Imperial Palace, Runepolis, Holy Milishial Empire — April 22, 2022

  It was said amongst the peoples of Elysia that the design and appearances of the different civilizations within the New World each represented the values and ideals of their founders and their successors.

  For the Milishials, their unrivalled mastery in magic alongside their self-held view as the vanguard of civilization itself was reflected in every aspect of their everyday lives—from the graceful yet majestic architecture of their cities, the exotic wonders and wizardry that they fielded and extolled, to the paternalistic attitudes of their people towards the countless outsiders beyond their borders, their own perception of themselves as harbingers of peace and order against ancient savagery and barbarism from the rest of the known world had shaped what had ultimately coalesced into the political and cultural order that all knew as the Concert of Elysia for thousands of years. But for the first time in the history of the Holy Milishial Empire, three unexpected newcomers from beyond the Central World now threatened to completely unravel this carefully-preserved fabric that held Elysia together—and what exactly would follow remained a vague unknown filling the Milishials with no small amount of fear and frustration.

  To the east, the technologically advanced Oseans viewed the traditional order with indifference or willful ignorance, choosing to consort with inferior nations over bolstering diplomatic and political links with the longstanding superpowers of the world. To the west, the formidable Gra Valkans defied the protestations and condemnations of its neighbours as it brought more nations into its influence through both diplomacy and brute force, and began inroads beyond the Mu continent itself and into the Conshal Islands, within striking distance of the Central World itself. And to the south, the Annorial Empire’s veneer of an irrelevant realm of delusional cultists had all but dissolved in the wake of the brief war with Osea and their shocking arrival to the World Leadership Conference, threatening to envelop the New World in chaos and destruction before their Sorcerous ancestors returned. For those long used to the complacency of being the superior civilization above all else, the role of the Holy Milishial Empire as the true leader of Elysia was self-apparent—yet ignorant of the countless troubles beyond the Central World that their nation had willingly overlooked over the millennia, why no one else beyond their lands seemed to notice or listen to their warnings and commandments all but befuddled them.

  The World Leadership Conference had not just been a continuation of the standard political order of affairs, Emperor Milishial mused as he sat in his office awaiting his advisors, but was meant to be a reminder to Elysia of who the true masters of the world were. Yet their prized fleets and aircraft, inherited from the Ancient Sorcerous Empire itself, had been completely outshone by their guests with technologies that not only matched their magical abilities but outright exceeded them—all of its triumphs and accomplishments, everything that the Empire had achieved from its rise to the present day, now as a result seemed like something else altogether: relics of a passing time, soon to be cast into the oblivion of ancient history.

  For the first time in many years, the Holy Milishial Empire was on the back foot, and now lay on the brink of being left behind—an unacceptable position that it could not afford to be in if the Empire was to maintain its hegemony over the world and save Elysia from the return of the Sorcerers themselves.

  A knock on the door stirred the Emperor from his thoughts. “Enter.”

  A throng of ministers and Senators swiftly strode into Milishial’s personal office, all amongst the most powerful and influential members of the Imperial government below the Emperor himself. Ministers Pao and Phiam were easily recognisable as they led the congregation, with the two leaders of the main factions of the Milishial Senate and their immediate subordinates and followers in their wake: Senator Alerion Valis and Lord Orestes Massa, two visibly aged elves whose opulence belied their humble origins as low-ranking officials of the countless Senators and Consuls who had preceded them over the centuries. In spite of their importance to the day-to-day affairs of the Empire (and in particular the implementation of whatever foreign policies would soon be agreed upon with the ongoing Conference), their uninvited presence still drew a raised eyebrow from the Emperor himself.

  “Senators, what brings you to my office?”

  “Your Excellency, an emergency session of the Imperial Senate was held over an hour ago; we are here to communicate to you the final resolution that we voted upon.”

  Scowling, the Emperor’s confused expression morphed into a sharp glare. “And why wasn’t I informed of this? Is it not expressly stated in our Sacred Charter that I be present for all sessions by the Senate unless I explicitly state otherwise?”

  If the two Senators were in any way chastised by their superior’s pointed remarks, they did not make it visible in their expressions. “Your Excellency, the Imperial Edict of 1035 states that the Senate may come into session without the Emperor on the grounds of ‘matters of immediate and critical importance’ to the continued survival of the Empire—and with recent developments in the past hour, our fellow colleagues are now of the opinion that an urgent recalibration of our foreign policy is now in order.”

  Milishial suppressed a frustrated sigh at the willful hypocrisy of his Senate even as he himself agreed with their statements—the powerful legislative body of the Empire had been annoyingly resistant to any policies geared towards “urgent recalibrations” of their nation’s foreign and domestic policies in the two years between the war between Osea and the Annorials and the latter’s military display in Cartalpas, many of its members steadfast in their belief of Milishial political and technological superiority even in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary. Now, perhaps with such blatant gunboat diplomacy on part of the not-so-mysterious Southerners (and at the heart of the Central World, no less), the Senators of Runepolis were presumably now scrambling to finally officially respond to a threat that could no longer be ignored, publicly written off as hysteria or overexaggeration on part of unscrupulous foreigners, or quietly dealt with with the standard routine of sending a fleet to ‘restore order’. For any other kind of situation, Milishial would have been willing to ignore such obtuseness, relying on his prolonged lifespan to literally outlive any obstacles to his policies—but with the very existence of Elysia hanging in the balance and the return of the Sorcerers all but imminent, the Senate’s arrogant inaction now threatened to border on negligence or even outright treason…

  For now, the Emperor remained seated with a dignified posture towards his Ministers and Senators as he nodded in acknowledgement to Senator Valis’s remarks. “Very well. May I see the resolution, then?”

  With a graceful bow, the aged Senator extended a metallic cylinder wrapped in red Agarthan silk and a seal of the Imperial Senate—as tradition mandated, Milishial carefully took the container and removed the seal (making sure not to break or split the icon, a symbolic acknowledgment by the Emperor of the body’s position in his government) before pulling out the document itself.

  “How…interesting…”

  A surge of irritation ran through Milishial as he slowly read through the resolution’s contents, an undercurrent of growing anger and annoyance in his expression with each outlined proposal. Taking a deep breath, the figure turned to Valis and his colleague before speaking his thoughts with great patience.

  “Senators, allow me to express my acknowledgement of your body’s decisive action in the face of an unprecedented threat that demands nothing less than an immediate and comprehensive response, and give them my deepest thanks for their resolution.”

  Phiam and Pao both subtly glanced at the Emperor, quickly picking up on the sheer sarcasm barely concealed behind his dignified remarks.

