Osean ambassador held hostage by a nation arrogant enough to believe that it can somehow manage to defeat and subjugate us in total war—in a nutshell, we should not have to fight an inconvenient and costly conflict every time we encounter yet another would-be rival in Elysia’s seemingly-endless battle for power and prestige.  

This perhaps brings us to the second objective of the Lighthouse Conference: the introduction of our old world’s system of international order to Elysia, and the gradual technological, economic, and cultural diffusion of our ideas and practices to the rest of the known world.  Granted, our own system is still very much a flawed one—I can still count on my hands the number of wars our old Earth has had to endure even after the double catastrophes of Ulysses and Belka—but surely even an inefficient system like ours is far more preferable to one where wholesale slaughter and genocide without repercussions is the rule of law?  Qua-Toyne was unfortunate enough to be an unwilling recipient of the so-called Elysian Concert, and Altaras itself would have become a victim if not for our own timely intervention—in a world where the worst atrocities of the Estovakian Generals and the Rald Faction are but casual events that the so-called “shining pearl of the races” and its partners either ignore or willfully sanction or even outright participate in, our partners in Rodenius, Philades, Grameus and beyond look to us as an alternative means to coexist and survive.

Our technology has accelerated the development of the Third Civilization Area by centuries, our weapons have halted almost half a dozen conflicts, our products have improved the standard of living in countless households between Esperanto and Quila, and our resources dedicated to foreign aid alone are expected to help completely eradicate hunger in Rodenius within the decade—with each contribution that we’ve made to the rest of Elysia, we’ve gradually dismantled the underlying factors that have driven the nations of our side of the world to resort to war.  All that remains are the actions of madmen and opportunists who seek either personal glory or an outdated perception of might and order on behalf of ancient empires—and for them, our peacekeepers in the IUN are ready.

Our actions in the past year have already irreversibly determined our image and legacy in Elysia—what we choose to do in the Lighthouse Conference and in the years to come will define our legacy and whether or not we survive under our remarkably new circumstances for another generation.  What option should we as a nation choose: isolation in the fanciful hope of the rest of Elysia and its countless players ignoring our arrival, or integration of the New World into our way of life?

Ambassador Vincent Harling was the President of the Osean Federation from 2004 to 2012 and served a pivotal role in ending the Circum-Pacific War in 2010; he now serves as Ambassador to the International United Nations as part of the outgoing Bartlett administration.

There is a term for the countless horrors Ambassador Harling refers to in his piece and his prior remarks regarding the conduct of Elysia as a whole, yet something he never even considers to explicitly say: colonialism.  It is a brutal practice of the New World that deserves to be consigned to the history books just as we in the old world were able to dispose—on that, Harling and I are in agreement—but the former statesman himself oftentimes comes across as if Osea was always a paragon of virtue on the subject.  Surely even he knows of the dark past that the Federation similarly indulged in before Ulysses and Belka seemingly changed our country’s ways?

The Lighthouse stands as a remarkable achievement in the history of mankind and a newfound symbol of peace both in our own world and that of Elysia, but must we forget the circumstances that brought the Space Elevator to existence?  The very process of constructing the monument in Selatapura was fraught with controversy, from the destruction of the biological ecosystem surrounding the Sentosa Crater to the understandable concerns of the Erusean government about the sheer range of the Arsenal Birds within their already reduced territory—and have we even forgotten what happened the last time we tried to intervene in Usea’s affairs?  Surely Harling himself should remember the destruction and setbacks that the Usean Rebellion caused even with the impending arrival of Ulysses—who are we to similarly determine what the future of Elysia is on behalf of all of Elysia?  

To ignore our own shortcomings even while criticising our Elysian peers for exhibiting them does both us and them a profound disservice—the Muans and Milishials can hardly be blamed for the atrocities of the Parpaldians, even if their “Concert” serves to them as some sort of justification for their inaction (as bizarre as it may seem to us), and to imply that their system is inhumane or backwards simply because they do not conform to our values threatens to come across as a not-too-dissimilar arrogance that we ourselves seek to avoid.  And what is to come of them if Osea is to supplant them as the main leader of Elysia’s international affairs—if we were to replace their ideas, practices, and products with our own without a place for these nations in Harling’s new world order, wouldn’t we be risking the creation of new rivals and competitors where we could have ensured the establishment of the former President’s desired new era of peace and mutual cooperation between nations alike?

An argument no doubt is to be made that Elysia operates on a vastly different system of diplomacy compared to that on Earth—the remarkably unpleasant circumstances surrounding the Eshirant Crisis being one particularly notable example, or perhaps even the ongoing occupation of Leifor by our Gra Valkan counterparts to the west—and that Osea needs to operate on their terms in order to gradually replace Elysia’s politics with a far less brutal and arrogant alternative.  But the implications of the proposed approach by Harling (or perhaps his peers and protégés, assuming they do not share the same ideas as to how this commendable goal is to be achieved) are just as bleak as they contradict the very principles of demilitarisation that Harling himself previously upheld in the aftermath of the Belkan War—if we were to use the superweapons now in our hands to justify Harling and Bartlett’s unilateral actions in Elysia, what kind of so-called “peacemakers” does that make us?  With that logic, Belka could have had just as much a justification for attempting to single-handedly decide how the world should operate over twenty-five years ago—and where are they now?   

Ambasador Harling and President Bartlett’s motivations are no doubt noble, but their actions to that end risk taking the Osean Federation down a path that we’ve already traversed in the past—and that particular route has already proven to be far too costly to our liking.  If we are to achieve a universal peace for all of Elysia to enjoy, then Elysia deserves to have just as much of a say as us in how we are to reach it—we would like to avoid the circumstances that brought us into the Circum-Pacific War or the ongoing situation with Parpaldia, but just as many other solutions exist out there that do not require us to needlessly dabble once again in the affairs of our neighbours…

Senator Aadarshini Kumari is a leading candidate in the upcoming 2020 Osean presidential elections.

Chapter Text

International Space Elevator, Low Earth orbit — January 5, 2020

The initial stages of the peace talks had gone surprisingly well in hindsight, Ambassador Clarkson mused to himself as he listened to the delegates argue before him.  

Following the initial statements by the individual parties involved in the conflict, several key points had been quickly established and agreed upon: Parpaldia’s territorial claims to Altaras were formally withdrawn and an apology was given by the Imperial government to the Kingdom for its actions.  Agreements were to be made to gradually return the Parpaldians currently held captive in Altaras and Duro to Eshirant using Osean and Muan transports; with full reassurances that the now-disbanded invasion force were in safe hands and would be left unharmed, both the Parpaldians and Altarans were satisfied with the basic terms of the agreement.  Interestingly enough, none of the officers were to be charged for their actions in the naval engagement with the Altaran and Osean fleets, with traditional Elysian military doctrines being cited as justifications—while Ambassador Harling and his peers had been somewhat reticent about the arrangement, both nations had coolly admitted that under different circumstances they would have behaved similarly if they had been the victors of the initial battle.  With some prodding from the Muan and Milishial delegations present, the Oseans grudgingly conceded the point and moved on to other matters.

As part of the Parpaldian delegation, Director Kaios agreed in principle to providing economic reparations to Altaras for the destruction of the Kingdom’s navy, but the specific amount itself became a sore topic of discussion—on top of the costs for the original fleet itself, the Princess of Altaras made a surprising additional request: that funds be allocated as well for the establishment of a newer, more modern fleet with Osean or Muan technology.  The Parpaldians had understandably objected to the proposal—on top of additional expenditures that would already tax a significantly ravaged economy, paying for assets that could potentially be used to threaten their coastal cities was not something they would willingly agree to, even with their unfavourable position in the talks.  The Oseans themselves were similarly reluctant to offer their highly sought-after military technology to the Altarans, expressing concerns about critical information about their weapons being spread elsewhere—in the end, Mu agreed to hand over several decommissioned vessels in place of the equivalent of a decade’s worth of payments to Altaras for hosting their regional airfield, Osea agreeing to train the Altaran navy to operate and maintain the ships and fund the construction of a new port in Le Brias capable of hosting said fleet.  To assuage the concerns of the Parpaldians, Altaras agreed to a non-aggression pact set to expire within a decade, which would theoretically provide more than enough time for Eshirant to rebuild its forces and invest in appropriate countermeasures.

What was to happen with all of Parpaldia’s former colonies to the north, however, was a significantly different matter.

“It was our efforts to destroy Parpaldian forces along the border territories that helped trigger the complete capitulation of the Empire’s government to the peacekeeping mission—our claims to the cities now under our occupation must be respected!”

“But those cities are the capitals of our ancestral kingdoms and homelands before the Parpaldians invaded—to allow our neighbours to occupy these strongholds is to deny us our rightful claims and is to disrespect the sacrifices of our ancestors the same way Ludius and his predecessors have done!”  The Philadean emissary glared angrily at the diplomat from the Riem Kingdom, who simply smiled back smugly at his counterpart as if daring him to try and stop him.  “Ambassador Harling, you speak of the chance for us to have a say in the future of our peoples and our survival—surely you would see the logic when we say that our homelands should be returned to us?”

“And what about the Parpaldian provinces to the east?  Their governors still rule over their lands, but the subjects under their rule are essentially just as free as their compatriots elsewhere,” the Riem ambassador replied, leaning back self-assuredly on his seat.  “They agreed to make peace with the Oseans, so should they be left to rule those lands, or should they be expelled and sent back to Eshirant despite their newfound loyalties?  And what do the peoples of these provinces and Eshirant have to say on the matter?”

“The so-called Governors of the Eastern Provinces acted in violation of the Emperor’s directives and have therefore lost the mandate of the Parpaldian government,” Director Kaios cooly replied.  “They are therefore still our territories and are to be treated as such, and we will ask the Osean Federation to arrange for their immediate return to Eshirant for trial—”

“And ignore the factors that led to their act of secession from the Empire?  Executing the people your government deem to be traitors will not solve the problems your rogue provinces face, Director,” the Philadean shot back, “and that’s assuming the Oseans would even let you pull off such a ridiculous stunt!“

Independence for the vast majority of Parpaldia’s colonies was all but guaranteed, yet the borders and territories of the new nations seemed to be constantly in motion—for every country brought back into existence, a dozen new issues popped up as ancient claims and promises were brought before the negotiation table.  With growing concerns about potentially disenfranchising countless people by following through with the innumerable competing claims, the Osean and Parpaldian delegations both agreed to compile their respective census data in an attempt to accelerate the process, using boundaries between ethnic groups to create rough borders between the nation-states.  That, too, caused its own problems: even the most accurate lines would result in countless minorities within the proposed nation-states, and a few delegations made it fairly clear that mass expulsion would not be ruled out as an option if the situation further deteriorated.  

For perhaps the first time in a while, Harling seemingly looked his age as the diplomats continued to bicker left and right, his Parpaldian counterpart watching the beleaguered ambassador with a tangible sense of both sympathy and schadenfreude.

It was on the fifth day of negotiations that Clarkson, mindlessly staring at an old map of the Usean continent in his office, suddenly had an epiphany.

“A federation?”

“Nothing like the Osean Federation itself, mind you,” Clarkson hurriedly replied, rummaging through a drawer of documents for the maps he sought to present to his superior.  “I’m thinking of something more along the lines of the Federation of Central Usea or even the UTO before it became ISAF—a loose coalition of nation-states with a shared central government for issues like foreign policy, immigration, and economic ties with the rest of Philades.  In principle, they’ll still be independent and have separate votes in the Assembly, but they’ll also be able to collectively negotiate with the likes of Riem and Parpaldia without the risk of getting picked off individually—and with their consolidated economic power and a sufficiently powerful coalition of armed forces, they might actually be able to survive in the long run even without our constant involvement.”

Leaning back on his seat, Harling frowned.  “But how exactly does this solve the border issues?  I get that having the former colonies unite without Parpaldia’s influence would potentially be a viable solution to avoiding another Ludius, but we still have the outer regions of the former Empire to contend with, especially that damned Holy City—and what about the internal boundaries?  Aren’t those borders still going to be an issue, especially with all those ethnic groups vying for their own independent nations?”

“Not if we encourage those borders to be open to all citizens within the Federation itself.  Look, we’re not going to be able to single-handedly solve every potential conflict by drawing the most accurate lines possible, Vincent, but if we remove the contributing factors that cause those conflicts then we’ll be looking at a far more stable continent for at least the next decade.  We’re talking about introducing freedom of movement and free trade between member states alongside guaranteed equal rights for all citizens regardless of their nation of origin, with equal representation for the entire coalition in whatever form of overarching government they decide to create.”

“But what about the economic and social impacts of implementing free trade and free movement?  You do know how those policies within the FCU nearly caused the whole thing to collapse: mass migration causing brain drain in the internal regions and driving up unemployment in Selatapura and Bulguldarest, high-quality products from Comona driving mainland competitors out of business, the Voslage and Shilage annexation crisis, that whole ugly refugee business with Erusea right after Ulysses struck—how exactly do you propose that we prevent those issues from reappearing in Philades?”

Clarkson paused, quickly parsing his thoughts for a possible solution.  “We’d need to provide support to the less economically-developed countries—if we can get them to develop their own individual industries and complement each others’ needs, then we’ll be reducing the chances of any individual nation suffering from overcompetition or mass emigration.  We’d also be reducing the push and pull factors by bringing jobs and businesses from the coast further inland; hell, we might even be able to see if General Resource might be interested in linking up with the local businesses for making exports to Osea!”

Blinking, Harling sat up.  “Clarkson, you might be onto something.  That said, we’re first going to have to collect as much data from the individual nations first so we can determine how exactly we’re going to be able to provide assistance—then again, it shouldn’t take too much effort to convince the individual Philadean delegations to help us on that regard or about possibly forming some kind of loose economic union.”  The ambassador suddenly frowned, leaning forward to glance at the maps strewn on the meeting table.  “But what if the Philadeans still want to contest their own individual borders?”

The younger official smirked.  “Well, it’ll be an internal matter by that point—and barring some sort of major calamity like a civil war, entirely none of our business, right?”

Nivles Castle, Ragna, Gra Valkas Empire — January 4, 2020

Borderline panic reigned throughout the Imperial government in the aftermath of the DarkStar’s flyby over Ragna, deeply-ingrained Gra Valkan discipline only barely keeping the Empire’s citizens and officials alike from descending into utter pandemonium.  The Imperial Senate itself, having been hastily reassembled for an emergency meeting, had transformed into a madhouse as Doves and War Hawks alike threw accusations and recriminations back and forth despite the frantic attempts of the Chancellor to maintain order—Emperor Gra Lux himself struggled to reign in his frustration at the inaction of his subordinates as he entered the War Room, his staff and officials within the War Committee immediately standing to attention.

As expected, all of the Three Generals currently within the continent—Mirkenses and Siegs—and their subordinates were all present, as was Director Akkan of the Imperial Intelligence Bureau and Minister Mopole of Foreign Affairs.  Senator Guinea Marix and the other War Hawks and Doves stood opposite of the Imperial generals and government officials, their expressions a mixture of barely concealed dismay and anger even as they bowed towards the Emperor.  No doubt every single individual present likely had the same questions and clearly understood the circumstances behind the extraordinary meeting: how a singular foreign plane—from the mysterious Ostföderation , no less—had managed to reach the capital for the first time in the Empire’s history.

Reaching his seat and facing his men as they sat down, Gra Lux took a deep breath.  Imperial ethos required that the Emperor show no overt sign of weakness before his subjects even if he shared the same concerns—he was the man chosen to guide the Empire to its destined golden era, and to betray anything more than mere concern would all but invite total panic and bring doom upon the nation.  Steeling himself with the assurance of past centuries of Gra Valkan glory, the Emperor began to speak.

“Gentlemen, we are no doubt aware of the presence of a superpower to the distant east with technologies that potentially surpass ours.  Not only are we actively aware of the scope of their abilities, but they have made their presence actively known throughout the New World within the past year—and now one of their very own fighters has not only breached our airspace but flown above this city and returned to its homeland without even a single one of our ground or aerial defenses being able to stop it.”

The War Hawks bristled, their discontent palpable to all present while the Doves grumbled to themselves.  The Three Generals and Gra Lux’s other advisors remained still even as they awaited the command from their Emperor to speak.

“Chief Karlmann, could you summarize the official report given by the Capital Defense Force for us?”

From the side, the Chief of Naval Operations rose with a pile of documents at hand.  “At 0713 hours, several civilian vessels along the Imperial Bay reported a singular aircraft of an unknown type travelling directly above the harbor itself, heading directly for Ragna from the south.  Subsequent attempts to locate and identify the unknown aircraft via radar failed, but reports in close proximity to the city itself resulted in the immediate deployment of the entire Capital Defense Force’s air contingent at 0715 hours.  However, the time to arm and deploy said contingents were delayed by over ten minutes due to the immediate nature of the emergency, and did not take off until 0725—at the same time that the order was given to activate our air defenses, the aircraft itself had already reached Picadelle Square.”

For once, both the War Hawks and Doves shared the same sentiments—hushed groans of dismay and anger could be heard throughout the room.  Not even the Divine Kingdom of Kain had ever dared touch the sacred capital of the Empire itself back in Yggdra, and now the Oseans breached their homeland with near-total impunity?

“Gentlemen,” Gra Lux lightly chided, “if you would allow Chief Karlmann to complete the report, we will be able to discuss the full implications of this new development with what each of our departments has to present on the matter.”

Tactfully nodding to the Emperor in gratitude, Karlmann resumed reading from the documents.  “The unknown aircraft did not appear to directly target any specific place of interest within the capital, simply performing a series of aerial maneuvers in direct view of the entire city.  After over fifteen minutes, two Antares squadrons arrived at the capital to intercept and identify the plane in question—while the pilot did not directly respond to radio communications, the Antares flight leads were able to vaguely communicate using hand signals.  At 0735, we received a confirmation from the diplomatic team currently in Selatapura that the aircraft in Ragna was Osean in origin—at 0745, the aircraft accelerated and began heading northeast, exiting the capital and outpacing our fighters; by 0800, we believe that the aircraft had successfully left the mainland and was now on course to return to Osea.”

The Three Generals and the Emperor’s other officials had turned to each other and were now quietly processing the information presented to them, formulating possible paths to further investigate the unanticipated turn of events.  The Senators, on the other hand, had seemingly grown louder with their murmurs of discontent—Senator Marix was unusually quiet, leaning back on his chair in careful thought even as his colleagues angrily whispered about the impudence of their eastern counterparts.  The Doves, on the other hand, appeared to be deep in discussion; Gra Lux found himself vaguely wondering what the most vocal proponents of caution with the Oseans had to say about the actions of the people they had fought tooth and nail to defend.  

Turning to Director Akkan, Gra Lux asked, “Do we have any intel beyond eyewitness accounts regarding the nature of the Osean aircraft in question?”

Akkan nodded.  “Several, in fact, Your Excellency.  A pilot from the Antares squadrons deployed to Ragna was proactive enough to have brought a camera with him; his wingman was able to grab a series of photographs displaying the aircraft in question with considerable quality—”

A technician quickly activated a slide projector, inserting several newly-developed monochromatic prints onto the device.  All eyes turned to the display on the wall, revealing the mysterious plane that had brought the Empire into a state of near-panic: a flat, triangular aircraft rivalling even the prototype Orsen jets in size.  From the other side of the room, the Emperor silently wondered at the curvilinear design of the plane’s exterior—someone somewhere had managed to strip all signs of physical, industrial labour prevalent in all Gra Valkan crafts from the fuselage, transforming that object from a mere tool of war into what came across to the martial ruler as an otherworldly creature of the skies.  Were mythological fashions a value the Oseans chose to prioritise in their planes, or did the shape itself serve some kind of purpose in its basic functions?

Gra Lux’s eyes briefly turned to the wings and what his researchers would have described as “control surfaces”—three strikes marked the plane’s rear, the grey and white flag making the origin of the vehicle’s origin all but clear.  Shaking his head, the Emperor decided to refocus his attention on the empire’s security—let the scientists and engineers in the Divine Wrath Complex ponder the surfaces of these planes and unlock whatever technological secrets the Oseans had to offer.  “Send copies of these photographs to our researchers, and see what they have to make of this design.  Now, how were our radar sensors unable to pick up the Osean aircraft before it arrived in Ragna?”

The Director seemed rather glum as he turned to face the Emperor.  “Based on our preliminary interrogations with the staff within the listening posts throughout the region, we can definitely rule out sabotage or magical interference—all radar equipment showed no signs of tampering, and our magical detectors from Magikareich did not suggest that the Oseans were utilising any kind of magic on their aircraft.  Neither did the officers present within our radar stations show any signs of negligence in their duties—based on the recordings of radio communications between them and our air squadrons, we can confirm that our radar consistently failed to detect any kind of object in the sky above Ragna that was not a Gra Valkan military aircraft.”

Now did the military officials display any kind of audible dismay—for an aircraft to somehow display stealth technology was unprecedented, seemingly impossible for contemporary Gra Valkan aircraft to achieve.  Yet for the Oseans to casually display such a feat beggared belief—had they done this before?  Had Osea sent other aircraft to the mainland itself previously without the Empire knowing?

Gesturing at the technician to prepare the next set of intel, Akkan turned to the officials present.  “In addition to the photographs, we also have another source from the Oseans themselves.”

Gra Lux looked up in surprise.  “Oh?”

“A few days ago, we intercepted a news broadcast from the Holy Milishial Empire regarding the ongoing peace talks in Selatapura between the IUN and the former Parpaldia Empire.  We’ve been attempting to verify the validity of the claims that the report described, especially in light of our original source detailing Osea’s existence, but based on the recent accounts of Director Gesta himself from Selatapura, we have reason to believe that the contents, as… unbelievable as it may seem, were actually, genuinely, true.”

Akkan paused, and for a second even the mask of professionalism the Director had always schooled before the Emperor seemed to have vanished—the third time it had ever happened in his entire career, Gra Lux reckoned: once when the Empire had found itself in Elysia, again when the first reports of the Ostföderation came in from the Milishials, and now again in this very room.  What had briefly flashed before on the Director’s face—fear—threatened to send a silent shiver through the Emperor’s frame—no mere insignificant threat would have easily unnerved the famously stoic official, a fact that Gra Lux himself knew all too well.

Slowly, the Emperor nodded.  “Play the recording.”

The final recording of the broadcast ceased, and for the first time in many years Gra Lux found himself slumping back on his seat in discouragement.  Around him, generals, directors, and senators alike similarly stared at the now-blank display with a mixture of expressions: shock, despondency, horror, disbelief, and—particularly amongst the Doves, the Emperor silently noted—vindication and awe.

To see with his own eyes that the Oseans had not only mastered the feat of space travel but now openly wielded it as its most powerful instrument of war and peace alike had shaken Gra Lux to his core—to be faced with an enemy that his own people had now all but confirmed to far exceed even the Divine Kingdom of Kain in scope threatened to permanently derail over decades of planning for the seemingly-inevitable conquest of the known world. 

And yet, somehow, the words of Osea’s primary envoy to Elysia as a whole posed a far greater challenge to Gra Valkan dominance than the titanic monument he and his colleagues stood upon—peace over war?  Coexistence over conquest?  A universal Elysian order shared equally amongst the nations of the world over militaristic domination?  Such ideals were anathema to the Empire’s ambitions—and yet even Gra Lux could sense that perhaps, just perhaps, that if enough people in Elysia came to believe in that future, such a holistic goal could actually be achieved within a lifetime.    

Perhaps that had been why the Doves had been so insistent on having Gra Valkas’s spies in Louria and Parpaldia refocus their efforts on rescuing the man known to Elysia as Harling, the Emperor mused—the Osean ambassador, in spite of his seemingly unassuming appearance, represented a path for the Empire that he himself once thought to have closed with the diplomatic disaster that was the conquest of Paganda.  His words and the technology that backed them were a powerful reminder that greater ambitions lay ahead for the nations of the world beyond glory and influence, lessons that Parpaldia and Louria knew nothing of and that the Milishials and Muans in their arrogance had barely even began to understand—Ymir be damned, even he himself barely understood it—Osea’s path to the stars had clearly changed the superpower in its ascent upwards, and it now seemed intent on dragging the rest of Elysia along with it. 

And perhaps that was the message that the Oseans sought to convey with their aerial display over Ragna, the Emperor realised—a daring challenge to the mighty Gra Valkas Empire, the decision it chose defining its destiny for centuries to come: would it join Osea in its journey in the heavens, or would it choose to be left in the wayside and consigned to history like Parpaldia?   

Feeling a rush of newfound resolve flow through him, Gra Lux sat up and faced his men.  

“Gentlemen, the challenge before us is unlike anything we have ever encountered in the history of our nation—but we must not despair and needlessly surrender to fate so early into our arrival in this New World.  The words of the Ostföderation are clear: Osea has invited us to a new game, and I believe it would be unsportsmanlike for us not to play!  

“We have an advantage over our Elysian counterparts, one that we must wield if we are to match our Eastern neighbors in their race to the stars—unlike the Muans and Milishials or the ill-fated Parpaldians, the technology that the Oseans possess are very much within our capabilities to develop within our own accord.  Our end goal remains the same—the dominance of Gra Valkas over all of Elysia—but perhaps there may be more paths to our promised glory than we may have originally planned!”

Gra Lux’s words were met with a mixture of emotions: confusion, comfort, curiosity, doubt, and determination.  The Doves looked at him with surprise, perhaps hoping that their calls for cooperation with the Oseans would be finally answered; the War Hawks, on the other hand, stared back in what could probably be described as shell shock—Marix’s colleagues were likely still recovering from what would have no doubt been the biggest blow to their perceptions of Gra Valkan might.  Interestingly enough, the Senator himself was as visibly stoic as ever—either Osea’s display had not affected him as it had his counterparts, or perhaps he was doing a better job at masking it.

“Director Akkan and Director Schilde, your respective departments are involved with the procurement and development of technologies to advance the cause of our mighty empire.  How soon would the Divine Wrath Complex be capable of developing the means to countering Osean air and space capabilities?  Speak freely, so we may be able to plan ahead wisely.”

Schilde, the Director of the Divine Wrath Complex, briefly stammered before finding his words, quickly gathering his thoughts and compiling them into what he could reasonably disclose as actionable information.  “Y-your Excellency, stealth technology is something that we have only discussed within the scientific community as a theoretical concept—without learning more about how the Oseans were able to achieve it, it could easily be a decade, if not more, before we could arguably begin developing our own versions.  Before then, we would have to develop countermeasures for a future incursion only after the mainland has already been breached.”

Mirkenses, the highest ranking of the Three Generals present, looked up.  “Are you saying that we cannot prevent another fighter from reaching Ragna in the near future, Director?”

“Without more intel, that would unfortunately be the case, Admiral,” Schilde glumly admitted.  “Director Akkan—”

“Our spies and intelligence agents are already in the process of finding more information about the Oseans’ new experimental aircraft, Director,” Akkan quickly reassured his colleague.  “There is no need to worry yourself about the shortcomings your department currently faces—we’ll do our best to cover the gaps.”

“Many thanks, Director.”

“Your men will need to be expedient,” Gra Lux firmly reminded his staff.  “To already have one Osean fighter threaten our capital itself is unacceptable—in any other circumstance, we might not have been here at this very moment to discuss what happened.  Ensure that this does not happen again, is that clear?”

Akkan gave a perfunctory yet respectful nod, even as the implied threat of Gra Lux’s words sent a chill through him and the rest of the officials in the room.  “Understood, Your Excellency.”

It was Siegs’s turn to speak up, facing the Emperor.  “Your Excellency, without the ability to detect Osean fighters via radar before reaching the mainland, our defense plans for the immediate future will need to rely on our ability to intercept and eliminate any hostile fighters within the Empire itself—such engagements will need to be fast and expedient in order to minimise the risk to any civilians or military assets within range.  Unfortunately, our current range of Antares fighters have clearly shown to be inadequate for the issue at hand—we need better planes, and fast.”

Recognising the implicit request, Gra Lux turned to Director Schilde once more.  “Are our Orsen jet fighters ready for mass production?”

Schilde shook his head in frustration.  “The OR-262 is still in the process of completing preliminary tests against conventional Gra Valkan aircraft—the results are promising, but Orsen believes that they will still need a year at most before they can reorganise their factories to begin mass production.  Even with the current timeline, I must add, it will still take roughly a decade before we can completely decommission our entire fleet of Type 07s with the 262s—and their technological capabilities are still way below what the Oseans’ experimental aircraft can achieve.”

“What about our Angrefier rockets?  Could they be redesigned to target specific aircraft?”

The Director appeared even more disgruntled than ever, barely restraining himself from slumping on his seat in front of the Emperor.  “Our AA designs are designed to lock onto specific radar targets, Your Excellency—without a radar signature to detect, we may have to consider manual targeting using visual means as a short-term countermeasure.  It’s an incredibly inefficient process, and would require us to develop a radio-based control system using cameras and skilled pilots on the ground to guide our rockets to their targets.  Such an effort would, again, take time to complete.”

Gra Lux paused.  “Exactly how much time would you need?”

“About half a year, at most.”

Not an optimal timeframe, but not enough to outright doom the Empire in the near future.  Six months would be more than enough time for the Imperial government to reorganize its assets to avoid excessive losses in another hypothetical Osean incursion while waiting for the Angriefers to be deployed—a challenge that Akkan and the Three Generals would easily be more than capable of surmounting.  Seeing no reason to challenge the Director’s claims, Gra Lux nodded in acknowledgement.

“Very well—accelerate your efforts where possible and begin production as soon as the opportunity presents itself.”

“It will be done, Your Excellency.”

A new voice unexpectedly spoke up from the other side of the table—a Senator (a Dove by the name of Eisenner, Gra Lux vaguely recalled) stood up, facing the Emperor and Schilde.  “Your Excellency, if I may be allowed to speak?”

The Emperor nodded.  “Proceed.”

“Does the Empire have any policy for the realm of outer space in regards to our internal security and foreign policy?  The reports from the Selatapura Incident make mention of some kind of orbital weapon used to help eliminate the sea monsters threatening the Grade Alastar—and surely the very existence of the Lighthouse suggests that the Oseans have some kind of capabilities of using the heavens above our skies to strike at our cities!”

Senator Marix unexpectedly scoffed.  “Senator Einsenner, you speak of tall tales and mere conjecture from authors obsessed with science fiction yet possessing no true understanding of military doctrines.  Our focus must be on what tangible threats are present right before us, not what hypotheticals lie in the background—”

“Much as it pains me to admit, Marix,” a War Hawk by the name of Hardt who had fervently supported the militaristic leanings of the Empire, “our colleague’s words have merit.  The technologies that we consider to be within the realm of fiction are very much within the capability of the Ostföderation , and that unfortunately appears to include the ability to use the realm of the stars against the interests of Gra Valkas.  We may not possess the means to reach space, but I believe that I speak for the people in this room when I say that we must make preparations to defend the Empire against whatever threats may lie from beyond our skies!”

Akkan sighed.  “Your Excellency, while I agree with the sentiments of the Senators’ words, we have simply far too little information beyond the accounts of the Grade Alastar and its escorts as to what exactly the Oseans are doing in outer space to determine exactly what actions may be required.  Either we will need to inquire with the Ostföderation directly, or we will need to create a way of reaching the heavens and finding out for ourselves.”

All eyes once more turned to Director Schilde, who was similarly deep in thought.  Surely the Divine Wrath Complex had taken at least some time to consider the possibility of travelling to space?

“There have been some discussions amongst our researchers about the possibility of using our Angriefer rockets to potentially breach the Bohrmann Line in the past,” the Director began, “but most of them were mainly either conjectural or entirely hypothetical in nature.  If we were to partially refocus our efforts into using the Angriefers as a basis for creating an orbital vehicle, we would need to establish a new department dedicated solely to space travel.”

“Such an organization would require close coordination with the conventional military and our intelligence networks,” Siegs thoughtfully added.  “If there are any threats in space that could put our own assets or even the homeland at risk, then our military experts would need to assist in developing our own countermeasures.”

“Further investment in our own rocket systems would also allow us to expand the scope of our nuclear capabilities, I might also add,” Director Akkan noted.  “The very same technology that would allow us to begin to compete with the Oseans could also very much be used to launch a direct strike at the Muans and Milishials if our relations with them deteriorate to the point of outright warfare.  The Oseans are very much capable of doing the same to us, so what exactly is stopping us from doing likewise?”

“Then we must put our resources to catching up with our Osean counterparts in space,” Gra Lux concluded.  “The presence of the Lighthouse demonstrates that a new front has opened for us to pursue, and we must rise to the challenge as required.  Director Schilde, locate these scientists that you have mentioned and assign them with compiling a report on the feasibility of converting our Angriefer rockets into space vessels.  Use whatever resources and manpower are necessary to create the appropriate departments for that purpose.”

Now filled with purpose, Schilde firmly nodded.  “It will be done, Your Excellency.”

“Director Akkan, continue your efforts to probe into the Oseans’ military activities both here in Elysia and above our skies.  If we can acquire any information from the Ostföderation about how their aircraft and spacecraft work, then we may be able to accelerate the production of our own countermeasures by years.  Minister Mopole, do we have any other developments from Director Gesta and his staff in Selatapura?”

Mopole, a burly individual in charge of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, looked up in surprise.  “Oh?  Oh, right—the delegation in the ongoing Lighthouse Conference have confirmed that the Oseans will be arranging the exchange of information between the Ostföderation and ourselves.  As a gesture of gratitude for our contributions to the rescue of their ambassador in Eshirant last year, they’ve also agreed to send over some technical experts in fighter and computer technology to Ragna within the year—the details are still being hammered out, but we expect their arrival to be sometime before the World Conference.”

The Doves gave each other particularly smug expressions, while the War Hawks were forced to grudgingly admit the vindication of their opposing faction’s arguments.  The debate over whether to intervene in the conflict between Parpaldia and Osea had been long and acrimonious, but Gra Lux had ultimately seen the logic in perhaps letting their then-unknown neighbours view them in a somewhat more positive light—such a maneuver had cost them their entire spy network in Rodenius and Philades due to the sheer distance and lack of available manpower, but clearly it had very much paid off.  Director Schilde, for his part, was visibly relieved upon hearing of the news.

“That said, however, the Oseans also gave us a warning about the researchers in question—I believe this would be within Director Akkan’s area of responsibility as well.”

The GVBI Director paused, momentarily surprised to hear his name mentioned.  “Oh?”

“The researchers in question are primarily under the employment of a company known as Gründer Industries—while they are the main supplier of military vehicles and equipment to the Ostföderation , their loyalties are widely suspected to be linked to a former superpower from their old world and have previously acted independently of the actual policies of the Oseans themselves.  It’s also believed that less than a decade ago, they were partly responsible for secretly instigating a massive military conflict between Osea and another major superpower as revenge for the loss of their original home country, nearly utilising nuclear weaponry to escalate the entire war to the brink of mutually assured destruction.”

Several officers and senators visibly paled in horror.  Mopole himself was quite visibly stunned by the report he was reading, taking a moment to gather himself before continuing.

“The list provided by the Osean government regarding their suspected activities goes on: offering highly sensitive prototypes to aggressive, militaristic nations in the international community in return for scientific data to continue their research, intervening in civil wars to field experimental aircraft against key military assets, live testing with heavy-yield nuclear weaponry in violation of international laws, illegal weapons dealing…suffice it to say, both Director Gesta and his Osean counterparts highly recommend holding them at an arm’s length during their stay here in Gra Valkas.”

Siegs’s jaw dropped.  “Gods above, how long has this company been doing this?  Why haven’t they been disbanded after all this time?!  Hell, if Orsen or Antares even tried to pull off such a stunt here in Gra Valkas, I’d have personally shot the entire board of directors within an hour!”

“From what Director Gesta’s heard,” Mopole surmised, “the sheer scope of the technologies that Gründer’s developed over the past twenty-five years has been viewed to more than compensate for their reputations as troublemakers in the international community.  However, there are also news reports circulating within Osea that suggest the current government is interested in gradually transitioning away from Gründer and investing in other companies—perhaps they might be no longer willing to tolerate whatever they’ve been up to over the past few decades.”

“Mopole, can’t we ask for researchers from another company?  Surely another Osean firm also has the ability to develop fighter technology similar to Gründer that doesn’t share their proclivities in potentially fermenting instabilities in our own homeland!”

The Minister, for his part, was visibly contrite as he turned to reply to Siegs.  “Unfortunately, even the Oseans themselves are still in the process of finding such a company—there are some possible candidates, according to Gesta, but it will likely take years according to Osea’s estimates before a complete transition can be made.  They are responsible for developing some of the aircraft in the news report, after all, General.”

“Then hosting these scientists in Gra Valkas is simply a risk that we will have to take,” Gra Lux decided.  “Director Akkan, take as many precautions as needed, but we urgently require the knowledge that those experts will no doubt possess if we are to catch up with the Oseans.”

