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

  “Several minutes ago, an aircraft containing a traitor to the Annorial Empire made an attempt to escape justice by flying into the Neutral Zone in the hopes of seeking refuge with the Osean Federation. In spite of our peaceful attempts at dissuading the Oseans from accepting their pleas, their pilots responded by threatening to deploy nuclear warheads and later firing upon our beloved airmen—over a dozen Annorial souls are now missing or dead, and we are receiving unusual reports of people being taken ill along our eastern coastlines.”

  As the crowd gasped and began to murmur in astonishment at Ambassador Krunch’s words (some even turning incredulously at the Oseans in response), President Kumari quickly turned to Clarkson and whispered confusedly: “I wasn’t informed of this—when did this happen?”

  “No clue, must have been while we were talking with the Gra Valkans—or maybe the Annorials are just cooking something up,” the Secretary whispered back. “I’ll get Bright Hill to get us up to speed, but maybe stall for time while we figure out what’s going on.”

  Nodding and turning back towards the round table, Aadarshini frowned and addressed Krunch directly. “What evidence do you have to support these claims, Ambassador?”

  A wry smile grew on Krunch’s lips. “Why, a transmission we intercepted from one of your own pilots prior to the engagement. Do you deny the following remarks?”

  An aide placed a small recording device next to the envoy, who pressed the play button. Count’s words began to echo across the silent room:

  “…we know you guys were the ones who killed Harling two years ago with those nukes of yours, so we brought our own—all of our planes within this part of the Neutral Zone are…currently equipped with nuclear warheads and are prepared to use them against any Annorial assets that threaten our own forces. Do not engage, or you will be the ones suffering the consequences…”

  Several Milishials and Gra Valkans shouted in dismay as the delegates present whirled towards Kumari in shock—the nation that had supposedly disavowed nuclear warfare in the wake of their supposed catastrophic conflict, now wielded them with impunity? Was this an Annorial trick, or had the Oseans been deceiving the Elysians all this time?

  From behind Aadarshini, Clarkson quickly returned and handed a tablet to her—quickly reading through its contents, the President briefly sighed in disgust before returning the device to her Secretary. Seeing this, Krunch raised a knowing eyebrow.

  “Well?”

  With a sigh, Kumari replied, “The Ambassador is partly correct—Osean fighters responded to the incursion of an Annorial transport being pursued by Pal Aurorae fighters, and proceeded to engage the latter after the former requested asylum under international law. We cannot confirm the presence or usage of nuclear warheads at this time; whatever that pilot said was either a lie said as an act of sheer recklessness, or something acted upon without the authority of my office.”

  Krunch sniffed dismissively at the President’s words. “Flowery words that we neither comprehend nor care for. You will not obscure your countrymen’s involvement in a great affront to our nation that not even your diplomatic overtures can pave over with saccharine pleas and offers—we will relay our demands once we finish outlining our grievances with the nations in this room.”

  “Who exactly is this person in our custody?”

  “His identity is irrelevant to you—suffice it to say that his fate will be the same as all other traitors that attempt to escape our justice.”

  Attempting to steer the rapidly deteriorating conversation towards more manageable grounds, Minister Liage interjected, “Ambassador Krunch, you stated that you had a series of demands as a contingent for preventing a war between our nations. What are those demands?”

  Hearing the Milishial envoy’s query, Krunch gave a sinister smile. “Minister Liage, thank you for asking. In return for our Empire agreeing to show mercy to the nations represented in these halls, we request information regarding the whereabouts of certain devices, which we believe to be relics of our Ancestors prior to their departure for parts unknown—”

  The delegates of the Central World paled in realization. “The Ancient Sorcerers?!”

  “I believe the correct term for them is the Ravernals.”

  Cries of terror could be heard from some of the less resolute diplomats and staff observing the proceedings; Krunch inwardly grinned at their delicious fear as the connections were finally made in his audience’s minds between the feared conquerors of times long gone and the very individuals before them. Carefully hoisting a sizable device onto the table and unfurling the cloth covering it, he waited for the gasps of recognition from those who knew what it was before speaking.

  “This is a revival beacon—artifacts left behind by our Ancestors as means of ensuring their return at a certain point in time in the future. We are aware that several so-called superpowers represented within these rooms are in possession of these beacons; as we are the descendants of their original owners, the right of ownership belongs to us as inheritors of their property pending their impending return.”