  “I must say, however, that the Senate’s proposed changes to our Empire’s foreign policy might not necessarily produce the desired outcomes that we, as the protectors of Elysian civilization, hope to obtain in light of the crisis before us. To start, why exactly do you believe that Minister Phiam, a well-respected diplomat and envoy who has dutifully served our beloved Empire for over a decade, should be immediately dismissed from his current position as Minister of Third Civilization Area Foreign Affairs?”

  The official in question started, turning to the Senators in surprise. “I—what?!”

  “Minister Phiam has, indeed, served with distinction in his efforts to forward the interests of the Holy Milishial Empire, and the Imperial Senate wishes to extend its deepest thanks for his service,” Valis acknowledged, an apologetic nod towards the astonished diplomat, “but it is now of the opinion of the Senate that his actions as Minister of the Third Civilization Area Foreign Affairs in the past two years has been insufficient in its goal of ensuring the priority of the Empire above that of the nations within the region. New ideas, and new leadership, are now required to meet the new challenges that we now face in maintaining and enforcing the Concert of Elysia upon the countless new regional powers that have arisen in the wake of Parpaldia’s fall—challenges that in turn have also impeded our ability to do likewise elsewhere.”

  In other words, the Emperor mused, the inability of the Empire to compel Osea and its allies to yield to Milishial dominance was no longer acceptable for the superior-minded individuals of the Senate and their supporters. “And your suggestion as an alternative course of action is to send a ‘diplomatic fleet’ to Oured to force them to reconsider?”

  “As part of the first course of action for Minister Phiam’s replacement,” Senator Valis proudly replied. “We have informed him of our proposals, and we are also aware that you have summoned him to this office prior to our arrival—”

  The doors opened, and a young male elf in a similar outfit to Phiam walked through, quickly making his way towards the Emperor and bowing gracefully. Realising he had been outmaneuvered by his subordinates, Milishial hid a scowl even as he nodded back at the newcomer.

  “Your Excellency, my apologies for not immediately arriving at your summons! The honorable Senators informed me of the news of my appointment beforehand.”

  “Minister Barrault,” the Emperor noted, “I believe it was the duty of my office to notify you of your appointment, and not certain Senators who viewed it necessary to bypass my authority in order to dictate my own actions as head of state, correct?”

  Blinking, Barrault looked up in confusion. “I…I beg your pardon?”

  Senator Valis’s eyes narrowed. “Are you questioning the legitimacy of the Senate’s resolutions and the Sacred Charter, Your Excellency?”

  “I am questioning why a body of the Empire, after repeatedly ignoring its Emperor’s commands to enact policies dedicated to ensuring our nation’s continued prosperity and survival, now deems it necessary to not only overrule their superior in his own office but also introduce a proposal that will undoubtedly result in a disastrous war with the Osean Federation and the loss of what prestige we have left as the most powerful magical civilization of Elysia itself. Or has the Annorial threat blinded you fools to the military might that Osea itself took extreme pains to showcase immediately afterwards?”

  Lord Massa interjected, “With all due respect, your Excellency, it is the very same military might that Osea projects that compels us to take this extreme course of action. A unified front against the Annorials, and perhaps even the Sorcerers in the near future, is all but necessary for the survival of the Holy Milishial Empire and the preservation of the Concert of Elysia—and yet our eastern neighbours have chosen to stand alone against all common sense, bringing along similarly-misguided fools into their bizarre attempt at a world government—”

  “The ‘International United Nations’,” Valis added, his voice dripping with disdain, “a glorified excuse for the Oseans to play at being kings of Elysia. And yet Minister Phiam has continued to allow our nation to join their game, with nothing to show for it—the Senate is now of the near-unanimous opinion that it is now time for Osea’s little charade to come to an end: their efforts at stabilising the Third Civilization Area would bear greater fruit within the EDI, and a more aggressive diplomatic approach on Minister Barrault’s part as envoy of the Holy Milishial Empire will undoubtedly demonstrate this unassailable fact to our eastern partners!”

  “And should your supposed attempts at ‘diplomacy’ prove otherwise?”

  The Senator frowned, Lord Massa sharing his confused expression. “Why would an approach such as ours fail this time, Your Excellency, after succeeding with every other crisis in the Concert of Elysia since the rise of our civilization? We are the Celestial Kingdom, the shining pearl of the races, the Holy Milishial Empire! We have survived countless upstarts like Osea for thousands of years—and we shall still be here in a thousand more, and the beloved monuments of these eastern barbarians have long since faded away!”

  Emperor Milishial sighed, slowly rising from his seat as he began to carefully deconstruct his subordinates’ arguments. “Then allow me to explain to you why this office has deemed applying our traditional forms of diplomacy to be counter to our continued aim of a thousand more years of Elysian civilization—we are looking at a nation that has had marginal experience with the politics of this world compared to our millennia-long hegemony, but wields enough power and influence to withstand much pressure from our attempts to forcibly drag them into our own sphere of influence. The very same might that you simultaneously dismiss yet covet will shield them from any maneuvers our military could take to curb their growth, outpacing arguably even our own magical technology by a significant margin; they will look at our mighty Zeroth Fleet, and laugh our threats off—the same way that we ourselves would casually dismiss the Parpaldians or Leiforians sending a fleet to Runepolis for ‘dictating’ our own policies. Unless, of course, you want the catastrophe the Annorials faced following their incursions into Osea’s affairs to happen to us?”

  Senator Valis snarled, “Fine. Economic sanctions, then—drain their money out of their coffers with the combined might of our Elysian alliance, and block all shipping from their borders until they come back to us, begging for our mercy!”

  “You overestimate the scale of our Empire’s control on the New World, Senator. Osea’s landspan covers the equivalent of an entire continent, and the sheer amount of resources from within will allow them to become self-sufficient even if all of Elysia were to cut off trade; while their economy does rely on trade with its allies, you will find that the Third Civilization Area—and even Mu and its partners—may choose to ignore our sanctions and maintain their economic ties. Such a measure could potentially even backfire—the EDI would become economically isolated, remaining stagnant and adrift and threatening our position as the premier civilization of Elysia.”

  “I must also add,” Minister Pao added, “even if we were to halt Osean shipping from entering our waters while heading beyond Millishient, other measures will soon be in place to bypass the First Civilisation Area altogether. Senators, are you aware of the Topa Canal Project?”

  Massa simply shook his head. “I am unfamiliar with what you speak of; matters from the edge of the Third Civilization Area are beyond my concern.”