“Your Excellency, it would be remiss of my duties if I were not to protest the current arrangements we have made with the Oseans,” Senator Marix unexpectedly spoke up.  “In every attempt on our part to offer friendship, Osea has responded with aggression and subterfuge—first they threaten our shores, and now they seek to offload their warmongering scum into our cities?  Why are we still treating them with undeserved consideration when they have more than demonstrated themselves to be a potential enemy more than capable of bringing destruction to our lands?”

Gra Lux repressed the urge to sigh in irritation.  As the undisputed leader of the War Hawks, Senator Marix had always been known for his stubborn determination to demonstrate the strength of Gra Valkas before the Empire’s foes—however, traditional martial strategies would not work against a rival whose abilities easily trumped those of Ragna’s.  And yet even with the most drastic change to Gra Valkas’s fortunes since their arrival in Elysia itself all but spelled out before him, Marix still spoke as if ordering the Grade Alastar to shell Oured would single-handedly force the Oseans to capitulate?

“Senator, it is precisely because of the Ostföderation ’s potential to become a foe capable of striking our lands with complete impunity that we are seeking a mutual accord with them.  Until we can either counter their technologies or match their destructive power with our own, we are in no position to treat the Oseans with the same consideration as a foe like the Divine Kingdom of Kain—whatever risks or sacrifices are needed, whether through setbacks like yesterday’s events or by the agreements of the following years, we will grin and bear them with the spirit that has guided our Empire throughout our glorious history.”  Gra Lux turned to face Marix directly, daring him to argue back.  “Or would you be willing to be responsible for risking the destruction of our Empire over a perceived lack of ‘consideration’, Senator?”

Recognizing the tone of the Emperor’s voice, the Senator had no choice but to back down.  “Understood, Your Excellency.”

With the sole voice of dissent now dealt with, Gra Lux returned to other matters.  “Minister Mopole, is there anything else that we need to discuss regarding Director Gesta and his delegation?”

Mopole paused. “Apart from the arrangement for the information exchange and the ongoing Lighthouse Conference, the Osean government also invited the Director’s team to attend an upcoming security briefing related to the sea monster incident—now that I think of it, if my understanding of Elysian time zones is correct, the Director and his staff should be joining the Oseans’ security briefing…” 

Mopole paused, quickly turning to his watch.

“…right about now, actually.”

Bright Hill, Oured, Osean Federation — January 4, 2020

Prince Gra Lux, Director Gesta, and his staff quickly found their designated seats within the meeting room and set up their positions, shaking hands and sharing pleasantries with the Osean officials present while planning out their approach for the upcoming meeting.  

A formal invitation by Ambassador Harling on behalf of President Bartlett had been extended to the Gra Valkan delegation to attend a security briefing in the Osean capital—the details had been particularly scarce, but both Harling and his superiors had made it fairly clear that the information being disclosed could potentially be of interest to Gesta’s superiors.  Journeying from the Lighthouse to Bright Hill had been quite the experience—travelling 100,000 kilometers downwards to the surface of Elysia and then using an Osean jet for the leg between Selatapura and Oured would be memories the diplomat and his companions would be remembering for the rest of their lives.  A team of Secret Service agents and diplomatic staff welcomed the delegation as they arrived at Bright Hill for the second time since their arrival in Osea, quickly escorting them to the room in question.

The doors heading towards the Presidential Office opened, and President Bartlett and a bearded individual in military outfits entered—the officials present turned to face the two men, and slowly began to find their seats at the table in the center of the room.  Behind Gesta, a technician began to shut the blinds covering the windows, ensuring that the sensitive details of the meeting about to take place would not be accidentally leaked to possible spies—the lights similarly began to dim, as a projector began to activate a visual, polychromatic display that seemed to hover and bounce over the surface of the wall behind it.

Prince Cabal’s jaw dropped in surprise.  “Holographs?!”

Hearing the Prince’s hushed exclamation from the background, Bartlett smirked to himself even as he sat down and faced the government officials present.  Small, subtle ways of demonstrating the technological capabilities of Osea were always most effective whenever it came to introducing Elysians to the world of Oured and its countless sister cities—and perhaps more would be revealed as well, once the meeting had wrapped up.

“Senators, Representatives, Generals, gentlemen,” the President began, “thank you for coming to Oured on such short notice.  Your presence here today is part of a standard procedure that all formally nominated presidential candidates must undergo under Osean electoral law—to be briefed on all major security aspects surrounding the safety and security of the Osean Federation and its allies.  As someone who also had to undergo this process over eight years ago, congratulations, and best of luck to all of your respective campaigns.”

Gesta and Ciella’s eyes widened in realisation as their eyes panned throughout the room, quickly spotting the four individuals who would likely succeed Bartlett as the highest-ranking leader of the Ostföderation itself—three men of varying ages and statures, and a singular woman of a significantly darker complexion and shoulder-length hair barely covering her sharp formal clothes.  Regardless of their thoughts on the merits of republic similar to that exercised by the Oseans, one of these individuals would soon likely be playing a key role in determining the relationship between Osea as a whole and themselves—small wonder Harling and Bartlett had seen fit to have them brought to Oured well ahead of time, Gesta considered.  

Ciella, for her part, turned to the woman in barely concealed astonishment—a woman like her, potentially becoming the undisputed ruler of one of the most powerful nations in Elysia?  Such ideas would have been laughed at in Gra Valkas, even with the accomplishments that Admiral Mirkenses and herself had managed to achieve—for an Empress to decide the fate of a glorious nation such as the Empire itself would be seen as nothing but outright nonsense.  Yet there she sat, staring at Ambassador Harling and President Bartlett with an expression that suggested nothing less than full attention to the topics at hand and with equal bearing as the other men in the room.  Was this another one of Osea’s accomplishments in its path to the stars?

Bartlett continued, “As you are no doubt aware, we are joined today by Prince Gra Cabal, Director Gesta and Director Ciela Oudwin of the Gra Valkas Empire under the personal invitation of myself and at the recommendation of our military advisors.  While this is a rather unusual development for such a briefing, we have reason to believe that the information we will present to you will be of interest to them as well—being direct recipients of recent events that we will be discussing shortly.”

All eyes turned briefly towards the Gra Valkan delegation, and for a moment the woman’s eyes locked with Gesta’s and Ciela’s—a hint of confusion and curiosity, even as she returned her attention to the outgoing President.  The other candidates stared at them for a bit longer, a hint of suspicion in their expressions before Bartlett began to speak again.

“Before anything else, I would like to introduce to you Vice-Chairman Edwards of the Joint Chiefs of Staff; if you are successful in being elected as President, he will be your primary military advisor for the full duration of your elected term.  His input, alongside that of the OSDF, will no doubt be invaluable in guiding your decisions regarding the Osean Federation’s foreign and internal policies.  Edwards, you have the mic.”

The heavily bearded man—whom the Gra Valkans quickly recognised as the man named Edwards in question—turned to face the people present.  “Good evening, everyone.  This security briefing will be split into multiple segments, to be presented in consecutive meetings over the following week; our areas of concerns will occupy a wide span of topics from the unknown whereabouts of the remaining Grey Men to the ongoing post-war reconstruction efforts in Parpaldia.  We will also be discussing the current situation of peacekeeping efforts in the Philades, Grameus, and Rodenius continents prior to the outbreak of the conflict with Parpaldia, as well as the wider political situation in Elysia from Mu to the Milihsial continents; needless to say, please pay attention to what we will be showing you today, and understand that many if not all of the details within this briefing are classified under a very strict security level.  If we hear any details about this mission leaking out to the wider public that does not originate from our Gra Valkan guests, trust us when we say that we will know who exactly said it—and they will be subject to the harshest penalties under Osean law for placing our national security at risk.”

Several staff members present began to murmur amongst themselves.  Ignoring the hushed whispers, Edwards began his presentation, gesturing to the screen as several vivid images of mysterious objects and winged individuals began to materialise.

“For today, our primary topic is simple: the Ancient Sorcerous Empire, otherwise known as the Ravernal Empire.”

Gesta, Ciela, and Cabal’s eyes widened in surprise and confusion.  Their intelligence agents had dismissed the tales of the Ravernals as old Elysian legends and superstition; why were the Oseans showing this to them?

“For those who are unfamiliar, the Ravernal Empire is believed to be an ancient nation-state active over thousands of years ago—similar to our circumstances, this Empire was transferred from their own world to Elysia; in the millennia that followed, they proceed to dominate and subjugate all local civilizations with their advanced magical technology.  At the height of their rule, it is believed that they had successfully conquered the entire planet with technology that our researchers believe to be nearly on par with the pre-War Belkan Federation—aerial carriers and bombers, bioengineered creatures and sea monsters, orbital weaponry with the capability to strike entire cities and nations from space, and core magic—the magical equivalent of nuclear weaponry—utilised with complete impunity on all those who opposed their rule.  They disappeared over one thousand and five hundred years ago, but traces of their past are still being uncovered and utilised throughout Elysia to this day.”

Several images flashed on the screen: a circular craft floating above Eshirant, a towering figure before the walls of Topa who dwarfed even the tallest mountains near Ragna, the Grade Alastar desperately firing its guns at a hydra, and an object far above the Branchel continent discharging an unknown magical blast at an Osean DarkStar.  

“For the past millennia, the Holy Milishial Empire has taken it upon itself to utilise and reverse-engineer the superweapons of the Ravernals—there is believed to be a credible prophecy amongst the Milishials and their allies that the Ravernals themselves did not collapse, but instead were transported via magical means to a future point in space and time.  In other words, it is their belief that the Ravernal Empire itself may return to Elysia sometime within the near future—and that their aims to resume their conquest of the entire planet will remain the same, regardless of what we or any other nation in the New World has to say about the matter.”

Another voice spoke up, from one of the candidates.  “Vice Chairman, do we have any actionable intel to suggest that the Milishials’ claims are true?  It could easily be a justification for maintaining their powerbase within Elysia, and not necessarily preparations for a hypothetical invasion of their lands.”

Nodding in acknowledgment, Edwards turned to the images once more.  “While the details surrounding the means of prophesying the return of the Ravernals remain vague, we do have physical evidence to back up their theories.  Of particular note are a series of devices that have been found throughout Elysia that the Milishials have referred to as ‘revival beacons’—we’re still parsing through the information that they’ve provided, but they believe that these beacons are meant to pinpoint the space-time coordinates for the Empire itself—wherever they are—to return to this world.”

“I’m sorry, but this actually sounds suspiciously like hogwash,” another candidate interjected.  “How can we trust that these aren’t just holy relics from an ancient civilization that by sheer coincidence happened to be our magical equals?  Sure, perhaps their magic allowed their technology to survive far longer than our own equivalents by centuries, but what if it was just that—artefacts from the distant past that our new neighbours just so happened to uncover and utilise?”

“That was, in fact, our original opinion on the matter,” the Vice Chairman admitted, “and it’s still our opinion barring any further evidence to prove otherwise.  However, this still leaves the presence of residual Ravernal weaponry in Elysia for us to deal with—as well as the possibility of such weapons being used directly against us.”

The image of the circular aircraft expanded to encompass the entire projection, and began to play—magical gunfire and explosions dotted the skies around the object as Osean fighters scrambled to strike the surface of the ship, before a circular shield unexpectedly enveloped the craft and protected it from naval and aerial gunfire.

Edwards gestured at the screen, and the recording changed.

A vast, humongous three-headed dragon swept at a singular fighter scrambling to escape its path, instantly pulverising the aircraft with a single blow and sending flaming debris crashing down onto the forest below.

Edwards gestured at the screen, and the recording changed again.

The Grade Alastar fired desperately at an approaching sea monster, lasers and cannon fire slicing creatures out of the sky.

Edwards gestured at the screen, and the recording changed once more.

An alien satellite exploded into a cloud of debris, while a singular black fighter narrowly avoided collisions that would have no doubt pulverised the spacecraft in an instant.

Edwards paused the final recording.  “As you can no doubt tell, such a possibility is no longer merely within the realm of conjecture—an entity or group of entities within Elysia are actively using Ravernal weaponry to undermine our interests at this very moment, and now pose an direct threat to the continued safety of the Osean Federation itself.”

Murmurs began to spread throughout the room, the officials and candidates now conversing with each other with visible concern.  Ancient tales of old empires were one thing, but for an unknown nation or organisation to strike at Osea itself was another problem altogether.  The Gra Valkans themselves shared an uneasy glance, clearly recognising the implications of Edwards’s words—the Ravernals might have long disappeared, but the legacy of their reign of terror was still very much echoing throughout the known world.  And for a magical superpower arguably on par with the Oseans themselves to quite possibly make a return within their lifetimes…

Leaning forward, the fourth candidate turned to face the Vice Chairman, her expression carefully schooled to reveal nothing about her thoughts on the matter.  “Do we know who exactly is responsible for these incidents?  Could the Milishials or one of their partners be responsible for the encounter in Eshirant, or is there another nation that we haven’t discussed as of yet?”

The Vice Chairman frowned, turning to change the screen’s display once again.  “While the HME is confirmed to be in possession of aircraft identical in appearance to the object that attacked our forces in Eshirant, Senator, it is but one of two nations that have made successful use of Ravernal superweapons—based on evidence found in the aftermath of the Esperanto Incident, we believe that another nation in particular could be responsible.”

The screen changed to reveal a map of the Branchel Continent, directly south of the Holy Milishial Empire itself.  Several photographs also appeared on the side, displaying a winged individual with a striking resemblance to the ancient Ravernals of old.

“This is the Annorial Empire—believed to have been founded by remnants of the Ravernal Empire following their disappearance from Elysia.  They have developed a strictly isolationist policy throughout their existence, limiting contact with the outside world to a singular port known as Bushpaka Lakan—however, in spite of their seemingly medieval appearance, we’ve managed to intercept radio broadcasts from within the Empire itself as well as satellite imagery of what we believe to be active Ravernal superweapons, ready to be utilised at a moment’s notice.”

A series of images materialised, showing a singular facility along the southern coast—over a dozen objects identical in size and shape to the craft in Eshirant were parked in order along a concrete tarmac, with signs of activity surrounding the ships in question.  Along the coast, several sea creatures that easily dwarfed the Grade Alastar rested beside several docks, feeding on what suspiciously appeared to be humanoid creatures on the beaches—the quality of the photograph was too vague to clearly identify their nature, but something within Gesta decided that he would be far better off not knowing.

“Based on our attempts to further investigate the surviving systems of the Pal Chimera in Eshirant, the radio frequencies used within the ship during its ill-fated engagement with our IUN forces match those utilised by the Annorials.  Similarly, while uncovering the remains of the Aji Dhaka responsible for the destruction of one of our fighters in Esperanto, we also uncovered skeletal remains in close proximity of the creature with a striking resemblance to the Annorials and their Ravernals ancestors as well—”

A new image popped up, showing the charred remnants of the Annorial operative.  Crossreferenced with a Milishial diagram of an ancient Ravernal, the two skeletons were disturbingly striking in similarity, much to the Gra Valkans’ realisation.

“On the body, we also uncovered a replica of what we believe to be a Ravernal magical device, capable of controlling any creature of any size from a human being to a hydra itself—as seen on the remains of the Aji Dhaka, we believe that the agent was directly controlling the creature with the intent of ensuring maximum damage on Esperanto and potentially the rest of Grameus and Philades—”

A black bracelet and a collar the size of a tank appeared, the glowing blue runes matching in text and style.

“Based on these actions, we believe that the Annorials are actively aware of the presence of the Osean Federation and have already begun to move to undermine our position within Elysia.  While we have been successful thus far, we also have reason to believe that a direct conflict with the Annorial Empire may be likely within the near future—any administration that succeeds the current government will need to take into consideration for foreign policy, or what actions will need to be taken to ensure our continued national security.”

“Have we attempted to establish communications with the Annorials?” the third male candidate asked.  Edwards shook his head.

“Attempts have been made in the past few months, Representative, but we have yet to receive any response.  Plans have already been made for a diplomatic mission to be sent to Bushpaka Lakan following the ongoing Conference, but exactly what kind of response we’ll receive has yet to be determined.  From what we’ve experienced so far, I wouldn’t necessarily get my hopes up.”

“Vice Chairman,” the female candidate asked, “what about its relations with the rest of Elysia?  I understand that its isolationist policy means that contact with the other superpowers of the known world is limited at best, but surely the combined arrival of Osea and Gra Valkas would have caused some kind of response from the Annorials.  Do we have any intel about their actions regarding their other new neighbours?”

Edwards and the other officials turned towards the Gra Valkan delegation.  “Director Gesta, would you or your colleagues be willing to comment on the matter?”  

Clearing his throat, Director Gesta stood up and replied, “I’m afraid it’s not within Gra Valkan policy to freely divulge the nature of its relations with other foreign powers, but I can disclose that we have attempted to establish contact with the Annorials in the past.  We’ve yet to hear from them since, and our other means of reaching out to them have similarly yet to bear fruit, I’m afraid.”

President Bartlett sighed.  “Would it be appropriate for us to disclose to you that we are aware that an expeditionary fleet was dispatched from Ragna to explore the Branchel Continent prior to the arrival of your delegation to Selatapura?”

Gesta’s eyes widened.  “How do you know about—”

“I’d recommend you take a seat for this, Director,” Edwards interjected.  “Our satellites were able to record what happened to them shortly after their arrival off the coast of the Annorial Empire.”

As the Director sat back down, Edwards changed the display once more.  The screen flickered, and flashed to reveal a sizable Gra Valkan fleet desperately struggling against a horde of sea monsters not unlike those encountered by the Grade Alastar and its escorts.  In the background, intercepted radio transmissions broadcasted the ships’ desperate attempts to fend off their aquatic pursuers even as the casualties began to build up.  Yet against all odds, the fleet prevailed against the creatures and began to pull back and gather their strength.

“This is Imperator to Ragna, fifteen vessels to our southeast, bearing 150!”

“Copy, visual on the unknown fleet.  Three battleships, twelve escorts—all ships, maintain defensive positions while we attempt to hail the fleet—”

“Captain, unknown vessels have opened fire!”

“All vessels, launch countermeasures and evade their—”

In a matter of seconds, the entire Gra Valkan fleet had been annihilated by Annorial fire, pulverised by magical weapons before their crews were even able to respond.  An ignominious death, far from the glorious fate that each sailor aboard had deserved—

Prince Cabal rose from his seat and gasped in outrage.  “They dare—!”

Ciela turned to Gesta in alarm, her face stricken with horror.  “Gesta—”

“We’ll need to notify the Emperor about this, and provide him with what intel the Oseans may be willing to provide,” Gesta hurriedly replied, leaning towards his colleague as he whispered to her ear.  “We need to listen to the rest of the briefing first.”

International Space Elevator, Low Earth orbit — January 30, 2020

“Delegates of the Lighthouse Conference, your attention, please!”

Standing atop a podium within the main atrium of the Lighthouse, a single individual was flanked by dozens of delegates from throughout Philades, all with expressions of hungry anticipation.  Before them, reporters and representatives from the major continents stood in preparation for the announcement that was to be made—rumours and unconfirmed reports had been circulating for weeks of a major political realignment in the Third Civilization Area, but nothing substantial had been finally agreed upon until now.  From television screens throughout Elysia, thousands of people watched as history unfolded before their very eyes.

“For countless centuries, the Parpaldian Empire has dominated the Third Civilization Area and subjugated its neighbours in an aggressive, brutal implementation of its barbaric vision of civility and advancement—their time has come to an end, but their legacy threatens to overshadow the new world we find ourselves in.  From the ashes of the atrocities of Eshirant, fifty nations were reborn and came into existence—we stand before you now as equals in a world where superpowers and singular nation-states coexist in the hopes of creating a perfect world where pain, hunger, and suffering are but echoes of a distant past.

“Today, we stand before you to proclaim the beginning of a new era—one where the nations of Philades, once chained together by the brutality of a barbaric overlord, now stand together as a union of peers and equals!  Never again will we let the words of tyrannical madmen decide the fate of our peoples!  Never again will our nations be taken from us, our people enslaved and uprooted from our homelands for the petty desires of nobles and arrogant kings and emperors!  We are the Independent States of Philades, and we step forward to the future as one!”

Driven to a frenzy by the fiery speech, the assembled diplomats cheered.   “Glory to Philades!  Glory to Philades!  May the Gods bless us all!”

Chapter Text

International Space Elevator, 100,000 kilometers above Selatapura — January 30, 2020

Director Kaios stared down at the final document before him, the product of over a month of acrimonious and bitter negotiations between the individual factions behind the war that destroyed his country—he had fought hard to negotiate and compromise, to mitigate the brutal consequences of Parpaldia’s actions in Philades and beyond, but there was no doubt that the shattered empire would suffer in some way in the years that would soon follow.

The very issue that prompted the disastrous war had been successfully resolved to an end that both the Director and Ludius considered preferable: all surviving Parpaldian leaders and troops in captivity throughout the Third Civilization Area would be released and returned home, with assurances from the different nations that their respective prisoners had been treated within the standards laid out by the Oseans’ laws.  The irony was hardly lost on Kaios—to think that so much bloodshed was potentially prevented by the very same constraints that Remille and her peers had scoffed at and railed against, only for them to ultimately submit to the very same terms that their once-rival continued to uphold and impose before Elysia, prompted countless mixed feelings from within.  At least the Auditor’s long-held desire to become a full-fledged member of the formidable IUN would soon be achieved once the nation had demonstrated its ability to coexist with the rest of the continent—although her ambitions of the former Empire becoming a dominant power within the institution would likely take much longer than originally planned, the reassurances and affirmations of Harling and Mugei notwithstanding.

It was the other terms that would undoubtedly cause much pain and humiliation for the former Empire, however—almost all Parpaldian territories beyond the core homeland would be granted independence and integrated into a Philadean-dominated federation independent of foreign interference (probably except the Oseans, Kaios mused, who hardly seemed to share the imperialistic ambitions of their Parpaldian counterparts anyway), and the rebellious Eastern Territories would be left to their own devices until Ludius and his former governors had reconciled their differences.  To allow several rogue provinces to deal with the Oseans and their allies without Eshirant’s oversight would cause no small of consternation; to allow almost the entirety of their hard-fought empire to fragment and realign into a barbarian-dominated alliance was nothing short of disastrous—the Director quietly wondered how his nation would react to such terms in the near future.

Perhaps that would be the task of his successors or of any government that would soon replace the Emperor and his advisors—but that was hardly his concern or his responsibility at this very moment.  With a few strokes, an era in Parpaldia’s history that he and his peers had dominated would come to an end, replaced by one where perhaps cooler and wiser heads would prevail in these uncertain times.  In that, the Director found some solace, a cold yet firm consolation that he would cling on to in the dark times to come.

With a heavy sigh, Kaios reached for the pen and signed his name on the Accords.

Kaios Endymion

From another table on the other side of the room, Harling glanced at Kaios’s signature and nodded.  

It was done.

Bright Hill, Oured, Osean Federation — January 5, 2020

Silence dominated the room the Gra Valkan diplomats and technical experts had occupied for their meeting, a mixture of shock, horror, and anger permeating through the atmosphere as each person present dared the other to be the first to speak.  From the center of the meeting table, Prince Cabal glanced towards Director Gesta, a silent query for the diplomat’s thoughts.

“Director…would you perhaps be so kind as to outline what needs to be brought up for today’s session?”

Shaken from his stupor by the Prince’s words, Gesta quickly gathered his thoughts and turned to address the room.  “Ah, yes…thank you, Your Highness.  Based on the information we have received over the past few days, I believe that there are at least three main points of order: firstly, the current situation regarding the Annorial attacks on our expeditionary fleet; secondly, the succession of the current head of state of the Osean Federation; and thirdly, what action the Gra Valkas Empire will likely need to pursue in light of these new developments, in order to achieve its aims of dominance over the New World.”

The room grew cold at the mention of the Annorials; the Gra Valkans’ thoughts turned to the countless lives claimed by the sea creatures and vessels of their not-too-distant neighbours—with the infamous Ravernals’ descendants within their seas and the Oseans in the skies and heavens, Gra Valkas was somehow finding itself forced into a corner with each passing day.  How exactly was Ragna going to respond to such unprecedented threats to not only its ambitions, but its own survival?

Gesta quickly went through the basic details surrounding the destruction of the Gra Valkan fleet along the coast of the Branchel Continent, the diplomats and military experts running through the recordings and other data provided by the Oseans for further information to be passed on to Ragna.  Fleet Admiral Caesar and Researcher Naguano were quick to assess the capabilities of the Annorial ships caught on the satellite imagery at hand, gauging their technological level to be roughly equal or even superior to their Milishial counterparts—a rough plan was outlined for potentially establishing a naval strategy for the Gra Valkan fleets to respond to similar sea monster and naval attacks in the future, pending future developments in counter missile technology.  The discussion then shifted into how to directly respond to the Annorials for their actions—

“At the risk of coming across as obtuse,” Dallas unexpectedly interrupted, “what exactly is preventing us from directly engaging both the Oseans and Annorials in combat?  We have five Invasion Fleets awaiting deployment, and our spies have demonstrated that the military capabilities of the vast majority of the major Elysian superpowers do not stand a chance against even our weakest vessels!  We could just send both the First and Judgement Fleets to the Annorial mainland and shell the entire region to oblivion—”

“And have our prized vessels obliterated by planes and ships that outpace ours?!  Have sea monsters that nearly destroyed the Grade Alastar breach our mainland in retaliation?!  Have you not been paying attention to any of the intel that both the Oseans and we ourselves have obtained?!” Ciella buried her face in her hands, frustration emanating from her at the incompetence of her subordinate.  “The entire point of our visit to the Ostföderation is to further investigate the presence of a superpower that far outpaces our abilities and to seek a mutual accord that avoids the obliteration of our homeland akin to Parpaldia or Leifor—or are you willing to allow the same delusions that started that whole fiasco in Paganda to dominate your decisions once again?”

Angered by the perceived insult to his arrogance and nationalistic pride, Dallas rose in outrage.  “Director, how dare you—” 

“Dallas,” Gesta spoke up, his tone a clear warning, “stand down—”

“The Pagandans were barbarians, unworthy of our presence and our respectful conduct that they ignored—the Oseans might be stronger and seemingly friendlier, but they deserve no more than what we have offered every other nation in this New World!  We are destined to conquer them in the future, anyway—why bother with any pretense of civility when our courage and valour and our weapons and greatest minds will ultimately overcome what we should be rightly recognising under normal circumstances as an act of war?!”

“There is a significant difference between valourous retribution and willful stupidity, Vice Director Raymond,” Prince Cabal cooly replied, his face frowning in clear disapproval at Dallas’s outburst.  “Faith in our people will not provide sufficient protection from the consequences of direct conflict with a foe whose technological capabilities significantly exceed ours.  These are nations that make even the Divine Kingdom itself appear quaint in comparison—would you willingly commit our nation to annihilation all for a perceived slight against our image?”

“Perhaps at a later point,” Gesta added, “we might be able to stand toe to toe with the Oseans and Annorials, but not today.  Is that clear, Dallas?”

Seeing no way to further contest the point and recognizing that Gesta and Prince Cabal’s voices brooked no argument, Dallas silently sat back down, still quietly simmering with anger as his thoughts of retribution and retaliation continued to echo in his mind. Sighing in irritation, Ciella decided to circle back to their original topic. 

“If direct military retaliation is not an ideal option, what other choices do we have?”

Gesta frowned.  “As we have no diplomatic or economic ties with the Annorial Empire, sanctions and standard protests are inadvisable at this time—based on the information we gathered from both the Elysians and the Oseans, the reclusive nature of the Annorials means that any public statement will likely be ignored or attributed to either conventional sea monsters or a proportionate response to a violation of their sovereignty and isolationist policies.  And with their recent actions in mind alongside their historic links to the Ravernals, we can probably assume that their long-term intentions towards Gra Valkas as a whole are likely similar to their ancestors—“

“Conquest and subjugation?”

The Director nodded apprehensively to Prince Cabal.  “As would be the case behind their interactions with the Oseans, yes.”

“Our efforts would therefore need to focus around establishing a defense capable of withstanding an attack on our homeland,” Ciella realised.  “The defensive measures being developed to counter the Oseans would also have to work against a magic-based opponent similar to the Annorials or their ancestors!”

“Our approach would perhaps have to be similar to the Oseans in their actions within the Philades and Grameus continents,” Cabal surmised, “with economic and political ties with the different nations as a defensive shield against potential threats such as the Parpaldians.  Director Gesta, could we perhaps develop our territories in the Mu continent with similar measures?”

“That would be up to your father to decide upon, Your Highness,” Caesar pointed out, “based on what our findings and conclusions are from this trip.  That said, I suppose he would be able to see the logic in using our national defense as a screen for expanding our territories in the Mu continent—as well as a fitting argument against possible calls from the Elysians to withdraw from the Second Civilisation Area.”

“There is another option we could pursue, Your Highness, one that we haven’t fully explored yet.  What if we were to pursue a military alliance with the Ostföderation against the Annorials?”

Cabal, Caesar, and Gesta paused, surprise visible in their faces at Ciella’s bold suggestion.  Sensing an opportunity, she decided to further pursue her point.

“Both Osea and Gra Valkas see the Annorial Empire as an active threat to their respective homelands—a unified approach would not only guarantee the Oseans using their technology against the Annorials instead of us, but also encourage the transfer of their technology and expertise to our Empire to bolster our own defenses.  We might even be able to garner additional information about their scientific and technological knowhow for our own prototypes—Osea already is friendly enough with us as it is, and we could in turn offer additional terms to benefit both sides: trade in the form goods and natural resources, or even skilled workers and researchers to bolster our own industries.  We’d also be able to overhaul our international image in Elysia, to say nothing of potentially sidelining the Muans and Milishials in case a conflict flares up again between us and their partners.”

“Wouldn’t that simply make Gra Valkas equal in political stature as the rest of the superpowers of Elysia?  That hardly seems to be an acceptable outcome from a possible future relationship with Osea,” Gesta argued, remembering the Emperor’s words with him prior to their departure from Ragna.

“On paper, yes.  However, there are two points we have to consider: first, both Gra Valkas and Osea easily outpace the Muans and Milishials—the two most advanced superpowers in Elysia prior to our simultaneous arrivals—and our combined political influence is already on the brink of eclipsing theirs.  Secondly, the IUN already has the other superpowers as members, all with the capability to persuade the other nations within the organisation to join them in a hypothetical conflict against Gra Valkas—if we had even a token position within the IUN, we could be able to stall for time against any measures against the Empire or even frame a hypothetical proposal for a peacekeeping mission in the Mu continent or the Conshal Islands as political maneuvering rather than retaliation to future plans for military expansion—”

“And if the Annorials do attack us, we could be able to ask the Oseans for assistance in the pursuit of stopping a mutual enemy,” Caesar noted, realisation dawning on his face.  “With their technological capabilities, our chances of surviving against an invasion might actually be much higher—”

“A temporary blow to our ambitions in the interests of pursuing more long-term goals,” Gesta realised, “not to mention an opportunity to revamp our image from what the Milishials and Muans would have the rest of Elysia believe.  Ciella, I believe you might just be on to something!” 

“The Emperor and the Senate will have to be persuaded of the benefits of sacrificing our immediate gains in return for a more solid foundation for our continued survival in comparison to continuing our current path of direct military confrontation and domination over Elysia,” Caesar pointed out.  “There will be significant resistance to such a major shift in foreign policy without sufficient cause, Directors.”

“An Osean fighter breaching our defenses without so much as a scratch?  Annorial forcessinking our fleets without due cause and directly interfering with internal affairs throughout Elysia?  The economic and political benefits of cooperating with the most powerful nation in Elysia in the interests of national defense—the development of Gra Valkan technology that could easily bring us forward by a hundred years, all in return for a brief setback to our national pride?  Why wouldn’t they turn down such an offer?”

Analysing Ciella’s counterarguments, Gesta quickly ran through the possible obstacles to his subordinate’s proposal.   “What about the Oseans?  What are their thoughts on the matter?”

The conversation then moved towards the second point of the meeting—a quick rundown on the current leadership and the current list of candidates for the next Osean government.  Most seemed to be from smaller parties with either a negligible political presence or focused more towards advocacy for specific interests rather than a wider nationwide policy agenda; discussions went towards three of the four individual candidates present in the security briefing that appeared to be most likely to become the leaders of the succeeding administration.

Pulling up a file with an attached photograph of a bearded male in a black suit, Gesta squinted his eyes as he read the document’s contents to the people present.  “The next person is Governor Mikhael Bronte, currently in charge of the North Osean Autonomous Region—as part of the Belkan People’s Party, he’s currently running on a platform of ensuring greater civil protections for non-Oseans within the country.  He seems to be rather popular within the former Belkan territories and some regions of Selatapura, but local pundits seem to think he’s gunning for more of a coalition with one of the other parties rather than a majority government—something about suspicions about the Belkans in a position of power, in light of their actions prior to Osea’s arrival in Selatapura.”

“Hmm, a possible person to contend with in regards to possible dealings with Gründer,” Prince Cabal noted.  “What does he have to say about foreign affairs or Gra Valkas in particular?”

“He’s a vocal opponent of the vast majority of Osea’s foreign policies on the grounds of ‘foreign imperialism’ akin to that he claims resulted in the destruction of his homeland in the Belkan War—he’s called for the withdrawal of the Ostföderation from all major international commitments and developing an isolationist policy, with minimal relations with the rest of Elysia beyond trade and national defense.  On Gra Valkas, however, he expresses curiosity in our cultural similarities and might be open to furthering ties with us.”

“A potential ally if we choose to continue our current plans of conquest,” Dallas abruptly remarked.  “What are his chances of winning the elections?”

“Slim, at best,” Ciella flatly replied, her eyes narrowing in suspicion at her subordinate’s intentions.  “He’s had prior ties to the Grey Men that instigated the last major conflict Osea’s had to deal with in the past decade, which seems to have significantly tarnished his reputation despite his attempts to repudiate such prior relationships—his positions aren’t exactly shared by the vast majority of the Ostföderation , either, who all seem to favour a less extreme approach to their current situation in Elysia.  Personally, I don’t see the usefulness of tailoring our nation’s foreign policy to assume he becomes the next President…”

Saying nothing in response, Dallas leaned back on his seat and continued to brood.  Pulling out another file from the folder of documents in his possession, Gesta continued with the briefing.

“Next, we have Senator John Armstrong of the current ruling party, who’s proposed a significantly more aggressive approach to the outgoing government’s foreign policy: expansion of the IUN to the First and Second Civilisation Area, increasing investment in Osean business ventures throughout Elysia to spread their goods and technologies, and an increased military presence of Osean forces throughout Elysia.  Interestingly enough, the Senator appears to be part of an opposing faction within the the current party compared to the likes of President Bartlett and Ambassador Harling—while the two individuals and their supporters are more moderate in their approach to demonstrating the capabilities of the Ostföderation to Elysia, it appears that the Senator’s backers appear more intent on directly pursuing the interests of Osea before its partners.”

Ciella and Dallas shot each other an uneasy glance.  An Osean government less recipient to their offers of friendship and more hostile to their political ambitions could prove to be a problem in the long run, rendering their efforts to improve relations with the wider Elysia moot and maybe even directly intervening in their campaigns within the Mu continent and beyond.  Could there be a way to establish a rapport with the candidate before Gra Valkas found itself potentially isolated in a conflict against the Annorials—or the rest of Elysia as a whole?

“How popular is he with the electorate?”

Glancing at Cabal, Gesta sighed.  “As part of the ruling party, he seems to share a considerable amount of support—although a sizable portion seems to be more there out of loyalty to the President and Ambassador Harling than out of agreement for the current candidate’s positions.  That said, it also appears that as many people seem to support his positions, based on our intel.”

The Prince frowned.  “Even the ruling party has its own subfactions?  How would they be able to rule effectively if they can’t even agree amongst themselves about the future of their nation?”

“With all due respect, Your Highness, our own government has its individual factions with differing ideas for the future of Gra Valkas, and yet we have survived over countless centuries—would it be impossible to assume that the Ostföderation has something similar?”

“The Doves exist mainly to provide an official recognition of opposing ideologies and opinions to the official government’s policies—with all due respect to those Senators, Director—and to provide a valid alternative to any major decision made by the Emperor, but hardly as a direct and openly blatant form of resistance against the will of the Imperial government.  To have a coalition in the Senate that could potentially reverse our nation’s policies against our guidance and consent…”

“Osea runs under a different form of government compared to ours, and it would therefore stand that while we share similar values, their priorities amongst these values are significantly different,” Ciella carefully noted.  “The Oseans would probably assume the same about our own nation, Your Highness.”

Glumly nodding, Prince Cabal conceded the point.  “Perhaps that would be the case, Director.”