  “So alongside the return of your deserter,” Mugei concluded, “you would have us hand over any device akin to that in appearance?”

  “Indeed. For our Emperor to be persuaded to show mercy, he requests that the nations of this Conference hand over the revival beacons that they have uncovered, as well as all weapons and artifacts that similarly were previously used by our Ancestors—the Osean Federation must similarly hand over the traitor that they are currently harboring, as well as pay restitution and surrender the individuals responsible for the deaths of our Guardians of the skies. Refuse, and we will act regardless to reclaim our rightful possessions by force—and the nations of this chamber will prostrate themselves before our Emperor and our Ancestors upon their return.”

  Liage glared angrily at the Annorials. “And what in the name of the gods themselves would make us cooperate with your demands?! You would have us willingly assist in the resurrection of our most feared foes to subjugate and enslave us?!”

  Beside his Milishial counterpart, Moriaul of the Emor Kingdom had similarly risen from his seat. “You are a fool to make these demands before this chamber, Ambassador. Descendants of the dread Sorcerers or not, you will not make us cower before your predecessors!"

  “Our laws are sacrosanct,” Kumari added. “Regardless of the circumstances behind the deaths of your pilots, the individual in our custody is now under our protection under the laws of asylum—we will not cast him away towards whatever punishments your people may have in mind for him.”

  With a sigh, Krunch shook his head disappointedly. “I feared that it would come to this. If our arguments have failed to make you all see reason, then perhaps other measures may prove more effective—”

  An aide unexpectedly stood up and opened his coat to reveal a strange glowing device—

  Kumari and Clarkson froze.

  Dallas’s eyes widened in recognition, the young diplomat scrambling to his feet and reaching for his pistol. “He’s got a bomb! Someone—”

  A blast of magic struck the Gra Valkan square on the chest, sending him sprawling onto the floor. Several other officials hastily pulled out their own weapons or turned to run to the doors—

  “Make one step out of these halls, fire a single round, or scream any louder, and this device will go off on my command,” Krunch sternly warned the room as his own guards pointed their weapons at the diplomats present, positioning themselves at all the doors to the chamber. “Core magic does tend to be rather temperamental, even with our own considerable skills at containing its raw power. And besides, we have a hundred more of these armed and ready to be launched or detonated from our silos in the Branchel Continent, if your governments refuse to cooperate with us even with their leaders erased from the surface of the earth.”

  Gesta glared as Krunch’s aide placed a small case on the table, opening it to reveal a series of disturbingly familiar magic bracelets. “What exactly do you intend to do with us?”

  “We intend to place all the individuals within this room within our thrall, to assist us in securing the rightful property of our Ancestors. In return, you will all be given mercy and positions of luxury in the utopia that we shall restore upon their return—well, as much luxury as inferior savages would be given by our superiors.”

  Frowning, Kumari replied, “You don’t think that we would have made preparations beforehand in case you or your colleagues decided to show us the same kindness that you gave Vincent within these chambers?”

  Krunch smirked once more, clasping the core magic device as it slowly powered up. “What exactly would your nation with its feminine ideals, with a naive fool for its leader, have that could stop us from ravaging your cities with the same rightful retribution we gave your beloved Harling and his city for his insolence? You are a country of simpletons, too delusional in its belief of somehow turning this gathering of reprobates and inferior savages into enlightened masters of the universe to recognise your true position as scum prostrating yourselves before us—what exactly would a so-called superpower moronic enough to grant us their idiotic notion of mercy over two years ago have to stop us at this very moment?”

  “And you expect us to cooperate with this?”

  The Annorial envoy smiled patronisingly at Kumari. “So you presume to have a say in this? How quaint. You’ll enjoy what we have planned for Osea, I must admit—for a nation with such zeal and spirit, both we and our Ancestors will take great pleasure in destroying each and every single one of your nation’s accomplishments, from your starship in the skies to that Lighthouse, as punishment for your people’s insolence. I wonder, how many core magic warheads would it take to bring down a space elevator?”

  Bizarrely, a faint smirk grew on Kumari’s lips as she stared defiantly back at Krunch. “What if I told you we have something that might make you reconsider your position?”

  “Oh? And what may that be, might I ask?”