  “On the contrary, I believe this particular scheme might just be ‘of your concern’,” the Emperor drily remarked. “Ever since relations between our Empire and Gra Valkas began to sour and the Annorials began to interfere with our affairs in the Sarlwell Ocean, the government in Oured has apparently begun looking for alternative sea routes to its trading partners in the Mu continent and Gra Valkas. They’ve begun a massive project to establish a network of canals in the Kingdom of Topa, now that the local demon threat appears to have been decisively eradicated; if successful, all vessels travelling between Philades and Mu will be able to avoid our sphere of influence altogether by sailing through the polar regions, well out of our reach.”

  The Elysian lord’s eyes widened in realisation. “We’d lose our trade monopoly in the Central World altogether!”

  “Balderdash,” Senator Valis scoffed, disdainful as ever, “as if that has ever succeeded in our world’s history—or if anyone would be crazy enough to risk those icy waters and Emor’s wrath for gold at our expense. If even the Parpaldians themselves failed long ago, what exactly makes you think the Oseans would succeed this time?”

  Phiam raised an eyebrow. “The same nation that succeeded in constructing a space elevator travelling more than halfway to our moons? I suspect a much smaller venture here in Elysia would be but mere child’s play in comparison, Senator.”

  “Thank you, Minister Phiam. In any case, Senator Valis and Lord Massa, I agree with your views that the Osean Federation has overreached in its position as a member of the Concert, but only diplomacy through a language that our eastern neighbours will actually understand and listen to will yield the results that our Empire and the EDI urgently need in the face of the threat posed by the Annorials and Gra Valkas—let alone the Sorcerers themselves. That said, if it is still the belief of the Senate that antagonising the one superpower of Elysia capable of feasibly defeating our most feared enemies, in the name of restoring a cultural and political hegemony that no longer exists is still a worthwhile endeavour, then I will be more than happy to acquiesce to your body’s proposals as the Sacred Charter mandates.”

  Frustrated, Senator Valis shot back, “Then what exactly do you propose that we do, then? Simply sit back and allow our Empire to be overshadowed by upstarts and ignorant fools, right as the Sorcerers themselves are about to return? Is there truly nothing we can do to recover our prestige as the true leader of Elysian civilization, Your Excellency?”

  The Emperor was silent for a moment, considering the options at hand. For all of the bluster of the Senators under his rule, they still had a point—even beyond addressing the imminent threat of the Annorials and Sorcerers (Gra Valkas notwithstanding), whatever prestige and influence the Holy Milishial Empire still retained following Osea and Gra Valkas’s arrival was still rapidly vanishing with no clear way to compensate. It would be one thing to put enough resources and research into developing magical superweapons on par with the Oseans or even the Sorcerers within a matter of years, but for the Celestial Kingdom to maintain its lustre in the decades beyond the final war to come…

  “Your Excellency, if I may?”

  Minister Barrault had stepped forward, the young minister hoping to voice his thoughts. Silently giving his permission, the Emperor gestured for him to speak.

  “Perhaps we can use Osea’s self-appointed role as Elysia’s arbiter of peace and order to force a wedge between themselves and Gra Valkas. Highlighting the atrocities of the Empire during the invasion of Leifor and Paganda would put significant strain upon the President’s efforts to maintain their support for Ragna—and, of course, if Osea continues to support Gra Valkas diplomatically, we can present their actions to the rest of Elysia as willful hypocrisy and gradually restore our own image. More allies and supporters for our cause, once war with the Annorials begins, and we will still have a base to project and present our own positions within Elysia as a contender to our counterparts elsewhere in the long run.”

  Milishial nodded thoughtfully as certain decisions made earlier resurfaced in his memory, looking towards his advisor in approval. That was what he was intending to order the young and promising diplomat to attempt in the first place prior to the Senate’s unexpected intrusion, wasn’t it?

  “Exactly the approach that I was looking to ask you to take for your new assignment, Minister Barrault. Before the arrival of Senator Valis and Lord Massa, I was looking to formalise the position of Ambassador to the Osean Federation and the Assembly of Nations—the resolution from Senator Valis and Lord Massa’s colleagues notwithstanding—and allow Minister Phiam to focus on the other powers in the Third Civilization Area. I understand the Independent States appears to have inherited Parpaldia’s mantle as the primary power of the Philadean continent alongside the Kingdom of Altaras, to say nothing of the Principality of Qua-Toyne with its own envoy currently leading the IUN…”

  “I should also mention the ongoing situation with Parpaldia’s Crown Princess as well,” Phiam added. “Emperor Ludius and President Kaios have both signed off on a formal petition to our government to campaign for her immediate transfer during the Conference, but Osea remains uncooperative and the Empress herself conditioned her daughter’s extradition to Eshirant on her release from prison as well—the controversy may also prove to be another avenue for us to split the Third Civilization Area from Osea’s influence as well.”

  Pregnant when she was tried and imprisoned by the IUN for her crimes, the now-Empress Remille had since given birth to a young child and retained custody of her at both her own insistence and that of the Bartlett administration. Under different circumstances, the heir presumptive to the Parpaldian Crown would have been quietly “disappeared” by her mother’s captors, never to be seen or heard of again—indeed, this was a common practice of many Elysian powers in the dark and sordid world of world politics—but both President Bartlett and his successor had taken great pains to reassure Parpaldia that such actions would never take place, even providing the basic facilities and social services required to ensure the infant’s continued survival and growth over the past two years. Such an approach remained controversial throughout the New World, however: Kumari’s administration was still continuously being pressured by the new Parpaldian government to show clemency to both mother and child (ironically citing the same humanitarian grounds that the former Auditor herself once scoffed at not too long ago), still expecting a gruesome yet time-honored tradition to be followed through at any time.

  Parpaldia’s shadow continued to loom over the Third Civilization Area more than two years after its downfall, its horrific reputation known throughout the New World—but its beleaguered state now served as an opportunity for the former superpower’s erstwhile rival to mitigate the reach of the Oseans. Saving the life of a young girl who would one day become Empress was a welcome bonus, too, Milishial reckoned—perhaps a political marriage could even be made down the line, if circumstances lined up?

  Seeing the merit in his ministers’ proposals, Milishial came to a decision.

  “Very well. Minister Phiam, you will not be removed from your position as our Empire’s envoy to the Third Civilization Area—but you will be working with Minister Barrault to increase support within Osea for the EDI in the event of an armed conflict with either the Annorials or the Gra Valkans. Minister Barrault, you will still be assigned to Osea—and you will still have the Zeroth Fleet to escort you—not as your colleague’s replacement but as our Empire’s permanent ambassador to the Federation and the Assembly of Nations in Oured. For the both of you, your orders are as follows: take any measures, say whatever must be said, and do whatever needs to be done short of outright starting a war in order to forward the interests of the Holy Milishial Empire and increase support for our nation and the cause of the Elysian Defense Initiative within Osea and the members of the IUN. And if it is your assessment that your actions will end up at the President and her government’s expense, then you have my explicit authorization to do so by any means necessary.”