“Last but not least, this is Senator Aadarshini Kumari, a member of the main opposition party but a vocal critic of the current government’s foreign and internal policies—her views on the Osean Federation’s role in Elysian affairs are mainly those of skepticism, with the acknowledgment of the supposed importance of the International United Nations but calling for a greater role on the part of Mu, the Milishials, and their other counterparts in maintaining the newly established status quo.  On the subject of diplomatic relations with our nation, she is rather ambivalent: she’s previously condemned our campaign in Leifor like the other candidates, but the Senator appears to be somewhat more reluctant in directly resorting to a military confrontation with a superpower like Gra Valkas if Osea itself is not at risk.”

Gesta paused, briefly turning to glance at his colleagues—Dallas had carefully schooled his expression to reveal nothing about his thoughts (the young and arrogant subordinate had probably recognised the wisdom of keeping his thoughts on a female President to himself for once, considering the presence of his immediate superior), while Prince Cabal appeared visibly thoughtful about the possibility of an individual of the opposite gender becoming on par in political might as his father.

Ciella, on the other hand, was staring at the projected image of Senator Kumari with what could only be described as barely concealed awe.  It was hardly a secret that an individual like her in such a high position of government was very much  considered an anomaly within the overwhelmingly male-dominated Gra Valkan society (a fact that Gesta himself had constantly reminded Ciella of throughout her career, the diplomat mused)—if the Empire were to learn that a woman was to become the ruler of a nation arguably more than equal in power with themselves, the implications for their nation and their own values would no doubt be profound and far-reaching…

“She refuses to see the wisdom in deploying Osea’s military?” Prince Cabal frowned, leaning on the table as he spoke.  “Even for such a pacifistic-leaning nation such as the Ostföderation , surely she would recognise the threat that the Annorials would pose for her nation…”

“It would also mean that Osea would be significantly less likely to intervene in our upcoming campaigns in Mu and the Conshal Islands,” Gesta countered.  “If we were to isolate them from the rest of Elysia, we would be able to consolidate our position in the Second Civilization Area in the event of a conflict with the IUN or as a starting point for other campaigns—“

“Unless the Milishials or Muans would be able to convince the Oseans to join the conflict by other means,” Ciella abruptly cut in.  “And considering the threat that the Annorials pose, surely antagonizing the one nation that’s already willing to work with us to defend ourselves against them isn’t exactly the most optimal course of action?”

“Such matters would have to be deliberated upon by my father and advisors,” Prince Cabal replied.  “Therefore, the onus lies upon us to provide the benefits and consequences of either confronting the Oseans for their current actions against our Empire or retaliating against the Annorials for their willful slaughter of our sailors in the Branchel Continent.  Director Gesta, what would our Empire serve to gain from either option?”

Pausing to think, Gesta quickly ran through all possible future scenarios in his head before responding.  “That would depend on who succeeds the current administration—if the next government shares similar goals in regards to international affairs in Elysia, then our current attempts at establishing a diplomatic accord with Osea would likely bear fruit and merit temporarily postponing our plans of conquest for the immediate future.  Otherwise, if the next government is either more hostile to Gra Valkas or ambivalent about our actions in Mu and the Conshal Islands, our approach will have to change to consolidating our position in Elysia, isolating the Ostföderation from the rest of the world through diplomacy and conquest, or simply pushing to modernise our armed forces for what will undoubtedly be an inevitable conflict with Oured.  Regardless of whoever becomes the new president of Osea, I can conclude our analysis with this: fighting either the Oseans or Annorials at this stage would be disastrous; fighting both would, much as it galls me to admit, Your Highness, likely result in the complete annihilation of our Empire.”  

“Then we must either pursue peace with Osea or gather as much information about their technological capabilities to improve ourselves before this window of opportunity disappears,” Prince Cabal concluded.  “My father will not be happy with this decision, but he will no doubt see the wisdom of your recommendations, Director.”

“Don’t we have any other means of persuading the Oseans?  Diplomatic or economic leverage, or some kind of additional goodwill from rescuing Ambassador Harling in Eshirant?”

Gesta frowned at Ciella’s query.  “As it is, we’ve already expended our political capital from the Eshirant Incident with persuading the Oseans to send the Belkans to Ragna—any more, and we would need to begin offering more concessions to avoid seeming overly demanding.  If we could convince the current and succeeding governments of the merits of supporting us, there is a possibility that we might be able to further consolidate our position in Elysia.”

“The Oseans themselves are already aware that the Annorials are actively seeking to inflict the same losses on their own forces as they have already done to ours—if we could use that context as an angle to suggest further military cooperation, perhaps we might be able to pursue a closer relationship?”  Prince Cabal leaned back, looking at the diplomats for guidance.

“Not without a clear cause and a critical event that clearly demonstrates to both the Osean government and the people that vote for them that having us as allies would be mutually beneficial—that, or a concentrated effort from our nation to change their impressions of us.”

“What, by aborting our plans of conquest?” Dallas scoffed, his voice incredulous at the thought.  “You’d have better luck asking the Imperial Senate to prostrate themselves before the Divine King of Kain!”

Cabal suddenly sat up in realisation.  “Perhaps I might be able to help with that particular quandary, Director.”

Confused, Gesta blinked.  “With Kain?”

“No, with our public image in Osea!  As the Crown Prince and the highest ranking individual in the Empire bar my father himself, my activities are not as constrained as that of the position of Emperor—I could, with my father’s blessing and the assistance of our Propaganda Department, advocate for the friendship of Gra Valkas within the Ostföderation by showcasing our strengths and potential as fellow superpower.  We’d come across as less of the power-hungry conquerors that the Milishials and Muans would paint ourselves and more of an impressionable colleague deserving of the respect and dignity of a fellow nation—which would go a long way in improving your department’s efforts in getting more concessions from the Osean government…”

Gesta paused, stroking his chin in thought.  “It’s a possible option—but one that we will need to confer with your father and the rest of the Imperial government first before agreeing to anything, Your Highness.”

“Returning to the original subject,” Ciella added, “what are the chances of the Senator becoming successful in her campaign?”

For a brief moment, Gesta felt the urge to scoff at the thought—Dallas himself held no such compunctions, earning him a glare from Cabal and Ciella.  The Director glanced down at the documents, mentally reminding himself of the cultural and social differences between Gra Valkas and Osea—part of him wondered how much of the Ostföderation would spread to Ragna beyond the mere planes and weapons of the next generation.  Would Gra Valkan ideals and values change Osea, or would Osea also change Gra Valkas in return?

For the briefest of moments, Gesta imagined with some vague amusement the sight of Senator Marix verbally sparring with Senator Kumari herself—another hundred thousand women like Ciella, he mused, and the Empire might actually be able to stand a chance against the entirety of Elysia.  Perhaps in a decade’s time…

From the corner of the room, Dallas continued to fume.

Selatapura, Osean Federation — January 15, 2020

Seated outside a cafe within Selatapura’s business district, Harling looked up from his paper as a familiar figure approached.

“You asked to have a chat with me?”

“Ah, Senator Aadarshini.  Have a seat, will you?”

Taking the opposite chair, Kumari took a close look at arguably the most powerful figure in Osea over the past two decades—the silver-haired and neatly-dressed ambassador had a warm and inviting expression perfected over years of careful diplomacy and politics, yet somehow the Senator felt that the conversation soon to follow wouldn’t exactly be a mere case of small talk.

“It was a rather compelling argument you made in that article in GAZE last week; I was actually curious if you would be interested in further expanding upon the points you made.”

Kumari frowned.  “Is this a political debate or some kind of censure?  Somehow, I feel that there might be a better use of my time right now than merely a verbal exchange of views, Vincent.”

Shrugging, Harling conceded the point.  “Very well, if you want a more economical use of this meeting, how about this: you ask me any questions about what’s happening in Bright Hill, regardless of topic, and I ask you any questions about your views.  Everyone comes out of this conversation with something, and no bad blood exists between anyone.”

Taking a moment to process Harling’s offer, the Senator decided to play the Ambassador’s game.  “Alright, I’ll bite.  I’ll start: what exactly are we doing letting the Gra Valkans roam around in Osea?  I know we need some sense of diplomatic relationship with Ragna before we accidentally start a war, and maybe letting them know about the Annorials sacking their fleet was important, but letting them visit Gründer Industries?”

“Standard trips to analyse our culture and technological capabilities is important for Gra Valkas to develop a basic understanding of what they’re going up against,” Harling candidly replied.  “I can’t specifically outline the reasoning behind letting Gründer meeting up with their Elysian counterparts without disclosing classified information, but we agreed to such an event in return for certain concessions and in acknowledgment of…an incident that took place during the war with Parpaldia involving their people.”

Aadarshini paused—Gra Valkan involvement in the Philadean conflict was something she had definitely never heard before, and undoubtedly something that warranted further investigation later on.  “Is that something that I’ll need to worry about in Bright Hill?”

“Not particularly; we’ve already dealt with the immediate impact of that encounter, and the consequences of the conversation we had with the Gra Valkas about the incident are already playing out as we speak, as you’ve no doubt noticed.”

“Aren’t you worried about Ragna potentially using our own technologies against us?  We know all too well about what Gründer’s capable of, and it’s hardly going to look good for Osea if we suddenly find ourselves fighting sixth-generation aircraft in less than a decade’s time,” the Senator mused.

“Oh, believe me—the OIA’s been hard at work to make sure that any knowledge they obtain about our planes and weapons doesn’t get translated into immediate advancements in the near future.  From what I’m aware, their estimates of Gra Valkas’s current R&D capabilities suggest that they won’t be able to advance any further than Fifties aircraft and prototype ICBMs before the decade ends; the gap between Oured and Ragna will remain significant even with Belkan support, and that’s not taking into consideration our own advancements.”

“But wouldn’t it be better for our national security to simply let the Gra Valkans figure all that out on their own?  Their supposed claims of peaceful coexistence aside, the Empire still has a rather imperialistic reputation when it comes to its affairs with the rest of Elysia—aren’t we just hobbling ourselves in the long run, either way?”

“It’s damned if we do, damned if we don’t, Senator—if they’re going to figure out the intricacies of modern warfare at some point either way, why not earn a few favours from them in the process?  Peaceful coexistence is still our primary aim, regardless of the motivations of our partners—and there’s always the IUN in case things do go south.”

“If you say so.” 

“But enough about me—how do you propose reconciling our values of coexistence with those of the Milishials and Muans?  Parpaldia and Milishial don’t exactly interact with Elysia with the same rules, but we’d be foolish to believe that they don’t necessarily operate with the same values when the Ravernal Empire isn’t the main concern.”

Kumari took a deep breath, processing her thoughts to form a cohesive response.  “The Milishials believe themselves to be the premier civilization of Elysia with their extensive mastery of magic—while you and Bartlett aren’t exactly as blatant as the Elves when it comes to showcasing Osea’s capabilities, our actions throughout the Lighthouse Conference definitely comes across as seeking to supplant their position, regardless of your original intents and purposes.  All the mess that making ourselves the de facto world authority in Elysia is going to bring aside, how exactly are you expecting the Milishials to not take offense to that?”

Leaning back on his seat, Vincent nodded thoughtfully.  “The Milishials base their political power through their mastery of magic and Ravernal technology, which is still very much prevalent throughout Elysia—apart from the Muans, there is no other power within the New World that could arguably match the Milishials through non-magical means.  Elysia is bound to learn and perhaps adopt some of our own values and beliefs to fully integrate our nation to the wider community, and the Milishials will have to learn to share the stage with us if they want to maintain their position, regardless of what they think about us.”

“Or else be faced with a Cold War akin to that with Yuktobania, no doubt.”

“But you haven’t really answered my question, Senator—what exactly do you propose that Osea does to integrate the values of the Elysians to our own goals?  At some point, we are going to have to decide whether or not one particular approach to dealing with the known world is the truly effective solution—and pre-industrial mercantilism and the imposition of Milishial or Muan cultural hegemony doesn’t exactly come across as something Osea and the wider Elysian world would wholeheartedly support.”

The Senator pondered the question, considering Harling’s words and her own experiences in the Old World and in Elysia.  “It would undoubtedly be twofold—our continued existence in Elysia will no doubt cause us to adopt some of the values and beliefs of the Elysians and integrate parts of their societies and cultures into our own, while Osean cultures and values will in turn spread across Elysia as time goes on.  Rather than directly forcing such changes and needlessly antagonising our counterparts by attempting to solve all the problems of the world, why not just let the process happen naturally?  Let the Milishials and Gra Valkans of the future recognise us for who we are through our own interactions rather than through our own stunts—for lack of a better term—and let them decide for themselves whether or not to join Osea in its own goals and ambitions.”

“And what if we find another nation like Parpaldia who refuses to recognise the truth in front of them?  What if we could preemptively stop them from fighting us by having them perceive us on our own terms and encourage cooler heads to prevail?”

“Can we guarantee that such a solution’s even going to work?  The only people of power in Parpaldia that truly ‘perceived us on our own terms’ were Director Kaios and the Governors of the Eastern Territories—and it took your kidnapping and an outright war to enable them to do anything about their country’s situation!  And what’s stopping our own people from taking advantage of that approach to abuse the goodwill we’ve built with the rest of Eysia in the process?”

Harling paused, visibly struck by the final question.  “And you believe that my administration isn’t above such antics?”

“I’m sorry, Vincent, but I’m going to have to be blunt here—your achievements in world peace aside, the government you and Bartlett have been running since the noughties—to say nothing about your predecessors before Belka and Ulysses—hasn’t exactly been the smoothest!  I could count on my hand the number of scandals and controversies your policies caused for both Osea and Usea, and that’s not even taking into account the sheer damage the Grey Men did after they infiltrated Oured.  Maybe you are genuine about your beliefs as everyone says, but you and your people’s way of achieving those dreams hasn’t exactly been the most ideal for everyone else over the past few years.”

“And yet despite everything, we’re still very much here and successful in our aims.  Isn’t that a testament to what both Bartlett and I have accomplished and managed to overcome?”

Kumari raised an eyebrow.  “You do realise the papers call Bartlett’s administration ‘Harling’s Third Term’, right?”

“The papers call me and Bartlett a lot of things, Senator—hardly the worst thing we’ve both been called in our respective careers.”

“The luxury of not having to run for the highest office ever again yet continuing to have a key role in its affairs, I presume.”

“As compared to the luxury of having the youthful energy and enthusiasm to make a lasting mark that has yet to take place.  I think we can both agree to disagree on that regard, Senator.”

Aadarshini sighed, seeing no further point in pursuing that particular argument.  “So what exactly do you want from me now that we’ve had this conversation, Harling?  Some kind of apology for standing against you?  A boost to your ego by arguing with someone younger than you?  An offer to rule the world, side by side as master and apprentice?”

The ambassador snorted despite himself, finding amusement in the Senator’s remarks even as a vague corner of his mind came to a conclusion about the woman seated in front of him.  “What, like Galaxia IV ?  I might be hanging around longer than I should, but I certainly hope I don’t come across as like that all the time…no, I was actually curious to see as to whether your views were truly the same as those you’ve expressed in the past—and, perhaps, a tad bit different than what Armstrong has to offer.”

Suspicion growing, Harling’s guest glanced at him as her eyes narrowed, not quite sure what to expect.  “So…basic pointers for John when the debates begin?”

“Not really.  How about my unconditional backing and endorsement—and that of Bartlett—in the upcoming elections?”

Aardarshini froze.  “What.”

“Indeed.”

“Harling…I…”

Vincent grinned.  “Go on.”

“You’d…I’d…Harling, what the hell are you thinking?!  You’d be sacrificing your and Bartlett’s political careers by throwing your support to me!  Your party…they’ve supported your and Jack’s presidencies all these years, and you’re just going to ignore all of that for someone whose political views differ significantly from yours?!”

Harling simply smiled, leaning back in self-assurance.  “You’d be surprised, Kumari.  Remember Appelrouth?”

“I…your former Vice President?  The warmonger who got imprisoned for treason?”

“Him being picked for the role was a power-sharing agreement between myself and his supporters in return for the nomination—we didn’t agree on a lot of things, and after I went AWOL during the Circum-Pacific War, Appelrouth took the opportunity to take over the job and run things how he and his wing of the party wanted it.  Needless to say, things more or less went to hell for them once I came back.”

“I…damn…” 

Kumari sat back, thinking back to the confusion that surrounded the unexpected end of the Circum-Pacific War over a decade back—to see Yuktobanian and Osean troops as a young adult suddenly change from killing each other to standing down and working to cease hostilities throughout the world, with entire swathes of politicians and military officers across the Pacific either dismissed or outright purged from power, was disturbing in its sheer unexpectedness to say the least.  The exact details of what had gone down in Bright Hill once Harling and Nikanor returned were still very much unclear or heavily redacted, but the fallout of what had turned out to be Belkan extremists taking advantage of long-dormant vices within the true Osean and Yuktobanian governments had no doubt been acrimonious and bloody in every sense.

“Before the Belkan War, it was my party that was an active advocate and participant in many of the more politically questionable maneuvers that gave the Osean Federation its unsavoury reputation in our own world—the entire mess in Usea before Ulysses hit: coup d’etats, rebellions, Scarface Squadron destroying Fortress Intolerance and forcing us to rely on Stonehenge?  That was the work of Appelrouth’s old man back when he was still the Secretary of State.  The whole Great Lakes incident that caused the War?  That was also my party.  The aftermath of the whole nuclear disaster along our borders might have temporarily changed the ways of the Nationals, but it’s surprisingly took only a few decades for us to begin to forget the hard lessons we learned—and quite a few minds seem to think that the message of world peace could serve as a veneer for pursuing our old exploits.  Much as I hate to admit it, you may be right in some of your remarks: the power that we wield must be used to ensure a lasting peace throughout the New World and shared by all Elysians for generations to come, not another era of reckless militarism like what led up to the Belkan War.”

Processing Harling’s words, Kumari came to a sudden realization. “The Arsenal Birds…were they…?”

The ambassador simply smiled.  “What do you think?”

“My God…the Eruseans were right…”

“The Arsenal Birds were designed as a defensive measure against potential threats to the Lighthouse, but it wasn’t exactly a secret prior to the Transference that many individuals within our government and military were keen on utilizing them to consolidate Osea’s position within the Usean continent.  Some of them are still in office, now that I think about it—if you’re successful in winning the presidency, you might actually have the pleasure of meeting a few of them once you take office.  Or displeasure, depending on which way you see it.”

“I…exactly how much power did you actually have as President?”

“Not enough to stop some more extreme views from prevailing in certain arguments, but not too little that every terrible policy idea became law regardless of my lack of consent.  It’s politics in a nutshell, Senator—you won’t be able to please everyone, and you won’t be able to get what you want.  You work with what you’re given, and take things from there until you reach the outcome that you desire—wrapped up in a present that everyone can say that they contributed to and benefited from.  It’s a tight rope to balance, but the reward is very much worth the effort.”

Sighing, Kumari reached for her coffee and emptied its contents with no small amount of discomfort, Harling’s words still swirling through her mind.  “Ambassador…I…”

“You don’t need to say yes right now, Senator; go and think about it if you’d like some time to consider our offer.  Bartlett’s just as aware of this conversation as I am, so feel free to pay him a visit as well if you want his opinion on the matter.”

Even as the implications of Harling’s offer continued to sink in, there was one small matter that quickly came to mind.  The Senator slowly turned to face the Ambassador, a mixture of curiosity and wariness in her voice: “All right.  I get that you don’t exactly agree with what your party’s nominee is going for, and that maybe our points of view aren’t exactly as different as we would seem to believe.  But what do you , yourself, get out of all this?”

Harling frowned.  “Me?”

“Yes, you?  Say that I do agree to accept your support and win the election with both my Reformists and your faction’s backing—what do you personally end up winning as a result?  Some kind of government position in the next administration?  An honor, maybe some kind of medal for services rendered to the Osean Federation?  Political say in nominating appointees for the next administration, maybe some kind of ruling coalition for your faction or party?”

The Ambassador nodded thoughtfully, glancing towards the Lighthouse in the distance.  “My personal ambitions for the future of Osea and my own ego getting sated, what else?”

“Your ego?”

“Something in less brusque terms, but it’s something along the lines of that particular sentiment.  Have you ever read the Starship books?”

Kumari frowned.  “Herbert? The one where a surviving province of the Union becomes the successor state of a new Order?”

“The Union survives because of the actions of not just the first individual that sees the cracks on the surface of what seems to be an impervious nation, but the countless people that all serve to lead the Homeland through the many crises that follow.  The future of Osea lies not just through the actions of the likes of Bartlett and me, but through the accomplishments and challenges that our successors will likely face—not just in our own world, but in Elysia and beyond.”

“So that’s what you see yourself?  The forebearer of a new age of prosperity for Osea?  And you want me to continue your legacy?”

“It’s not nearly as egotistical as we would both make it seem, Senator.  Look at the Lighthouse—ignore the conflicts, the controversy, the Arsenal Birds, every piece of political drama that went towards the construction of that monument, just for a moment, and take a look at it on its own terms.  What is it?”

Turning around to face the Space Elevator, Kumari paused and looked at the structure—her thoughts went towards the rocket launches, the rush of optimism that the concept of interplanetary exploration had brought before their world for the first time since Ulysses and the Arkbird itself, the premonition that the mythological utopia promised by centuries of leaders and minds might just be witnessed in a few years’ time—

The Senator’s eyes widened.  “It’s…it’s our future, isn’t it?”

For the very first time, Harling gave a smile that seemed genuine and pure—not the kind that one gives merely to acknowledge a person’s presence or to greet an individual long expected, but one that finally has another perceive an idea in its purest form—vulnerable yet open, emotional yet joyful, aged yet innocent in its appearance.

“ That is our future, Kumari.  Not one where we’re merely stuck with politics and figuring out how to survive until the next election, or one where we have to quarrel and feud with every neighbour for power and influence and self-interest, but a future where our concerns are merely towards exploring the infinite possibilities of our universe together—not just as a group of nations, but as one world united towards a single goal.  The stars are now finally within our reach; a goal that our ancestors could have only dreamed of—Elysia now stands in their shoes, and for the very first time in our history it sees that there is another way forward.”

Kumari nodded understandingly, not quite sharing the aged man’s sentiments—she of all people knew that there was still so much left to do—but seeing his ambitions on his own terms for the first time.  “We’re almost there, aren’t we?”

“We’re nearly there.  Maybe I won’t live long enough to see it myself, but maybe your generation—or even the generation that follows—could live long enough to see it.  It all comes down to what choices we choose to make—and as you’ve said yourself, we still have a long way to go, don’t we?”

Bright Hill, Oured, Osean Federation — January 25, 2020

It required a considerable amount of internal effort for President Bartlett to not sigh in frustration as Edwards and his staff walked into the meeting room once again, yet another briefing of significance to be held regarding the countless issues Osea and its partners now found itself dealing with in the aftermath of their chaotic introduction to Elysia.  With the Lighthouse Conference having firmly and unquestionably established Osea’s new position to the entire New World as the premier superpower, Bright Hill quickly found itself flooded with envoys and diplomats from countless nations seeking diplomatic ties and membership in the rapidly expanding International United Nations—Jack had lost count of how many hands he and Harling had shook in the past month, and even General-Secretary Kanata had mused that even the old Hall that the Assembly of Nations had since moved back into might not even fit all of the incoming new delegates in the following years.  

For a brief moment, Bartlett’s thoughts turned away from Edwards’s presentation and towards simpler times—on his old Wild Weasel, teaching young nuggets the basics of air combat over the skies of Sand Island, with Pops watching from below and ready to lend a hand…

“Mr. President…Mr. President, are you listening?  Jack?”

Shaking himself out of his stupor, the President glanced back at the Vice Chairman; Edwards was staring at him with an expression that could only be described as vague concern.  “I…sorry, my mind went somewhere else.  Communication lines, I believe we were discussing?”

“Yes, Mr. President; as you know, the Milishial and Muan governments both expressed an interest for the establishment of a direct line of communication between our nations, to allow the rapid facilitation of information with our existing networks.  The idea’s also been floated by General Resource as a means of accelerating modernization efforts in Grameus and Philades as part of the postwar effort, but we still have to assess the risks at hand.”

Bartlett frowned.  “The Annorials?”

“And the Ravernals, too, Mr. President—a significant portion of our communications networks from our IFF identification system to the Internet itself currently relies on both the Lighthouse and the satellites that we’ve deployed in orbit above Elysia, but both the Ravernal orbital weapons currently dormant alongside the possibility of Annorial rocket launches pose the risk of disabling these in the event of an armed conflict.  We’d be looking at another potential DarkStar Incident, or worse: a Kessler Syndrome event.”

“Hang on, I think I’ve heard of this before from the aftermath of the Ulysses Disaster—wasn’t this where all the orbital  debris from that asteroid blocked all spacecraft from leaving our atmosphere?”

“Err, something along those lines; the current worst-case scenario envisioned by our analysts is a situation where a Ravernal device in orbit creates enough debris to trigger a chain reaction where all satellites at the same altitude are destroyed—apart from the Lighthouse itself, which could also potentially be at risk, our ability to use outer space for long-range communications and orbital weaponry would be significantly impeded if not outright negated for the foreseeable future.”

“Shit…what about undersea cables?  Surely Annorial and Ravernal weaponry won’t pose a risk of damaging or disabling those, too?”

Edwards shook his head.  “We already have plans to arrange for cable lines between Osea and the Grameus and Rodenius continents, but we still know next to nothing about what’s inside the Pacific Ocean itself; sea monsters aside, we’re also still in the process of surveying the seafloor to find possible fault lines and signs of life.  Even if we don’t find some kind of underwater civilization like the Navy boys seem to be expecting, the actual process of finding an optimal route and laying down the cables could take years—and that’s not taking into consideration the risk of Annorial and Ravernal interference undoing our work in a matter of hours.”

“What if we deploy some of our fleets to Topa and Calamique to intercept future Annorial missions to Grameus?  Don’t we also have the Lighthouse Division to intercept Ravernal spacecraft as well, as the DarkStar sortie demonstrated?”

“Well, those do exist as preliminary defensive measures, but we’re also looking to invest in a potential fallback option in case those fail or we end up facing more simultaneous Ravernal and Annorial operations than anticipated.  We have our Singularities, but they’ll likely only be in the IUN for a finite amount of time as per the terms of their military contracts—and they are only individual people, after all.”

The President sighed, frustration building up from within once again.  “Fair point.  So if radar and satellite communications can be disabled or jammed and ground-based communication lines cut off, what else is there?  Some kind of magic-based technology from the Milishials?  Or something else entirely?”

“Actually…”

Edwards glanced pointedly at Clements, who shifted uncomfortably in his seat.  “Would you care to explain to the President the… interesting proposal that we received today?”

“I’m not too familiar with the concept myself, sir—”

“Which would explain why an idea of this magnitude did not reach my attention, no doubt.  Now, would you care to further elaborate before the President?”

“It’s a highly experimental communications method being developed by both General Resource and Gründer Industries—the details are a bit beyond my field of expertise, Mr. President, but both companies are advertising the technology as a kind of successor to the Internet itself.”

Bartlett frowned.  “A successor to the Internet?  That’s a very bold claim, even for those firms—how exactly do they plan to pull that off, considering how ubiquitous our current system currently is?”

Sighing, the Vice Chairman reached for a nearby document, skimming through the contents with a skeptical eye.  “The idea is currently in the theoretical and preliminary testing stage, but there’s a few scientific papers and proposals already circulating in the public domain; I think Gründer might have actually sent us a request for additional funding to continue their research a few months back, but it’s still been circulating within the Department of Defense—specifically the Brigadier-General’s office—ever since.”

Shaking his head as he chose to ignore the ineptitude of his subordinate for the time being, Jack glanced back at Edwards.  “Continue.”

“Here’s how I understand it: the Internet, as you no doubt know, is a system connecting all the individual computer networks throughout the known world.  All the individual components of that system—data centres, internet forums, websites, digital communications, online businesses, you name it—rely on physical infrastructure such as cables or satellites to transmit information between these networks.  Which brings us to the current problem: if the Ravernals cause a Kessler syndrome event or launch a direct attack on our surface-based infrastructure, we could see entire regions of Osea cut off from each other with no direct means of communication or coordinating a defense against a potential invasion.”

“And the proposed solution is…”

“The scientific community refers to the core principle of the proposed system as quantum entanglement: imagine two particles that share a unique property regardless of where they are or how far apart they are from each other.  Now, when we directly observe a single particle in the quantum scale, it will either be observed in one particular state or another—when we observe a pair of entangled particles, one particle will manifest in one state while the other will always manifest in the direct opposite state.  Get a series of pairs of entangled particles and label each opposing states as ones and zeroes—“

Bartlett’s eyes widened.  “My god, that’s basic binary!”

“Exactly, Mr. President.  Regardless of whether each half is in another continent or another planet, a message transmitted in binary will always manifest as an inverted version, allowing the transfer of information without satellites or physical cables in a matter of seconds.  As long as a stable supply of entangled particles is available on both ends of the network, we could potentially have a backup version of the Internet that is completely immune to all attempts at disruption, Annorial or otherwise—and the implications of this technology go beyond military communications, too.  We’re talking about faster-than-light communications—any photographs, videos, or any other form of digital media of any size or scale could be transmitted with the right amount of particles without any deterioration from end to end, at any distance from Oured to Selatapura to Ragna or even the very next star system in less than a minute.”

“Holy shit…this could easily revolutionize our very society if the technology works as advertised…”

The President collapsed onto his seat, the implications of the next generation of technology sinking in.  To think that such an unambitious system that he had once known from his time in the Belkan War as the ARPANET would have transformed into such a widespread component of everyday life in Osea and the wider world was astonishing—and now to realise that that very same system was now on the very brink of taking a leap of faith into the realm of science fiction itself…

“We’ll need to see if we can dedicate more funding to Gründer and General Resource for this proposed program, Clements.  Make the necessary arrangements to have the relevant departments make their case before the Joint Chiefs of Staff—if this is as important as it seems to be, we’re going to need it when the Annorials make their next move or the Ravernals actually return as the Milishials suspect.  Do we have a name for this system?”

Clements frowned, peering down at the document once again.  “The official term used by both Gründer and General Resource is Data Swallow 3.0, in line with the ongoing line of Internet operating systems, but there’s another term circulating within the scientific community that appears to be increasingly more commonly used—“

“Which is?”

“—they call it the ‘Electrosphere’, apparently.”

Gründer Industries, Sudentor, Osean Federation — January 15, 2020

The lobby of Gründer Industries was dominated by a singular FALKEN aircraft in the center of the vast room, the most technologically advanced fighter in the history of Elysia used as an open display of the Belkans’ craftsmanship in the field of air combat.  Prince Cabal and Researcher Naguano were met with a gush of air-conditioned wind upon their faces as the glass doors before them gracefully slid open, revealing the austere grandeur of the premier military company behind the military successes of the Osean Federation itself.

Escorted by a neatly dressed female secretary, Cabal and Naguano gawked in open awe at the futuristic facilities surrounding them—rumors had always existed throughout the Empire of the mysterious Divine Wrath Complex, but both men had a sneaking suspicion that the technophilic Belkans were likely miles ahead of whatever even the craziest geniuses under Gra Lux’s employ were currently concocting.  Already they could see different groups of scientists in each room they passed developing or discussing projects and concepts of a clearly advanced nature, just barely outside of their understanding: one department appeared to be testing a robotic humanoid’s motor movements, while another group were in a heated discussion about what appeared to be a complex diagram of magical particles.  Most interestingly, an entire room appeared to be filled with engineers piecing together individual components of what Naguano quickly recognised as a jet engine—with luck, perhaps Gra Valkas might just be able to acquire the schematics for such technology in due time…

Entering an office situated on the corner of a prominent building at the center of Gründer’s headquarters, a silver-haired man in a white labcoat stood behind a desk, his hand extended in greeting.  “Willkommen, Eure Hoheit.”

Cabal’s eyes widened.  “You speak Gra Valkan?!”

“Regretfully, no—just Belkan,” the researcher replied, “although our scientists have been rather curious over the countless etymological similarities between our two languages.  It’s something we’d be curious to discuss further with your nation—Director Hermann Schroeder, at your service.”

Shaking Schroeder’s hand, Cabal and Naguano’s eyes panned towards the window behind the researcher, encompassing the entire corner of the office: beyond the complex to a field in the distance, a tall crane-like structure stood beside a gigantic towering device not like the Angriefer rockets depicted within Gra Valkan propaganda reels—yet this one visibly dwarfed even the mighty buildings of Gründer Industries or even the Divine Wrath Complex.  Was this another project that the Belkans and their Osean patrons were working on?

Seeing the direction of his guests’ glances, the Director nodded understandingly.  “That’s an ongoing project being carried out by the Ostföderation and all of its various military companies under its patronage—a satellite network to reestablish its nationwide communications systems after the Transference that sent us here.  Most, if not all, of our spacecraft were left behind, and it’s been no small task to replace each and every component in the past few months.”

“Actually, I believe that is one of the topics that we would be interested in discussing with you,” Cabal replied, quickly recalling the instructions Gesta and Ciella had given him earlier.  “The Gra Valkas Empire is aware of the technological capabilities of the Ostföderation from the skies to outer space, and we were curious as to the possibility of our nation developing similar technologies in the future with your people’s expertise.”

“Indeed,” Schroeder noted.  “I was informed by the Osean President of the arranged information exchange, and that Gründer might be able to provide our services in aid of your own nation’s defense.  May I ask what specific technologies you might have in mind?”

The conversation went on for several hours, Naguano taking the lead with his own understanding of Belkan technology as Cabal listened carefully to his subordinate’s queries and Schroeder’s explanations, the latter providing several materials prepared beforehand as references for the Empire’s scientists and engineers to look over back home.  In the span of nearly a full day, the core ideas of technologies already in the works back home were completely fleshed out to the point that Naguano was fairly certain that the knowledge gained would already accelerate the development of Gra Valkas’s already advanced military by years—already, the researcher was internally burning with anticipation for sharing his findings with his colleagues in Ragna and beyond.  The Prince, on the other hand, quickly found himself frequently lost by the increasingly esoteric topics Naguano and Schroeder discussed, yet persevered nonetheless—the future Emperor had a vague notion that a lot of the terminologies and concepts being brought up would become a lot more familiar to the Empire as a whole as time went on; no harm in developing a basic understanding of the futuristic wonders employed by the Oseans with near-ease, he figured.

Naguano beamed.  “This is—this is amazing!  We might just actually have a chance of standing on equal terms with the Oseans in a matter of years with your support—”

Schroeder unexpectedly shook his head, clearly disagreeing with his counterpart’s claims.  “Much as I would be inclined to agree with you under conventional logic, technology is, regretfully, only one of two specific aspects to take into consideration when assessing the capabilities of the Ostföderation , Your Highness.  Have I mentioned to you the Singularity Phenomenon?”

Prince Cabal and Naguano shared a confused glance.  “The ‘Singularity Phenomenon’?”

“It’s a recent theory being developed by our researchers based on the outcomes of the past conflicts of the twenty-five years—in almost every single major invasion of a sovereign state or action against a military alliance, conventional wisdom would dictate that the side with the most powerful and sizable military assets would likely emerge as the victor.  Even without our arsenal of superweapons into consideration, would you agree that this would appear to be the case for the campaigns of the Gra Valkas Empire?”

Cabal nodded, remembering the Empire’s glorious conquests of Yggdra before the fateful Transference itself.  “Our Invasion Fleets and the Grade Alastar are symbols of our nation’s might—and the sheer size and presence of even a single fleet in our world and here in Elysia would usually be more than enough to force most if not all of our foes to capitulate, Doctor.”

“Such would have appeared to be the case in our own world as well, Your Highness—however, in almost every single conflict since the end of the Belkan War, or possibly even before that pivotal conflict, the outcome has been something completely different: in spite of the significant resources that any major military power wields, a singular pilot emerges that single-handedly eliminates these resources and brings the aggressors not only to heel but to the brink of total defeat.” 

Schroeder gestured to a file on his desk, where several photographs had been attached with paperclips—five Osean fighters of varying classifications and vivid emblems and colors were displayed, all in the skies and with the smoking wreckage of their fallen foes in the background.  Naguano quickly committed the individual planes to memory, recognising the importance of these individual pilots even as the Belkan director continued his explanation.

“Scarface One, the Ribbon Fighter, the Razgriz, Garuda One, the Demon Lord of the Round Table himself—we’ve come to refer to these individuals as Singularities: pilots who defy all conventional wisdom of war yet are responsible for snatching victory from the jaws of defeat.  Nothing has even been capable of stopping them—aces, air superiority squadrons, AA defenses, prototype superplanes, or even the confines of tunnels and underground facilities alike have failed to even put a single scratch on them or their aircrafts.”