  “Five hundred active nuclear warheads, previously slated for decommissioning but now all currently aimed at key military assets and forces throughout the Annorial Empire between Magicaregia and the edge of the Neutral Zone, with a hundred DarkStars under orders to fire upon the confirmation of my death or magical enthrallment.”

  Several delegates, Krunch included, froze; the Gra Valkans and Milishials turned to the President in astonishment.

  “That, and the nuclear submarine currently stationed off the coast of Cartalpas at this very moment with orders to hit this very chamber and your fleet currently at port if necessary, to boot.”

  Liage paled. “Madam President?!”

  “What is this?! You would strike the Holy Milishial Empire itself?!”

  “You’re joking!”

  “Am I joking, Ambassador Krunch? Why don’t you show him, Gabriel?”

  From his pocket, Clarkson carefully pulled out a small round object and placed it in front of him. With the press of a button, a holographic projection opened before the round table; from the Arkbird itself in orbit above Elysia, a camera focused upon Magicaregia in disturbingly high detail—-a massive white crosshair centered on the heart of Orantha Castle itself.

  “Arkbird to Bright Hill, be advised: estimated impact in T-minus six minutes—”

  The room gasped; Krunch’s eyes widened in anger. “You would dare—?!”

  “We have our own ways of detecting magical bullshit from you and your staff—we already suspected that you might attempt to pull off something crazy like this especially considering what happened to Vincent, so we’ve made our own countermeasures to ensure your little stunt goes nowhere. Right now, these proceedings are being actively recorded and transmitted by the OIA and GVBI to our respective headquarters—equip us with those bracelets, and every person from Ragna to Runepolis to Comona will know that their finest statesmen have been compromised by the Annorials. You might find our missiles coming to your Emperor a lot sooner than you might like, Ambassador.”

  Krunch’s staff began to nervously glance at each other. The Ambassador himself began to glower at the President’s words, slowly stepping towards her.

  “This means nothing. Our weapons would still ravage Osea in retaliation!”

  “Allow me to explain to you the long-term impact of a total nuclear exchange between our nations, Ambassador: your core magic might wipe our lands clean before dissipating—assuming most of them even reach the continent without getting intercepted mid-flight—but the aftereffects of our own science-based weapons will continue to plague your homeland for generations to come. Radiation alone will render the farms and fields unusable for agriculture and poison your rivers and shores—the smoke from the firestorms will blot out the sun over your cities and homes, shrouding your nation in eternal darkness and reducing global temperatures to subzero levels. What few survivors our weapons alone would fail to grant the mercy of a quick death, the aftermath will undoubtedly finish off in the decades to come—not exactly the welcome party you’d want for when your beloved Ancestors come back.”

  Ciela whispered in shock, “Ymir help us…”

  “A nasty piece of work, fallout—get exposed to it, and your skin blisters and peels off, the very cells in your body dying and their genetic material disintegrating from the radiation. Your digestive tract fails in a few days, your appetite goes away, and soon you’re actively vomiting your own guts and suffering from acute diarrhoea as what fails to go through your throat goes out the other way. Your gums start to bleed, your skin starts to pale and your body starts to shrivel and die—and if, against all odds, you survive long enough to father another generation, your successors may soon find cancer and leukemia to become a very frequent cause of early death.”

  “Surely you jest—”

  “Have you seen a child’s hair fall off as a result of radiation poisoning? I knew a friend who survived in Stier Castle when the bombs went off in North Osea over twenty years ago—I watched his body transform into a mound of flesh barely resembling that of a human being in the sole week that he lived with my family in the aftermath of Waldreich’s atomisation; would you be willing to risk that fate for your people in your Emperor’s pursuit of glory, Ambassador Krunch?”

  Faint murmurs of horror could be heard amongst the other delegates as the President’s words began to sink in. Krunch attempted to talk back, but he was visibly faltering with his words.

  “You speak of peace, President Kumari, and yet you threaten us with annihilation. You are a hypocrite with your words, but you will not frighten us with your—”

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  Aadarshini smirked at the Annorial envoy. “Did you seriously think you could simply threaten us into compliance because of our refusal to play your world’s game of power and conquest? Or did you think that merely because of my ‘feminine’ ideals that I would not possess the ability to order the obliteration of an entire species without hesitation if it came to it? Osea stands where it is not because of our idealism, but because of the nations we have burnt and ravaged in our blind pursuit of the glories and trophies that the so-called superpowers in this very room mindlessly covet—our ideals come from our experience as tyrants and murderers, from the wars and catastrophes that we have ourselves caused and know all too well that your Emperor would gladly replicate for his beloved Ravernal ancestors, regardless of whatever might happen to him or his Empire in the aftermath.”