  Barrault slowly and gracefully bowed. “As you command, Your Excellency.”

  “And for the Conference itself? Has Minister Liage received the same instructions?”

  “Among other things,” the Emperor assured his Senators. “I’ve ordered the Intelligence Bureau to provide us with the means to refocus the world’s attention towards matters more befitting of our position as the Holy Milishial Empire, and Minister Liage will have certain arrangements that will allow him to paint the likes of Gra Valkas in a more negative light, or perhaps even rehabilitate Parpaldia and Leifor to a certain extent for our own purposes.”

  Frowning, Senator Valis asked with curiosity, “If I may, can I ask exactly what measures are being taken?”

  Phiam smirked. “Well, among other things, Senators, the Gra Valkans might find themselves considerably delayed in the process of arriving at the Conference for the talks—which should give us more than enough time to enlighten the Oseans about the importance of our cause…”

  World Leadership Conference Hall, Cartalpas, Holy Milishial Empire — April 22, 2022

  The arrival of the Osean delegation to the Conference’s halls was silent and unannounced, without the pomp and grandeur and explosive fanfare of the fleet that had escorted them to Cartalpas—yet President Kumari and Secretary Clarkson’s entrance was met with almost the same amount of media attention as reporters and journalists from across Elysia instantly began to swarm around them, several Secret Service agents only barely managing to hold the surrounding onlookers at bay before the two Oseans successfully made it to the more secluded sections of the venue.

  “President Kumari! What are your first thoughts about Cartalpas and setting foot in the Holy Milishial Empire for the first time?”

  “What is your stance about Free Leifor? Will you be supporting the EDI’s efforts to pressure the Gra Valkas Empire—”

  “Madam President, will you be allowing Empress Remille and the Crown Princess to be returned to Parpaldia?”

  “You’re the first female head of state to be attending the World Leadership Conference since Queen Anthanexia of the Vestal Kingdom over thirty years ago; will your leadership style clash with—”

  “President Kumari, why hasn’t Osea obliterated the Annorial Empire?! Surely the display of the Magicaregian government earlier today, along with recent rumours of the Ancient Sorcerous Empire—”

  The voices of the Elysian press slowly faded away into the background as the President and her advisor quickly spotted the Osean ambassador assigned to the Holy Milishial Empire being loudly interrogated by several EDI diplomats; gesturing to Clarkson, Kumari swiftly paced towards their colleague who was looking increasingly uncomfortable with the conversation he was currently in.

  “Ambassador Wesker, is something the matter here?”

  The beleaguered diplomat whirled around, instantly perking up upon seeing his superiors approaching. “Oh, thank goodness you’ve arrived! Madam President, may I introduce to you Prince Iodes of the Agartha Kingdom and Duke Geta of the Vestal Kingdom, here both on behalf of their respective nations and the Elysian Defense Initiative—”

  Elysian diplomats and delegates hounded and sought Kumari’s attention with the same energy as the press before them, all with their own welcomes and requests for matters involving Osea or simply currying favours for the discussions ahead. The President, even despite being slightly overwhelmed by the deluge of courtiers, deftly redirected most of the offers and queries to Clarkson and his staff or simply answered vaguely, promising where possible to have matters looked into within the Assembly at a later date.

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  For many nations within the Conference, Osea had already approached (or had been approached) well before the actual event for basic arrangements or preliminary agreements for proposals to be presented and debated upon—dozens of ambassadors and envoys had hashed out potential policies across a wide diplomatic network spanning from Otatheit to Comona, ensuring that unexpected surprises could at least be kept to a manageable level. Of course, countless others had yet to formally establish standard diplomatic ties with the Federation in order to be involved in these negotiations, still relying on the long-held tradition of sending envoys only strictly when necessary rather than a permanent ambassadorial position (especially considering the tendency of Elysian superpowers to have a singular embassy encompass entire Civilization Areas in comparison); negotiations with these participants subsequently were only happening here and now, relying on both Clarkson’s well-honed memory as well as Kumari’s tact to both satisfy their interlocutors while avoiding anything concrete pending further and more comprehensive discussions later in the day.

  “Of course, Your Highness, that would be most proper indeed—”

  The doors to the inner chambers of the Conference swung open, and two individuals swept in with great vigor: one garbed in a simple yet formal suit not unlike that of Clarkson yet with a sophisticated manner that accentuated his sharp moustache, and one dressed in an extravagant military outfit with trimmings and medals and sashes outlining his royal heritage and his role as the last remnant of his kind. Both instantly focused their attention on President Kumari and stepped forward, the crowd of onlookers quickly making way as the former extended his hand to her in greeting.

  “Madam President, a pleasure to see you once again.” Ambassador Mugei’s hand was firm yet his expression warm, his voice filled with respect for Kumari as Osea’s head of state. “It’s quite a surprise, I do say, seeing you this far from your homeland—I take it the Milishials have been good hosts?”

  “It’s definitely quite the place, indeed,” Aadarshini agreed. “And this is…”

  Mugei cleared his throat as he gestured to both Kumari and his companion. “His Majesty, Duke of the Heartlands, Consul of the Conshal Islands Union, and heir to the Imperial Throne of Leifor, Sir Asteres Ionis Gerona Rupart. Your Majesty, President Aadarshini Kumari of the Osean Federation.”

  “Your Majesty, a pleasure—”

  With a graceful bow, the Duke of Leifor took Kumari’s extended hand and kissed it, drawing gasps from the surrounding crowd. The President’s eyes widened in surprise, not expecting such a maneuver herself; Mugei and Clarkson appeared nonplussed, having been on the receiving end of Elysia’s more comparatively unorthodox forms of diplomacy more frequently in the past. Asteres himself simply smiled, a warm and impish grin towards the Osean President as he rose to his feet.

  “Please, Madam President, the pleasure is all mine. I was not informed that a fine and beautiful lady such as yourself would be leading a mighty nation such as yours in the Conference; my deepest congratulations for ensuring Osea’s continued prosperity in these troubling times. Would you perhaps be available after the opening discussions for a brief chat over lunch or dinner with our Milishial and Muan partners, by any chance?”