The Prince paused.  “Osea has one of these Singularities?”

“Osea has three Singularities, Your Highness—possibly even four, if the Demon Lord himself ever resurfaces—and all of them are under the active employment of the IUN.  The fleets and ships of both Osea and Gra Valkas are mighty and powerful beyond compare, but from our estimates, not even their combined destructive power holds a candle to the sheer magnitude of what even one of them is capable of achieving.  More powerful superweapons than even the Arsenal Birds themselves have fallen victim to the Singularities—what chance would a battleship such as the Grade Alastar have against one of them?”

Naguano paled, horror dawning upon him. “A single DarkStar flew over Ragna.  If that was a Singularity piloting that aircraft—“

“Then it was a warning from the Oseans themselves, sirs.  The fact that the fighter wasn’t tasked with single-handedly destroying Ragna’s defenses is a sign that the Ostföderation still values its relationship with Gra Valkas—but they will no doubt retaliate to any perceived threat from the Empire, with no hesitation on seeking total annihilation if the situation calls for it.”

Cabal collapsed on his seat, the sheer disparity between Gra Valkas and Osea once again weighing down on him.  “Ymir, how exactly are we going to be able to defend ourselves against these people?  We can’t even protect our own ships from the Annorials, and now this?!  Diplomacy seems to be the only way forward, yet our people will no doubt call for war in the near future—Director, surely even an advanced company such as Gründer would have thought of some kind of countermeasure against these pilots?”

The Belkan scientist shook his head, passing a file to the Prince.  “It’s a quandary that even our brightest minds have yet to fully understand, Your Highness.  However, we have been working on a solution since roughly around the same time that the Singularities first appeared—it’s almost as old as the Falkens themselves, but we’ve continued developing them over the past twenty-five years…”

Glancing at the document in Cabal’s hands, Naguano frowned.  “The ‘Zone of Endless’?  What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“It’s an program that seeks to create an artificial intelligence capable of using data collected from the best pilots in service to improve and modify its own abilities to control and manipulate—apologies, let me simplify it as much as possible: we are seeking to replicate the full capabilities of a Singularity into a singular binary program, capable of being equipped onto anything from a singular fighter to an entire nation’s air force as the ultimate national defense.” 

The Gra Valkan technician gasped.  “A mathematical program that can operate a plane with the skill of Osea’s best pilots?  With the right plane, this could…”

“It would be unbeatable by all known masters of the skies—no one, not the Milishais or Annorials or even the Oseans themselves would be able to stand a chance.  The program at this stage is twofold: with development of the Zone of Endless as close as ever to completion, even with the setbacks caused by the Transference, we are now in the process of seeking or developing an aircraft that could potentially be the ideal vessel for the ultimate intelligence—a Singularity more lethal and devastating than even the greatest pilots of our time.”

“How…” Cabal searched for words, curiosity piquing his interest even as he recognised a hidden intent within Schroeder’s words.  “Where exactly does Gra Valkas fall into this?  Somehow, I feel that even information as sensitive as this wouldn’t exactly be freely divulged to foreigners such as ourselves, Doctor.”

“It isn’t,” Schroeder flatly admitted.  “In fact, it’s a direct violation of existing Osean laws regarding Gründer Industries—if word comes out of my actions, I would very likely face severe legal repercussions and be charged with high treason, to say nothing of the diplomatic storm that would result from implicating the highest members of Gra Valkas’s Imperial government in our actions.”

Naguano paled. “Blackmail?!”

“If you presume to implicate us in one of your business’s schemes, you find yourself greatly mistaken and a poor judge of our abilities,” Cabal replied, anger tangible in his voice as he glared down at the Belkan researcher.  “Osea has made us very much aware of your company’s shenanigans, Director—“

“On the contrary, I would hope that the severity of our actions would underscore the nature of our request to your Emperor.  Should you refuse, Gründer will make no further mention of this offer and comply with the limitations imposed upon us—unless you would be willing to consider what we have to say before anything else?”

Naguano looked with uncertainty at Cabal, seeking guidance.  This conversation had unexpectedly entered rather dangerous territory—one wrong move could easily jeopardise Gra Valkas’s efforts in building rapport with Osea, to say nothing of the Prince’s long-term prospects as the future Emperor.  But there was clearly something within this vague zone of uncertainty that Schroeder was implying that Gra Vakas could stand to gain from, and the Empire’s ultimate endgame, after all, was its complete dominance over the known world, Elysian or otherwise…

Narrowing his eyes in suspicion, Cabal pointedly stared at Schroeder.  “Choose your words more carefully, Director.”

The Belkan nodded.  “As you are no doubt aware, Gründer’s reputation has significantly soured within the Ostföderation as a result of my predecessors’ actions—our funding has been significantly slashed in spite of our critical contributions to Osea’s technology over the past decade, and many of our superiors have long since either moved to other firms, retired, or have been subject to legal scrutiny for suspected links to the Grey Men.  Under normal circumstances, you would have been meeting with Gründer Industries’s president or chief executive officer—however, the position has remained vacant ever since the Circum-Pacific War and all attempts at filling that title ceased with the Transference over a year ago.  As it is, I am currently operating as Gründer’s de facto leader alongside my duties as a researcher, and my responsibility is ensuring the continued operation of this company—what little remains of it.”

Naguano frowned.  “With all due respect, our tour of the premises prior to this conversation doesn’t exactly appear to suggest your company would be in any major risk of being shut down.  And besides, what exactly does Gra Valkas have to gain from your plight?”

“You’d be surprised, Researcher Naguano.  These are examples of all the different projects we have in development that are at risk—technologies that could potentially bring Elysia forward in the next few decades the same way that our original inventions brought nations like Osea from your technological level to where it stands in the present day.  These could easily revolutionise the way of life for a nation like Gra Valkas and allow it to stand toe-to-toe with its Osean counterpart—or they could be easily left to the wayside and abandoned with our dissolution, never to see the light of day or to change the lives of countless millions with their very presence.  That is, unless you would be willing to support our cause.”

“The reinstatement of South Belka as a sovereign nation?  You would ask us to support your people in an insurrection against the Oseans, as your predecessors might have done?”

Schroeder shook his head.  “The true Holy Land is a universe away, and what remains lies permanently scarred from the nuclear fires of the Belkan War—there is nothing left for us here but memories and shadows, where we are but fading remnants of a foe shunned by the very same people who seek our knowledge.”  Turning to look at an old map of the Osean continent, the scientist’s expression became visibly nostalgic.  

“Gründer Industries is not just a manufacturing company, Your Highness: it is the final legacy of the Belkan Federation, a technological superpower that was once poised, just as Gra Valkas is now, to become the dominant power of our world.  It is all that remains of our original identity as a proud nation of respect and honour, but that identity may soon disappear in a matter of time if we remain in Osea—our homeland is gone, and our people desire to found a new one in the New World with the blessing of the Gra Valkas Empire.”

Cabal frowned.  “You mean…?”

“If your nation would be willing to host us and our operations, as well as our people, you would have our profound gratitude…and our unquestionable support in any future conflict.”  

The two Gra Valkans’ eyes widened in shock at the implications of Schroeder’s offer.  All of Gründer’s technologies, all of its weapons, all of its expertise—all at the hands of the Gra Valkas Empire with the completion of its ongoing technological advancements…

Cabal glanced at Naguano, who nodded in unconditional support.  If the Oseans were to find out about this offer, the consequences would undoubtedly be severe and deleterious for relations between themselves and Gra Valkas—yet this was a chance to secure a potential lead against the Oseans and Ravernals themselves in a matter of decades, if Ragna would be willing to support the Belkans in such an effort…

“We will have to bring this offer to my father and his advisors, Director.  However, I believe that he will see that this opportunity may prove in time to be the key behind the survival of Gra Valkas…”

The prince shot Schroeder a final glare, a clear warning of consequences should Gra Valkas befall the same fate as the former co-conspirators of the Ostföderation ’s most infamous company.

“But understand this: if your words are false or your intentions misleading, then the consequences will undoubtedly be severe!”

Eshirant, Parpaldia — February 15, 2020

“The soldiers!  They’re returning!”

News had quickly spread throughout Eshirant of the impending arrival of the Parpaldian soldiers captured in Altaras—in a year filled with defeat and humiliation, to hear of the safe return of the very same men whose incarceration had marked the beginning of such a destructive war with Osea was met with disbelief and joy.  Crowds surged to the harbour as a flotilla of Osean, Muan, and Altaran ships sailed to port, thousands of people waving at the bedraggled but no less relieved soldiers aboard.

From the main deck of the Puffin, Bafram and Sius watched the cheering Parpaldians onshore as the former helped the latter up from his wheelchair.  The General had declined Osean prosthetics to replace his legs, choosing instead their less maintenance-heavy Muan equivalents at the cost of reduced mobility—it was still no small effort to relearn the most basic of movements as the two made their way to the side of the ship, seeing the devastation across Eshirant with their own eyes.

“So much lost…so much to fix…”

Bafram shrugged (as much as he could without accidentally shaking Sius), seeing the first few boats dock and their passengers being promptly swarmed with Parpaldians reuniting with their loved ones.  “We could have lost much more, General.  We might not have been here in the first place, if things had gone differently.”

“Do you think we made the right choice that day?  Surrendering to save our men, only for all this to happen?”

“I think this war was bound to happen at some point, Sius—we were just unlucky enough to be the ones to start it.  Maybe deciding to fight them wasn’t the best choice to make, but it’s not like we were wise enough to realise that, were we?”

Sius shook his head.  “No use worrying about now, I guess—let’s leave that to the future to figure that out…”

Jurong Pier, Selatapura, Osean Federation — January 30, 2020

Emperor Ludius and Remille stared upwards at the Lighthouse with no small amount of shock as their barge sailed into harbour, the two having come to Selatapura on the final day of the Conference to observe the proceedings (and for the now-former Auditor to turn herself to Osean custody as per the terms of the final Agreement).  To see the Lighthouse itself in person after hearing so much about the fabled tower to the distant skies was an astonishing experience—and no small reminder of the humbling defeat that Parpaldia had experienced in the brief but disastrous war of the past few months…

With a final kiss on her forehead, Ludius gave his final farewell to Remille.  “Will you be alright?”

The diplomat glanced towards the pier, where Ambassadors Harling and Clarkson (and a sizeable contingent of IUN officials and peacekeepers) were waiting for them; beside the two Oseans was Director Kaios, whose expression was understandably grim considering the circumstances.  “The Oseans have given their word—no harm will come to us, even though I will likely never set foot on Eshirant again.  Ludius, I…”

“Don’t worry, Remille!  We’ve already done all that we could to ensure Parpaldia survives the struggles that lie ahead—we just need to make sure that you survive long enough until Kaios and I can arrange for your release.”

The former Auditor smiled weakly, her face betraying the slightest hint of fear and resignation to her fate.  “You didn’t have to…you and Kaios are going to have to fix the mistakes that I made…all the people we lost as a result of the choices we took instead of working to—”

“We didn’t know—we refused to believe that we could be bested in our own world,” Ludius replied, embracing Remille as he did so.  “We will learn, and we will change as the world already has—and maybe we’ll get to where we always wanted to be one way or another.  Just know that I’ll be waiting in Eshirant, preparing Parpaldia for what’s to come.”

As the barge came to a halt and their retinue prepared to disembark, Remille parted from the embrace, taking one last look at the Emperor of Parpaldia as he smiled back.  It would undoubtedly be a long time before the two ever reunited, she realised.

“Go, my beloved.  Return to me someday with our future in hand.”

Seeing both the Parpaldian Emperor and his supposed mistress for the first time since the incident at Eshirant, Harling frowned.  “Strange, that’s the first time I’ve seen Remille dressed like that.  Clarkson, remind me again what that outfit is supposed to represent in Parpaldian customs?”

“That regalia is normally reserved for members of the Imperial Family, from what I remember,” Clarkson replied with no small amount of suspicion.  “Director Kaios, did Ludius do something while we were finalising the Conference?”

“Not from what I’ve been informed, Ambassadors—wait a minute—”  Kaios paused, his expression turning into that of shock and horror.  “No, that can’t be…did he actually—”

A page stepped forward from the boat, interrupting their hushed conversation.  “Ambassadors of the Osean Federation!  I present to you, Emperor of the Parpaldia Empire and Protector of the Third Civilization Area, Ludius XVI, and his consort, Empress of the Parpaldia Empire and Head of the First Department of Foreign Affairs, Remille Allard!”

Aboard the barge, Remille smiled at the three men as her hands moved to her stomach, almost as if instinctively feeling something shift inside.

Eyes widening in realisation, Clarkson froze.  “Vincent, she’s—“

Harling’s face paled.

Osean Broadcasting Corporation, Oured, Osean Federation — January 31, 2020 

In a special announcement from Bright Hill, President Bartlett confirmed that he has officially authorized the Osean Intelligence Agency to formally declassify all military documents related to the Circum-Pacific War, fulfilling a pledge made by his predecessor in the aftermath of the conflict that he and Yuktobanian Prime Minister Seryozha Viktrovich Nikanor played a pivotal role in ending.

Initial reports on the declassified documents have confirmed the long-rumoured link between the disavowed Wardog Squadron, originally believed to have been shot down in a failed escape attempt after being apprehended for suspected espionage, and the legendary Razgriz Squadron famously responsible for rescuing both President Harling and Prime Minister Nikanor and subsequently bringing the Circum-Pacific War to an end.  Rumours of a organisation referred to by intelligence organisation throughout our Old World as the “Grey Men” have also been formally confirmed for the first time by these documents, which will likely draw further attention to the suspected ties between the Grey Men and presidential candidate Governor Mikhael Bronte, who has previously dismissed such claims as “anti-Belkan discriminatory propaganda”.

Sources from within Bright Hill have suggested that a potential exoneration and rehabilitation of Wardog Squadron may be in the works pending a formal investigation; we are still in the process of investigating the whereabouts of all members of the squadron, but an anonymous source has confirmed that several members are believed to be still within the OADF under different positions.  Ambassador Harling refused to comment when approached by OBC reporters, replying that an official joint statement would be made by himself and President Bartlett in the next few days.

With a firm timeline officially established for the eventual withdrawal of Osean forces from the former territories of the Parpaldia Empire and the signing of the Lighthouse Peace Accords, Ambassador Vincent Harling announced the end of hostilities between Osea and Parpaldia in an official announcement in Selatapura, calling for all sides to work together to begin rebuilding the continent of Philades.  While tensions remain high between Parpaldia and its former vassals and colonies and joint efforts by Osea, Parpaldia, and the Holy Milishial Empire to relocate the disabled Ravernal aircraft in Eshirant continue, delegates from both the now-concluded Lighthouse Peace Conference and the Assembly of Nations remain confident that the Accords will provide a framework for the reestablishment of more equal and prosperous ties between the different nations involved in the peacekeeping operation.

In other news, protests in Parpaldia continue as its citizens call for the immediate release of Empress Remile and her unborn child on humanitarian grounds.  The newlywed consort to Emperor Ludius of the former Empire revealed her pregnancy at the conclusion of the Lighthouse Peace Conference shortly before her incarceration for numerous violations of international law during the tenure of the prewar Imperial government—the formal wedding between the Emperor and his Consort took place shortly before her departure to Selatapura, and was publicly announced a day before her arrival.

Several Senators have voiced concerns over the safety of the former Auditor and the de jure heir to the Imperial Crown, but delegates within the Assembly of Nations have insisted that the Empress remain imprisoned for her crimes for the full duration of her sentence regardless of the current medical circumstances.  President Bartlett assured reporters and observers in an official statement that the Empress’s treatment and that of her unborn child would be well within the standards laid out by international law—

“All fighters, deploy at once!  This is not a drill!  You’ll be briefed on what’s happening in the air—we are receiving reports that Selatapura and the Lighthouse itself  is under attack!  I repeat, Selatapura and the Lighthouse are under attack!”

“What the hell?!  What kind of—what the fuck’s happening?!  How the fuck did they get past the Arsenal Birds?!”

“We’ve got unconfirmed reports of a nuclear explosion over the Western districts and hostile fighters engaging our UAVs around the Space Elevator—shit, we’ve also got bogeys inbound towards Tampines Air Base itself!”

“All right, all fighters are to get in the air at once!  Launch, damnit, launch!”

Chapter Text

“You look at Harling’s Mirror—the Lighthouse itself—and you perceive it as either a threat or an offer of peace.  What does choosing one or the other say about you?”

Tampines Airport, Selatapura, Osean Federation — February 5, 2020

“My god,” Brownie gasped, “are you seeing this?  There’s an entire mushroom cloud rising from near the Central District!”

“It’s visible from miles on end, Mage Two,” Sky Keeper replied, his voice visibly shaken even as he continued to direct the Lighthouse Division to the runway.  “We don’t have any reports yet about what’s happening downtown, but it’s probably not good.  Launch as soon as you can before the enemy comes back!”

“Damn it…if we had actually managed to get our squadrons properly reorganised before all this happened, we wouldn’t even be in this situation!”

“No use worrying about it now,” Wiseman sternly interrupted, glancing up at the skies where AA fire continued to arc towards the yet-unseen fighters.  “Just get in formation once you’ve taken off and start engaging anything you see!”

With the Lighthouse Division pulling in several squadrons from the conventional IUN forces, a massive overhaul of the current lineup of pilots was deemed necessary in order to prepare for integrating and modernising non-Osean air units to the task force.  Mage Squadron in particular was marked down for further expansion, its unusually skilled rookie responsible for the OADF’s most significant successes in Elysia quickly promoted to flight lead and his former superior reassigned to training Elysian recruits to add to their numbers—yet these changes would likely take weeks if not months to fully develop, resulting in a significantly understaffed team of planes and pilots setting off to face the unknown enemy flying above them.

“Take off in groups—Mage One and Two will go first, followed by Strider and Cyclops Squadrons.  You’re cleared to engage as soon as you get into the air; clear out the airspace around this part of the AO so the rest of our fighters can deploy as well!”

Two Raptors swiftly took to the skies, their radar systems immediately picking up a handful of unknown heat signatures on an intercept approach—

“Enemy fighters inbound!  Mage Two, on the defensive!”

“Copy, Mage Two!  Mage One, protect your wingman and eliminate those birds as soon as you can!”

Trigger and Brownie hastily manoeuvred aside, narrowly avoiding a mid-air collision with the hostile fighters as they soared past—the latter quickly glanced back to get a glimpse at their opponents, eyes widening in recognition as she did so.

“Su-27s!  Sky Keeper, be advised, we have positive visual IDs on the enemy contacts—they look like Yuktobanian fighters!”

“Mage Two, say again— Yuktobanian fighters?”

“Let’s not jump to assumptions, Mage Two,” Wiseman hastily cut in.  “We have planes that are visibly identical to Yuktobanian Su-27s and Su-37s, but their patterns and emblems don’t match any Yuke designs I’m familiar with—”

“We’ll figure out the details later, Cyclops One,” Sky Keeper replied, quickly opting for immediate action over needless speculation.  “All callsigns, shoot down the enemy fighters before they cause any more damage!”

Even as the countless Oseans and Elysians continued scrambling to the shelters within the adjacent International Airport, many civilians caught in the crossfire began to look up in wonder as the Lighthouse Division began to dogfight with the unknown hostile aircraft.  White contrails from missiles and black smoke from falling planes criss-crossed and dotted the sky as the Osean pilots unexpectedly found themselves relearning nearly-forgotten feats of aerial combat from the Old World, their foes giving as good as they got and even threatening to gain the upper hand at times—yet one singular Raptor remained supreme, its three-lined wings scoring kill after kill in a matter of minutes.

Trigger swept back as the enemy fighters scrambled to reorganise, their pilots clearly recognising the current situation no longer being in their favour and moving to counter the Osean reinforcements with whatever magical weapons were in their arsenal.  From their undersides, a plethora of missiles and masses of magic-based energy (not unlike those he struggled against at Gim not too long ago, Trigger realized) launched towards his aircraft, forcing him into a defensive stance even as a salvo of AAMs from his own weapons bay swiftly returned the favour.  A stream of countermeasures drew the attention of several incoming munitions, resulting in a vivid and chaotic display of colours as magic and science clashed in colorful disunity—the Raptor similarly spun and wove through the madness, slicing through several fireballs and smoke before sweeping around and marking its targets in a matter of seconds.

“Mage One, Fox Three!”

Eight AAMs swiftly found their marks, all scoring direct hits on the hostile fighters—in one fell swoop, the entire surprise attack and their reinforcements were wiped out.  Trigger looked back as the other fighters in the Lighthouse Division moved into formation behind him, their attention already focused towards the ominous explosions surrounding the Space Elevator itself in the distance.

“All callsigns,” Sky Keeper announced, “HQ has been able to piece together what’s been happening all over Selatapura.  The briefing is as follows, so listen carefully—”

At approximately 1600 hours, a detonation of what we believe to be a low-yield core magic device took place near the River Valley District—estimates are still vague as to how many casualties were within the blast radius of the explosion, but are expected to be within the thousands.  Immediately after the explosion, several radar outposts along the coastline detected over three dozen unknown air contacts headed towards Selatapura, prompting the Arsenal Bird Justice to begin immediately deploying its UAVs to protect the Lighthouse itself.  These birds have since been marked as hostile and are now actively engaging Osean defenses as well as Gra Valkan aerial and naval units currently stationed at Pasir Panjang, but urgently require backup in order to successfully fend off the enemy.  

Their motivations are unknown, but their intention of dealing damage to the Osean Federation is clear: you must shoot them down at all costs before any more of our people are hurt!

There are three main areas of operation within the AO, which must first be dealt with before anything else.  First, we must intercept the remaining aircraft attempting to strafe Tampines Airport to allow our manned air units to take off without interference.  Second, we must eliminate the air units around the Lighthouse in order to establish air superiority over central Selatapura—once this is achieved, the Arsenal Birds and their drone fleets can consolidate their numbers and establish an immediate defensive network around the Space Elevator and its surrounding assets.  Third, we must relieve the Gra Valkan fleets currently at port to allow their ships to set off and assist us in the final objective—locating the origin point of these enemy units within the Pacific Ocean.

Expedience is essential, but be wary—this is the first modern air combat mission that the Osean Federation has had to encounter since the Transference, and we have no idea as to what our unknown enemies are capable of throwing at us—

A blinding flash enveloped the Lighthouse itself in light, its massive base disappearing in a violent eruption of fire as a shockwave rippled across Selatapura, shattering windows and rattling buildings for dozens of kilometres.  Wiseman and Brownie both winced and glanced away from the blinding explosion as the pilots in the air struggled to maintain control of their aircraft—in the distance, Trigger’s Raptor rode through the blast with comparative ease, already soaring towards the scene of devastation.

“Sky Keeper, what the hell was that?!  Did the Space Elevator just get nuked?!”

“Affirmative, Mage Two—I’m attempting to contact our forces on the ground to see what’s happening!  Whatever it is that’s going on, it’s not over yet—continue with the mission and eliminate the remaining enemy birds before another nuclear attack goes off!”

Wiseman nodded to himself.  “Copy, Sky Keeper!  Trigger, wait for us!”

“Get the civilians into the underground tunnels!  We still have enemy fighters in the skies, and they might fire another nuke into the Lighthouse!”

Groggily rising back to his feet as the heat from the nuclear detonation above him began to slowly dissipate, Basilisk Two began stumbling towards the nearest entrance to the Space Elevator, gesturing at the other surviving IUN peacekeepers and civilians to follow him.  Across the island that the Lighthouse rested upon, other survivors did likewise—with most of the nearby AA defenses out of action and reinforcements still en route, all that the Osean defenders could do at this point was take cover and hope that the foundations of the Elevator itself could take the brunt of the attack.

“Basilisk Actual, do you copy?  Does anyone hear me on this frequency?”

Static greeted his query.  Cursing to himself, the man shove his radio back into his pocket.

“Damn EMPs…”

“Hey, there’s an enemy fighter above us!  It’s coming back for another shot at the Lighthouse!”

Basilisk Two whirled around, his eyes bulging in horror as he saw what distinctly resembled a Yuktobanian Sukhoi with a strange device about to detach from its underside.  “Shit, they’re going to nuke us again!  Everyone, get inside now!”

“My leg!  I can’t run, someone help me!”

“Get a Stinger and shoot that thing down!  We still haven’t cleared the area of civilians!”

“The electronics for all our weapons got fried!  We don’t have anything to stop that thing!”

“Get down!  Find something for cover before that—”

The Su-37 unexpectedly exploded, its flaming wreckage tumbling down from the skies before crashing harmlessly into the side of the Lighthouse itself—behind it, a Raptor with three strikes on its wings swept across and began firing at the downed fighter’s wingmen, four UAVs trailing not too far behind.  

“They’re here!  Thank God, the Air Force is here!”

Even as cheers erupted from the crowds around the Lighthouse, Basilisk Two kept his eyes out for  what he suspected had been the WMD from the enemy fighter’s payload.  Yet as a few moments passed, the soldier quickly realised that he had neither seen the device itself nor had been vaporised—he had the sneaking suspicion that the device wouldn’t be any more of a problem (let alone his problem) for the foreseeable future.

“Alright, let’s get everyone back inside the Lighthouse!  Move the civilians to the underground entrance—we’ll get the transports to take them out of here!”

“Well done, Mage One,” Sky Keeper proudly remarked to the young pilot, “I think we might have just stopped a third explosion in the nick of time.  Deal with the remaining fighters, and then go join Strider and Cyclops Teams over at Pasir Panjang—the Gra Valkans still need our support, even with the Arsenal Bird fleet already here.”

“Sky Keeper,” Brownie observed, “I’m seeing a couple more fighters coming in from our south in the radar—I know Trigger’s more than capable of dealing with them on our own, but we’re going to need more help if we’re going to prevent the enemy from nuking the Space Elevator.  Is there anyone we can ask for help?”

“That’s a negative, Mage Two.  Our Arsenal Bird fleets aside, other air units are still over fifteen minutes out.  This engagement could easily be over by then—wait, hang on.  I’ve been informed by HQ…wait, really?  Huh, impressive.”

From her cockpit, Brownie gave her flight lead a quick look of confusion.  Trigger shrugged back as Sky Keeper’s voice returned to the radio.

“HQ is transferring command of eight UAVs from the Arsenal Bird fleet to you and Trigger, Mage Two.  The software for controlling their actions from your console should already be installed—and it should help with your relatively low numbers.”

“Take four each,” Wiseman quickly calculated, “and you both should have the equivalent of a full squadron per pilot.  Not the best of situations, to be relying on UAVs, but it’s better than nothing at this point.”

“ETA of enemy fighters is thirty seconds,” Sky Keeper warned.  “Get your wingmen in order and get ready to fight!”

Eight MQ-101s seamlessly maneuvered to Trigger and Brownie’s flanks, quickly adopting the combat styles of their respective commanders—the latter had her UAVs form a defensive perimeter around her Raptor, shielding her from direct attacks by the enemy, while the former had his subordinates push ruthlessly forward to engage the enemy.  A ferocious salvo of missiles erupted from the two impromptu squadrons, soaring towards the approaching fighters at breakneck speed.

“Mage One, Fox Three!  Mage Two, Fox Two!”

Explosions dotted the skies of Selatapura as magic and science clashed in a desperate battle for victory—the thousands of people below watched in a perverse mixture of wonder and horror as weapons and device of means both known and unknown, with fallen UAVs and oddly familiar mechanical beasts of the sky descending to the ground and causing yet more death and destruction.  Yet even as they watched, the would-be invaders were slowly pushed back by the rapidly-growing swarm of reinforcements from the Arsenal Birds themselves and their fiery payload—and from the distance, their dominating forms could already be seen rapidly approaching with alarming speed.

On the ground, an MNN news crew that was already in the process of preparing to return to Runepolis (with the Conference having concluded merely days before) had hastily reconstructed their equipment and were now broadcasting live to the rest of Elysia the shocking turn of events—from millions of screens both magical and otherwise, the world watched as Osea—seemingly the most powerful nation in the world next to the Milishials—was caught off guard by an unexpected foe yet gave as good as it got in the heavens above them.

“This is Alana Forlen of the Milishial News Network, reporting live from Selatapura in the Osean Federation!  Here, the city where delegates and world leaders of Elysia had met just a few days ago, now lies in ruins in the aftermath of a series of catastrophic core magic explosions—we have yet to receive any details about civilian casualties in the two blasts we just witnessed, but the numbers are expected to be high.  The situation is still developing as we speak, as the unknown faction responsible for this horrific catastrophe is still engaging Osean security forces in the skies above us—”

“Hey, it’s the Arsenal Bird!  Get the camera up at that thing!”

The sky abruptly shifted into a bright blue as the Liberty’s laser cut through an enemy fighter making a pass at the drone carrier itself—the beam of death angled upwards in close pursuit of the slain plane’s wingmen, who desperately scrambled to evade but were ultimately caught and vaporised in a matter of seconds.  Even as her jaw dropped in shock at the sight above her, Alana continuously gestured to her cameraman to keep his device trained at the superweapon itself—their footage would undoubtedly be useful for the Milishials in their efforts to replicate the Oseans’ technology.

“The Lighthouse Division, it would seem, has arrived—the Oseans have sent their premier task force to protect the Space Elevator from further damage, and they appear to have the upper hand!  The enemy fighters are retreating as we speak, but the Arsenal Birds themselves continue their advance—”

From a room in Runepolis, Emperor Milishial sat on his throne as he watched the situation unfold through his viewer, his advisors discussing the implications of the event in the background.  Hearing Minister Phiam approach him, the Emperor glanced expectantly at the official.

“We’ve got copies of the footage being produced and sent to our embassy in Selatapura as we speak, Your Excellency.  We also have several proposals as to how we can respond to this incident—pending your approval, of course.”

Milishial nodded.  “Very well.  Prepare to present your ideas once we can confirm that the ongoing attack on Osea has ended.”

Pasir Panjang, Selatapura, Osean Federation — February 5, 2020

For the second time in as many months, the Gra Valkan fleet sent to Selatapura found itself fighting for its survival as the Grade Alastar and its naval and aerial escorts shot at the countless fighters dotting the skies.   Confusion initially reigned amongst the sailors and diplomats as to whether the Oseans were responsible for the unexpected attack, but the two mushroom clouds emerging from the east quickly proved otherwise; having clued in to the realisation this was an unknown third party making its presence known, the Crown Prince and his retinue were hastily escorted deeper into the flagship while Antares fighters were deployed from the parked carriers to provide interference—it was still unknown as to whether a third nuclear strike could target the Gra Valkans themselves, but the fleet was in no hurry to find out.

Captain Svaun banked his plane as he frantically sought to avoid getting caught by the unusual fighter on his rear—his radio crackled with noise as his wingmen were forced to bail out or burst into flames as the technologically superior enemy continued to pick away at their numbers.  “Damn it, I can’t shake him!  Can’t someone on the ground take out this guy?!”

“Negative, the AA guns can’t move fast enough to take out the enemy planes at this speed!”

“Alpha Three, bailing out!  My plane’s dead—”

“Shit!  We should have gotten our own jet fighters ready before heading out of Ragna—then we’d at least have some kind of fighting chance!  Where the hell are those Oseans?!”

“Ask and you shall receive!  This is the Osean AWACS, callsign Sky Keeper—two fighter squadrons from the Lighthouse Division are inbound!  What’s the situation with the Gra Valkan fleet?”

Fleet Admiral Caesar’s voice broke through Svaun’s headphones as he frantically responded to the Osean directing the incoming reinforcements.  “Sky Keeper, this is Fleet Admiral Caesar of the Grade Alastar!  We need your fighters to establish air superiority so our ships can leave harbour—we have the Crown Prince and our diplomatic staff onboard, and we’re not sticking around long enough to get hit by a nuclear bomb like the Lighthouse!”

“Copy, Admiral!  Strider and Cyclops Squadrons, eliminate any plane in the sky that doesn’t have an Osean IFF or a propeller!  Check your shots—we have VIPs onboard the Gra Valkan flagship!”

Ten Eagles sliced through the battlefield like knives through butter, with Antares fighters scrambling to move aside as the supersonic jets unleashed their payload of missiles and lasers at their magical counterparts.  The effect was immediate—the enemy planes began to shift their focus away from the Gra Valkan vessels and planes and towards the newcomers, much to Svaun’s relief as his wingmen took the opportunity to see how many casualties they had taken.

“Ymir be praised, we’re alive!  Another few minutes, and we’d be all dead!”

“Sky Keeper, please extend my deepest thanks to your pilots—oh, and the Crown Prince and our diplomatic staff also would like to express their own gratitude as well.”

“I’ll relay your message to the Lighthouse Division. Oh, and HQ is requesting a communique with your officials onboard—their frequencies are being dispatched to you as I speak.”

“Affirmative, Sky Keeper; please notify your superiors that we’ll contact them in about five minutes once we’re able to assess the full extent of our casualties.”

“Roger.  Sky Keeper out.”

“Grade Alastar, I think that’s roughly two-thirds of us still in the air.  Everyone else…well, either they had to bail or they got shot down.”

“How many of the enemy fighters did we take down?”

“Out of the fifteen confirmed contacts…” Svaun sighed. “I’d be surprised if we even took out more than one, Admiral.”

“Damn it…alright.  All planes that are damaged or running low on ammo or fuel, land and resupply as soon as you can.  Everyone else, try and assist our Osean allies as much as you can—we cannot return to our homeland with nothing to show for our losses.”

Bright Hill, Oured, Osean Federation — February 5, 2020

President Bartlett strode into the emergency bunker beneath the Presidential Palace, his security team and military advisors not too far behind him as technicians and officers scrambled to their stations—with news of the ongoing attack at Selatapura having quickly reached Oured in a matter of minutes, all of Osea’s military defenses and assets were immediately mobilised and their highest-ranking officials hurriedly escorted to secure locations throughout the country.  It would still take another quarter of an hour before every squadron between Sudentor and Sand Island could be launched in the air and placed on standby—and yet for Bartlett and Edwards, the two knew all too well that even such a seemingly short delay could potentially prove fatal for Osea as a whole…

Reaching the command centre of the underground facility, Bartlett immediately glanced at the glowing holographic display detailing every single hotspot in Selatapura, wincing in horror as a second nuclear detonation appeared on the satellite feed at the very site of the Space Elevator itself.  Even Edwards, who had already been giving commands inside the bunker as the reports of the first explosion began to trickle in, paused as the astronauts and scientists on the very top of the Lighthouse continued to relay their current status.

“Edwards…the Elevator’s going to survive that explosion, right?”

The Vice Chairman sighed, turning back towards his own console.  “The Lighthouse was designed to take the full brunt of a Ulysses-sized asteroid, Mr. President.  If the Elevator can’t survive a nuclear attack, then…”

Nodding in acknowledgement, the President refocused his attention to the matter at hand.  “We’ll just have to keep our hopes up, then.  What assets do we have on standby to deal with the ongoing attack?”

“The Lighthouse Division is already on task with establishing air superiority and locating the source of the enemy fighters, but they’re still highly disorganised due to the ongoing restructuring of their forces.  UAVs from both Selatapura’s local National Guard and the Arsenal Bird Liberty are also holding their ground, but the Liberty itself won’t reach Ground Zero for another five minutes—”

“Sirs!”  Both men turned towards Clements, who was visibly disheveled from running across the underground facility even as he approached the two men. “We have confirmation from the Arkbird that they’ll be above Selatapura in about five minutes—the Gra Valkans have also contacted us to offer their services in repelling the ongoing attack in return for securing the safe extraction of the Crown Prince and Director Gesta.”

Bartlett glanced at the Vice Chairman, considering the proposition offered by their counterparts.  “Don’t they have the Grade Alastar and several destroyers docked at port?”

“The Gra Valkans could help us in locating and destroying whatever it is that’s launching the fighters at us,” Edwards mused.  “And at this point, any help we can get isn’t exactly something we should be simply ignoring—”

“With technology from the Second Osean War?  We’re potentially facing an enemy on par with the Yuktobanians prior to the Belkan War, and you want us to send the Gra Valkans with outdated vehicles and weapons?”

“If we’re fighting who I think we’re fighting, they’re going to have to face these people again at some point, Mr. President,” the General countered.  “The Gra Valkans intend to leave regardless of our actions to ensure the return of their diplomats to their homeland, and yet we know very little of what exactly we’re going up against—and by extension, what might be waiting for them once they leave our waters.  If anything else, they’ll be learning alongside us what exactly these folks have to throw at us, and we’ll end up earning some brownie points with their government in the process.”

“Wait, hang on a moment,” Bartlett interrupted as he raised his hands in the air.  “What exactly are we going up against?  We have enemy fighters, yet we haven’t seen any enemy carriers—naval or aerial—or refuelling vehicles on any of our conventional and magical sensors anywhere within the entirety of the Pacific Ocean—”

“We think it might be some kind of submarine carrier,” Clements replied.  “We still haven’t been able to reestablish our defensive measures against sea-based threats, especially with the presence of Elysian wildlife and potential Annorial sea monsters—we’re at a significant disadvantage on that front, and whoever attacked us could potentially be making use of that fact.”