  Liage began, “President Kumari, I must ask you to—”

  “The Osean Federation and its laurels rest upon a foundation of blood, crafted through the sacrifices of countless millions—and yet we still talk of peace and justice in spite of our own past, because we hope that the nations before us see the wisdom of avoiding the dark paths we have taken to reach where we now stand. We will gladly add to our pile of sins if it means you and every other person in this room recognises the folly of our forsaken ways—touch me or the New World with the horrors that you claim to have mastered yet know little of, and we will show you in person why we speak of the Belkan War with dread.”

  “T-minus three minutes—”

  Kumari turned from the holographic display of Orantha Castle to stare directly at Krunch.

  “So, what shall it be? Shall we all die together then in this game that you’ve idiotically chosen to play, Ambassador, or shall your Emperor perhaps for once in his life see reason?”

  Orantha Castle, Magicaregia, Annorial Empire — April 22, 2022

  “Your Holiness, a hundred air contacts just appeared on our radars! They’re not even trying to hide from us!”

  Struggling to maintain his composure, Emperor Zarathostra turned towards High General Duran. “Will this bunker withstand a direct strike against the Oseans' weapons?”

  “Your Holiness…even with the new upgrades that we’ve installed to this facility, we would still take significant damage from a direct hit—and with the radioactive aftereffects of their weapons, we would in effect be trapped inside until the fallout dissipates. To say nothing of the devastation a single Osean warhead would cause to Magicaregia and the forces stationed here, let alone five hundred warheads all across the continent—”

  “High General,” Zamuras protested, “surely our own countermeasures would be more than capable of preventing their weapons from reaching our homeland?! Are you telling us that the efforts that we’ve made in the past two years to prevent the inferior peoples from once again striking our cities, let alone Magicaregia itself, were all in vain?!”

  “They will be in vain if we choose to use our core magic weapons—if we pursue a conventional war with the preparations we have made, we may yet have a chance at prevailing against these Oseans. Your Holiness, what should I tell Ambassador Krunch?”

  Coming to a decision, the Emperor shook his head disdainfully. “So it appears the woman has teeth like her rival after all. Inform Krunch that his sacrifice is not needed at this time, and to execute his original directives—we shall pursue our own plans regardless of whatever threats the Oseans make.”

  Duran frowned. “And should they follow through on their insinuations, Your Holiness? Their abilities remain the same, even after the past two years—”

  “And we shall match their abilities with our own, High General. We shall not be caught by surprise this time—let me remind you once more: our weapons and countermeasures will either succeed in the tasks they have been given, or their creators shall suffer the consequences of their failures. Is that clear?”

  Recognising the implied threat, the High General bowed. “As you command, Your Holiness. I’ll relay your command to the Ambassador.”

  “Your Holiness,” Zamuras queried, “what about the traitor Messiah and his followers? Are we to simply let him escape to the Oseans’ custody?”

  The Emperor sighed at the Director’s question. “The Apostate? Pay no heed to him—he shall be of no further use to us, nor will he trouble our own affairs with his blasphemous presence. In any case, we shall see to it that his little insurrection is quashed in his absence…”

  From behind Krunch, an aide rose and whispered into his ear. Nodding in acknowledgment, the Annorial envoy visibly exhaled in relief before the mask of arrogant confidence returned.

  “His Holiness has informed me that our demonstration of force will no longer be necessary; Cartalpas shall be spared the fires of our magic for the foreseeable future.”

  The tension in the room slowly began to dissipate as Krunch sealed the case containing the core magic device and the other magical artifacts shut, deactivating them; his aide carefully slid the enclosed weapons from the table, before walking towards the exit with several winged guards escorting him. Kumari remained still, waiting for the envoy to continue.