  His voice was smooth and elegant, charming to hear and his appearance almost hypnotising with its grandeur and elegance. For many a lady from the ostentatious and prominent royal courts of the finest kingdoms and empires of Elysia, the Duke’s words would have been more than enough to swoon over (and Clarkson had a sneaking suspicion that such had been the case countless times before); Kumari only gave a polite smile, in comparison, nodding in acknowledgment as if she was simply having a normal conversation with a colleague or two.

  “Perhaps, Your Majesty. My colleagues and I will be in discussions with the Gra Valkan and Muan delegations over the current situation over the following days; your input would undoubtedly be of importance to ensuring a peaceful solution is established by the end of this Conference.”

  “But of course—Leifor would be eternally grateful to you and your nation if you were to aid us in our honorable cause; you would have my personal gratitude, of course, and handsomely rewarded.” The Duke was still smiling, although there seemed to be a hint of a surprise at Kumari’s cool response to his flattery; perhaps there was a cultural thing here, Clarkson mused, or maybe women weren’t as frequently seen in high-ranking positions of power in Leifor or elsewhere as compared their male counterparts—different social cues and standards between nations did often seem to be a leading cause of the non-Sorcerer-involved conflicts in the New World, nowadays. “What would be appropriate for ensuring the foundation for a long and lasting relationship between Osea and Leifor, Madam President?”

  “Peace is its own reward,” Kumari deftly replied, “and the finer terms are what I suppose will be the point of this week’s discussions. Have I introduced you to my staff?”

  “Gabriel Clarkson, Secretary of State. And this is Ambassador Wesker…”

  The Duke had a somewhat confused expression as he shook Clarkson and Wesker’s hands, unsure about how his attempts at charming Kumari had gotten sidelined. Mugei for his part appeared very much amused by the exchange, also nodding at Harling’s protege in recognition as he did likewise; gesturing to his watch, the Muan ambassador raised his eyebrows in seeming surprise.

  “My, it appears that the Conference will soon be in session. I do believe I told Minister Liage that we’d be having a chat about the situation with Gra Valkas before proceedings begin—our nations are very keen on what Osea has to offer for the crisis at hand, especially considering the countless other troubles that seem to be on the horizon as well…”

  “What? Oh, yes, indeed,” the Duke remembered, “about military assistance. I must say, though, the terms for the greater involvement of the EDI in our cause are rather significant—can’t your government persuade the Emperor to change his mind about some of them? The Conshal Union will definitely find them rather onerous, even with the threat that Gra Valkas poses to our continued existence.”

  Mugei’s face was apologetic. “The price of Milishial help, I’m afraid. Still, if Osea could be swayed to lend a hand…”

  Recognising the implied request, the President again decided to be tactful. “We’ll talk about this again later tonight.”

  “That is wonderful to hear; perhaps we could have a chance to share more about our cultures when that time comes. I look forward to seeing you again, President Kumari; if you’ll excuse us…”

  Smiling once more at the Osean head of state, the Duke and his Muan companion walked off towards a Milishial staffer, presumably to locate the whereabouts of Minister Liage. With a sigh, the President turned towards her Secretary, who was smirking knowingly back.

  “What, not your type?”

  Kumari glared at her Secretary. “You know damn well as much as I do that the Duke has a motive for his charm offensive, Gabriel—sex appeal’s only going to go so far in determining Osean foreign policy, especially with everything we’ve already discussed with Mugei and Cielia respectively before coming here.”

  “That is true, especially considering what’s at stake here,” Clarkson admitted. “Can’t exactly send a fleet to irreversibly change world politics and the lives of millions of people around here just for some ‘action’ nowadays—or at least, not how we’d do it in this time and age, anyhow.”

  The President frowned. “Odd—we haven’t seen the Gra Valkans yet, and yet the session’s about to start. Suppose something’s held them up?”

  “Probably something on the Milishials’ part. Elysian politics in a nutshell, Madam President—almost always geared for self-interest and whatever gets the folks in charge forwards.”

  “For this side of Elysia, at least,” Kumari grumbled. “Alright, fine—get Clements on the line and have him tell Bravo Team to do their thing…”

  The heart of the World Leadership Conference was a vast room dominated by a circular table where the greatest ambassadors, envoys, and diplomats of the New World sat to discuss world affairs. Some Easterners who had ventured to the International United Nations’ headquarters in Oured would perhaps compare it to the recently-revived Security Council chambers in its appearance, right down to the central position where the speaker of the meetings would be seated—for the Milishials, this was where their ultimate power was wielded as the very heart of Elysian civilization itself, deciding upon and dictating the fates of countless nations and kingdoms across the entire world as they saw fit.

  While the first session had yet to begin, the final preparations were still currently being made as the different diplomatic teams from each participating nation carefully arranged the various equipment that their superiors would need for the imminent meeting—nothing sensitive, just the basic items from notebooks and maps to pens and encyclopaedias in all major written languages from Gra Valkan to Emmerian National Standard, for instance. Minister Liage slowly paced across the room as he observed the proceedings, gracefully basking in the glory of his nation’s role as the progenitor and facilitator of the very order that the Conference maintained, a warm and comforting confidence exuding from him about the success that the following week would undoubtedly be.

  From the corner of his eye, the Milishial diplomat spotted a female human with distinctive Osean garments, visibly pale in appearance as she slowly shuddered and stumbled near the table before leaning next to his seat; an audible cry of pain from her quickly drew his more direct attention, her hand nearly knocking a pile of pens and documents off the table as she struggled to regain her balance. Frowning, Liage slowly approached the young woman.

  “Excuse me, madam, are you alright? I’m going to have to ask you to—“

  The Osean staffer unexpectedly groaned and hurled, spewing onto the carpeted conference floor as a horrific stench of regurgitated food and body fluids spread across the room in almost an instant. Elysians and non-Elysians present gasped in shock and recoiled instinctively at the unspeakable miasma of vomit even as Liage and another person present quickly reached for the poor woman, quickly but carefully hauling her away from the scene and towards the nearest healer.

  “Sorry…must have been…urggh…something I ate…”

  Liage glanced back at the distasteful spillage, already being seen to by a cleaning crew from one of the other rooms, and sighed in disbelief.

  “Damned foreigners…that’s going to take a while to clean up!”

  A chime from the intercom drew everyone’s attention. “Attention, please! We are sorry to announce that the start of the Conference has been delayed by fifteen minutes due to last-minute technical issues. Please bear with us, and please accept our sincerest apologies for this disruption…”

  President Kumari refrained from smirking as she saw the Milishial officials frown in confusion—and as if entirely on queue, the doors at the entrance to the Conference Hall swung open to reveal the Gra Valkan delegation, visibly harangued from whatever inconveniences and obfuscations their Elysian hosts had presumably thrown their way yet no less determined and confident in their postures. Ignoring the pointed glares being thrown their way by the Milishials and Leiforians, Director Gesta and his retinue immediately began making their way towards their Osean counterparts—sharing a quick nod with Clarkson, Kumari and her Secretary did likewise, extending their hands forwards in greeting.