“Damn it.  What options do we have, then?  Can we find this hypothetical carrier and eliminate it?” 

“Most of our available anti-submarine assets nearby are still in the process of being prepared for launch, but the Gra Valkans do possess the means to directly detect and combat these kinds of enemies—and they’re ready to go if you give the order, Mr. President.”

Seeing no point in needlessly delaying the inevitable, Bartlett decided to agree with Clements’ proposal.  “Alright, give the Gra Valkans the go-ahead to pursue the enemy submarine—order the Arkbird to provide support once they reach the area of operations, and ensure that the Lighthouse Division and the Arsenal Bird fleet provides sufficient air cover for whatever else these people might throw at us!”

As the last enemy fighter burst into flames, Trigger looked down towards Selatapura and the Lighthouse.  

Smoke still billowed from the devastation caused by the two nuclear detonations, but vessels from both the OMDF and the Gra Valkas fleet stationed nearby were already at work extinguishing the flames and searching for survivors.  A mixture of Antares fighters and UAVs dotted the skies as the impromptu coalition kept their eyes out for any more attempts at destroying the Space Elevator and its surrounding settlements, but a sense of victory had already begun to permeate amongst the countless pilots in the air—and Sky Keeper’s voice soon confirmed his suspicions.

“All callsigns, this is Sky Keeper.  The initial attack has ended, but HQ believes that the origin of the fighters that assaulted the Space Elevator is still within the AO—HQ and the Gra Valkan fleet have agreed to conduct a joint operation to eliminate this threat and allow all parties to return safely to their respective homes.  Stand by while we make the necessary arrangements for all available units in the mission area.”

With a great roar, the Grade Alastar’s engines thundered as the vast battleship sailed out of harbor—with the enemy fighters having been cleared out of the skies, the Gra Valkans’ naval fleet swiftly set out to strike back at the unknown foes that had threatened their hosts and establish a window for Prince Cabal and his diplomatic retinue to evacuate the scene.  Aboard the flagship, Fleet Admiral Caesar and Captain Luxtal remained in close communication with the arriving Osean forces as their planes flew in formation with the Lighthouse Division and the approaching UAVs.  

On the observation platform aboard the Grade Alastar, Gra Cabal glanced at the two mushroom clouds billowing from the Osean coastline once more, his face hardening as something within him came to a decision—a choice that would shape his actions as the Crown Prince and the future Emperor for decades to come.

“Your Highness?  I must ask you to join us in the safe room for the duration of the ongoing operation,” Gesta urged the Prince as he emerged from the adjacent bridge.  “We will likely be in the middle of combat, and it would be remiss of me not to follow your father’s orders to ensure your safety—”

“We still have so far to go, don’t we, Gesta?”

The Director was briefly confused before he turned towards what Cabal was looking at—the mushroom clouds over Selatapura had long since dissipated, but the countless fires around the Space Elevator and the destroyed areas of the city itself were a no less imposing sight.  Under different circumstances, it could have easily been Ragna itself to be set alight by the horrific power of the atom; without the Oseans, their desperate struggle for survival would have been for naught—and if even a mighty nation beyond their reach like Osea could bleed, what would such a blow do to Gra Valkas itself?

“I believe our mission in Elysia may soon change in light of the recent turn of events, Your Highness,” Gesta admitted.  “Conquest and domination may not be a viable course of action for the Empire until we can stand on our own strengths—so something like this may never happen to ourselves.”

“Something we will need to change, Director, and fast.”

15 kilometers south of Selatapura — February 5, 2020

“All callsigns, this is Sky Keeper, Airborne Warning and Control System for the IUN Lighthouse Division.  I’ll be relaying commands and updates between Osean and Gra Valkan forces on this net for the duration of the ongoing joint operation.”

From the cockpits of their Antares fighters, Svaun and his wingmen looked out with no small amount of curiosity at the Osean aircraft directing the battle—even with its near-futuristic means of propulsion and a gargantuan circular device atop that the Captain suspected was the plane’s radar equipment, the pilot could already imagine Gra Valkas’s engineers potentially kitbashing a rough equivalent with a Guti Maun and perhaps even supersized versions of the long-rumoured Orsen jet engines for propulsion.  Already he could see some opportunistic pilots grab photographs of the aircraft in question—no doubt such data would prove useful for the GVBI and whatever the Emperor’s engineers were cooking up for the future of the Empire’s military.

“The Grade Alastar’s escorts have secured the western and eastern ends of the enemy submarine’s suspected location, and OMDF ships are moving to block off its expected escape route.  Once the sonobuoys from our maritime patrol aircrafts have identified the exact location of the sub, the Arkbird will fire its orbital laser and force the vessel to resurface, where the Alastar and all air units will neutralise its defenses.  Bright Hill’s requested us to capture the submarine if possible, but will not object to its destruction if deemed necessary, got it?”

Svaun muttered to himself, “As if they’d surrender after all this…”

Beside his plane, his wingman chuckled.  “Five Reichsmarks says we get to shoot them?”

“Oh, definitely.  Ten says we sink the sub ourselves—how about that, Jon?”

“You’re on!”

Above the coalition’s air squadrons, five Osean cargo planes deployed a series of cylindrical objects into the ocean—their descent slowed by several parachutes opening in consecutive order, they splashed into the water before sinking below the surface.  Aboard the Grade Alastar, Fleet Admiral Caesar had quickly understood the Oseans’ intentions—the Antares fighters had been assigned to drawing fire away from their more technologically advanced partners, while their torpedo bombers were prepared to deploy their payloads on the enemy submarine carrier if it resurfaced.  As for the battleship and its remaining escorts, several depth charges were already prepared for immediate deployment should the Arkbird itself fail in its task of targeting the enemy vessel—not that anyone expected such an event to happen (or, if any of the Gra Valkans were being honest, wanted—why miss out on another opportunity to see the possible future of their Empire’s technology at work?).

From his cockpit, Svaun watched as a singular Osean fighter—a Raptor, as he had learned it was called—moved out of formation, its unmanned escorts swiftly shifting their movements in unison.  The Captain’s attention turned from the distinct three-line marking on its wings (apparently belonging to a notable pilot who had made a name for himself in the Parpaldia Incident) to the metallic constructs themselves—the fact that an entire machine of war ran almost entirely at its own accord with nothing more than an undoubtedly complex series of mathematical calculations that even the most skilled engineers of the Empire had only begun to crack was nothing short of astonishing, he thought.  What would that mean for pilots such as himself, once the Empire came around to replacing their vaunted skills with numbers and figures?

“Stand by, Mage One,” Sky Keeper announced, “we’re sending the transmission to you now…”

Oh, well, Svaun reckoned, it was probably best to leave such matters to the future, once their continued existence in the present was more or less guaranteed.  It was only a waiting game now while the Oseans searched for the supposed submarine that had plagued them and their guestsfor so long…

Caesar and Luxtal glanced at the display as the Osean and Gra Valkan sonobuoys continued to transmit their findings to Mage One, listening carefully for the telltale audio that would reveal the location of their prey.  The entire bridge had gone appropriately still , only the beeping of several consoles and the waves outside breaking the silence.

“There,” Luxtal spoke up, glancing towards the windows.  “Southwest, very faint, bearing 249.”

“Roger,” Sky Keeper acknowledged.  “Trigger, you’re getting close—move to the specified direction.”

Another ping.  Still faint, but distinctly louder than before.  “West-Southwest, 255.”

Caesar turned to the helmsman.  “Prepare to move accordingly for our depth charges.”

“They’re definitely making a beeline for the west…could they be…?”

“Not a good idea to make wonton speculation until we know for certain,” Caesar interjected.  “Direct west.  They’re close to your fighter, Sky Keeper.”

“Roger…roger…confirmed, we have a confirmed location of the enemy submarine!  Sky Keeper to Arkbird, you’re cleared to fire on the submarine at the following coordinates: one, five, eight, two—”

A new voice, beautiful and feminine yet sharp and authoritative, cut through the chatter on the radio.  Svaun and his fellow pilots glanced at the device in surprise (some more visibly transfixed than confused) as the unknown woman addressed the Oseans and Gra Valkans present.

“All callsigns, this is the Arkbird, callsign Edge.  Evacuate from the following coordinates—we’ll be firing our orbital laser at thirty percent power in fifteen seconds.”

“Say, who’s that woman in that spaceship?  Is she some kind of angel or something?”

“She’s one of the Demons of Razgriz,” an Osean pilot replied, himself audibly awestruck by her presence.  “One of the most beautiful women in the Osean Air Force and a veteran of the last war before we ended up here—and married, too.”

Jon swore.  “Damn, lucky guy.”

“Hey, from the heavens!  Something’s coming down from—”

A singular blue beam of light, more powerful than anything the Gra Valkans had witnessed before, struck the ocean with the force of an asteroid—the waters erupted into a massive geyser, showering the surrounding seas for hundreds of meters on every end.  The shockwave arrived only seconds afterwards, knocking sailors off their feet and sending loose objects in the Grade Alastar’s bridge flying—Caesar and Luxtal hurriedly helped each other up, immediately turning to gawk at the astonishing display of space warfare before them while Svaun and their pilots struggled to regain control of their aircraft.

“Scheiße, what the fuck was that?!”

Caesar whirled to see the Crown Prince emerging from the panic room in confusion, his eyes turning towards the column of water still descending from the not-too-distant skies.  “Your Highness?!  I must ask you to return to the lower decks until the enemy has been neutralised!  The situation is still precarious and we cannot have you at risk—”

“Nowhere on this ship is safe until our attackers have been destroyed, Admiral!  Better for me to assist your ship in our mutual survival than to do nothing below—”

“I must apologise, but your Father would look poorly upon me and my men if we cannot ensure your safety until our safe return to Ragna.  I insist, Your Highness—if we are struck again by a nuclear warhead or worse, the panic room will be your best chance at making out of the situation alive—”

A sailor rushed into the bridge, having clearly rushed all the way from the lookout post.  “Directly in front of us, sirs!  The enemy submarine is emerging to the surface!”

A large black object that nearly rivalled the Grade Alastar itself in sheer size rose from the waves where the explosion itself had taken place—smooth and curvilinear in sharp contrast to the industrial and mechanical appearance of the Gra Valkan ships in front of it

Above the fleet, Brownie gasped.  “My God…it’s just like the Yuktobanian submarine carriers!”

“That’s something straight out of the Circum-Pacific War, like the Scinfaxi,” Wiseman mused.  “Sky Keeper, do we have a plan on how we’re going to disable a vessel like that?”

“Stand by while HQ determines the weak points on that submarine—in the meantime, you’re cleared to engage anything that looks important or is actively firing on you and the Gra Valkans!”

“Pilots of the Empire,” Admiral Caesar announced on the radio, “you’re cleared to attack!  Protect our Prince and avenge our fallen men!  All ships: move hard to starboard and fire all batteries at that submarine!”

The Lighthouse Division was first to attack the submarine, a salvo of missiles from their aircraft and their UAV escorts scoring direct hits on several AA defenses; the batteries of the Grade Alastar and its fellow destroyers were next, their barrels thundering across the ocean as dozens of shells exploded on the vessel's surface or rocked the surrounding waters with fiery detonations.  Last but not least were the Antares fighters and Sirius dive bombers, the former swooping in to draw the attention of the remaining defenses while the latter climbed upwards before barrelling downwards in breakneck speed before releasing their payloads at the last second.

Wincing as a nearby plane exploded, having fallen victim to a flak round, Svaun gritted his teeth and bellowed out commands to his wingmen.  “Keep your heads down and your planes together!  Don’t let the submarine’s defenses get a bead on you!”

The skies around the submarine became dotted with explosions and fireballs as both sides took hits—yet even as the fighting continued, Luxtal quickly noticed several objects emerging from the enemy vessel: a pair of cylindrical objects resembling cannons rose from the otherwise featureless surface, while six circular openings also emerged along the sides.  “That submarine’s doing something—Sky Keeper, do you know what those things are?”

Looking at the features in question, Wiseman paled.  “Shit!  Sky Keeper, those are railguns and missile silos—they’re going to target the Gra Valkan fleet!”

Brownie gasped.  “Railgun technology?!  How the hell do the Elysians have railgun technology?!”

“All units,”  Sky Keeper frantically instructed the pilots, “take out the silos and railguns before they can threaten the Grade Alastar!  That ship won’t survive a direct hit from a projectile travelling at Mach 6!”

“Mach 6?” a random Gra Valkan pilot blurted out.  “Wait—six times the speed of sound?!  Are you kidding?!”

“Stop speculating, start shooting!”  Svaun angrily barked out.  “Our Crown Prince is onboard that ship—stop that thing before it kills him!”

Trigger and his escorts fired a maelstrom of missiles at the ship, but their abilities were greatly limited by the armaments they had equipped before taking off—with no air-to-ground weaponry beyond the standard missiles, only a single railgun and three silos were taken out by the Osean fighters.  A simultaneous wave of dive bombers either missed the vessel altogether or struck other parts rather than the weapons in question—in desperation, a singular battery aboard the Grade Alastar itself fired directly upon the final railgun, hoping against hope that they could prevent their destruction in time.  

The railgun disappeared in a series of explosions—thinking that they had saved their flagship, the Gra Valkans began to cheer—

“That thing’s damaged, but it’s still operational!  Ymir help us, it’s gonna fire—”

The entire front half of the Grade Alastar was shredded by the railgun round, with several batteries immediately exploding upon impact and the very hull itself ripped apart like foil as the supersonic projectile passed through the battleship at supersonic speeds.  For the briefest of moments, Svaun and his wingmen paled in horror, expecting the worst.

“Grade Alastar, this is Alpha One!  Do you copy?”

Silence.  The ship itself continued to move forward, a few batteries already firing back on their own accord in response to the slaughter of their comrades.

“Grade Alastar!  Your Highness, please respond!”

“All units,” Sky Keeper warned, “the remaining missile silos are launching their payloads.  These are burst missiles—designed to destroy all air units within an area surrounding them upon detonation.  Climb to five thousand feet in the next fifteen seconds to avoid getting shot down!”

“Damn it!  All planes, climb!”

Abandoning their attacks, the Antares and Sirius aircraft began a frantic effort to escape the destructive range of the approaching missiles—their Osean counterparts were quicker in reaching the safe altitude, but their own planes were more sluggish and struggled against the steep climb.  It was all but certain, Svaun realised: some of his comrades would not survive what was about to happen.

“Impact!”

A dozen bright explosions dotted the skies, blinding everyone who was unfortunate enough to be looking at them—several Gra Valkan planes were caught in the blasts and were vaporised in seconds, others suffering catastrophic damage and falling from the clouds.  Even a few UAVs from the Arsenal Birds themselves fell victim, their flaming wreckage splashing loudly into the waters around the submarine.

The voice from the Arkbird returned, audibly angrier than before.  “All units: stay clear of the submarine.  The Arkbird will be firing its laser—now.”

The Demon in the skies cast her deadly light upon the submarine, ripping into its hull and slicing through weapons and compartments alike—Svaun gawked in astonishment as the spaceship’s beam shifted from a pale blue to a bright shade of purple, its power clearly intensifying with each passing second as a large gaping wound opened up within the surface of the submarine itself.  

“The Arkbird has disabled the missile silos and the remaining railgun!  It can no longer pose a threat to the Gra Valkan fleet!”

As if sensing an opportunity, a pilot from one of the Sirius bombers called out, “That spaceship tore a hole leading into the heart of that submarine!  Victory Squadron, with me—we’re sending our explosives into that thing and slaying the beast once and for all!”

From five thousand feet, the dive bombers swept down, their pilots driven to a frenzy by the possibility of their Prince having been slain and the divine wrath dealt against their enemies.  Svaun and the other pilots moved to support them, taking their flanks and absorbing flak and anti-aircraft fire as the planes soared towards the ground—

“Go dance with the angels, you bastards!”

The massed Gra Valkan aircraft swept up at the last second as their bombs found their targets, scoring catastrophic hits into vital components of the submarine—explosions began to dot the vessel itself, its once featureless hull now bursting from within as panels and entire segments began to fall off or detonate.  From the center of the ship itself, a glowing object was suddenly exposed by a rupture in the hull—it crackled and shone with energy, its purpose clearly important and critical to the continued survival of the vessel.  The Oseans and Gra Valkans alike clearly recognised this, their attention quickly moving towards the strange device as the distant thunder of the Grade Alastar’s cannons announced its return to action.

“…all callsigns, this is the Crown Prince speaking.  Fleet Admiral Caesar has been injured by the railgun strike but is now assisting our men below deck in repairing the damage to our ship and recovering survivors.  Do me a favour and destroy that submarine, once and for all!”

Buoyed up by their Prince’s survival and his unexpected words of encouragement, the men cheered.  From Svaun’s side, an Osean aircraft unexpectedly swept past, the three strikes on its tail being the only identification the pilot recognised before the Raptor soared towards the enemy vessel in its death throes.

“Mage One, destroy the enemy submarine!  Bring the attack on the Osean Federation to an end!”

From Trigger’s aircraft, a final missile shot out towards the glowing and crackling object, the pilot somehow flying into the gaping hole and shooting out just as the warhead reached its target—

The skies of Selatapura flashed white one last time as the hostile submarine vanished in an earth-shattering explosion—a red ball of fire and energy expanded outwards in a blinding expulsion of core magic released from its prison in an instant, a final shockwave announcing to the world that the unknown enemy that had dealt untold damage to the Osean Federation itself was finally gone for good.  Realising what had happened, the coalition of Gra Valkans and Oseans cheered as the final wreckage of their foes disappeared below the surface—the IUN would no doubt be scouring the seafloor for clues as to what the identities of their unexpected assailants were, but now the focus of both parties would be to search for survivors and recoup their losses.

“All callsigns, this is Sky Keeper.  The skies and seas are clear, and IUN naval assets are en route to secure the AO and keep an eye out for any more interlopers.  Grade Alastar, are you in need of further assistance?”

Fleet Admiral Caesar’s voice replied on the radio, “Negative, but Gra Valkas thanks you for your assistance in the protection of our Prince and our fleet.  We will complete rescue operations for our downed pilots before heading back to our homeland—please notify us within the next hour if you have recovered any of our men as well, and we will make arrangements for the necessary repatriations to our Empire.   Again, the Osean Federation has our gratitude, and we look forward to sharing the seas and skies with your people again soon.”

“Roger that, Admiral.  Sky Keeper out.”

Switching back to standard frequencies, the Lighthouse Division sighed to themselves in both exhaustion and relief.  Sky Keeper himself leaned back on his seat, the energy draining from him as the past hour of directing orders and communications between two entire fleets abruptly sank in.

“Well, everyone, I believe we’ve successfully completed the primary objectives of our emergency deployment.  RTB at once, and we’ll go over what exactly happened here today.”

“Roger that!”

As the remaining drones broke formation and returned to their corresponding Arsenal Birds, the twelve fighters passed over the Lighthouse—the fires had long since been extinguished and the blast zone was now swarming with helicopters and emergency services, but smoke still billowed from the devastated segments of Selatapura

“That’s a lot of people who would have gotten hurt,” Huxian observed, “and so many lives lost…”

“At least we managed to stop things before they got any worse—we could have ended up losing so much more,” Wiseman consoled his wingmen.  “We can probably take some comfort in that.”

“The question still remains,” Lanza quietly noted, his face frowning as he glanced towards the devastated city, “even with the current threat now gone—who would launch such a horrific attack like this?  And what was the whole point of all this?” 

“Hang on,” Sky Keeper interrupted, “I’m receiving some kind of information from the ground about the first nuclear explosion in the—hang on.”

Wiseman frowned.  “What is it, Sky Keeper?”

“Wait…what…oh my god…he’s…he’s dead?”

“Sky Keeper,” Brownie said with growing concern in her voice, “what’s going on?”

“All callsigns…the epicenter of that blast…HQ just managed to pinpoint it…it was—“

Ground Zero, less than an hour ago

Harling sighed to himself as his car entered the driveway to his house in downtown Selatapura, his thoughts still circling around the latest unpleasant developments in his field of work: complaints, queries, requests, petitions from dozens of kingdoms and nations all seeking favour with the Oseans—and this was without even taking the ugly slugfest that was the ongoing elections into consideration.  The mission he had given himself many years ago seemed more critical to the survival of the nation he loved than ever, yet the final goal that he and Bartlett had always sought somehow always seemed to be creeping further away even with every major accomplishment—was this what it would be like for him, even with Osea in a new world with a clean slate?

Burying his face into his hands as soon as he brought the vehicle to a halt, the Ambassador felt his age creeping on him—he was getting too old for this, the man realised.  Small wonder a figure like Kumari seemed like someone who could be trusted to carry things forward once he and Bartlett were no longer around…

Leaning along the wall of a neighbouring house on the other side of the street, a hooded figure watched as the diplomat emerged from his car—recognising his target, he stood up and began walking carefully across the road towards the famed figure in question.

“Excuse me, are you Ambassador Vincent Harling?”

“Sorry, someone’s coming.  Call me when you can, alright?”  Closing his phone, Harling turned towards the hooded individual, quickly recognising the person from his stance and accent as Elysian in origin.  “Yes, that would be me.  Can I help you?”

The person smiled, although there was clearly no warmth in his expression.  “Thank you, Ambassador, but that will not be necessary.”

With a swift motion, his robe fell to the ground, revealing the two wings on his back and a glowing device strapped to his chest, the countless cables and monitors throbbing with powerful magic clearly hinting at its purpose.  Recognising what was about to happen, Harling simply sighed in acknowledgment.

“You’re from the Annorials, aren’t you?”

“Indeed, Ambassador.  My apologies, but you and your ideals have no place in a future where the Ancestors make their return—we shall see to it that the Osean Federation burns to the ground before your message of peace stops our plans.”

The ambassador nodded resignedly, accepting his imminent fate.  “Perhaps.  Well, I wish you and your superiors the best of luck—I have a feeling that it will take more than my death or the destruction of my achievements to truly change everything that my successors will soon set in place.”

“We shall see—in due time, we will deal with them, too.  Glory to the Ravernal Empire, Ambassador Harling.”

Vincent Harling closed his eyes, and saw the stars of the old world for one last time.

Chapter Text

Magicaregia, Annorial Empire — February 6, 2020

The glorious lights that dotted the evening skyline of Magicaregia were a sharp contrast to the seemingly pre-industrial image that the Annorials presented to all outsiders, with magical projections and speeding vehicles lining the sprawling network of streets and avenues of the Empire’s prestigious capital.  At the very centre of it all atop a great mountain facing the coastline was Orantha Castle, the head of the Annorial government and the residence of Emperor Zarathosthra himself, the latest of a long line of Winged People dating back to when his ancestors were but governors of a province within the mighty Ravernal Empire itself—he and his subjects now worked tirelessly to ensure and accelerate the Ancestors’ return to Elysia, whether through the accumulation of the Revival Beacons, the reactivation of their ancient superweapons, or the systematic annihilation of all threats to their destiny as part of a reunited Empire.  

With the arrival of the enigmatic Oseans and their unexpected technological prowess, their efforts had recently been redirected towards the third objective—prodding the mysterious foreigners from afar with small tokens and relics of their Ancestors’ past, seeing how they would respond and how the Annorials could counter their newfound rivals.  Tales of monuments that reached beyond the realm of the ancient gods and aircraft that exceeded the abilities of even the likes of the dreaded Aji Dhaka and the mighty Pal Aurorae spurred the Emperor into accelerating his plans for world domination—the Osean Federation could easily prove to be the greatest threat to the Ravernal Empire upon its return, and its destruction now took precedence above all else.

With the various experiments on Osean military assets producing mixed results—the attack in Eshirant resulting in the loss of a prized Pal Chimera and the attempts on both the mysterious DarkStar and the Gra Valkan fleet only serving to unexpectedly reveal even more problems for the Empire to deal with—Zarathosthra and his advisors concluded that nothing less than a full and comprehensive attack on the entire Federation would provide the results they desperately needed.  Surgical attacks with individual powerful units were clearly ineffective against the sheer scope of Osea’s defenses—instead, spies were secretly smuggled into the country with the intent of identifying and eliminating key leaders, while a Pal Scylla submarine carrier was deployed to observe the Federation’s shores in preparation for a direct attack on its cities.  With the Emperor’s blessing, the Annorials made their move, launching dozens of their fighters into Selatapura and setting off their core magic payloads: the destruction of the Space Elevator and the death of Osea’s beloved de facto leader would no doubt be catastrophic for the superpower’s reputation and its ability to respond to their future attacks—to say nothing about how their Gra Valkan counterparts would no doubt react to their prized fleet and their Crown Prince getting caught in the crossfire…

Beneath the castle, the Emperor and his subjects assembled to plan their next move—already, unconfirmed reports were circling throughout the Empire about the damage the Annorials had dealt.  Zarathosthra smiled inwards in satisfaction: clearly, the operation had been successful in its aims—now, it was time to see how well the Annorials’ magic had fared in a full-blown battle against its mechanical equals.

With a firm nod, Zarathosthra nodded to his underlings.  “Report.”

“The operation was a partial success, Your Excellency—reports from our spies in the Third Civilization Region and Osea have corroborated the news from the Oseans themselves: Ambassador Vincent Harling was successfully eliminated by our decapitation strike, and the other core magic detonations were similarly effective in dealing significant damage to Selatapura and its population.  Estimates of casualties are believed to be within the tens to hundreds of thousands, and the damage both to the city and to the Federation’s international reputation for its military strength is significant.”

Even as Director Zamuras continued his report with audible pride, the Emperor recognised the subtle inflections in the underling’s voice that betrayed fear of an unfortunate outcome—postponing unfavorable results for last in the vain hope of avoiding the repercussions of his or his own department’s failures.  With a dark expression, hinting at his impatience, Zarathosthra interrupted, “And what about the Space Elevator and the Gra Valkan fleet?  Were they similarly destroyed by our task force?”

Zamuras stammered, bravely steeling himself for the Emperor’s wrath even as he shook with his words, “Y-y-your Excellency…the task force was unsuccessful in destroying either the Space Elevator or the Gra Valkans.  Our core magic weapons were unable to damage the Lighthouse, and the Oseans and Gra Valkans were able to consolidate their forces to destroy the submarine fleet we deployed—the entire task force was subsequently wiped out by the local defenders, in spite of our own efforts.”

The temperature of the room abruptly dropped as the various officials present paled in horror—the Pal Scylla was one of the many prized possessions of the Ancestors, the submarine carrier and its Pal Aurora fighters widely recognised throughout the Empire as amongst the most advanced technologies still available from the time of the Ravernal Empire itself.  For such a prestigious fleet to fail in its primary objectives was shocking enough—for it to be destroyed by not just one but two inferior peoples was an embarrassment, a disgrace to the Annorials and their Ancestors as a whole—

“First our prized Pal Chimera in Philades, and now our Pal Scylla?!  What incompetent fools do we have commanding our Ancestors’ vessels—or are we too complacent in our own superiority above the inferior species to pay attention to the most basic of tasks?!”  Zarathosthra raged at his subjects, who all cowered before him.  “Well?  Is anyone before me willing to explain the cause of this aberration on our path to world domination, or must I execute each and every single person here as a lesson to your successors on the consequences of overconfidence?!”

“Your Holiness, I—“

“Speak louder, High General Duran!  And speak clearly, and I may yet decide to show mercy!”

“Your Holiness, we did not expect the Oseans to recover as quickly as they did!  The pilots and crewmen who sacrificed their lives were amongst the best in the Empire, and the weapons that they wielded were the most formidable in our arsenal—I beseech you, Your Holiness, do not needlessly disparage their unwavering efforts in the Ancestors’ service!”

Zarathosthra’s eyes narrowed.  “Then why did our men and our restored weapons fail at their critical tasks?  Were the Pal Aurora 2 and 3 insufficient against the Oseans’ defenses?”

“On the contrary, Your Holiness, the reports we received from the Pal Scylla during the operation suggest that the 2 and 3 were capable of matching the standard aircraft fielded by the Oseans in combat—however, there were two problems that delayed our efforts to the point that Osea was able to buy enough time to launch a counterattack—“

Duran gestured to a board, which had several photographs pinned: one was an Osean fighter with an unusual three-lined symbol on its wings, its likeness caught on camera mid-maneuver as a magical beam soared past and a Pal Aurora burst into flames in the background; another was a strange winged object that appeared to be flying on its own accord.

Zarathosthra frowned in confusion.  “What exactly am I looking at, High General?”

Gesturing to the three-lined fighter, Duran responded, “This is an aircraft belonging to an Osean ace categorized by our spies as Three Strikes—this individual was previously active in Osea’s military campaigns in Louria and Parpaldia, and is also believed to be single-handedly responsible for the destruction of our Pal Chimera in Eshirant and the loss of our anti-satellite weapon during the sabotage efforts against the experimental DarkStar.”

“And this individual was present during our operations in Selatapura?”

“It would appear to be the case, Your Holiness.  The Oseans appear to have recognised his abilities and transferred him to their Lighthouse Division, which was stationed in Tampines Air Base at the time of the attack—he was therefore able to fend off the Pal Aurora units dispatched to destroy the Space Elevator and the Gra Valkan fleet in time for reinforcements to arrive.”

Director Vorus added, “The Oseans appear to have a longstanding tradition of cultivating talent within its air force—they therefore have within their employ an unknown number of pilots whose purported abilities are believed to exceed even the capabilities of our most skilled aces.  Under different circumstances, I would believe such claims to have been false or overexaggerated, but…” 

Vorus sighed, briefly glancing at High General Duran and his staff before turning back to face the Emperor. 

“…the destruction of the Pal Scylla’s fighters—not to mention the losses of our previous incursions against the Oseans—would appear to speak for themselves, Your Holiness.”

Displeased with the unexpected turn of events yet recognising the logic behind his subjects’ arguments, Zarathosthra decided to concede the point.  “Very well; perhaps we have once again underestimated the abilities of the Oseans’ defenses.  Barring the presence of this individual, would our own aircraft have been capable of achieving their aims?”

“Without the second point to consider, yes, Your Holiness.”

“Make plans to eliminate this pilot with all means necessary, Director—set off another core magic device in their house if we have to.  Now, what about the second impediment to our success?”

“It would appear that the reports of the Space Elevator’s fleet of Arsenal Birds were in fact true, Your Holiness—even as we were successful in deploying our core magic weapons, the Oseans deployed what they refer to as UAVs—autonomous aircraft capable of dogfighting enemy aircraft with roughly the same skill as their human counterparts.  They appear to be roughly equivalent to our golems and familiars, although far more intelligent and deadly—especially in the overwhelming numbers that were present in Selatapura during our decapitation strike.”

“Would the presence of a Pal Chimera not have provided any benefit to our forces?  Even with the lessons we learned from Eshirant, surely a more comprehensive approach to dealing with our enemies would undoubtedly give us more satisfactory results?”

Vorus glanced uncomfortably at Duran, who glared back in response.  “It was a point of contention amongst our leadership as to whether to deploy another Pal Chimera to face the Oseans—“

“Director Vorus shared your belief that deploying the majority of our assets for the operation would have reduced the chances of failure and spread out our anticipated casualties, but I had reservations about the risk of yet more of our own assets being destroyed or even falling into the hands of the Oseans.  The loss of a Pal Chimera to the inferior peoples, to my assessment, was already a significant blow as it stands.”

“And why was I not informed of this impasse?” Zarathosthra frowned, leaning forward on his throne in suspicion as the Director and High General both felt all eyes turn to them.  “Am I, the Emperor, not the final word on where my forces go in service to our Ancestors?”

“Your Holiness, our sincerest apologies!”

The Emperor snarled, gesturing at the two prostate officials to rise.  “Cease your mindless rambling.  In future situations like this, you are to approach me for my counsel; is that understood? We are no longer dealing with the inane matters of isolationism—we are looking at the survival of the Annorial Empire and the ascendance of our Ancestors to their rightful place in Elysia, and I can ill afford the petty squabbles of underlings who presume to read my thoughts and intentions.”

Duran and Vorus hastily nodded in acknowledgement.  “Understood, Your Holiness.”

Seeing the situation laid out before him, Zarathosthra came to a decision.  “No matter.  With our actions, we are now at war with Osea—we stand at the beginning of our long-awaited campaign to secure Elysia for the return of our Ancestors.  Our efforts must be towards eliminating the most dangerous threats to our cause—the rest will submit after realising the futility of resisting us, and with our Revival Beacons we shall return our Ancestors to a world where they are once again superior above all else.”

The Emperor looked down on the meeting table, where a map of the known world was laid out before him—the eastern half of Elysia was closest to his seat, with the Osean continent dominating the area.  Sneering at the sight, Zarathosthra pointed and declared, “Begin reactivating all of our existing Pal Chimeras and Scyllas, accelerate development of the Pal Aurora 4, and have our sea creatures prepared to land on the Oseans’ shores.  We will begin striking their cities and destroying them as a demonstration of defying the will of our Ancestors—and all who resist will quickly face the same fate as their leaders.” 

Zarathosthra looked up confidently at his subjects, assured in the superiority of his cause and the successes that his Empire would no doubt achieve.  They were the descendants of the Light Winged People, untouched by all except the Gods themselves—and even they, too, would someday be brought down to heel.

“With their beloved proponent of peace killed by his own hubris and their homeland struck by our weapons, the Oseans shall be forced to reconsider their actions in Elysia—their hearts shall grow cold, their ears deaf to the cries of their allies, their weapons stayed by the possibility of repercussions to their own.  And while their leaderless nation remains paralysed by indecision and fear, we shall continue in our own efforts to accelerate the return of our Ancestors, safe in the knowledge that no nation in this world possesses either the ability or willpower to stop us.”

Vorus spoke up, “And should the Oseans decide otherwise, Your Excellency?”

Zarathosthra gave the Director a dark grin.  “Well, we shall quickly bridge whatever gaps may exist between Osea and ourselves—and besides, there are still plenty more cities and people for us to annihilate, aren’t there?”

Selatapura, Osean Federation — February 6, 2020

Stumbling past the wreckage left behind by the nuclear detonation in Selatapura’s residential district, Senator Kumari saw President Bartlett seated on a pile of rubble amidst a sprawling crowd of paramedics and firefighters still scrambling to find survivors and put out what few fires remained.  “Jack!”

If the President heard her, he didn’t respond, his attention seemingly focused on a glass container in his hands.  Kumari walked faster, 

“Jack!  Jack, what’s happening—“

“This is all that we were able to find of him.”

Kumari glanced at the container in confusion—inside the case was what appeared to be an artificial heart, the outer covering all but vaporized but the device itself still surprisingly intact.  Who exactly did that belong to—

The Senator gasped.  “That’s—”

“Yep,” Bartlett bitterly confirmed, closely examining the device.  “Vincent had some heart problems around the latter stages of his second term, around the time that he was already working on getting the Space Elevator built—probably his unfortunate habit of overworking for the betterment of humanity, by the looks of things.”

Stunned, Kumari silently sat beside the President as they both examined the heart.  It was a while before Bartlett began to speak again.

“You know the materials used to construct the Lighthouse?  Those were meant to withstand everything between a nuclear explosion and a second asteroid crashing into the Usean continent—and as it turns out, it also makes for a very useful component for artificial hearts.  The radiation’s still something we’ll have to deal with, but otherwise…”  

Shaking his head, Bartlett placed the container inside his jacket.  From the distance, several Osean fighters flew overhead—still patrolling the surrounding region for further threats, he reckoned.  Edwards probably knew more than he did on the matter—

“Who did this, Jack?  Do we know who’s responsible for all this?”

The President frowned.  “My guess?  The Annorials—they’ve already been probing us for the past year, and we’ve already identified several individuals in Osea that we think might be linked to their intelligence forces.  I mean, we already knew that they might be up to something, but for them to go for Harling and the Lighthouse like this…”

Kumari quickly recalled the security briefing from several weeks back, horror creeping into her face as the scale of the crisis now before them dawned before her.  “My god…it’s actually far worse than I imagined…it’s an actual war we’re looking at, not just a random act of terrorism from outsiders?”

“By the looks of it, that would be the case,” Bartlett confirmed. “In hindsight, it probably was only a matter of time before we ended up having to fight someone who both disagreed with our ideals and had the power to challenge us on our own terms.  First thing’s first, though—we’re gonna look for survivors, we’re going to count our losses, we’re going to start rebuilding, and then we’re going to find the people responsible for this and bring them to justice.  Maybe also hold a memorial service to Harling and everyone else who got caught in the blasts, too.”  

The President shook his head, turning to look at the Lighthouse. 