  “However, my Emperor also wishes to convey this message to you personally, President: as a result of your nation’s actions today, consider the ceasefire agreement between our two civilizations to be at an end. Our own forces shall remain within our side of the Neutral Zone by His mercy and our core magic weapons will remain unused, but understand this: hinder us again or inhibit our rightful efforts to reclaim the enlightenment of our Ancestors, and we might not be so kind this time.”

  Krunch turned to address the rest of the room as his staff began to leave. “To the delegations of the Conference, inform your governments of our offer: return our beacons to Bushpaka Lakan or assist our efforts, and your nations will receive our friendship and clemency in the times to come. Provide us with information of the whereabouts of the beacons within your nations, and we shall overlook your transgressions against our people where possible in the years to come. Refuse to cooperate, and our Ancestors may not look too kindly upon your actions upon their return. You have until the end of this month to send your reply to our offices at Bushpaka Lakan.”

  From his side of the round table, Gesta’s eyes narrowed. “Gra Valkas will never agree to cooperate with your Empire after your fleets’ actions against our own people, although I suspect your government already knows that. We stand with our Osean partners against your threats, Ambassador.”

  “The Elysian Defense Initiative was created to prevent the very horrors that your people seek to instigate,” Liage added. “The Holy Milishial Empire and its allies will not let your instigations intimidate us from protecting our world from the likes of you!”

  The other delegates murmured likewise, emboldened by the defiance of the Oseans and Milishials yet still visibly apprehensive about directly facing the Annorials in battle. Mugei remained silent, he and his aides focusing their attention towards their counterparts’ responses rather than directly addressing the winged envoy and his demands.

  “Disappointing, most disappointing,” Krunch sadly remarked, shaking his head as he rose from his seat to leave. “I would have thought the rest of you would have known better than to foolishly dismiss our offer—or perhaps the false promises of your leaders must be truly dispelled first before you all see reason. No matter; perhaps our Ancestors may prove more up to the task at hand than us with our merciful words.”

  “Or perhaps you may find that the people you seek to resurrect may not necessarily view you with the same affection as you seem to view them,” Kumari drily replied. “Do be careful of what you wish for, Ambassador—you might just end up getting exactly that.”

  Krunch briefly glared at the President before turning back towards the crowd. “Our offer stands, to those who may yet see the error of their ways before it is too late. Until then, may the Ancestors guide your endeavours.”

  With a graceful turn, the Ambassador swept and left the room, leaving the delegates to watch his departing form before turning to stare incredulously at Kumari. Ignoring their expressions, the President nodded approvingly at Clarkson before reaching for the projector.

  “Arkbird, this is Fisherman—looks like they bought it. We don’t actually have any nukes currently en route to Magicaregia, do we?”

  “What? No, Madam President—with all due respect, the Arkbird would have been more than enough for the job of eliminating the Emperor and his advisors if it came to that. We’ve had more than enough trouble with nukes for a lifetime up here, to be honest.”

  Kumari nodded sympathetically at that. “Understood, Arkbird. You’re cleared to recall the DarkStar fleet; we’ll take things from here. Thanks for the assist.”

  “Roger, out.”

  From the other side of the room as the holographic display winked out of existence, Liage cleared his throat. “Madam President, I believe you have our thanks for defusing that particular situation—although I believe there are certain questions on our end regarding your nation’s conduct that will need to be answered in the near future with due haste. Perhaps we should have a quick recess before returning to the matter at hand.”

  “Hey, look: the Annorial ships are leaving!”

  News of the unexpected showdown in the Conference had only just started to circulate beyond the chambers of the Conference Hall when onlookers at the port began to notice the Pal Orichalcumae battleships sailing for the bay. The crowd surrounding the different fleets present began to swarm the docks, watching in astonishment as the Annorial carrier and its escorts slowly but swiftly ventured towards parts unknown—several Pal Aurorae jets could be seen overhead, scanning the skies for those who might try to stop them.

  From the Grade Atlastar, Fleet Admiral Caesar and his staff warily observed the departure of their erstwhile foes, carefully noting down the behaviour and appearance of the Annorial fleet for future reference. The data they collected from today would undoubtedly be invaluable to the experts and think tanks back at home currently scrambling to figure out how best to match their southern enemies in combat, even with their current technological disparities—perhaps some enterprising engineer could eventually close that gap, given enough time and information at hand.