  “Director Gesta and Director Oudwin, I presume?”

  “Indeed. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Madam President—and on behalf of Gra Valkas, please accept our deepest thanks for your nation’s continued friendship with ours.”

  With a respectful nod, the young President quickly committed the individual faces of each person whose hand she shook to memory—seeing in person the various diplomats and envoys responsible for directly conveying the Empire’s foreign policies to the rest of Elysia was vastly different than merely reading dossiers and watching imported newsreels, Kumari noted—the Gra Valkans in turn analysing her with a mixture of odd curiosity, wonder, awe, and (from a particularly dishevelled individual standing beside Director Oudwin, oddly enough) doubt. “The Osean Federation views the relationship between our two nations as one of great importance for ensuring the continued stability and prosperity of Elysia, and the Conference should prove to be another opportunity for continuing this joint effort between our civilizations.”

  “I must say,” Clarkson added, “we have heard quite a few interesting remarks about the situation between yourselves and the other members of the Conference—I suppose our work is pretty much cut out for us in terms of finding a peaceful way to resolve the crisis at hand.”

  “Nothing that we won’t be able to overcome,” Gesta confidently replied. “Not with our shared commitments in maintaining peace and order in our own parts of the New World—especially with the threat posed by the Ravenals and whatever their Annorial offspring may be up to. Incidentally, how was your journey from your fleet to this venue?”

  The President shrugged. “Uneventful, I might say, the press notwithstanding.”

  “A universal constant, it would seem, no matter what part of reality you happen to be in. As for our own efforts to get to this Conference, don’t get me started: security checkpoints, road blockages, traffic at every intersection—you’d think we were being inconvenienced on purpose!”

  Kumari shot her Secretary a knowing look, who simply shrugged in response, before turning back to Gesta and Cielia.

  “We still have several minutes to go before the session starts, Directors; perhaps we could take a moment to have that preliminary discussion you requested beforehand?”

  “Oh, yes, indeed—let’s find a quieter space in this venue, away from prying eyes…”

  Cartalpas Air Base, Holy Milishial Empire — April 22, 2022

  With the introductory airshows and naval displays concluded, the countless aircraft of the various superpowers of Elysia had been carefully directed to the dozens of hangars and facilities surrounding Cartalpas’s sole airfield. Doubling as both a civilian airport and the Imperial Milishial Air Force’s southernmost base of operations, the place was now filled to the brim with innumerable planes and aircraft from every corner of the known world.

  While the Oseans’ unique and futuristic aircraft understandably saw the most attention from military observers and the wider press (security efforts on part of the OSDF, seeking to avoid potential sabotage, notwithstanding), many guests to the Conference still went to glance at their counterparts’ still formidable aircraft—pre-industrial and magical civilisations went to glance at the Emorians’ Wind Dragons with awe, their mighty beasts the most powerful in the world and even putting the formidable Wyvern Overlords to shame, while others observed the Milishial Alpha-4s and their groundbreaking foray into magic-based supersonic combat. Gra Valkas and Mu had their respective squadrons stationed in adjacent hangars, resulting in many pilots and crews from both nations taking a glance at their potential rivals’ fighters, hoping to learn more about their capabilities and potentially even develop appropriate countermeasures down the line; Captain Rubiso stood guard next to his own Marin Phantom, quietly noting down the different faces that passed by and occasionally throwing a glare at those who got a bit too close to his aircraft.

  From the other side of the hangar was a Marin Sabre, one of several dozen Osean aircrafts that Avril Mead and an entire department of Muan engineers had painstakingly refurbished and reconstructed over the span of a full year. With her and her team’s unique ability to somehow utilise Mu’s comparatively antiquated technology to not only restore these ancient relics but to successfully produce their own locally-manufactured F-86s (even at the cost of significantly-reduced capabilities), these shiny machines were now the official symbols of Elysian science-based power within the New World and highly sought after by nations looking to have a taste of flight from the not-to-distant future—even the Milishials, already looking to further develop their magical Alpha-4s to counter this new development, had come to observe and examine the two planes themselves: a handful of technical experts and MNN reporters were taking photos and pointing at the control surfaces with barely concealed curiosity. But one particular figure seemed to stand out from the rest, Rubiso noticed, walking around the Marin Sabre and before noticing the Marin Phantom; this person was dressed in the sharp and dark-coloured military outfits of the Imperial Gra Valkan Air Force, a leather jacket not unlike Rubiso’s own atop and a thin stubble accentuating his sharp expression. Unlike the awe of most passersby, the Captain could see this figure’s eyes narrowing in careful interest as he scanned the F-4M with far more detail than the other visitors—whoever this person was, he clearly knew more about Rubiso’s aircraft (or science-based aircraft in general) than he was letting on…

  Slowly, the Gra Valkan pilot walked towards him and offered his hand in greeting.

  “Captain Wagner Svaun, Ragna Squadron. You are Captain Andel Rubiso of the Otatheit Squadron, correct?”

  With a smirk, Rubiso shook his counterpart’s hand in acknowledgment. “Indeed. And I take it that you’re one of the Gra Valkan aces that I’ll have to shoot down if a war does start between our nations?"

  “Guilty as charged—assuming you succeed, of course.”

  Both pilots chuckled at that, knowing all too well their patriotic loyalties to their respective nations (to say nothing about their own confidence in both their planes and their own abilities in the skies, of course) would hardly allow them to openly admit the possibility of one downing the other. The Muan satisfied himself with glancing at the OR-1110G parked in the adjacent hangar, noting with curiosity its unique shape and the bizarre circular air intakes encompassing the rear of the main fuselage.

  “So…Gra Valkas has also taken an interest in old aircraft from Osea’s past?”

  Svaun nonchalantly shrugged, turning to look at the Aufstieg as well. “The Belkans are an odd bunch. A lot of their old prototype designs from back in the day matched our own experimental jets, and it was only a matter of combining our skill with their experience—and the results have been more than satisfactory for the immediate security of my nation within Elysia.”

  “So it would seem,” Rubiso conceded. “Enough to even get the Milishials more than concerned, from what I’ve heard.”