“This probably won’t be the last time we’ll be faced with something like this, though; the Annorials will definitely be back if we don’t do something soon—and that’s not even taking their ancestors into mind, assuming the Milishials are correct in their theories.”

“So on top of this, we’re looking at yet another war in the near future as well?  What’s our time frame, then?”

“We ran the numbers: if Runepolis’s estimates add up, the Ravernals might be coming back sometime during your term—or after your successor takes office.”

The Senator paused in surprise.  “My term?”

“Don’t act so surprised, Kumari.  I know Vincent went and had a chat with you right before he was assassinated, and I know that he’s seen you as a potential successor to me and him—personally, I think you’re even more of an idealist than Harling ever was, but if the old man thought that you’d make a good leader for Osea even after everything that’s happened…well, clearly he had a good reason for it.  Who am I to judge, anyway?”

Seeing Bartlett’s smirk, Kumari simply sighed as her previous expression of horror was quickly replaced with annoyance.  “Barely a few hours after the worst attack on Osean soil in our history, and already we’ve gone straight into politics.  What has our world come to?”

“When you end up in Bright Hill, you’ll quickly find that politics are very much intertwined with the outside world when it comes to matters such as these—even for a horrific disaster like the one before us, every single person in Elysia from Oured to Ragna’s going to take a look at what’s happening and see an opportunity for one thing or another: prestige, power, influence, conquest, you name it.  That’s where you come in: we’ll need to come out of what’s coming with our nation intact and our reputation secure—and our future in the stars still available to those who still want it once everything is said and done.” 

Suddenly feeling his age creeping up on him, the President stood up—making sure to protect the prized container inside his suit—and gave his successor a final look of determination, even as his features betrayed a weary and exhausted expression from his countless years of continuing the late Ambassador’s legacy.

“Harling’s death has made our situation in the New World clear and we’re going to have to change our plans accordingly, Senator Kumari—we must deal with Elysia’s problems ourselves, or Elysia’s problems will inevitably come to deal with us.”

Ragna, Gra Valkas Empire — March 1, 2020

Upon hearing word of the Grade Alastar’s imminent return, preparations were made in Ragna to celebrate the arrival of the Crown Prince and the Empire’s most prestigious fleet—crowds flocked the harbour in the thousands, all in hopes of seeing the ships that demonstrated the might of their beloved nation and the young man who would soon lead them to their destined future of glory.  Yet as the Gra Valkan fleet approached, the cheers and music began to distinctly die down as the horrific damage dealt to the prestigious ships by their unknown assailants began to be apparent to everyone present.

The Grade Alastar itself, the shining pearl of the Gra Valkas Empire, was but a twisted and scarred shadow of its former self—the entire front half had somehow been warped and bent by a singular projectile and almost every single gun battery in close proximity either critically damaged or utterly destroyed altogether.  The fires that had raged throughout the ship had long since been put out and the remaining soot and smoke diligently scrubbed off by the crew, but the devastation dealt to the battleship was all too clear—even the other ships and the accompanying aircraft carriers had seen damage or losses, with several planes missing from the decks and telltale scratches and scars where sea monsters had rampaged with near-impunity.  From the docks, Gra Lux himself stared at the sobering display with a mixture of shock and disbelief—even with his limited knowledge, he knew that the damage to both the fleet and the image of the Empire would take an untold amount of time to be repaired.

Rushing forward with as much dignity as his position allowed, the Emperor approached his son with open arms, his expression a clear display of paternal worry as he embraced Cabal for the first time in months.  “My son…we heard about the attack…are you…?”

“I’m fine,” Cabal replied, shrugging off his father’s concerns as he turned to look around at the surrounding city.  “The rest of the crew will need to return to their families and the ships repaired—Father, we need to talk about what happened—”

“It can wait,” Gra Lux interrupted, instincts kicking in as he focused his attention on his son’s appearance—the young man’s imperial regalia as the Crown Prince was neat and freshly ironed, but the person wearing it felt distinctly older than what his father remembered.  He looked up at Cabal’s face, noticing a faint scar running through his left cheek and into his forehead.  “You got hurt in the battle, didn’t you?  Have the doctors aboard the ships treated you well?”

“Nothing that a quick rest can’t heal, and the medics on the fleet have served admirably.  Father, Gra Valkas needs the Osean Federation as our ally,” Cabal urged the Emperor, glancing towards the warped hull of the Grade Alastar—the greatest technological achievement of their civilization, yet a mere few degrees away from being struck down by an enemy whose abilities easily surpassed them.  “If not for their help…I don’t think any of us would be here right now.”

Seeing the determined look on his son’s face, Gra Lux reluctantly nodded.  “Let’s talk about this matter with Director Gesta inside the Palace.”

Runepolis, Holy Milishial Empire — February 6, 2020

In the press room of Albion Castle, reporters, nobles, and diplomats from throughout the First and Second Civilization Areas sat before the podium in anticipation of an unexpected announcement from Emperor Milishial himself—many assumed that his remarks would likely be in response to the unexpected attack on Selatapura and the now-confirmed news that Ambassador Vincent Harling himself had been assassinated.  Other rumours were also spreading throughout Elysia like wildfire of unknown powers at work as details of core magic being used on the Space Elevator itself continued to circulate, causing panic to spread as fear of the dreaded Ancient Sorcerous Empire’s return made an unexpected resurgence—surely the words of the Emperor himself would provide guidance for Elysia in these uncertain times…

As Emperor Milishial entered the room and approached the podium, the countless individuals present rose to their feet in respect to the man who had helped guide the most powerful magical nation of Elysia throughout the centuries.  The elf gestured at his subjects and guests to sit down as he stood before the podium, subtly clearing his voice before speaking to his audience.

“Ladies and gentlemen, greetings and thank you for your attention.  Under normal circumstances, the responsibility for conveying the concerns and interests of the Holy Milishial Empire to the rest of Elysia would fall to the honorable Minister Phiam; however, in light of the unprecedented events that have befallen our world at large and our partners in the Third Civilization Area in particular, I believe that I would be remiss in my duties as Emperor not to directly address the situation at hand.”

Milishial’s eyes glanced towards the Osean ambassador, who was seated beside a reporter from the Milishial News Network’s Osean counterparts—a private message of condolences had already been conveyed to Oured, along with an offer to provide humanitarian assistance to Selatapura in the form of healers and elite mages trained in core magic.  This public address, on the other hand, was meant for Elysia at large—not just for President Bartlett and his officials in Bright Hill and the Assembly of Nations, but for the people they represented and the countless more populations and civilisations throughout the New World that saw the two superpowers as the harbingers of peace and order from Paganda to Calamique to Silkark.

“You will have undoubtedly heard from the Osean Federation of the devastating attacks that was dealt to their country, of the death of their esteemed Ambassador Vincent Harling at hands of yet unknown foes that attempted to strike down their gateway to the skies.  You may have also heard of tales that weapons from the dreaded days of the Ancient Sorcerous Empire were wielded with impunity in a brazen play to defeat the forces of the International United Nations.  With the full confidence of the Empire’s researchers and analysts on my side, I can say this: all of these tales are true—core magic from the Sorcerers themselves was used against our newfound partners not once, but twice .”

Gasps broke out as the diplomats and reporters themselves paled in horror and burst into panicked murmurs.  Milishial gestured once more at the crowd, calling for silence before continuing.

“However, the Ancient Sorcerous Empire itself has not returned —we have been in close communication with the Emor Kingdom since the first reports of Sorcerous weaponry being used in Osea reached our ears, and our brightest mages have since confirmed that the dread Empire has yet to resurface.  Even as we recoil in horror at the destruction and chaos dealt by those who would seek to destroy our friends and allies, the Holy Milishial Empire and its partners can rest assured that whoever may be responsible are but mere shadows seeking to drag us back to the dark atrocities of an ancient past.

“But this is not a time for lowering our guard,” the Emperor warned, facing the crowd with a frown of disapproval, “nor is it a time to take our fragile peace for granted—the Ancient Sorcerous Empire has yet to return, but its legacy still echoes throughout our world and its hidden disciples still seek to destroy the order that we have established in their wake.  The arrival of Osea and Gra Valkas and their impact on our world in the months since their arrival both serve as a fitting reminder that the accord we share with all of Elysia is maintained only through the diligence and vigilance of those who seek to preserve it—and the Holy Milishial Empire, the shining pearl of the races and the vanguard of civilisation itself, now calls upon its partners across the world to join us in our efforts to do so!”

Part of Milishial felt a tang of guilt for taking advantage of the Oseans’ plight for his people’s gain, but he knew that his actions would both help preserve the image of the Holy Milishial Empire for the immediate future and help consolidate Elysia as a whole in preparation for the Sorcerers themselves.  As to how the rest of the world would react in the years to come, even an Emperor as wise and long-lived as he could only imagine; yet even as he spoke, he could sense the world changing before him as alliances shifted and a new era unfolded—one where the Milishials would now share the stage with superpowers that equalled them in strength and power.  A defining moment in the history of the New World—and yet another for him to witness and shape in his long and storied rule as the acclaimed leader of Elysian civilization itself.

“Our bonds may be tested and strained by those who would subvert our offers of friendship, but we shall persevere—and the nations of the New World under the Elysian Defense Initiative shall emerge as victorious above all!”

Selatapura, Osean Federation — February 20, 2020

Vincent Harling’s funeral service was held in a special ceremony at the very base of the Space Elevator, and was attended by leaders from throughout Osea’s political spectrum—even in spite of his strongly-held views and the controversial legacy left behind by his administration’s actions in both Osea and beyond, he was still highly respected by his peers for his dedication to his work and the devotion he gave to his ideals even in spite of all the obstacles to his goals.  

The Elysian nations, too, would send their own delegations to attend the proceedings—Minister Phiam represented the Milishials and Prime Minister Sinclair and Ambassador Mugei the Muans, while Princess Lumies and Prime Minister Kaios attended on behalf of the Altaran and Parpaldian governments respectively.  Even Directors Gesta and Ciella were present—the Crown Prince had expressed a desire to attend the service, but Emperor Gra Lux overruled his wishes pending the ongoing security risk; instead, the two diplomats would convey Gra Cabal’s condolences to the Osean government and attend on their superior’s behalf.  Observing the many Elysians present, Ambassador Clarkson had a sneaking suspicion that many of the superpowers would have sent their own leaders if not for concern for their own safety—a sign of the damage that the Annorials had dealt to the Oseans’ image, and one that would need to be rectified soon.

For now, thousands of Oseans from throughout the country thronged the streets of Selatapura in open defiance of the enemy that had struck the city, easily outnumbering the Elysians present in the service as the nation as a whole sought to give their beloved former President a final goodbye.  Clarkson could see Senator Kumari amongst the crowd, passing by the sealed device that held Harling’s artificial heart with a final nod before disappearing from his sight—probably to have a chat with President Bartlett or Director Ciella, both of whom previously appeared rather keen on meeting with her in person.

The eulogies from Harling’s closest associates and family members were each unique in the different images that they presented of the former President himself: a perfectionist, an idealist, a stubborn politician, a family man, an academic, a veteran, a survivor—the list seemingly went on as each person came and went.  Some versions of Vincent were those that Clarkson himself was familiar with, while others were new to him even from his long career as one of Harling’s protégés—perhaps others would be more recognisable for the likes of Bartlett and his colleagues, the Ambassador reckoned.  

At long last, the final person came forward to give his own story of what his predecessor had meant for him—Bartlett stepped forward to the podium, his eyes panning to the news cameras and surrounding crowds before speaking.

Before my career as a politician, I was a pilot.  

I served the Osean Air Defense Force to protect my country against those that would bring it harm, to defeat our country’s foes in the skies like knights on the Round Table—but the Osea of that time was a different country, rather than one of science and exploration and peace amongst different worlds: it was one where power was wielded through war and subterfuge, where its neighbours were but future provinces to be annexed and integrated into our own.

And so it came that I served as a nugget in the Belkan War: a conflict that not only scarred our borders in nuclear fire but irreversibly changed our nation’s outlook towards war and peace as a whole—and so from its ashes came a young man by the name of Vincent Harling, who saw a world where our ambitions could be changed from petty squabbles with our neighbours, where we as a nation could become something more than what we were the day that 12,000 people died for our world’s descent into insanity.

Harling himself spoke often about how the War changed him and our Old World as a whole—and for the longest time, I never did actually believe him.  Perhaps the scars of Belka’s fall still echoed in my mind; perhaps I still viewed his idealism as a veneer for the old Osea’s schemes and ambitions in a new world—and perhaps for many other people, that too was the case.  Perhaps that was why I ended up in Sand Island when the Circum-Pacific War broke out—in my distrust of the people that brought our world to the brink of nuclear annihilation, I couldn’t envision a world like Vincent did where I could make a difference beyond shooting down enemies in the sky.  My focus was no longer towards Osea as a whole, but the pilots I trained as they turned from nuggets to aces to legends—and as I helped them bring an end to the War, that, too, began to change.

It was roughly around the time that I left the OADF, shortly after the Circum-Pacific War, that Harling approached me about a career in politics.  Of course I turned him down at first—why would I choose to become just like the madmen who got my pilots killed, whose actions resulted in the wholesale slaughter of Oseans, Belkans, Sapinese, and Ustioans alike over twenty-five years ago?  But it was his counterargument that helped change my mind:

“Then don’t be like them.  Be someone else, then.”

We can choose to be the people who we are, rather than let our pasts define our legacies—we can choose to let tragedy and loss harden our hearts to the pleas of those who seek our aid, or our mercy, or our friendship, or we can choose to be something else.  

We can choose to be better, to be kinder, to be happier, to be more than those who would seek less of us—to be something greater tomorrow than how we view ourselves today.  We can choose darkness and hatred, or we can choose peace and harmony—we can let the horrors of today drive us, let anger and hatred turn our message of coexistence into death and annihilation, or we can choose to be something more than even our greatest foes can even dream to become.  We can choose to shed away the ancient vestiges of honour and glory in the name of our cultures and histories as the technologies and ideas of the future arrive—and together, we can choose to ascend beyond this earth and into the skies.

Vincent Harling’s life ended as it began—bathed in the fires of nuclear war—but he chose instead to let his work define his life beyond the dark and violent legacies of two different worlds.  He chose to put away his anger at the universe around him and instead shape it into what he desired—and what he desired now exists before you: a world where nations stand amongst equals and our peoples, Elysian and Osean alike, will soon work to a future where the Lighthouse itself is but one of many across the planet, where ancient legends are but tales to be remembered and recorded and our civilisations dot the entire known universe like stars in the night sky.

I won’t try to mimic Harling’s prose or his words about peace and cooperation between nations—they speak for themselves, and deserve more qualified individuals rather than myself to repeat and expound upon.  Instead, I would like to conclude with his own words about how he himself saw Osea and the world it existed in:

"We must let time shed light on the truth behind this conflict. In the meantime, the world has already begun to head down a new path.  And this path shall go on, as long as the blaze of fire that shines through the darkness is not extinguished."

I’ve made the choice, the same choice I made that day I met Vincent Harling, to keep that fire alive—and someday, perhaps there won’t be a need for old pilots like me for that fire.  When that day comes, I hope you choose to keep that fire alive, too.

On cue, a loudspeaker began to play a tune—the audio was harsh and grating as it echoed through the somewhat subpar equipment, but as the other speakers followed suit the millions of Oseans listening quickly recognised the song in question: a voice of a woman from a time long gone, her words a plea for a world of freedom and countless possibilities.

The journey begins
Starts from within
Things that I need to know

The song of the bird
Echoed in words
Flying for the need to fly

From the crowd, a voice joined the woman’s melody—a Belkan pilot whose age hinted at his long career in battle—and was quickly joined by many others throughout the crowd.  As the Elysians present looked around in wonder, the entire harbour and the surrounding city soon echoed with thousands upon thousands of Oseans singing the words that helped end an eternal war many years ago.  In every city in the entire Federation—Oured, Selatapura, November City, Bana City, Cranston, Shannon, Wadsworth, Mccord, Redmill, and beyond—

Thoughts endless in flight
Day turns to night
Questions you ask your soul

Which way do I go?
How fast is too slow?
The journey has its time, then ends.

For the briefest of moments, the people of Osea were no longer in Elysia, in an unknown universe with an uncertain future beyond death and destruction—they were back on their own world over a decade ago, bravely singing as one, in open defiance of the old and bitter people of the past and awaiting with eagerness and anticipation what brave new world lay beyond.

If a man can fly over an ocean
And no mountains can get in his way
Will he fly on forever
Searching for something to believe

From above I can see from the heavens
Down below I see the storm raging on
And somewhere in the answer
There is a hope to carry on

From the Lighthouse towards the distant horizon, five black Tomcats soared across the skies, a familiar yet mysterious mythological figure emblazoned on their rear wings.  On a vessel within the heavens, hundreds of kilometers over Elysia, their owners watched their aircraft part the skies in their wake, the fifth shooting off into the distant sunset.

When I finally return
Things that I learn
Carry me back to home

The thoughts that I feed
Planting a seed
With time will begin to grow

The more that I try
The more that I fly
The answer in itself will be there

Observing the Lighthouse transport the heart of Ambassador Harling into outer space, Bartlett nodded to himself, a tight yet warm expression of approval as he bade his old friend a final farewell.

Fly on, Vincent.  Fly on, you crazy madman.

Even as the sweepers began to clean up the emptied stands where Harling’s funeral had taken place, a singular DarkStar slowly made its way out of an isolated hangar at Tampines Airbase, its three-line markings on its rear wings indicating the pilot’s identity to the ground crew present.  Soon entering the runway, the DarkStar’s engines burst to life as the hypersonic aircraft quickly reached the necessary speed to lift off in a matter of seconds—with a loud boom, Trigger soared into the skies where his wingmen awaited.

Above the site where the Annorial submarine had made its final stand, dozens of DarkStars flew in close five-man formations as the innumerable squadrons made their final preparations for the fateful mission that lay ahead.  Seeing that all designated groups in Selatapura were ready, a signal from atop the Lighthouse was broadcast to all Osean forces throughout Elysia.  

From an Osean air base in the Vestal Kingdom, a solitary Falken—featureless save for a solitary mathematical symbol—set off in unison with its companions thousands of kilometers away.  Examining the countless callsigns on his display, Trigger’s eyes widened in recognition as he saw the pilot’s callsign.

“All callsigns, this is the Arkbird.  High Command has issued all of you your respective targets—upon reaching the AO, you are cleared to engage.  Eliminate and eradicate all hostiles at your discretion.”

Chapter Text

En route to the Annorial Empire, at the edge of outer space right above the Kingdom of Altaras — February 21, 2020

Trigger!  As you no doubt know, the operation to retaliate against the Annorial Empire for their attack on Selatapura is now underway—as an unofficial state of war now exists between the Annorials and the Osean Federation, Oured has authorised our military forces to conduct a series of long-range airstrikes against the Elysian superpower, designed to force them to abort their attacks on our country and seek a ceasefire with Osea.  To this end, the OSDF has deployed its aerial and naval assets to the peripheral regions of the Third Civilisation Area and accelerated the deployment of our sixth-generation DarkStar fighters to strike at the heart of the Annorial Empire itself, and shatter any existing preconceptions of their technological superiority over Elysia at large.

The operation against the Empire has been split into three key objectives: the elimination of the Annorial navy, the destruction of their nuclear missile silos, and the annihilation of all defenses and key military installations throughout the Annorial capital of Magicaregia.  Accomplishing these objectives will both ensure that the Empire cannot pose a direct threat to the Osean Federation and its partners for the foreseeable future, and demonstrate to not just the Annorials but Elysia as a whole of the full consequences of seeking a war on equal terms with Osea—this is a no small task, and these operations will therefore be conducted simultaneously between several air squadrons currently stationed throughout the Third Civilization Area and in close coordination with the IUN’s orbital and naval assets.  Satellite images have confirmed several key locations throughout the Branchel continent believed to be vital Annorial facilities or units ranging from military bases to missile and rocket launch facilities: we are to destroy each and every one of these, and ensure that these cannot be used against Osea again soon.

As you are our most skilled pilot in the Lighthouse Division, you have been assigned to eliminate the largest contingent of the Annorial naval forces as part of the first objective: an artificial floating island located at the center of a sea between the Empire’s two key continents, believed to be home to several Pal Chimerae and Scinfaxi-class submarines.  Intercepted magical transmissions also suggest the facility is also a control centre for a significant contingent of sea monsters within the surrounding region of Elysia, highlighting its importance to the Annorials’ military forces—the loss of both mechanical and biological assets in such high numbers will undoubtedly prove to be a major setback for the Annorials’ future plans against Osea and Elysia at large.

Based on our previous encounters with the Annorials, ground and air defenses are believed to be on par with the pre-Belkan War Yuktobanians—still likely to struggle against sixth-generation stealth aircraft such as the DarkStar, but still advanced enough to pose a threat if not dealt with carefully—and the presence of magical technology as a means of anti-aircraft weaponry is also still something we know little to nothing solid about, so be careful when you move in.  That said, communications on the ground suggest that the Annorial Empire is not expecting a direct assault on its own territory; if you plan your attack well, you might be able to take advantage of this in dealing the most damage possible before the locals can mount an effective defense.

Due to the several other simultaneous operations taking place throughout the Annorial Empire, your support will be limited to occasional fire support from the Arkbird where its crew deems necessary.  Your AWACS for this operation will be Arkbird itself, owing to the sheer geographic distance from our nearest IUN bases in Altaras and the risk of local AA defenses intercepting conventional radar planes until they are taken care of—Captain Kei Nagase herself will be overseeing your work once again, her callsign being “Edge”.  Otherwise, you will essentially be on your own—but considering your record, that should hardly pose much of a problem for you and your ability to produce the best results in every situation you’ve been thrown in.

Good luck!

“Mr. President, all naval elements report that they’re in position; the Lighthouse Division will also be arriving at their respective AOs in about two minutes.  It’ll only be a matter of time before the Annorials find out what we’re up to.”

From his seat in the briefing room, President Bartlett looked at the holographic projection on the wall, where a map of the southern half of Elysia was displayed.  

A series of small continents lay between the Annorial Empire and the vast ocean beyond where the Osean Federation resided; several narrow channels and seas between these landmasses were the only routes for vessels to navigate between both regions of Elysia.  Here, four Osean naval fleets and their respective escorts and air squadrons were now positioned—as well as countless squadrons of DarkStars soaring above at hypersonic speeds—all waiting for his command.

This massive undertaking was the culmination of several weeks of logistical preparations and diplomatic maneuvers, to say nothing of the countless plans originally meant for the far future that now had to be accelerated in the name of responding to the people responsible for Harling’s death.  What the rest of Elysia would think from what would happen today would be a matter for tomorrow—what mattered now was ensuring that Osea came out of this intact for future generations to come.

“No point in putting things off now, I suppose,” Jack grumbled to himself.

“Sir?”

Shaking his head, Bartlett turned to Edwards.

“Launch the operation.”

Sea of Solitude, Annorial Empire — February 21, 2020

“Trigger, this is Edge.  You should have eyes on the facility itself shortly.”

Decelerating from hypersonic speeds as his DarkStar descended from the Karman Line and into the skies above the Annorial Empire, Trigger glanced from the narrow windows of his cockpit—easily identifiable amidst the vast blue of the surrounding sea with its sheer size and the eight spokes extending from its inner spherical core, his target loomed in the distance.  For a brief moment, the pilot questioned the wisdom of sending him here alone to somehow destroy a massive target such as the facility before him—

“The Milishials’ records describe a superstructure such as this as a Pal Cowne, capable of operating both as a staging and refueling platform for Pal Chimerae aircraft and Pal Scyllae submarines, and as a weapons platform in its own right.  The Cowne has eight subsections, each stationing one Pal Chimerae and two Pal Scyllae—as we have no solid intel on how exactly to destroy the Cowne itself, our priority is therefore eliminating its complement of Chimerae and Scyllae crafts, before seeing what parts of the Cowne itself are most likely to be critical to its survival.

“I’ve marked on your HUD key points on the respective vessels for you to strike as well as possible AA defenses, but the Arkbird will also provide orbital support should any of these assets attempt to disembark.  Keep in mind, though—once the Annorials become aware of our presence and the wider operation begins, I won’t be able to focus entirely on your AO.  Send me a signal if you need help, though, okay?”

Nodding to himself, Trigger gave an affirmative response to the Arkbird.  Nagase sighed to herself.

“Honestly, it would be easier and a lot nicer if you could actually talk to me like everyone else—but then again, it’s people like you and Blaze who are more or less capable of doing near-impossible stunts such as these, right?”

A faint murmur could be heard in the background; the astronaut chuckled in response.

“Yeah, well, I was there too when we did that, Blaze…I wasn’t going to lose another flight lead, was I?  Anyway, you’re cleared to engage, Trigger.  Go give them Harling’s regards!”

Arming his StormBreakers and laser pods, Trigger hit the afterburners and shot forwards, waiting in anticipation for the magic tone that would soon see a prized beast of the ancient past go up in flames.

Technician Pamela Orchina looked up from her console in confusion as Pal Chimera Unit 07 inexplicably exploded, an orange fireball quickly transforming into a larger and more violent secondary azure detonation as the superweapon’s core systems went critical.  As the various staff in the Cowne’s bridge froze and watched in shock, a singular black figure darted right above the facility, releasing a series of objects from its underside and a scattering of bright pulses of light at a nearby Scylla—it, too, cracked open and exploded in a fiery blaze, sending debris raining down on the surrounding facility.

At the center of the room, the base commander whirled around to face his staff, his face white with rage.  “Are we blind?!   Deploy the defenses!”

The facility itself began to shake as a nearby explosion struck a still-inactive SAM site a few floors away, alarms blaring as the bridge crew and the Annorials on duty began to scramble—Pamela herself quickly reached for her radio equipment, frantically running through emergency procedures she never thought she herself would have had to complete as the technician began to call to Magicaregia for support.

“This is Pal Cowne Zero to High Castle: emergency!  We are under attack by enemy aircraft, and are in need of air support!  Several Pal Chimerae have been disabled and are…”

Pal Chimera Unit 12 was first to react, its flak guns quickly swiveling towards the lone DarkStar as its payload claimed another Pal Scylla still in port.  Unit 05 in turn began to loudly hum as its crew activated its dormant engines, seeking to escape the facility and gain altitude before engaging the enemy fighter—others began preparing shields and SAMs, their anti-air defenses indiscriminately firing into the skies yet somehow failing to strike down the errant enemy.  The fighter, for its part, swept around and continued to release payload after payload of its guided munitions, scoring hit after hit as the enemy pilot squashed each and every countermeasure the Annorials desperately sought to bring against him while his light-based weaponry dealt critical damage to key systems left and right.

“This is Pal Chimera Unit 02, we’re unable to take off!  Engines are offline and our magic gems have been knocked out of alignment—we’re going to need several days to fix the damage!”

“Direct hit to Unit 21!  We’ve lost contact with the bridge—sending emergency teams to assess the situation!”

“How the hell did our guided missiles miss?!  That pilot’s crazy!”

“Weapons systems are non-operational!  We’re sitting ducks here!”

The DarkStar released another salvo of bombs, this time aimed at the supercentre of the Cowne.  These hit several power stations embedded in close range to the bridge itself, setting off a series of catastrophic chain reactions as key systems overloaded—most safety shut down in time, but several vital components were ultimately incapable of safely handling an unexpected surge in raw magic-enhanced energy—

A nearby console in the bridge exploded in a fiery blaze of manna, sending officers flying and short-circuiting other equipment in the room as Pamela shielded herself from the blast.

The base commander was the first to recover, barking at the surviving officers, “Get back on your feet!  Get the wounded to medical and give me a damage report!”

A visibly shaken lieutenant turned towards him.  “Sir, shields are offline and primary propulsion systems are critically damaged.  We’re unable to take off, and there’s a risk of Cowne Zero sinking into the sea without immediate repairs; fires have also broken out on Decks Three through Twenty-Five, and our teams are struggling to suppress them—”

The bridge shook once more, another Pal Scylla succumbing to the enemy plane’s bombs and its remains disappearing into the waves below.  The commander stared at the sight in horror, as if only now allowing himself to fully recognise the scale of the catastrophe unfolding before him.

“Sir, your orders?”

“…begin evacuating all non-essential and non-combat personnel from Pal Cowne Zero.  Prioritise the evacuation of all remaining Pal units from this facility—you, Technician!  Where are our reinforcements?”

Pamela sat up.  “Commander, air support is two minutes away.  High Castle is also asking for further details before they send any more assistance; I think they still believe this is a drill.”

The commander’s eyes widened in incredulous outrage.  “A drill?!   Hundreds of people are dying as we speak and Magicaregia still thinks this is a drill?!  Get them to send more people here, and I don’t care what it takes— or else we’re all going to die!”

“Sir, up in the sky!  There’s something coming down towards the Cowne—”

A blue line from the skies struck the approaching Pal Cowne with astonishing power, its vaporising beam instantly annihilating a Pal Chimera in the process of lifting off from one of its platforms and into the skies.  Aboard two Pal Aurora 3s on an intercept course with the facility, Lieutenant Pollon and his wingman gaped in astonishment at the otherworldly sight before them

“Ancestors above!  What the hell is that?!”

“Demon Squadron, report!  What are you seeing?!”

“Talon, there’s some kind of beam from the heavens cutting through Pal Cowne Zero!  Several of our own ships appear to be destroyed or disabled!  Ancestors…there’s so many fires…”

“Roger, we’re notifying High Castle about the situation—”

A harsh static unexpectedly cut off the airborne radar unit’s transmission, causing Pollon and his wingman to wince in pain—the latter quickly recovered, turning down the volume and barking angrily into his radio in response.  “Talon, your equipment’s broken again!  Repeat last, over!”

“…”

“I say again, Talon, do you copy; over?”

“Oh, gods—Mandel, above us!”

Far above the two members of Demon Squadron, the flaming wreckage that once was AEWA Talon was tumbling down uncontrollably towards the sea—whether any survivors had managed to bail out, neither Pollon nor his wingman could tell for certain—

“Hey, there’s a faint glimmer in the skies between Talon and us!”

Pollon frowned.  “What?  I’m not picking up anything on the radar—”

“Shit, incoming!  Look out!”

A singular black object shot right between the two Pal Auroras, forcing the two to hastily break formation as the sheer shockwaves from its wake alone threatened to knock their aircrafts out of the sky.  Pollon swore loudly and struggled to regain control, simultaneously keeping an eye out for whatever it was that nearly sent them towards the same unknown fate as their fellow Annorials.

“Damn it!  Did you see what that was?  It’s even faster than we are!”

“Looks like some kind of aircraft!  We need to take it down, fast!”

“Roger!  Keep your eyes on a swivel—it might get the jump on us again—”

“Crap, it’s on my tail!  Pollon, help me—”

A bright blue flash enveloped Demon Two’s aircraft, the Pal Aurora immediately exploding and disintegrating at its touch.  Pollon’s eyes widened in shock and anger, seeing no chute emerge from the flaming wreckage before it crashed into the sea below—the seasoned pilot immediately swept around to face the formidable enemy, summoning all of his past training in hope that it would see him through this fight.

“Damn you!  Demon One in the blind, engaging!”

The Pal Aurora fired a salvo of missiles at the angular craft, swerving and twisting in close pursuit with its foe.  The enemy aircraft was fast, incredibly fast, yet it struggled to shake off Pollon and his attacks, dumping flares with each incoming projectile and sluggishly maneuvering to the sides in vain hope of circling around.  The sole remaining pilot grinned savagely to himself—he would strike down this mysterious enemy, save Pal Cowne Zero, and inform Magicaregia for what had just happened—

“Missile lock!  Take this, you bastard—”

The angular craft abruptly cut its speed, threatening to collide with the approaching Pal Aurora—

“—what—”

—Pollon’s eyes widened in shock, instinctively flying over the enemy plane—

“—three lines?”

—now behind the Pal Aurora, the mysterious plane fired its blue weapons—

“Shit!”

Demon One’s aircraft burst into flames, the ace pilot only ejecting from his doomed plane in the nick of time as the DarkStar shot past and returned to Pal Cowne Zero.  

As his parachute deployed and he splashed harmlessly into the sea below, Pollon could only curse at the pilot that had brought him and his comrades down and wonder as to who he was…

Orantha Castle, Magicaregia, Annorial Empire — February 21, 2020

High General Duran frowned as he approached the radio technician.  “Is something the matter, Lieutenant?”

The operator shook her head, her wings twitching as she turned to face her superior in confusion.  “Sir, I’m receiving reports of some kind of rogue aircraft attacking Pal Cowne Zero, but we’re not picking anything up on our long-range radars.”

“Odd.  Could be a rogue dragon on the loose—do we have any fighter squadrons in the area that can provide reconnaissance?”

“Pal Cowne Zero already has three squadrons stationed for air defense, but I’ve been unable to reach them—I’ve similarly redirected the 15th Pal Aurora 3 Squadron from the mainland to investigate, but we then lost contact with them soon after they entered the local airspace.”

Growing slightly more concerned with each passing second, Duran paused.  “So it’s a bigger dragon, then—but why haven’t the Pal Chimeras or Pal Auroras in Pal Cowne Zero dealt with them yet?”

“The facility mentioned something about the aircraft attacking our ships before they could complete preflight checks.  They’re still trying to deploy, but—”

“Something’s not right.  Verify if it’s a fighter we’re dealing with and how exactly it’s attacking Pal Cowne Zero.”  Duran whirled to a nearby technician, barking orders as he walked towards him.  “You!  Have all regional bases on alert and report back immediately on their status!”

Nodding, the officer turned to his equipment and spoke to a large microphone, “This is High Castle to all units, be advised: Combat Alert Yellow is now in effect.  Report in on your status in alphanumerical order—”

“THEY’RE EVERYWHERE!”

Duran and the technician jumped in surprise, the latter quickly recovering and barking angrily into the microphone.  “Ancestors above, calm yourself!  Who are you and what’s going on?!”

“Ancestors help us!  We’re picking up hundreds of radar signatures all over the board—it’s not just an isolated air raid: we’ve got over a dozen cruise and anti-ship missiles heading straight towards us alone!”

“This is Outpost Fifteen—we have enemy fighters launching airstrikes on top of our missile silos!  How the hell did they get through our radar?!”

“High Castle, this the Seventh Fleet—our ships are under attack by some kind of magical beam from the skies!  The gods are striking down our carriers and battleships as we speak—oh, Ancestors—”

“Is there anyone out there?!  This is Captain Zhenmann…direct hit on the facility ten kilometers out of Magicaregia…lots of casualties…need assistance at once!”

The ground itself shook, sending loose objects flying and clattering loudly on the floor—Duran rushed to the window, his eyes widening in shock: a large explosion enveloped the nearby docks where the Defense Fleet was stationed, with several fires already raging uncontrollably in the distance.  

“Shit!”  

The High General whirled to the other staff present, already scrambling to respond to the rapidly rising number of distress calls with each passing second.  “Mobilise all of our defenses and alert Emperor Zarathosthra at once!  All stations, this is not a drill—the Annorial Empire is under attack, I repeat: the Annorial Empire is under attack!” 

From countless naval fleets stationed along the islands east of the Annorial Empire, dozens upon dozens of conventional cruise missiles erupted from holds and silos and erupted into the skies, leaving columns of clouds in their wake.  These launches and their payloads were quickly detected by Annorial radar outposts, who immediately relayed the information to Orantha Castle alongside all major military bases throughout the Empire—the magical realm in turn mobilised and launched their own defenses; anticipating a nuclear strike in retaliation for the attack on Selatapura, the Emperor and his advisors quickly ordered their forces to intercept the incoming missiles and retaliate in kind.  However, the Empire’s own perceptions of conventional warfare from their Ancestors’ history in Elysia and their limited technological capabilities had both assumed the worst yet still failed to anticipate what the Oseans still had in store for them.

Over a dozen kilometers above the seas between the Vestal Kingdom and Bushpaka Lakan, squadrons of DarkStars and B-2 bombers released similar payloads as their naval counterparts—stealth missiles, exceeding the speed of sound by several magnitudes yet barely even detected by the Annorials amidst their frantic efforts to destroy the initial onslaught of guided projectiles.  Guided by other hypersonic aircraft in lower altitudes as they soared with near-impunity through enemy airspace, each missile soon found their mark: Annorial carriers in the process of launching their aircraft were unexpectedly struck and ripped apart as their mighty hulls were ruptured in blinding blue flashes of light; missile silos preparing their core magic payloads were buried or critically damaged as the very hills and mountains that hid them crumbled and collapsed; Pal Chimera were ripped apart or crippled as they rested on the surface; naval bases deploying their creatures to wreak havoc on Osean and Elysian ports and ships alike were destroyed, leaving the monsters formerly under their thrall to turn on their own masters and ravage the surrounding lands unimpeded.  And where the DarkStars and their missiles failed to hit their mark, the Arkbird was swift to respond—a beam of light from the stars struck the surface of the Branchel continent with a thundering crackle, as Osean technology infused with raw magical power ripped into missile silos and naval vessels and sea monsters like a knife through butter.  Piece by piece, the Annorial Empire’s war machine was gradually being dismantled before its very eyes.  