  A distant rumble could also be heard in the distance—a flight of Osean Lightnings soared overhead, not too far from the departing Annorials but not too close to risk direct confrontation. Keen eyes could spot the distinct three strikes emblazoned on their leader’s tail, the pilot within silently waiting for their new foes to make the first move against them.

  But the Annorials did nothing of the sort—their ships left as silently as they arrived, leaving a city in chaos in their wake.

  Enlil Two was disturbingly quiet as she and her wingmen escorted the Annorial navy out of Cartalpas’s harbour. Glancing at his flight lead in mild concern, Grogny knew better than to disturb her thoughts over the mannacomm.

  The sole survivor of Enlil Squadron’s disastrous encounter with the Grim Reaper, the celebrated icon of Annorial aerial might had apparently transformed overnight from a brash and assertive ace to a cold and bitter figure that snapped at anyone who dared approach her or mention the Oseans. The news of the recent thrashing Nammu and Innana Squadrons had suffered at the hands of her sworn enemy hadn’t helped matters, either—the screams of rage from their quarters shortly after the news broke wasn’t something he or the other pilots weren’t too keen on experiencing up close, and it was subsequently an unspoken agreement across the Air Force that the subject itself was never to be brought up near her for the foreseeable future.

  A beep on his radar stirred Grogny from his musings as he turned his head towards the source. “Flight lead, we’ve got some fighters approaching us, bearing 023; looks like a flight of Alpha-4s seeing us off.”

  Silence greeted his report. Made sense, the pilot reckoned, considering his new flight lead’s current headspace. Grogny decided to look closer at the new Milishial jets, quickly recognising the blue and yellow tails of the much-vaulted Valar Squadron as the symbols of Central World’s self-proclaimed superiority struggled to catch up with their Pal Aurorae.

  “Hmm, looks like it’s that Elenya lady leading the flight. Funny, how these elves think they actually stand a chance against us even with jets like that…”

  “Huh?” Nilea blinked in confusion, her cold fury replaced with momentary confusion as she turned towards the Alpha-4s her wingman was referring to. “Oh, that woman…”

  Grogny frowned. “Odd, it looks like she’s actually catching up and forming up on our left flank—what’s the call, boss?”

  Enlil Two’s eyes focused on the flight lead of Valar Squadron, the golden-haired elf visibly glaring at her with that remarkable arrogance that seemed so common amongst the denizens of the Central World. A wave of mild bemusement fell upon the Annorial pilot at her counterpart’s delusions at somehow matching her glory (even Nilea could see that the so-called supersonic Alpha-4 was struggling to match their cruising speeds), silently turning away before reaching for her controls.

  “Orders are orders; don’t fire unless fired upon. Increase our speed by a notch; let the Milishials stew in their own pit of ignominy while we move on to our own business.”

  “Copy, increasing speed.”

  The afterburners on the two Pal Aurorae 4s burst into life, the pair of fighters shooting forward and leaving the Milishials in the dust. Smirking as the two Annorials imagined the outrage of their would-be interceptors at this indignity, Enlil Squadron turned their attention back towards their escort duties as Throne’s voice began to speak on the mannacomm once more.

  “Enlil Two and Enlil Three. RTB at once; the Emperor himself requests your presence in thirty minutes for a special mission only the Guardians can achieve…”

  Emperor Zarathostra’s Imperial Proclamation of War — April 23, 2022

  Citizens of the Empire! Loyal subjects of our Ancestors!

  The time has come once more for us to reclaim our sacred destiny as the forebearers of our Ancestors’ return, to restore the rightful place of our winged peoples as the true rulers of this world. No longer shall we live in the shadows, ignored and belittled by those who see themselves as above us in the absence of true enlightenment—this is not revenge, but rightful reclamation of the glory and dominion of our people above all else!

  We have been scarred and bruised by fools with delusional notions of peace, by savages that make a mockery out of the corpses of our Predecessors and presume themselves to be our superiors with their pale imitations of our achievements—we have been blighted by hypocrites who talk of coexistence but wield monstrosities only our Ancestors have had the right to bear in their glorious crusade against the barbarians and savages of yore, but we shall endure these injustices no longer!