  A sharp scoff highlighted the Gra Valkan’s disdain on the matter. “Please. A civilization of proud fools, resting on laurels they’ve earned by virtue of a total absence of competition—I can see why your government doesn’t seem to hold them in high regard, even without us newcomers entering the fray—”

  “Word of advice, from one pilot to another: try not to provoke the Milishials too much, especially out in public. They’re not exactly as blatant about it as the Parpaldians and Leiforians might have been, but their superiority complex is fairly up there when it comes to world politics.”

  Svaun winced. “Speaking from experience?”

  “Take a guess.”

  “Hm. Would you have, by any chance, seen a young elvish woman around here walking around with a stick up her ass?”

  Raising an eyebrow, Rubiso thought carefully. “Female pilot, Milishial, golden hair, seems to think she’s better than everyone else, just like her own folks?”

  “As in the overpatriotic kind? Heh, I feel like that kind of answers my question, then.”

  “That would be Captain Elenya írim?,” the Muan remarked with no small amount of distaste, “the Milishials’ poster girl and their greatest pilot—as she’s no doubt told you countless times, I presume.”

  “The first thing she did upon first approaching me after we all landed was demand that we fight in the skies, one-on-one. I refused her offer, obviously, since we’ve been ordered not to try anything that’ll put our folks at the negotiating table in a bind—then she promptly started loudly raising accusations about us Gra Valkans having all bark and no bite.”

  “And you didn’t take offense to that?”

  “Oh, on the contrary, I very much did,” Svaun drily replied. “Again, though, we’re trying to avoid another disaster like Paganda—at least not with our mutual benefactors in attendance as well, especially considering how powerful they are compared to the rest of us…”

  “Ah, already adapting to the trainwreck we call the Concert of Elysia, I see,” Rubiso nodded approvingly. “We’ll have the Milishials calling you people ‘civilized’ in no time!”

  Despite himself, the Gra Valkan ace snorted at that. “Whatever gets them going, Captain. I presume you’ve had a similar encounter with our ‘mutual acquaintance’ in the past?”

  The Muan pilot rubbed his chin in careful thought. “I think it was about five or six years ago, when we were first introducing our old Marin biplanes—the Alphas had been the only artificial form of flight for many decades before that, so the Milishials didn’t take too kindly to suddenly having to share the spotlight. This young woman walks towards me, her face as red as a tomato, and basically demands an immediate match to ‘restore her Empire’s honour’ and ‘show Elysia who was the true master of the skies’.”

  “That does sound a lot like what she told me earlier."

  “My deepest sympathies.”

  “Thank you. That woman and her coterie’s been trying to approach any non-Milishial pilot they find and challenge them to the same sortie ever since I turned her down; I told my men to give them plenty of space, but I suspect we’ll likely have an incident on our hands if our hosts don’t get their folks to cool off…”

  “Or maybe that’s precisely what they want to happen,” Rubiso mused. “Beloved symbols of the Holy Milishial Empire’s might, laid upon by barbaric brutes with no concept of civility just like how they wiped out Leifor and Paganda—no offense meant, obviously—”

  “None taken.”

  “—and subsequent grounds for particularly harsh measures on your government’s part, including but not limited to unofficial suzerainty and submission to the so-called powers-that-be. Standard Elysian diplomacy, as Ragna’s probably all too aware of by now.”

  Svaun shook his head dismissively as he crossed his arms on his chest. “We’ll play their game as long as they like if it means we get to be left alone and mind our own business. Besides, it’s just the Ishtam Fleet and those Hawk-leaning generals over in Leifor who are usually the ones everyone keeps talking about when they mention atrocities—and we did dismiss and prosecute quite a few of them for their crimes just so Osea could actually get us into their organisation.”

  “The IUN? So that’s how a bunch of folks like you guys managed to get into the late Harling’s organization of peace and order?”

  “Hey, we’ve made our commitments and followed the same rules and regulations about war and humanity that you Muans recognise. Some of our more patriotic folks aren’t too happy about the whole thing, but it’s kept us out of any major conflicts in the past two years…”

  “Until now,” the Muan ace countered. “First impressions do matter, Captain—something our Osean partners seem to have figured out quicker than your Emperor did.”

  “And yet the Parpaldians and Annorials still mistook them for na?ve fools to be taken advantage of, and where are they now? I imagine you’d have a less favorable opinion of Osea if they were the ones who had to deal with Paganda and we were the ones who ended up liberating Philades from that Emperor and that nasty consort of his.”

  Rubiso decided to concede the point. “Perhaps. But that’s neither here nor there, and most definitely not the world we live in, unfortunately.”

  His companion nodded thoughtfully, and the two became silent as they looked back at the skies outside from the entrance to the hangar. A small white figure could be seen in the distant heavens, barely visible to the naked eye—a winged craft, deceptive in its appearance from far below yet a very tangible reminder of the extraordinary times and the sheer might of their mutual benefactors before them.

  “Razgriz…”

  “Sorry?”

  The Gra Valkan shook his head. “Apologies, it was something that came to my mind. An Osean legend, one that seems to have been spreading lately amongst my wingmen—some kind of ancient demon that brings death and vengeance to its enemies. I think the Oseans can tell it better than I can.”

  “Ah. I suppose I should ask around for that particular tale.”

  “What’s your opinion about those people?”

  “The Oseans?” Rubiso frowned. “Very powerful, very considerate. Caring and na?ve to a fault—but they have the technology to back their words, so they carry as much weight as any other superpower in the New World.”

  “To have their history, and yet still have that idealism of theirs after everything that’s happened before and after their arrival…do you think they’ll succeed in achieving Harling’s dream, someday?”

  “Well, who knows?”

  A distant shout drew Rubiso’s attention, causing him to blink and stir from his spot. “Excuse me, but I think Avril’s calling for me about something. Pleasure talking with you, Captain.”

  “And you, too.” Shaking his hand once more, Svaun paused. “One question, before you go: when that Milishial captain challenged you to the dogfight, did you take her up on that offer?”

  “Huh? Oh, I sure as hell did.”

  “Did you win?”

  Rubiso smirked. “We’ve never let the Milishials forget about it ever since.”

  A solitary figure sat in front of a table in the airbase’s mess hall, his helmet on and a straw carefully inserted into his breathing mask as he drank from a small carton box. A somewhat bizarre sight amongst the other helmetless pilots around him, even with those with the same Osean flag brightly emblazoned on their uniforms, yet almost no one paid mind to him and his attempts to quietly enjoy his beverage—

  A light cough stirred Trigger from his thoughts, causing him to look up from his drink. A young elvish woman in Milishial pilot fatigues stared back from the other side of the table, her expression a combination of barely concealed disdain and superciliousness as her counterpart wordlessly stared back.

  “You are Osean, are you not?”