Yet oddly enough, not a single city or civilian area was targeted by either wave—within the innumerable shelters and bunkers throughout the Empire, the Annorials cowered yet wondered how long it would take before the attention of their unexpected interlopers would turn to them.  Of course, that was how the Ancestors of old dealt with the savages who dared defy their divine right—surely these invaders would do the same?

Even while the magic of the empires of the past clashed with the technology of the future, a singular DarkStar continued to evade planes and anti-air fire alike above Pal Cowne Zero, scoring hit after hit as the massive superstructure began to list over to the side.  A sudden explosion ripped apart a key arm of the ancient superfortress, causing it to plunge into the sea and exposing what appeared to be a narrow passageway leading inside the very heart of the Cowne itself—a glowing blue light could be seen inside, perhaps some kind of magic power source?

Eyes narrowing in thought as an idea came to his head, Trigger swept his aircraft around and soared into the opening, ignoring all common sense and giving in to pure instinct as the sky and sea disappeared behind him.

“What do you mean, we’ve lost all of our ground-based core magic capabilities?!”

High General Duran buried his head in his hands as Emperor Zarathosthra raged, himself only barely suppressing his own dismay as report after report came in of mounting losses against the unprecedented Osean attack on its homeland.  “The missile attacks were incredibly precise and designed to force us to expend our existing defenses against the first wave—the second wave of missiles all appear to have had stealth capabilities and evaded our sensors, before specifically targeting all of our assets capable of retaliating.  Their primary objective seems to be ensuring that we can’t use our own WMDs against their cities, while allowing their own conventional forces to hit or even land on our own territories if they so choose.”

“Well, what about our remaining Pal Scyllas?!  Tell them to launch their own payloads at the Osean Federation—an eye for an eye, if that’s the game that they want to play!  Destroy their cities and their ships before our Empire is destroyed altogether!  Our ambitions, our plans to reclaim Elysia in the name of our Ancestors before their arrival—all these are at risk of failure if we do not act fast, you fools!”

“Your Holiness, I must strongly advise against such an action, even as appealing as it may be,” Director Zamuras interjected.  “Less than a dozen Pal Scyllas were out at sea prior to the attack, and having them deploy their weapons will risk depleting our remaining stockpiles—to say nothing about the risk of them also being intercepted and destroyed mid-launch, or how the Oseans will respond—”

“They are cowards!  They refuse to use their own nuclear weapons against us, blinded by their misguided pacifistic ideals—what makes you think that they will change their minds now?!”

“The Oseans are already showing restraint with their reliance on their experimental aircraft instead of immediately escalating to a direct nuclear exchange between our two nations,” Captain Zhenmann flatly replied, turning to face the Emperor as several aides rushed and began whispering to the various officials present.  “Osea’s international laws clearly indicate that nuclear powers such as themselves already have a valid justification in launching their own weapons against us if they are struck first—we cannot encourage them to act upon that privilege, Your Holiness, if we are to have a future beyond this very day!”

“And judging by our present status,” Duran added, “it seems that the Oseans want to show us that their conventional methods are already more than successful in crippling our existing forces without having to resort to outright nuclear warfare.  I’ve just been notified—we’ve lost control of the vast majority of our sea monsters after our naval bases were wiped out.  Several nearby cities are now reporting widespread damage from rampaging creatures, and our own forces are struggling to both pacify the fauna while engaging the Oseans simultaneously; no word yet on military and civilian casualties, but our estimates will likely rise the longer it takes for us to resolve this situation.”

“How about our space satellites?  Could we mobilise them against the Osean mainland or the ships launching these missiles?”

Duran shook his head.  “We’ve attempted to activate what few Mystar weapons we have under our control, but the Oseans appear to be utilising their spaceship to disable them before they can even get into position.  Not even conventional rockets appear to be effective—the vast majority have already been destroyed by the airstrikes, or intercepted mid-route by orbital or conventional units.”

Zarathosthra snarled.  “Our naval fleets are crippled, our airships damaged, our defenses ravaged, our core magic weapons disabled and inoperable and our prized beasts on the loose—how exactly are we supposed to retaliate?!  I was under the impression that our own forces were more than capable of handling all the so-called superpowers of Elysia at once—yet a singular nation of inferior peoples has brought us to the brink of catastrophe without supposedly so much as lifting a single finger!”

Raising a finger in suggestion, Zamuras was quick to respond.  “Our options are as follows: one, we launch our remaining forces and Pal Chimerae and retaliate against the Oseans; two, we consolidate our defenses and prepare for a naval invasion of our territory; three, we deploy our surviving Pal Scyllas’ core magic weapons and wipe out key targets amongst the Osean forces while we recoup our losses; and four, we open a diplomatic channel with Osea and attempt to negotiate a ceasefire.”

“Are you suggesting that we surrender to the Oseans, Director?” Vorus accused.

“Not a surrender, Vorus—I will thank you not to twist my words,” Zamuras scowled.  “We’ve bloodied the Oseans, but they in turn have successfully bloodied us as well—a ceasefire would allow both parties to deescalate the situation while we repair and rearm our forces for the greater conflict ahead; otherwise, not only would we put our ambitions of restoring the Ravernal Empire at risk at the current rate, but our own survival would also be in jeopardy.”

“But we have already committed to this war!”  Duran protested, turned to Zamuras in anger.  “This is the conflict that is destined to purge the inferior civilizations from Elysia and culminate in the restoration of the Ravernal Empire—to falter at the very start of our great crusade would be nothing short of disastrous, if not outright treasonous to our Ancestors!”

“And yet the other options are unlikely to give us the outcome that we currently desire, based on our own performance against the Oseans,” Zhenmann pointed out.  “Retaliating would only serve to destroy what few combat effective units we have remaining, especially with the technological gap between our nations.  Preparing for a naval invasion means abandoning our plans to destroy Osea and conquer the rest of Elysia, and a nuclear strike wouldn’t necessarily result in the destruction of the Osean Federation—one, the Space Elevator itself is all but impervious to our core magic weapons, and two, the Oseans might actually be compelled to use their own nuclear weapons in response.  Mutually assured destruction, except our own destruction is far more likely than theirs.”

“What exactly are you saying, Captain?”

“Your Holiness, we may have been premature in our actions against Osea.  If you would forgive my boldness, but I believe that our efforts to restore the Ravernal Empire through direct military force are no longer viable—the window of opportunity to destroy the Osean Federation has passed as a result of our incorrect assumption that the Oseans wouldn’t try something like this, and we now have to rethink our plans if we are to see our Ancestors return to a world under their rule.”

Duran’s eye twitched.  “You dare—”

An aide ran into the room, his eyes frantic as he gestured wildly with a stack of papers in his hands.  “Your Holiness, sirs!  New transmission from Pal Cowne Zero: they’ve suffered critical damage and are on the brink of total collapse!  Most if not all of the Pal Chimerae and Pal Scyllae stationed in the facility have been destroyed or disabled!”

Zhenmann paled, slumping into his seat as the room gasped and shouted in horror.  “Eight Pal Chimerae…eight Pal Scyllae…those were supposed to annihilate the Holy Milishial Empire in a month’s time…”

“Your Holiness, allow me to order the remaining crew to evacuate with what remaining assets we still have,” Duras requested.  “The more of our Ancestors’ possessions we can save, the better chance we have at salvaging the current crisis at hand towards our ultimate goal—”

“Make it happen,” Zarathosthra affirmed.  “What was responsible for the facility’s destruction?”

“Your Holiness,” the aide nervously replied, “it was a great beam from the sky…and a singular dark fighter that outfought everything we could send and shoot at it…”

“What?!”

Pal Cowne Zero, Sea of Solitude, Annorial Empire — February 21, 2020

“Trigger, do you copy?!  I’ve lost track of you on all my sensors!  Trigger—”

Ignoring Edge’s frantic calls, Trigger looked around at the internal structure of the Pal Cowne as his DarkStar navigated the long tunnel toward the superstructure’s core.  The damage inside wasn’t as severe compared to out in the open—Trigger suspected all his missiles and lasers might have been partly responsible for that—but fires and smoke could still be seen throughout the countless corridors and walkways lining the tunnel itself, and the pilot often found himself quickly maneuvering his aircraft around falling debris and collapsing panels as the facility continued to tip over to the side.  Sensing that the surroundings would likely become increasingly dangerous for his DarkStar (or any other aircraft for that matter) to navigate as the structure continued to capsize, Trigger began to gently accelerate towards the end of the tunnel, keeping his eye trained on the glowing light ahead.

With a rush of wind in its wake, the DarkStar reached the end of the tunnel and emerged at what clearly was the center of the Pal Cowne itself.  Seven other identical tunnels stretched out to the other ends of the Annorial facility, but at the center was a glowing, pulsating purple light that seemed to be in a state of flux—mere seconds away from collapsing into itself and unleashing the energy of a dying star, yet held at the brink by four identical objects (mechanical? Magical?  Some arcane combination of the two?) that appeared to be drawing… something from the light.  Magical technology (let alone something as advanced as those used by the ancient Ravernals) was something beyond Trigger’s knowledge or even paygrade, but the pilot suddenly had a sneaking suspicion that if something were to happen to the unknown light—or more specifically, the artefacts around it…

Quickly looking around and planning his next move, Trigger steeled himself and banked hard, missiles at the ready.

A pair of AIM-9s impacted each artifact, causing the four objects to rupture and disintegrate in colorful explosions and destabilising the anomalous pulsating ball of energy they contained—from his cockpit, Trigger reckoned he had roughly less than half a minute to make himself scarce.  Even as the superstructure continued to list to the side, sinking deeper into the sea with each passing second, the ace’s DarkStar swooped swiftly towards the solitary tunnel still above the waterline, a cascade of explosions and magical fire erupting in its wake as the pilot once again weaved through debris and collapsing infrastructure.  

With afterburners at full throttle, Trigger barely managed to outpace the wall of destruction mere inches away from his tail as his aircraft breached the sound barrier once more—a stream of laser fire and missiles made swift work of the panels still obstructing the distant end of the tunnel, blowing a hole for the DarkStar to punch out of the Pal Crowne in the nick of time as the core of the superstructure itself went critical.

“Is everyone here?  All right, let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”

Pal Cowne Zero was lost—that much was for certain, its crew glumly realised as they began to row away from their doomed vessel aboard dozens of inflatable rafts.  The flaming wreckage of the prized Ravernal ships they were meant to defend littered the surrounding seas, a grim reminder of the sheer magnitude of their failure as the superstructure continued to explode and crumble—above them, the blue light of death continued its path of destruction as other explosions could be heard in the far distance.

Perhaps some comfort could be taken that Pal Cowne Zero wasn’t the only target, Pamela mused as her raft drifted away.  Not that it wouldn’t likely prevent her and her fellow survivors from facing the Emperor’s wrath for their shortcomings—although if the radio transmissions she had overheard amidst her communications with Magicaregia were of any indication, the whole situation was starting to feel more of a failure on the part of whoever didn’t see the attack coming when it did.  Maybe some generals and spymasters would see the chopping block, perhaps?

Several murmurs rose amongst the rafts, becoming frightened screams and shouts as the center of the superstructure itself suddenly began to glow a bright purple, lighting erupting from its exterior surface and the waters itself began to vibrate—a humming, thrumming noise grew louder and louder as the fires within the burning Pal Cowne turned from a pale orange and yellow to a bright purple, raw magical power mere seconds away to being unleashed—

“Ancestors help us, the core’s going to explode!  Brace for—”

Pal Cowne Zero disappeared in a blinding blaze of purple light, the Ravernal superstructure and the remaining superweapons still present but unable to be evacuated in time vaporized in an instant by a violent display of core magic not seen in countless millennia.  The shockwave reverberated throughout the surrounding region, with even seismometers in Magicaregia picking up the faintest rumblings from hundreds of kilometers away—trees and buildings along the coastlines shook and shuddered and even the DarkStar itself was rattled by the blast, yet Trigger kept his aircraft steady through sheer force of will.  As the vibrations subsided, the young pilot released a breath he didn’t realise he had been holding, the vague noise from his radio returning to his attention once more.”

“…he’s back on our sensors!  Trigger, do you read me?  What the hell did you just do, vanishing and reappearing like that?!  You gave us a goddamn fright here, you moron!”

Muttering something incomprehensible, the pilot took a quick glance back at the sinking debris and nodded to himself as he immediately began preparations for the spaceflight back home—his scramjets still operational and in good condition, the journey through the border between the atmosphere and outer space would thankfully be hardly as eventful as the aerial shenanigans of the past half hour.

“Seriously, Trigger?  Damn it, you’re just as idiotic as Blaze here—oh, don’t give me that look, Captain!  You know just as much as me that we should never survived the War by all accounts with everything we had to pull off—”

Nagase’s husband made an indignant noise of protest, squawking in annoyance over the radio at her remark.

“…well, I guess we still followed you and Pops into those tunnels even considering how suicidal that was…and also in Sudentor…and in the SOLG…you know what?  Nevermind…”

“Mage One is alive!  He’s annihilated the enemy naval facility!”

The briefing room in Oured immediately burst into cheers, President Bartlett himself collapsing onto his seat with a mixture of annoyance and relief as the Arkbird continued to relay the newly-reacquired data on the suspected Singularity.  “Damn nuggets…”

Overhearing his remark, Vice Chairman Edwards turned towards Jack in confusion.  “Sir?”

“Sorry, ignore that,” the President hurriedly brushed him off. “Just had some flashbacks to that whole mess in Sudentor back in the day…have our technicians find out what the hell happened to Three Strikes once he lands back in Selatapura, will you?”

“Errr…right away, sir.”

“It looks like the destruction of the facility’s having an immediate effect on the local wildlife,” Brigadier General Clements reported from the corner of the room.  “Several sea monsters previously on an intercept course with our fleets in Varkland and the Vestal Kingdom have reversed course or are changing directions—or are now engaging Annorial naval units they were previously escorting.  We shouldn’t have any more problems with those creatures for the time being, Mr. President.”

“So that’s…what, the vast majority of the Annorials’ units out of action?”

“We’ve hit almost all of their nuclear assets, disabled the vast majority of their Pal Chimerae and Scinfaxi -class submarines, de-whammied their sea monsters, and left their remaining forces exposed to whatever we want to throw at them.  With the Arkbird in orbit above the Branchel continent and the Coast Guard in full alert, we should be able to successfully intercept any kind of retaliatory strike the Annorials might try to pull off—heck, we might even be able to start an invasion of the Empire itself if we so choose.”

“Almost all of our primary objectives appear to be complete,” Edwards confirmed, “and accomplishing the full slate should be more than sufficient in forcing the Annorials to stand down and stop their maneuvers against Osea and Gra Valkas.  There’s just one more thing that we need to do—to demonstrate to the Annorial government in person that nothing that they can throw at us will ever be enough compared to what we’re truly capable of achieving in the skies.”

Clements frowned.  “Weren’t our surgical airstrikes enough to achieve that aim?”

The Vice Chairman shook his head and smirked, a smug expression on his face as he turned to face the Brigadier. 

“It’s one thing for the Annorials to hear about the destruction of their forces through eyewitness accounts, Clements.  It’s another thing to see a single enemy plane in the skies outfight even the greatest pilots of your generation and think: we could be dead right now, so what gives?”

“It’ll be like Eshirant all over again,” the President added with no small amount of schadenfreude in his expression, “except this time we’ll be fighting our magical equivalents for the very first time.  Should be quite the show for us, considering who we’re sending to the enemy capital—though we probably can’t say the same for the Annorials, though, can we?”

The officials present chuckled at that, feeling no sympathy for the Annorials’ imminent plight whatsoever.  

“Mr. President?”

Bartlett turned towards the entrance to the Briefing Room, recognising the Press Secretary as she walked towards him.  “Jennifer?  What’s up?”

“Your public announcement regarding the ongoing conflict is due to start in about ten minutes.”

“Oh, yes, right.  Edwards, give the Arkbird my personal order to launch the final stage of the operation—and make sure all the cameras on the Falken work this time.”

“I’ll get to it, Mr. President.”

Albion Castle, Runepolis, Holy Milishial Empire — February 21, 2020 

“Your Excellency, wake up!  We’ve just received urgent news regarding the Oseans!”

Rubbing his eyes as he rose from his bed, Emperor Milishial’s head turned to the servant that had disturbed his rest.  “What is it?  What do they want from us?”

“We’re receiving unconfirmed reports from our merchants in Bushpaka Lakan that Osean aircraft have attacked the Annorial Empire!  Several locations have been hit, and President Bartlett himself is about to make a public statement on the news!”

All thoughts of returning to sleep immediately vanished as Milishial’s eyes widened in surprise.  “The Annorials?   Why would Osea attack the Annorial Empire?!  Summon my advisors and get me a magical viewer, at once!”

“Yes, Your Excellency!”

Rising to his feet and quickly reaching for his robes as the rest of his staff scurried off, the Emperor frowned and began mentally noting down the countless tasks he and his ministers would undoubtedly need to do—but first, more information was needed for the situation that was already unfolding before him.

Events were happening quicker than the Holy Milishial Empire could react—far from being at the center of the action as the premier civilization of Elysia had always expected, it was now frustratingly at risk of being left behind…

Nivles Castle, Ragna, Gra Valkas Empire — February 21, 2020

“Do we have confirmation from the Oseans that the attack on the Annorial Empire is taking place?”

Seated opposite Emperor Gra Lux, Director Akkan nodded as he, Minister Mopole, General Siegs, and the other officials and Senators present continued to discuss the ongoing developments—the shocking news from Bushpaka Lakan was surprisingly quick to filter through the rest of Elysia, with both spies and overenthusiastic mouths disseminating increasingly overexaggerated stories of DarkStars annihilating cities and armies alike with a single shot of their lasers or of Osea summoning mythological demons from the ancient gods to strike down entire continents.  With increasing concerns about the matter at hand—especially in light of recent events—the Emperor had summoned his advisors to Nivles Castle for an emergency meeting to figure out what exactly was going on.

“Officially, no,” Akkan replied, “but we can be certain that the Osean fleets originally in the Philadean and Grameus continents have since relocated further south to Varkland—the official statement was something about strategic maneuvers in light of the attack on Selatapura, but there were suspicions that they might have been in preparation for a reprisal campaign against the Annorials.”

Turning to the Emperor as he shook his head in disgust, Senator Marix spoke up, “If the Oseans view us as a partner in our efforts to contain the Annorial Empire, then why exactly have they decided to unilaterally attack—especially now, of all times?!  Do they not view us as capable in assisting them in their plight?”

“Considering both the Grade Alastar and its naval escorts were barely able to escape the attack on Selatapura—and after suffering significant casualties and damages, at that—I should hardly think our own forces would be capable of standing a chance against the Annorials,” Senator Eisenner rebutted, shifting in his seat to look at his ideological rival in annoyance.  “Or would you like to risk our Empire losing another fleet to an enemy that technologically outpaces us by several decades?”

“We were stabbed in the back, attacked when our guard was down and our forces wounded,” Marix shot back, unsatisfied by Eisenner’s response.  “An attack on our own terms in retaliation for the injuries dealt to us would undoubtedly give us the victory that we deserve—and yet the Oseans would deny us that in the name of avenging their dead emissary?  Clearly, we aren’t exactly seen as equals by our so-called allies!”

Director Akkan rose to his feet, increasingly irritated at Senator Marix’s knee-jerk reactions and seeking to restore order to the meeting.  “Senators, I must interject—we are currently basing our assessments on mere conjecture as of right now!  We have no solid intel to suggest that an attack is even taking place, let alone what the purpose of such an engagement would be!  We cannot let wanton speculation based on the tales of a few lowly Milishial merchants and vagabonds determine our response to this situation—”

“What other proof do we need?!  The Oseans have left us in the dark after offering aid in destroying our mutual enemies—”

“Well, why wouldn’t the Oseans attack the Annorials in the first place?!” Eisenner had similarly stood up, his eyes glaring accusingly at Marix.  “We would have done the same if these Elysian bastards dared strike down our Crown Prince—and by all accounts, he himself was but a stroke of luck away from suffering the same fate as the late Ambassador Harling!”

“Silence!”

It was rare for Emperor Gra Lux to raise his voice, the leader of the Empire itself viewing such emotional outbursts to be an unnecessary sign of weakness in times of crisis.  However, the bickering amongst his advisors was clearly no longer contributing to the matter at hand—recognising the tone in his outburst, the Senators took the hint and sat back down.

“Director Akkan, Minister Mopole, do we have any information from the Oseans themselves about the situation, or barring that, any actual details about what is happening in the Annorial Empire?”

Mopole shook his head, pulling his files from a stack of documents between him and Akkan for reference.  “Directors Gesta and Ciella have confirmed that they weren’t notified about any kind of movements prior to the ongoing incident, but Ciella is now currently seeking to get in touch with her counterparts in Oured.  She’s stated that she’s expecting a response within a few hours—or barring that, considering IUN protocols regarding operations such as this, an official announcement within roughly twenty-four hours.”

“What we can confirm,” Akkan added, “is that forces from the Osean Federation are actively within the territory of the Annorial Empire itself—what exactly it is or what its objectives are, we have yet to find out.”

“Or otherwise, the Oseans have yet to tell us,” Gra Lux concluded with no small amount of frustration.  “Very well; since we have no actions available to us at this time until Director Gesta’s staff or the Osean government itself provide any new information, we shall reconvene at a later date—”

“Your Excellency,” Siegs interrupted, nodding as another officer hurriedly whispered to his ear, “apologies for interrupting, but the Osean ambassador has just informed Minister Mopole’s staff that President Bartlett will be making a live television address shortly.  I believe he might be about to give us the information that we’ve been looking for…”

“Your Holiness…Pal Cowne Zero was destroyed.  We’ve lost contact with all remaining forces in the surrounding region.”

The Annorial officials present sank defeatedly into their seats as Emperor Zarathosthra regarded the catastrophic loss with no small amount of anger.  For one of the most prized relics of the Ancestors to be destroyed in a matter of minutes was nothing short of disastrous, and their plans for accelerating their return were now undoubtedly set back by years at best—and that would assume that the Oseans didn’t do anything else—

“Your Holiness!”  The door to the briefing room had burst open as the aide from earlier returned, High General Duran behind him with a similarly pale expression.  “We’ve picked up radar signatures less than fifty kilometers away from Magicaregia—the enemy’s about to launch an air raid on the capital itself!”

Director Zamuras whirled to face the Emperor.  “Your Holiness, we must get you to safety!  The safe room in the lower levels of the command centre—if the fighters have nuclear weapons, we should be able to withstand an attack there—”

Zarathosthra nodded as he stood to attention, his face grim yet determined to see this final crisis through.  “Relocate all critical staff and operations to the emergency areas.  And redirect every single fighter squadron we’ve got left in the area to our location— Magicaregia itself must not fall!”

A singular fighter shot across the skies towards a land where a people, still believing in their superiority based on old tales of chaos and destruction, had only just realised the precariousness of their fragile fantasy and found themselves all but helpless amidst their newfound epiphany.  A vivid palette of blue and white contrasted the sharp reds and yellows of the Annorial flags it zoomed over, its jagged forward wings slicing through the air and leaving onlookers below to stare at its wake in shock—in a world where dragons and arcane magicks that brought sacred artifacts from ancient times into the skies dominated the skies for untold millennia, a mechanical craft without a touch of Elysian magic or the aetherial curves of the Pal Auroras was but a foreign sight.  An abomination, even, for those unfortunate enough to correctly surmise its true origin—apart for a few vague letters and numbers, only one defining feature could be seen on its wings as it approached the Annorial capital of Magicaregia: 

A blue ribbon, wrapping around itself in an infinite loop.

From the skies above the Annorial Empire, a single message was transmitted from Oured to the Arkbird, to be conveyed to a singular E-767, similarly en route to Magicaregia itself:

“Begin the final stage of the attack—inform SkyEye that the Ribbon Singularity is cleared to engage!”

Chapter Text

Pal Aurora Air Base Zero, Magicaregia, Annorial Empire — February 21, 2020

“Grogny, wake up!  Get up, it’s an emergency!”

Feeling a pair of arms roughly disturb his nap as he rested in his bunk, Lieutenant Grogny grumbled and attempted to pull the covers on top of himself once more.  “Oh, another drill?  Ehhh, forget it…wake me up when the alarms stop blaring—”

“It’s not a drill, Ancestors be damned!   Magicaregia is under attack—the Emperor’s ordered all Pal Aurora squadrons to deploy to the Central District immediately!”

Warily, Grogny opened his eyes once more as he glanced at his wingman.  “Is it another dragon attack?  Isn’t that the job of Red Squadron?”

“Is it another dragon attack—no, you idiot, there’s an invasion happening!  Don’t you ever listen to the news?  The inferior peoples are retaliating for our victory in Osea—several cities just got hit by airstrikes, and some of the Ancestors’ beasts breached containment!  We need to get into the air to help restore order, so get up before the higher ups haul you to feeding duties!”

“Damn it!  Fine, get me my helmet and have the crew prepare our planes for immediate sortie—”

The room unexpectedly shook as a nearby explosion rocked the airbase, sending loose objects flying and instantly rousing Grogny from his stupor.  His wingman similarly glanced around, his face paling in horror at the realisation that even they were now under attack—

“They’re actually targeting us!  Ancestors help us, it’s even worse than I thought!”

Grogny scowled, scrambling to his feet.  “That’s enough speculation from you—get going, man!  Move, move, move!”

For a pilot long experienced with twisting, turning, and pressing the buttons and dials of the Raptor throughout his years fighting Eruseans, the dark and featureless interior of the Falken itself was still very much an otherworldly experience—save for the blue lines and holographic displays that lined his controls and marked his HUD and the hexagonal screens that provided a circular view of the airspace around him, there wasn’t really much of a difference between the much-vaunted COFFIN system and its namesake, Mobius One mused.

Even his very seat was different, its ergonomic shape and angular, reclined design seemingly more appropriate for a lounge than the most advanced fighter jet in existence, yet the ace pilot was forced to admit that it was far more comfortable to travel to and from sorties in his current position than being hunched inside the tight cockpit of his old aircraft.  The Osean and Belkan engineers who briefed him about the ADF-01 when he was first introduced to the fighter mentioned something about the design meant to better shield his body from the effects of his more physically draining aerial stunts; his controls, while still the two familiar devices he recalled from the Raptor, were now integrated into the armrests and augmented by a new display on his HUD that responded to his eye movements and even his voice (if he ever decided to use it, the engineers had drily added).  The COFFIN’s GUI was also a dramatic departure from the relatively simplistic design on older planes, too—radar, ammunition, and information on key systems were now highlighted on his HUD alongside altitude and speed, with a vaguely mechanical female voice highlighting his every action from a direct hit on an enemy aircraft to the start and end of each mission.   Each part of the Falken, from the controls to the very airframe itself, was shaped to respond more accurately and sensitively to the near-superhuman inputs of pilots with his calibre, giving him a far greater degree of maneuverability than even the Raptor could provide—all to make the nigh-unstoppable ace that he was even more deadly and effective in the art of the skies than ever before.

He had his misgivings, of course, as a sucker for the classic planes of old—but if this was to be the future of fighter jets, Mobius decided, then he would be more than happy to fly across the skies in a plane like this—even if it meant having to relearn old habits from an era now mere years away from fading into history.

“SkyEye here!  Mobius One, you will be approaching the Annorial capital of Magicaregia shortly.  Do you copy?”

Shifting his eyes across the HUD to signal his response, Mobius silently replied in the affirmative.

“This city is the political and economic heart of the Annorial Empire itself—destroy all military targets and eliminate all enemy resistance.  Call in for reinforcements if you feel it’s necessary, and Omega Squadron will enter the AO as soon as possible; the Arkbird is also available for tasking at your discretion, but will need you to designate targets first in order for them to provide orbital support.

“Mobius One, you are cleared to engage.  Remember, victory is critical, but survival is paramount—come back home in one piece, do you hear?”

Mobius smiled in spite of himself at his old friend’s words, leaning back onto his seat as the Falken shot forward towards Magicaregia itself.

ENGAGE

“What the hell do you mean, you’re only remembering your controls now?!  Aren’t you a fully trained pilot?!”

“We’re reservists!  We’re only supposed to be activated if the regular forces are out of action—what in the name of the Ancestors is going on?!”

“Hey, I thought we were winning the war!  What gives?!”

Grogny scowled from the cockpit of his Pal Aurora 3.  “Nevermind!  How about you, Dragon Four—you’re from the regs like us, you know anything that we don’t?”

“Hey, all that we know is that we were supposed to be taking off a week from now to hit the Milishials at Cartalpas—we weren’t expecting to be deployed immediately!  Maybe the inferior peoples decided to retaliate for our victory against the Oseans—”

A harsh voice cut into the chatter, instantly silencing all communications between the three squadrons.  “Cease all this wanton speculation!  We are the prestigious pilots of the Winged Peoples, not immature schoolchildren who gossip about lies and falsehoods—any more mindless drivel, and I’ll shoot down each and every pilot that dares to needlessly waggle their tongues again, understood?”

Grogny and his fellow pilots did not respond, not wishing to further incite the wrath of their flight lead.  From his plane, Sword One smirked in arrogant satisfaction before turning back towards his communicator.

“AEWA Throne, this is Sword One.  Sword, Dragon, and Reserve Squadron 21 are present and accounted for in the AO—what’s the mission tasking?”

From the airborne early warning aircraft several kilometers above the three Annorial squadrons, a gruff male voice transmitted, “Sword, Dragon, and R-21, enemy airstrikes are threatening the safety of Magicaregia, and hostile aircraft are believed to be headed from your northwest towards the capital as we speak.  Maintain air superiority and eliminate all threats with extreme prejudice as a symbol of our might to our Emperor, our people, and our Ancestors.”

“What about the Zeroth Fleet?  Will we be joined by them for this mission?”

“ We lost contact with the Fleet’s flagship about five minutes ago, Sword One; their last reports stated that enemy aircraft were approaching their positions.  We can only assume that their communications are inoperative at this time or have suffered critical damage as a result of the attack—if you encounter any elements of the Zeroth Fleet, provide air cover to allow them to evacuate the harbor.”

Grogny and his wingmen grimaced; if Sword One was similarly perturbed by this development, he chose not to show it.

“Copy, Throne; out.  All units, follow my lead as we sweep the inferior peoples from our skies!  Forward, in the name of our Ancestors!”

“Hey, over there!  Northeast, bearing 010—one bogey heading towards us!”

“What?!  Where?”

The Annorial pilots craned their necks to catch a glimpse of whatever it was that was approaching: a bizarre angular aircraft unlike anything they had ever seen before, its sharp forward wings seemingly slicing through the air and a fuselage that lacked the windows of a conventional Pal Aurora.  Was this the supposed aircraft that Magicaregia deemed to be such a threat to the Empire as a whole?

“Gods, that plane isn’t anything vaguely threatening at all!  Let’s just shoot that thing down and be done with it!”

Sword One frowned.  “Something doesn’t feel right.  Arming missiles—”

“Hey, Sword Two here—that thing just opened up—”

—blue fire—

That was the only way that Grogny could describe the light that unexpectedly erupted from the Osean aircraft and soared right through Sword Two, vaporising the veteran pilot’s Pal Aurora 3 in a matter of seconds and leaving the flaming wreckage to tumble uncontrollably towards the harbour below.  

BULLSEYE

“Ancestors above; Sword Two is down!  What the hell was that?!”

“That blue light—it fried him into a crisp!”

“Evasive maneuvers!  Get away from the front of that aircraft and go for its flanks!”

His face paling in horror at the sight, the Lieutenant and his wingmen instinctively broke their formations and scrambled in a desperate attempt to evade the blue beam of death as it began to arc across the sky and slice through Annorial aircraft with frightening precision.  The mannacomm was soon quickly filled with cries of terror and angry curses as the beleaguered pilots—long used to swatting rogue dragons and the occasional solitary Elysian would-be-adventurer out of the sky, the vaulted pilots of the Light Winged People were caught off guard by the sheer agility of the attacking plane and the skill of its pilot (to say nothing of whatever the hell was that unholy light).

“My wing’s gone!  I’m going to have to eject!”

“Dragon Four is down!  I see a parachute, but he’ll need S&E in the harbour!”

BINGO

“That thing’s fast!  It’s outmaneuvering all of our attempts to get behind it!”

“Missile, missile!  R-21B, evade!”

“Ancestors above, I’m hit! I—”

BULLSEYE

“That’s another of our guys down!  Damn it, he’s on my tail!”

“Dragon One, it’s opening its mouth again!  Look out!”

BULLSEYE

“Dragon Two, your flight lead is down!  Assume command of Dragon Squadron for the rest of the mission!”

“Affirmative; Three through Seven, regroup on me—”

BINGO

“Damn it, that fighter just took out Dragon Two as well!”

Sword One snarled.  “Fools, your performance is disgraceful!  The Emperor and our Ancestors are watching us, and you dishonour them with this charade of a defense?!  Pick up the pace and destroy that inferior fighter before I shoot you down myself!”

“Well, you go and shoot that thing down yourself like the rest of us then, you asshole!”

“What did you say?!  You’ll pay for that, cur!”

From the corner of his vision, Grogny saw a disturbingly familiar glint of angular light—about to strike Sword One, he realised.  “Boss, right behind you!  Look out!”

“Silence, Sword Three!  Cease your inelegant blubbering and maintain your discipline—”

The enemy plane’s mouth opened once again, and the blue beam erupted from within; Sword One’s aircraft was vaporised before the flight commander even realised what was happening, still focused on berating his subordinate even in his final moments.  Grogny shook his head in dismay and no small annoyance at the sight as what was left of the much-reviled pilot splashed into the waters below—for many of the pilots present, nothing much of value would seem to have been lost.

BULLSEYE

“Sword One is down!  It’s every man for himself!”

Yet for all of his bluster, the leader’s presence was all but what was keeping their desperate defense of the capital from deteriorating into a flat-out rout.  With his confirmed death, the individual squadrons quickly disintegrated into a mad scramble to either avoid getting shot down or to launch wildly disorganised individual attempts at scoring a hit—not even the directives from Throne seemed to be of any use in restoring order to the would-be-defenders of Magicaregia.  Scowling, Grogny glanced around for the rest of his squadron and barked into his mannacomm once more.

“Sword Squadron, regroup on me!  All other survivors, join up as well if you want to make it out of this engagement alive—we’re taking the fight to that bird!”

“Belay that order, Sword Three!  Throne to all callsigns: waive off—our Guardians have dispatched an elite squadron to assist in driving the invaders out of our soil!  Callsign: Enlil!”

For the first time since the air battle began, Grogny felt a glimmer of hope as news of the arrival of the most prestigious pilots in the entirety of the Annorial Empire (and possibly even Elysia itself) quickly spread amongst the surviving pilots.  Nodding to himself, Grogny gestured to his wingmen to follow him out of the enemy aircraft’s range.

“Roger that, Throne!  Sword Squadron and anyone else that’s still alive, we’re establishing a perimeter around the hostile aircraft—the Guardians will close in and go for the kill!  On me!”

The Guardians were no mere recruits or brutish cogs within the vast military complex that defended the Annorial Empire from those who would see the Ancestors’ return thwarted—their namesakes were honoured and celebrated figures from the glorious past of the Ravernals themselves, committed to continuing their legacy in striking down the inferior foes foolish enough to stand in their way.

Thousands of years past before the names Mu or even Milishial were ever first uttered, the Ravernal Empire found itself in a desperate struggle against the Infinidragoon Kingdom and its mighty horde of Lightning Flame Dragons—vast, gigantic winged creatures that loomed over entire cities and dominated the battlefield with their devastating magical fire (itself nearly on par with the Ancestors’ most powerful core magic devices)—that threatened to engulf even the Latistor Continent in their wrath.  In a desperate effort to save their Empire, three generals marshalled their forces for a final stand and summoned the Kingdom’s entire fleet of Dragons to their position with an astonishing display of raw magic, slaughtering dozens with their own hand before finally ordering hundreds of core magic warheads on their position as their defences were overrun—with their valiant sacrifice (as no survivors or even bodies were ever found in the aftermath), the Lightning Flame Dragons were all but annihilated and the Infinidragoons soon forced back to their own homeland.  For the three Guardians and their men—Enlil, Inanna, and Nammu—the pilots of the squadrons that took their names would always ensure that the skies they cleared with their valour would forever belong to the Ravernals and their Annorial descendants.  The Guardians were the greatest pilots in the history of the Winged People, and they would undoubtedly forever remain so as long as Elysia existed.