  Our destiny lies not in ignominity and oblivion, but in the rightful reclamation of what is truly ours by virtue of our Ancestors’ labours for our sake—from Mu to Philades, from Ragna to Oured, the colours of our Winged People shall flow and the savages in between enlightened or erased in the name of civilization and progress. Their cultures shall be swept away, their names erased, their ideals rendered obsolete and consigned to ashes of history while we step forward to our long-awaited future beside our glorious Forefathers!

  Pay no heed to the false cries of mercy from the barbarians you burn, for they shall give you none! Pay no heed to the lies of equality and justice from the false prophets, kings, and emperors, for they do not deserve such dignities! Pay no heed to the weapons and machines that our inferior foes wield in their futile attempts to replicate our glory, for our magic and might shall prevail above all else!

  Pray to our Ancestors that our efforts may bear fruit and our enemies fall—our survival and ascendance to the heavens as the rightful peoples of civilization depends on your unwavering faith and your sacrifices! Do not falter at this most fateful of times—our ascendance is at hand!

  Glory to our Ancestors! May they forever guide our endeavours! To war!

  TO OUR BELOVED VENDOR

  A NEW CUSTOMER WILL ARRIVE SHORTLY SEEKING SPINTHRA SILKMOTHS

  ENSURE HE IS SATISFIED WITH HIS PURCHASE

  HIS FATHER WILL BE WATCHING

  MOAGOE

  Barrat, Quila Kingdom — May 1, 2022

  “Foxtrot 2-4, how’s the situation where you are?”

  The capital of Quila was a small yet still considerably dense urban centre along the southern coastline of the desert kingdom, its location at the mouth of a river granting the city a unique respite from the arid landscape that dominated the rest of the Kingdom. With the nation reliant on trade with Qua-Toyne for food to feed its own population and Osea for revenue from oil exports, the city of Barrat had grown around the countless docks dotting the riverbanks and shores where merchants and cargo ships parked and loaded their goods and wares—this centre for business and trade was overlooked by a castle and several other smaller great houses where the rulers, nobles, and guilds of the kingdom resided.

  Perched atop a tower within one of these great houses, Specialist Josh Nakitsune slowly focused his sniper rifle towards a particular building he had been observing for the past hour: alongside a small alleyway in a quiet corner of the city, a seemingly nondescript stone apartment that supposedly housed several silk merchants from the Vestal Kingdom. Nothing that would appear to distinguish it from the rest of the homes across the neighbourhood at first glance—save for a series of unusual madar transmissions that were now increasing in frequency over the past few weeks.

  “Foxtrot Actual, this is Foxtrot 2-4. Nothing to report as of now, over.”

  “Copy, 2-4. Be advised, Arkbird has picked up new signals from Bushpaka Lakan towards Objective Alpha—maintain surveillance until Foxtrot 2-7 relieves you, then head back to White Dove for further orders.”

  A third voice spoke through Josh’s comms. “Foxtrot 2-4, this is Theia; UAVs are picking up movement in the street next to Objective Alpha, please verify, over?”

  Frowning, the Comonan sniper looked again at the apartment. “Copy, Theia, positive visual on movement; one individual, possibly male, in an Osean suit. Can’t quite tell if he’s Osean, though.”

  “Copy, Foxtrot 2-4.”

  The solitary figure walked towards the entrance to the apartment—beside the front door was a small shop where the local silk merchants sold their wares, the business itself currently closed for the day. As he approached, a second figure emerged from inside the building, gesturing towards the individual to come inside; Josh’s eyes narrowed as he recognised the person’s face.

  “Foxtrot Actual, be advised: POI 2 has made contact with the male individual and both are now inside the shop, over.”

  “Copy, Foxtrot 2-4. Maintain surveillance and report if the first individual leaves the premises—stand by, we’re just receiving some new intel from Overlord.”

  “Roger, standing by.”

  Agent North’s voice returned, audibly agitated. “Foxtrot 2-4, be advised: Arkbird has deciphered the communications from Bushpaka Lakan and we’ve also received matching intelligence from Oured—the individual you’ve observed is now designated as POI 6. Foxtrot 2-7 has been given orders to expedite their trip towards your position—head to base as soon as you can, give us a quick sketch of POI 6’s appearance, and then gear up for a possible counterinsurgency operation. How copy, over?”

  Josh nodded, more to himself than towards his superior currently a mile away in a similarly unmarked OIA black site near the docks. “Copy, will RTB as soon as Foxtrot 2-7 arrives, out.”