  Without a word, his head lightly nudged towards the flag on his shoulder. The elf’s eyes narrowed, taking offense at this silent response.

  “You know, it’s considered rude not to respond when someone’s asking you something.”

  Silence. The helmeted figure remained voiceless, his interloper’s face brightly reflected upon the opaque surface of his visor—

  “Well, well, well, what do we have here, Captain?” Several other Milishial pilots had approached Trigger’s table, standing behind the female elf—clearly their leader—as she haughtily smirked back at her wingmen and her target. “Is this the pilot they call Three Strikes? Quite an odd figure, wearing a helmet in the middle of a drink—and he doesn’t even seem to be the talkative type either…”

  “Let’s dispense with the pleasantries, Osean, as little as they seem to be from the likes of you. I’m Captain Elenya írim?, commander of Valar Squadron: the finest and most prestigious air squadron of the Holy Milishial Empire. I know that you are the best and most skilled pilot of your kind, and your military record since your nation’s arrival in the New World—as highly classified as it appears to be, according to my superiors—does seem to be quite impressive. Taking on a Wyvern Overlord in a mid-air collision and living to tell the tale? Even I wouldn’t have dared such a close engagement.”

  Elenya’s wingmen nodded approvingly, agreeing with their commander’s words. The Captain then leaned forward, her voice slowly shifting to a decidedly less friendly tone—something vaguely intimidating, with an undercurrent of anger.

  “But I can assure you: dragons and winged creatures or whatever it is you’ve found amongst the Annorials, those are nothing compared to what we as pilots of the Empire are capable of achieving in the skies. You’ve had over two years of combat experience within the New World—my squadron has existed within Elysia for over a hundred years and faced monsters and demons that would make even Nosgorath himself look quaint in comparison. Your reputation impresses me, Three Strikes, and yet it seems that your reputation—along with that of your nation—seems to suggest that whatever Osea has established is somehow equal, or even superior to us—”

  Scoffs could be heard amongst the wingmen present; Trigger, as mute as ever, remained still on his seat.

  “So therefore, this is what brings me to grace you with my presence: I challenge you to an honorable duel between aces—you and me, right now, in our best planes above Cartalpas, to decide once and for all who among us is the true master of Elysia and its skies!”

  Elenya grinned, expecting the man before her to acquiesce. A moment passed, without a word.

  “Well?”

  In an instant, Trigger made up his mind. Shaking his head, his free hand indicating his refusal as he began to rise from his seat—

  Momentary confusion quickly gave way to anger as Valar Squadron cried out in outrage, causing several other people present to turn towards the group in surprise. The Osean slowly paused, noticing from the corner of his eye several of his own colleagues quietly signalling towards someone outside the mess hall for assistance, half-listening to the shouts of the Milishial pilots in front of him as he waited for—

  “How dare you! Are you so prideful that you would ignore us?!”

  “You would refuse this rare opportunity to fly with us?! Do you not realise who we are?!”

  “You disgrace Osea with your gall!”

  A raised hand from Valar Squadron’s flight lead instantly silenced the angered cries of her wingmen; the elf’s eyes narrowed as she rose from her seat and leaned even further on the table, her face inching closer towards Trigger’s visor.

  “I don’t think you understand what’s going on here, Three Strikes. This is not a request or an offer—this is a challenge, a demand from one ace to another with the honour of my nation on the line. Your nation has ignored its generous host over the past two years and stolen its prestige—our prestige—and now it presumes to supplant and outshine the Holy Milishial Empire in its own spectacle? We cannot let that go unanswered; I cannot let that go unanswered. I am compelled as a loyal servant of the Empire to restore that deficit by any means necessary—and so I am compelling you to meet my challenge, or concede through your inaction the Holy Milishial Empire’s superiority as the true leader of—”

  “Excuse me, is something the matter here?”

  Her eyes trained on Trigger, Elenya snarled, “Whoever you are, piss off—this doesn’t concern you!”

  “On the contrary, I would very much believe anything involving harassing one of my fellow pilots very much ‘concerns me’,” the new voice drily replied—a middle-aged human with unshaved hair abruptly appeared beside Osea’s ace and took a seat beside him, crossing his arms and glancing at the pilots of Valar Squadron with mild disapproval. “Especially one of my students, and someone more than capable of shooting down every single one of you without even blinking, I might add.”

  A brunette elf frowned at this new arrival. “And who exactly do you think you are?”

  The man smiled back. “Captain Brad Kitada, Trigger’s old wingman and personal minder for whenever he wants to do something that involves minding his own business—feel free to call me Clown.”

  Valar Squadron scoffed, their leader smirking at the pilot’s nickname. “‘Clown’? As in the fools and idiots who humiliate themselves before kings and queens such as ourselves?”

  “Hah, what a stupid name!”

  “Yes, as in the fools and idiots with the sole authority to tell kings and queens the news and tidings that they do not wish to hear,” Clown nonchalantly shot back. “Things such as, ‘maybe we have overstayed our welcome amidst certain company’, or ‘maybe we shouldn’t pick on people more skilled and competent in the skies than ourselves’, or ‘maybe we should make ourselves scarce’—”

  Elenya’s mocking expression quickly morphed into thinly-veiled rage, her hand loudly slamming on the table and drawing the attention of everyone else in the mess hall. “Then accept my challenge, or accept that the Holy Milishial Empire is superior above all else! I refuse to believe that your new so-called ‘planes’ are better than our mighty fighters, so take my offer or forever admit your subordination to my people: your protégé and his finest aircraft, versus me and my finest Alpha-4, above Cartalpas, right now!”

  Trigger and Clown quickly glanced at each other, the latter turning back to the elf. “And does your government know about this wager of yours?”

  “They will be more than willing to acquiesce to their finest champion’s request!”

  The former Mage One simply smirked. “Then bring the matter up with our ambassadors first like all other so-called civilised nations, Captain. Until then, leave my people alone—or maybe go bug the Annorials, if you really want someone who can give you a true challenge—”

  A sharp voice unexpectedly blared from the intercom, drawing everyone’s attention. “Attention, all Osean and IUN pilots! Saint Ark, Saint Ark!”

  The two Oseans started in surprise and instantly scrambled to their feet, the Milishial hero’s challenge (and Trigger’s carton box) all but forgotten as they both hurriedly brushed past her wingmen towards the exit; several other figures in identical combat fatigues also rushed off to the widespread confusion of their Elysian counterparts.

  “Hey, watch it!”

  “Shit, my cola!”

  “Where do you think you’re going? Come back here! Damn it…”

  Elenya growled, her wingmen glancing around the now-empty mess hall uncomfortably...