From far below, the denizens of Magicaregia cheered as the Guardians aboard their silver Pal Aurora 4s—the most advanced fighters in existence, barring whatever technological wonders from the Ancestors still remained undiscovered within the ancient ruins of their magical civilization—soared over the skyscrapers and towers of the Annorial Empire’s capital, travelling at supersonic speeds well beyond even the capabilities of the Milishials’ much-hyped Alpha-3s.  Their surfaces gleaming with the sun’s reflection and their freshly-polished consoles glowing with an ethereal union of magic and science, these planes, as divine as they were destructive, were truly worthy for only those who had undoubtedly proven their loyalty to the Ancestors above all else.

“Our greatest champions!  Protect us in the name of our Ancestors!”

“Victory’s at hand!  Drive the savages out of our land!”

“Glory to the Emperor!  Glory to the Guardians!”

Aboard her plane, Lieutenant Nilea Keleana carefully adjusted the controls of her HUD as her wingmen and flight lead continued to casually bicker and speculate about the nature of their unexpected deployment.  Other pilots would have found the background noise incredibly annoying, especially considering the somewhat dire circumstances—for the young pilot, the sound of her found family and friends (and amicable exes, for a few of them) was a source of comfort, something to lean on to while serving the Ancestors.  And why would she ever have to worry about a few lapses in standard operating procedures within her squadron?  

She and her fellow pilots were the Guardians, the greatest to ever soar across the skies, and they knew it—until the Ancestors themselves returned, truly was there nothing in Elysia that could match the might of the Annorial Empire itself!  The Ancestors would guide their endeavours as always, and they would continue to do so until the end of time; of that, Nilea and her companions had no doubt.

“This is the AEWA Throne to Enlil Squadron.  Call: Sardothien.  Response?”

Captain Nawor Regty, Enlil One, was the first to respond.  “Galathynius.  Report on the situation.”

“Enlil Squadron, good to have you with us.  A singular fighter has penetrated our air defenses and is within striking range of Orantha Castle and the Imperial Crown itself—it has evaded and outmatched all of our available conventional air superiority squadrons.  Assistance is needed in allowing damaged aircraft to retreat out of the AO and reestablishing air superiority by shooting down the fighter itself.”

Nilea scoffed to herself.  “The regulars are having problems with one aircraft?  How dumb exactly are they?”

“They were the best we had still available after the air raids—and a lot quicker to arrive here than Enlil Squadron was,” the AEWA controller drily replied.  “They’ve been able to keep the aircraft busy while you were en route, but ended up paying dearly for it.”

“Nothing is to be gained by needlessly disparaging the efforts of our fellow pilots, Lieutenant,” Nawor gently chided his wingwoman.  “Let’s work to avenge their comrades and assess our shortcomings afterwards—”

“Yeah, yeah, the usual sentimental stuff,” Nilea replied dismissively.  “Are we swatting this fly out of the sky, or not?”  

On the mannacomm, Enlil Three and Four could be heard tsking in disapproval.  

Enlil Two pointedly ignored them and tapped impatiently on her controls, her attention already focused on the fight ahead as she quickly ran through the weapons armed on her aircraft—a bit overkill for an air superiority mission, by her reckoning, but it never hurt to be careful, after all.  What little information the Emperor had given his subjects about the Osean Federation (the vast majority of the intel that Intelligence had gone through was apparently either propaganda or highly improbable fabrications) suggested that the enemy attacking their homeland was a somewhat technologically advanced power, something that even the Guardians themselves had yet to truly encounter in their centuries of service to the Ancestors.  The prospect was certainly something that the pilots present felt a mixture of excitement and trepidation—what would fighting a nation that deemed itself on par with the Empire through its mastery of science be like?

“Hey, ten coins says this ends up being more interesting than those Gra Valkans we sank last year.  You guys in?”

“Oh, please, Nairod,” Enlil Four drily replied.  “As if anything wouldn’t be more interesting than whatever those pathetic excuses for planes were—propeller aircraft versus our sacred vessels?  Really?”

“All bark and no bite,” Mas remarked, “especially that flight lead—what was it that he said?  Something about ‘the glory of Gra Valkan technological innovation’, he said, my ass—”

“Cut the chatter, Enlil Three,” Nawor interrupted.  “I’ve got eyes on the enemy plane.  Four and Five, we’re doing our standard manoeuvres to see how he reacts—let’s see if this so-called menace is as dangerous as he’s all hyped up to be.”

Nairod frowned.  “What kind of plane design is that without even a window?  No matter, let’s leave it to the boys in Intelligence to deal with—Loach, you have the honours.”

“Roger, Five—Enlil Squadron, engaging!”

Su-57s?  No, not exactly—these new fighters seemed to be a bizarre blend of Felons and the long-rumored J-20s supposedly being developed in Comona, Mobius One mused.  Whatever they were, the fact that the Annorial fighters he had been previously engaging were now retreating suggested that the newcomers were likely of a more elite calibre—all the better, considering the relatively meagre offerings until now; if anything, the technologically disadvantaged Elysia was somehow proving far more disappointing in the field of air combat than even the veteran pilot had anticipated.

Perhaps these pilots would be more of a challenge; seeing a pair of fighters rapidly approaching for a dance, Mobius One decided to oblige.

Let’s see how good you are compared to the Eruseans…

“Enlil Four and Five, on the offensive!  Let’s get rid of this savage at once!”

Loach and Nairod were the first two pilots to attempt to force the Osean fighter out of the sky, their Pal Aurorae moving in close synchronisation as one quickly countered each of Mobius One’s reactions to the other.  With the satisfying tone of a missile lock achieved in a matter of seconds, Nairod did not hesitate—a guided missile shot forward at breakneck speed, soaring rapidly towards the Falken.

“Enlil Five, Fox Two!”

Mobius One’s plane spun around as a flurry of countermeasures lit up his rear, drawing in Enlil Five’s missile.  Taking advantage of the opponent’s distraction, Loach in turn fired his own missiles, a prayer to the Ancestors that his munitions would strike true.

“Enlil Four, Fox Two!”

The Falken weaved and circled, narrowly dodging one projectile after another—but the other three fighters of Enlil Squadron were in turn approaching from the front, releasing two missiles each in close proximity to the Osean bird itself.  Eyes widening in realisation, Mobius quickly responded, his HUD responding to his input within a matter of nanoseconds as the front of his plane opened up—

“The plane’s about to fire its weapon!  Look out!”

Nilea, Nawor, and Mas instantly broke off to avoid being caught in Mobius One’s laser, the experimental weapon cutting through the vast majority of the missiles approaching his front and the Falken swerving past the remainder.  Simultaneously attempting to shake off his pursuers while refocusing the beam of death towards the fleeing aircraft, the veteran pilot swerved hard into a series of high-G maneuvers—Nairod and Loach gaped in shock as their target somehow dodged an entire salvo of missiles while seemingly twisting uncontrollably in the air, before regaining control and soaring onwards as if nothing had happened.

“Nawor, are you seeing this?!  Those moves should be completely impossible!”

“And yet that pilot’s still pulling them off—he’s good, I’ll give him that.  Enlil Two and Three, regroup on me and we’ll put this charade to a swift end!”

Nilea and Mas each positioned themselves on Nawor’s flanks, and the three fighters joined Loach and Nairod in their close pursuit, the five Pal Aurorae releasing a pair of missiles each at the Falken’s rear.  The storm of guided munitions trailing Mobius One would have completely overwhelmed a wyvern rider or a Milishial pilot—or maybe even a nugget fresh out of the OADF’s flight academy—but for a seasoned pilot like him, a plan quickly came to mind to escape the situation and turn the tables on his pursuers.  Releasing a final spread of chaff and flares, the Usean pilot released a pair of missiles without a direct target and shot downwards, his plane screaming across the sky as it hurtled towards the ground.

Loach gaped, his squadron joining him and Nairod as they dove down in close pursuit—their ten missiles were slowly being drawn away by the countermeasures and the Osean projectiles’ radar signatures, yet three remained on his tail as hunter and prey continued to fall, the waves of the harbour rapidly approaching—

“That pilot’s a madman!  Nawor, we’re going to crash into the bay!”

“Affirmative, Mas; Enlil Squadron, break off, break off!”

“Negative, negative—if we lose him now, we’re gonna lose our advantage against him!”

“The Captain’s right, Nairod,” Loach realised, “he’s only going to pull up at the last second, and his plane might just be capable enough of pulling that off!  The Pal Auroraes aren’t—”

“Come on, come on!  We’re going make it!”

“Nairod!”

“Pull up, you idiot!  Pull up!”

Nilea, Mas, and Nawor pulled away from the chase, not wanting to take the risk of crashing; Enlil Four and Five pressed on, the latter roaring as adrenaline surged through him and the former frantically attempted to both follow and lead his companion away from certain death.  At the last second, Mobius One pulled up above the surface of the bay—the three missiles splashed into the water, exploding harmlessly as his two remaining pursuers yanked harder on their controls than ever before in their lives—

“By the Ancestors, preserve me and this idiot!”

“We’re going to survive, Loach!  By the Ancestors, we’re pulling this off or my name is—”

By some sheer miracle or skill on the Guardians’ parts, their Pal Aurorae curved over the waters of Magicaregia by mere inches, their afterburners sending plumes of water into the air in their wake before the two fighters shot up into the skies once more towards much safer altitudes—the Falken they had been pursuing with near-suicidal intent was right in front of them, barely even attempting to evade a missile lock.  Loach released a breath he didn’t realise he was holding, laughing to himself even as he refocused his attention at the Osean plane.

“You fucking idiot…”

“Hey, we made it and still followed that Falken, didn’t we?”

“That we did, that we did—”

Seeing that his pursuers were distracted, the Usean ace nodded to himself.  

These newcomers were fun dancers, but the music was coming to an end.  Time to show these Elysians what true mastery of the skies entailed, the pilot decided—if they thought that this was the peak of his abilities, then he would give them something that the world would remember forever.

Leaning back on his seat, Mobius One braced himself and pulled back, hard—

The enemy bird abruptly leaned back as it seemingly froze in the air, Loach and Nairod’s Pal Aurorae shooting past without a chance to react.  Enlil Five’s eyes widened; how the hell did he manage to do that— 

—the plane leaned forward and launched itself at its two would-be pursuers from their rears, the pair having only a mere second to realise that they had become the targets themselves—

—its mouth opened, and Nilea’s eyes widened in horror as she realised what was about to happen—

“Loach!  Nairod!  Get the fuck away from that thing!”

“Nairod, look out—”

“He’s—Loach, I—”

Nairod’s aircraft disappeared into a blinding flash of blue light, Enlil Five’s agonized scream melting into the explosions that dotted his irradiated aircraft.  The resulting maelstrom of fire and energy caught Loach’s plane as well—the entire right wing was vaporized, sending the Guardian’s aircraft into an uncontrollable spin as it tumbled across the sky before splashing into the harbour.

“Nairod, no—”

BINGO

Across the city, the cheers and shouts of encouragement came to an abrupt halt as the denizens of Magicaregia froze in shock.  “The Guardians…that barbarian slew a Guardian?!”

“That…that can’t be!  The Guardians are invincible!  They’re our greatest warriors!”

“Surely it was an accident, right?”

“It must have been!  That Heavenly Floating Ship couldn’t have taken those heroes down!”

Nilea screamed.  “Loach!  Nairod!   No!”

Enlil One glanced down in horror at the remains of Nairod’s aircraft as it sank beneath the surface of the harbour, his wizened face growing pale at the sight.  “Throne, Enlil Four and Five are down!  Mas, do you see a parachute?!”

“Negative—there wasn’t any chute!  Loach was in the Pal Aurora when it crashed!”

“Pull yourself together, Enlil Two!  That savage will pay dearly for that, I promise you!” Nawor banked hard, narrowly avoiding a missile from the Osean fighter with a circular flourish of high-G maneuvers and flares; soaring right past the enemy itself, he risked a glance at the plane only to realise that the aircraft was circling back around towards his tail.   “Mas, Nilea, go for his six!  I’ll keep him focused on me!”

“Roger!”

Enlil One grunted in frustration as his aircraft twisted and turned, struggling to maintain the Osean pilot’s attention while breaking the near-continuous drone of the missile lock alarm in his console.  The Pal Aurora 4 was a rarity within the Annorial Empire, and for good reason—its speed and agility was unmatched by anything the Ancestors had ever faced—yet this plane was quicker, faster, and far more responsive to his actions than even he himself could achieve.  One wrong move, he realised, and this would be it—

“Ancestors be damned, he’s far more skilled than I ever expected!  Nilea, Mas, shoot the shot!”

“Enlil Three, Fox Two!”

A missile from Mas’s underside soared past the Osean and narrowly missed Nawor’s fuselage by several inches, exploding right above the cockpit but dealing no significant damage.  Enlil One scowled, turning to glance at his wingmen in anger—seeing his opportunity, the enemy pilot shot a pair of missiles at the Pal Aurora at point blank range—

Gasping, Nilea cried out, “Look out!”

A pair of explosions rocked the seasoned pilot’s aircraft, ripping into the fuselage and tearing holes into the Pal Aurora’s wings—but Nawor swiftly regained control of his aircraft, smirking self-assuredly at his pursuer.  Enlil Two and Three gaped in surprise—weren’t those killshots?

“Captain,”  Mas exclaimed, “how are you still alive?!”

“Non-critical areas!  Shoot this guy down and I’ll teach you how to do it—”

Enlil One’s transmission was abruptly cut off as a blue light erupted from the Falken and slammed into the Pal Aurora, the sheer energy of the focused blast slicing through the fuselage and melting the cockpit itself in raw plasma and fire.  What remained of the bisected wreckage exploded, with debris falling into the harbour and the surrounding industrial districts—onlookers from below scrambled to avoid getting hit, screaming in panic as they did so.  

BULLSEYE

Nodding to himself, Mobius One gave the final remains of the enemy plane a perfunctory salute before sweeping around—that pilot did give as good as he got, after all.

Now to finish the job—

“Damn you, damn you, damn you!”

Nilea slammed at her controls in agonized rage, screaming and cursing incoherently at the enemy as her vision of her surroundings blurred.  Her friends and family were being slaughtered before her very eyes, and not a single skill that she had trained all her life to master in the skies was even close to killing the pilot responsible—

“Nilea, listen to me!  You need to take command!”

“You’re going to die for that, Osean!  No more games, no more tricks!  Just you and me, to the death!”

“Nilea!  He’s coming around!”

The jagged aircraft was approaching them from the front, its mouth closing after its latest attack of light petered off.  Driven more by a burning desire for revenge than anything else, Enlil Two fired wildly, her entire loadout of missiles and bullets aimed at the plane as it shot towards them—and it still somehow dodged the entire fusillade, twisting and spinning the storm of enemy fire and returning the favor with a burst of machine gun fire as it soared past.

The young pilot craned her head around towards Enlil Three and the enemy fighter, hoping to get a glimpse of her foe.  “Mas, do you see where it went?”

Silence.

“Mas?”

Enlil Two turned to look at her wingman’s plane, her heart stopping at the sight: the burst of enemy gunfire had shredded Mas’s cockpit, ripping through the controls and the pilot behind them—without any input from the now-deceased Guardian, the Pal Aurora now began a rapid descent towards the ground.

“Mas!  No!”  

Nilea cried out as her first love disappeared beneath the clouds, his aircraft likely crashing into the heart of Magicaregia.  She couldn’t be the only one left…could she?

“Not you too—I can’t do this without any of you!”

The distant rumble of the aircraft that struck down her squadron stirred her from her grief—for some reason, the Osean pilot was intent on finishing the job.  Enlil Two gritted her teeth and wiped her tears as fury once more surged through her veins; if this murderer wanted her so badly, then she would show him otherwise!

“Come on!  Kill me if you want—there’s nothing left for you here but death!”

Nilea’s Pal Aurora shot forward towards certain doom, afterburners on full as she screamed agonisingly at the Osean, missiles shooting forward towards him as his plane’s mouth opened to fire once again—

—deathdeathdeathdeathdeath—

— only for the enemy fighter to abruptly break off, a stream of contrails in his wake as a pair of missiles shot past and a Pal Aurora 3 soared towards her starboard side in close pursuit.  Enlil Two started in confusion, when her mannacomm burst to life once more.

“Enlil Two!  Enlil Two, do you read me?”

What?  What the—

“Who is this?!  Identify yourself!”

“This is Lieutenant Grogny of the regular forces, callsign Sword Two!  Listen to me—you need to get out of the AO before you get shot down as well!  If you can’t stop that Osean pilot, then no one can!”

Nilea snarled.  “How dare you order a Guardian around!  Who are you to—”

“Look, I know you’re one of the greatest pilots amongst us all, but you’re not going to be able to avenge the fallen if you end up joining them as well!  Please, I’ll only be able to fend him off of you for so long—get out of here so the Guardians can rise again!”

“Your intentions are commendable, Lieutenant, but unnecessary—this fight ends right now!”

“That’s an order, Enlil Two!”  A new voice had joined the unwanted conversation—AEWA Throne, by the sound of it.  “The Emperor commands you to save yourself—do not disgrace your comrades by needlessly adding to their fallen ranks!”

“No!  Ancestors be damned—”

A missile struck the rear of Nilea’s aircraft, causing sparks to fly as an engine exploded and her cockpit’s lights shortened out and died—the blast rattled her seat as Enlil Two struggled to regain control of her aircraft, yet against all odds she found herself regaining altitude and speed.  Glancing at her display and recognising the countless alarms and signals from the majority of the Pal Aurora’s key systems, the young pilot was forced to admit defeat.

“Damn it!  Enlil Two, pulling out!”  Reaching for her mannacomm and switching to an open frequency, Nilea angrily yelled out, “You, Osean scum!  I know you can hear me—tell me your name so I may find you and kill you to avenge my kin!”

The silence in the open channel was deafening even as the alarms in her cockpit continued to blare, only serving to further fuel her rage.  From her hazy vision—something was blurring her eyesight, either the smoke from her aircraft or something else altogether—she could see the Osean fighter that had slaughtered her squadron was approaching her from the front, hurtling towards her with the near-suicidal intent of a knight in a jousting match—

“Answer me!”

The lock-on tone in only blaring for mere microseconds before Nilea released her missiles, the two fighters simultaneously launching their payloads in a breathtaking display of instinct and skill, honed by countless years of fighting in the skies—at the last moment, Mobius One banked to the side and released a flurry of countermeasures, his aircraft narrowly shooting past Nilea’s as explosions rocked her own—

“Enlil Two, eject!  Damn it, your plane’s about to—”

BULLSEYE

Her hands moving on their own accord, Nilea had but a brief glimpse of the Osean plane before she found herself flung out of her flaming plane, the final remaining piece of her now-dead squadron disintegrating into the sea before her.  Featureless save for a vague numerical marking she understood nothing of, her eyes instantly focused upon the emblem boldly emblazoned on its tail—

“A blue ribbon…”

She knew not his name nor his identity, but Nilea had a symbol to find.  

By the Ancestors, she swore, she would find the monster who had so ruthlessly destroyed the world she called her own—if not for the people she had come to call her family, then for Enlil herself and her sacrifice for her People.  She was a Guardian—nothing less was to be expected!

“Reaper of the skies…you will be mine…”

MISSION ACCOMPLISHED

“No…”

Grogny watched the last of Enlil Squadron’s aircraft crash into the harbor in horror.  “Throne…Ancestors help us…”

All the cheers from the denizens of Magicaregia had long since shifted into gasps of horror or even stunned silence; a few Annorials had even burst into tears as their vaunted symbols of justice and glory were struck down without hesitation in the span of a few minutes.  The Guardians were the greatest warriors of the sky, supposedly without equal—without them, who would be able to save them from whoever had come to their Empire?

“This is Throne to all remaining callsigns—we’re picking up seven more hostile air contacts on an intercept course!  The Emperor himself has ordered all Pal Auroras to evacuate the AO—get out of there if you want to avoid being struck down like Enlil!”

“What?!”  But—why— “The Inferior People have already eviscerated our air force with a single fighter, and they’re still sending in more?!”

“And you want to be around when they arrive, Sword Two?”

“Of course not, damn it!  All elements, form up around me and head southwest out of the operations area!  Move, damn it, move!”

Seven Falkens, all but identical in appearance to Mobius One’s aircraft down to the blue ribbon emblem, flew into formation on each of his flanks.  Nodding at each fighter as they approached, Mobius leaned back on his seat as SkyEye’s voice returned to the radio.

“Omega Squadron, Megalith Protocol is now in effect—your respective callsigns are now Mobius Two through Eight.  Follow Mobius One’s directives for the duration of this operation; you’re now cleared to execute the final stage of Operation Singularity.  Arkbird, are you in position?”

“Affirmative, SkyEye.  Coordinates are locked in; ready for your signal.”

“Roger that, Arkbird.  Mobius Squadron, execute!”

The eight aircraft split up, breaking formation to form a loose line, before circling in a clockwise loop around the exact center of Magicaregia’s harbour.  Each plane in the circular path soon were equidistant, both from each other and the vertex itself as they looped around in an ever-increasing speed—

The planes banked hard, each to their respective right, all about to collide at the center of their vast circle—but at the last second, the eight fighters all pulled up in an astonishing feat of timing and synergy, their mouths opening and emitting a final blast of the blue light that had struck down many an Annorial fighter in the past hour.  Each beam spread upwards to the heavens, almost as if daring the gods themselves to answer back—

—and the gods themselves replied in kind, a massive blue light that eclipsed even those of the Osean fighters themselves erupting from somewhere in the heavens and soaring between the ascending planes before slamming onto the harbour itself.  The skyline was instantly eclipsed by the otherworldly glow of the orbital laser, the shockwaves from the blast reverberating across Magicaregia—nothing close to a nuclear blast or even a conventional high-yield explosive, but still enough to rattle the Annorials as they watched—as the stronghold of ancient magic from the past bore witness to the raw power of the distant future.  The impact amongst the Annorials throughout the surrounding city was immediate, all remaining preconceptions of their superiority above all else permanently dashed and replaced by a chilling fear of the Oseans themselves.  Not even the Ancestors of old had prevailed in their war against the gods and had suffered greatly for their hubris as a result—had these inferior people called upon the gods once more in retaliation?

From the Palace, Emperor Zarathosthra watched the sight with terror in his eyes, tracing the light upwards in the sky towards its source.  Was that…some kind of vessel up there amidst the stars?  Had the Oseans developed a new Mystar in response to their attempt in destroying the Lighthouse?  Or was that some form of a divine being, some kind of god or demon signalling her favour to Osea or displeasure at his Empire’s actions from above?  

“Your Holiness…it’s just as the legends foretold…the gods themselves are striking down upon us…”

Coming to a decision, Zarathosthra forced his eyes away from the sight and turned to his officials.  “Director Zamuras, do we have any communications from the Oseans?”

The Director shook his head.  “Not that I’m aware of—”

“Your Holiness!”  High General Duran was gesturing wildly at a nearby screen in the briefing room, which a technician had set to an Osean news channel.  “We’ve just received this message from Oured—all of our unencrypted communications are being blotted out with a similar message!”

None other than the Osean President himself was on the screen, his grim face focused on his audience as his words were broadcast to the entirety of Elysia.

Osean Broadcast Corporation, Bright Hill, Oured, Osean Federation — February 21, 2020 

To the peoples of Elysia:

On the fifth of February, less than sixteen days ago, our nation was struck without provocation by a hostile power that received our offer of peace and chose to respond with violence and war—with weapons known only through ancient legends in Elysia and and through memories of our own darkest hours from twenty-five years past, these aggressors sought to break our resolve, to darken our hearts, and drag us back to our oldest vices of anger and hatred.  This attack claimed thousands of lives and robbed us of our greatest leader, a man who brought us out of the ashes of the Belkan War and into a world of where coexistence and cooperation ensured the continued survival of our reality as a whole—but we chose to respond not out of pure vengeance or a instinctive desire for bloodshed, but with a desire for justice and an outcome that sees the peoples of Osea and Elysia continue our newfound friendship, just as the late Ambassador himself would have desired.

I can now confirm that the Osean Intelligence Agency has successfully identified the party responsible for the attack on our soil—it is a rogue Elysian nation with ancestral ties to an ancient empire known only for its horrific cruelty and barbarism towards all sentient and sapient life, whose actions both in this incursion and in various hitherto unconfirmed incidents over the past year since our arrival in Elysia, highlight its intentions to resurrect their predecessors’ legacy at the cost of countless lives.  We can now present to Elysia and the wider international community for their evaluation, our findings: that the nation responsible is known to this world as the Annorial Empire…

Albion Castle, Runepolis, Holy Milishial Empire — February 21, 2020  

“They actually did it…the Annorials struck the Oseans…”

Minister Liage and the other officials present watched in astonishment as President Bartlett began to present the evidence gathered by his nation’s military and intelligence experts over the past few months: skeletal remains of an Annorial agent in Esperanto, magical devices recovered from seemingly untamed creatures throughout the Third Civilization Area, satellite imagery of Annorial installations and weapons, wreckage of what clearly were copies of Heavenly Flying Ships from the Ancient Sorcerous Empire itself—

“They have fully-operational Pal Chimerae and Pal Cowne?!”

“Pal Auroras—Pal Scyllae?!  Those were lost to time!”

Minister Pao had risen to his feet in disbelief, the sight of artifacts from times long past very much present (to say nothing about them being all but destroyed) shaking him to his core.  “It’s…it’s…I…”

“We don’t exactly have those in the Ancient Superweapons Department, do we?”

Pao and Liage turned to Hirkane, who was similarly disturbed by the Oseans’ findings but remained seated as he continued to listen to the broadcast.  Surely even he knew if the Emperor had any of those ancient devices in storage somewhere in the Central Continent, right?

The masked individual frowned.  “You are aware that I can’t disclose state secrets without the Emperor’s permission, correct?”

“If we did have any of the ancient Pal Aurorae,” Director Arneus surmised with growing horror, “we would have long since figured out how to reverse-engineer their technology for our own Alpha fighters.  And since our own Alpha fighters can’t even breach the sound barrier as of yet—”

“Gods help us,” Pao despaired.  “The Ancestors arrive in a decade’s time, and yet we haven’t even come close to matching their abilities!”

The doors to the meeting room swung open to reveal Emperor Milishial, prompting the entire group of ministers and directors to hastily stand at attention.   The grey-haired ruler quickly gestured at his advisors to sit back down, his attention still focused on the broadcast itself.

“Hirkane,” the Emperor queried, “do we have any Pal Aurorae or Pal Scyllae in our possession?”

“Negative, Your Excellency, only vague sketches and half-destroyed blueprints.  Nothing applicable for further development of the Alpha series.”

Milishial nodded, ideas forming in his head as President Bartlett continued to speak.

“…these, along with other declassified data gathered from our encounters with the Annorials, are to be released to the public domain in an hour from the end of this statement…”

…we are aware that reports have emerged from throughout Elysia that military action has been reported in the Annorial Empire itself—that Osea is in the process of retaliating against the Empire for its actions both before Selatapura and after.  It is undoubtedly imperative that such speculation must be put to rest.

To this end, I can now confirm that the Osean Federation has conducted and concluded a major peacekeeping operation against the Annorial Empire—in the past nine hours, we have launched a series of long-range strikes involving cruise missiles, long-range strategic aircraft, and orbital weapons on key targets believed to be in possession of the weapons and materials used to attack our country.  From our own assessments in the form of satellite readings and reconnaissance aircraft, our air campaign has been successful in its aims: the Annorial Empire has been brought to a halt in its attempts to repeat the atrocities in Selatapura and beyond—their missile capabilities have been disabled, their superweapons neutralised, their sea creatures released from their bondage, and their fighters bested in the skies by our own.

This is not an act of retribution nor an attempt at subjugation and annihilation; this is a diplomatic response to the violence dealt to our nation and one taken with the restraint that nations of civility utilise in their conduct with their peers, in the hopes that cooler and saner minds may prevail and the needless bloodshed of the past few weeks may come to a swift end.

To the Emperor of the Annorial Empire and his government, we come to you now with an offer: the cessation of hostilities may take place at once with the assurance that your weapons will never again be used on our people, and that your ambitions in Elysia and beyond play no further role in hindering the interests of Osea and its partners and the wider international community.  In return, you will have our word that our weapons will never again touch your lands as long as yours never reach ours—your lands will remain untouched, your people will remain unbothered, and the state of affairs between the Empire’s government and its people will remain solely in the hands of the Annorials, to freely pursue whatever ends your nation deems fit.  Otherwise, you shall see our air campaign continue until your nation no longer possesses the ability to wage unprovoked war against the world at large ever again…

Nivles Castle, Ragna, Gra Valkas Empire — February 21, 2020 

The screen changed once more—Emperor Gra Lux and his advisors watched in shock, horror, dismay, and awe as Osean DarkStars laid waste to Annorial fighters and facilities with cold precision that not even Gra Valkas’s most skilled pilots could dream of achieving.  Weapons and vehicles clearly advanced and formidable in design ruptured and exploded with the mere touch of beams of light and the impacts of guided missiles, the prized glory of another power that clearly eclipsed the Empire brought down by someone even stronger.  The sheer disparity between Gra Valkas’s burgeoning steps into modernity and the Ostföderation’s bold strides into the future was already apparent even before this development—what Ragna was now witnessing before its very eyes would undoubtedly accelerate the technological gap even further: Osea could very well be more than decades, or even a century ahead of its peers, and it was no longer interested in hiding it from the rest of Elysia.

The recording culminated in a final display of raw scientific power as a singular plane—foreign in its appearance yet recognizable as Osean in design—split the skies in half with a singular azure line.  Joined by seven other counterparts, their lights shone brightly in the heavens like swords raised by victorious knights in battle—

—and from the heavens, a final light, greater than all the rest, came down to join them—

—orbital weaponry, Gra Lux realised—  

—and the screen paused, its perspective of the sight shifting once more; a camera from up in the stars watching downwards as the light burst forth from its source and struck the Annorial Empire in its heart, the entire nation that its people celebrated as the final bastion of the Ancestors’ Empire reduced to a singular image of a continent and its smaller islands amidst a sea of blue.  

Nothing more impactful to conclude the Ostföderation’s message to Elysia with than to emphasize the ultimate display of Osea’s greatest power, the Emperor mused:

Its ability to single-handedly reduce the ambitions of its rivals to mere petty squabbles within a universe far greater than themselves…

Coming to a decision, Zarathosthra turned to Director Krunch.  “Establish a line of communication with the Oseans and inform them that we will accept their offer for a ceasefire.”

The Emperor’s order was met with gasps of shock and stunned silence from the rest of the room.  High General Duran was the first to respond, voicing his concerns.  “Your Holiness…this is the war that we have been planning for years to culminate with the return of our Ancestors!  Are we to abandon our cause of unifying Elysia under their rule with such a decision?”

“The events of the past few hours have shown that the Annorial Empire cannot match the Osean Federation in direct combat—if our plans of restoring the empire of our Ancestors are to succeed, we must rethink our approach as soon as possible, High General,” Zarathosthra simply replied.  “Director Zamuras, are we still in contact with our operatives beyond the borders of the Annorial Empire?”

The director nodded, realization crossing his face as he quickly recognised the Emperor’s intentions.  “They are still in play and ready for your orders, Your Holiness.”

“Order your people to begin accelerating their efforts to locate and secure all remaining revival beacons within Elysia.  The Ancestors will undoubtedly have the resources and technology needed to destroy the Osean Federation—their return will therefore have to be expedited if we are to successfully assist them in their reclamation of Elysia.  Director Vorus, you are to work with Director Zamuras in manufacturing whatever subterfuge and disinformation is necessary to prevent the Oseans from further hindering our operations: sow discord between the Federation’s allies, instigate conflicts between the superpowers of Elysia to redirect their attention, compel our allies and the inferior nations under our thrall to strike them from the shadows—as long as Osea cannot act against us directly, we may yet have a chance at avenging this defeat and resurrecting our Ancestors.”

Vorus bowed in acknowledgment.  “As you command, Your Holiness.”

Zarathosthra turned to address the room as a whole once more.  “My loyal subjects, this war was meant to be the culmination of our great cause, the beginning of the return of the Empire of old—but the present circumstances have clearly demonstrated that such an effort will no longer provide us with the success that our Ancestors depend upon.  We shall have to bear the unbearable and endure the unendurable—but our sacrifices today will undoubtedly earn us the rewards of tomorrow, and the Ravernal Empire will stand tall and proud once more.  May the Ancestors guide our endeavours!”

The Annorials present rose in acknowledgment, now filled with resolve for the great struggle that lay ahead.  “May the Ancestors guide our endeavours!”

Bright Hill, Oured, Osean Federation — February 21, 2020

“Mr. President, they’ve agreed to cease hostilities!  The Annorials are standing down!”

The room instantly burst into cheers, with the dozens of officers and staff present embracing each other and immediately proceeding to ransack the emergency stash of champagne carefully stocked in the presidential bunker’s storage department for such occasions.  Bartlett himself, though, was somewhat more muted in his elation, silently retreating to a quiet corner of the underground facility to ruminate.

Seeing the President all to himself amidst the celebrations, Edwards made his way through the crowd towards Bartlett, concern visible on his face.  “Jack, you alright?”

“Huh?”  Bartlett looked up at the Vice Chairman, having clearly been disturbed from his thoughts.  “Oh, nothing…just remembering what it took for us to get here…”

Immediately understanding the meaning behind the President’s words, Edwards sagely nodded as he offered a glass to his superior.  “Want to do a toast to the old man?”

“…yeah, why not.  Shepherd hasn’t wrecked the entire supply yet, has he?”

“I’ve asked the quartermaster to be reasonable with the drinks.  Here, a ‘10—probably a bit fitting, considering the circumstances.”

Carefully holding the glass as Edwards poured out the bottle’s contents, Bartlett turned to look at the numerous screens in the control room still showing updates from the various squadrons returning to base.  “You’re sure the Annorials won’t attempt to pull a fast one while we’re all getting drunk?”

Edwards shrugged.  “I’ve got several AWACS operators monitoring the airspace between us and the Annorials and a few more DarkStar squadrons on standby—if they do try anything, we’ll just keep doing the same thing we’ve been doing for the past few hours until Magicaregia finally gets the message.  I’m fairly certain sending the Ribbon Fighter and the Arkbird was more than sufficient in getting our point across, though.”

“And afterwards?  What are we planning for the Annorials later on?”

“Well, that’s for your successor to deal with—and for them to handle themselves when the time comes.  With all due respect, Mr. President, I think we’ve earned this moment; we should probably enjoy it while it lasts.”

“Can’t see any reason not to do so, I suppose,” Bartlett ruefully agreed, raising his glass in a quiet toast.  “To Harling.”

The Vice Chairman raised his own glass as well.  “To Harling, Mr. President.”

IUN Altaras Air Base, Kingdom of Altaras — February 21, 2020

A solitary Falken landed with a graceful thud on the runway as the aircraft completed its return journey to Altaras without incident, quietly making its way towards an isolated bunker in the distant end of the airbase itself.  

While its celebrated pilot would have normally been stationed as close as possible to the centre of the facility itself, it was his personal request that he be stationed at a place where he and his aircraft would not be a disturbance to or be disturbed by the other planes operating as part of the IUN’s postwar operations—within the hangar itself, only a small scattering of technicians and guards were there to greet the aircraft and begin performing maintenance checks as its pilot disembarked and made his way inside.  The process that followed remained unchanged even after over more than a decade of continuous sorties in the skies—a formal debrief as SkyEye quickly ran through every major aspect of the operation, followed by a formal congratulations from HQ in recognition of his continued service, concluding with his dismissal and him finding something to do with his spare time while waiting for the next mission.

Mobius One soon found himself standing at the door to his personal quarters, looking at the sparse items dotting the room.  Most of his belongings had been at his old airbase in North Point when the Transference took place, while he and SkyEye happened to be on a drinking binge trip in Oured—his desire to keep and accumulate mementos from his past was as strong as his desire to speak, and he had therefore never really sought to replace the already few trinkets he lost as a result.  What else was there but the sky and the planes he flew to witness its beauty up close?

Only one object remained in his possession that he deemed truly important, a symbol of an old opponent from the war that had brought an entire corner of the world to its knees and in turn gave rise to the legend that now followed him even in the New World, now leaning next to his bunk: a guitar, slightly worse for wear, gifted to him by a young man from San Salvacion who had known its previous owner as a child—the passage of time had not done it any favours, but its sound was still as sharp and melodious as when Yellow Thirteen himself last used it many years ago to celebrate his squadron’s victories and its losses against the Ribbon Fighter itself one last time…

Slowly, Mobius One sat on his bunk, carefully adjusting the guitar in his hands as he thought of times long gone, and silently began to play.