Tensions Between the Guthic Relms

Michise Meeting

Prince Duanxi, and a personal army of diplomats and translators, prepared to welcome the honourable Prince Jorge, from Galavaria, at Zhijing Airport. To appeal to his nation’s culture, Imperial organisers rolled out the red carpet, for one of Michu’s prestigious foreign partners. The developing situation in Eporan had many Michise businessmen and aristocrats worried, as both Ninhundland and Galavaria are vital to Michu’s economic reach. Escorting Jorge to Shaozi Palace, the very centre of Imperial power, Duanxi greeted Jorge personally, with a firm handshake. Duanxi had met Jorge before, at the Galavarian royal ball, and had grown to respect the man, for defending the honour of his sister, hence he was generally amenable to the Galavarian’s requests. The foreigner began, with a great smile on his face.

"It is good to see you again Prince Duanxi. Thank you for seeing my delegation on such short notice.”
Duanxi noted that the gesture was very friendly, full of mutual respect, given between two lifelong friends. Though such traditions are alien to Michu, Duanxi is happy to indulge, and as due to Jorge’s statesman background, the diplomatic approach was effective at building swift rapport.

“Indeed, I, and the Imperial Household, thank you for your assistance with my sister.”
Jorge’s assistance had been critical in controlling that hellish situation, though thankfully, it was resolved.

"It was nothing really. What sort of hosts would we be if we didn't look out for our guests. Anyway, I will be frank with you, we are in dire need of help. Galavaria and Ninhundland are on the brink of war, and we fear outside actors may attempt to take advantage of the situation. We fear other powers may support Ninhundland through various means, some including direct intervention. Now, we are expressly not asking for direct intervention. What we want are security guarantees that if another nation attempts to get involved, and turn the regional conflict more global, our great friends of Michu would step in and prevent that." he pauses "The last thing we want is another world war, currently our aims are to defend our own sovereignty from Ninhundish aggression. Though we are asking much of you, we seek to give in return. Perhaps deepening economic ties and perhaps a favour for a favour."
Michu needed nothing from Galavaria that it could not earn without causing further conflict, which was not in the interests of the Empire, as such, Duanxi appealed to poetry.

“In the history of Michu, we have enjoyed many philosophers. Among my favourites, is Cunwang Suo, who stated ‘The truest friend is one who stands by his compatriots in their hour of need.’ In this spirit, the Imperial Household is united, that Galavarian sovereignty must be defended, and that escalation is not in the Great Zhi. As such, Michu shall grant the political support requested, and asks little in return, only that peace is secured, and that Galavaria conducts itself honourably in any conflict.”

“Leave us.” Jorge directed his interpreters to leave, and spoke in a hushed tone. “I will tell you this, as I have it on you and your sister's good character that you only give this information out to your most trusted countrymen. I've been privy to war room predictions, and they are deeply grim. This war, even in victory, would ruin us. Some of our general staff even feel that we cannot win against a power such as Ninhundland. I believe we can, but I cannot stress our dire position should a third party get involved."
Duanxi gravely nodded, fully understanding the situation.

“All present shall swear oaths of secrecy, and may the Heavens bless Galavaria.”
The Emperor would be glad to hear of such news, however stopping Lingwei from visiting Galavaria in the event of hostilities may be difficult.

This post covers the broad strokes of the first two weeks of the war.

February 19th, 2022 0500 local

What people will remember about the start of the Galavaria-Ninhundish War is how quiet the hours before the start of hostilities were. As the order to invade was passed down from Ninhundish High Command to their troops massed on the border, a growing thunder imitated from their deployment areas. Troops raced to conduct last minute preparations, and the rumble of engines soon drowned out all other noise as all manner of vehicles prepared to step off. The culmination of several months of extreme tension all came down to a series of very simple objectives. The Ninhunish invasion force of 90 thousand men would be grouped into a single corps with the objective of driving on Varbrook and deposing the royal family. They would be supported by a stay behind force 90k strong that would be focused on tying down any holdouts bypassed by the main force, and would also be used in pacifying regions under Ninhundish control. The operation to “police a rogue Galavarian State '' as Ninhundish News stations would say was called OPERATION: LIDHOLM’S SCEPTRE. On the other side of the border, Galavarian forces would be long appraised to their plans, having been running a full spectrum ISR campaign on the border for almost the entire length of the buildup. Not only would their forces be ready for the attack, they would be dug in and out of the way of Ninhundland’s preparatory strikes. The codename for Galavaria’s phase one object of the war, which aimed to stop the enemies advance, was OPERATION: NOBLE DEFENDER. Although neither code names for the war would been known until far later, many names would surface online for it. The Continuation War, The Ninhundish Invasion of Galavaria (2022), and most popularly in Galavarian circles, The Payback War. While Eporan still slept Ninhundish fighters and bombers took off from their bases, and NOTAM’s were issued by Ninhundland all across Galavaria. In short order, Galavarian airspace was abandoned. While that happened, Cell service in western Galavavia was disrupted along with reports of Ninhundish EW assets in the air. The first shots to explode during the conflict were fired Ninhudish Bombers firing cruise missiles at standoff ranges. As they sailed to their targets, fighters from the Galavarian side of the border scrambled to meet a wave of Eurofighters approaching the border. At 5:15am local time, the silence of the long peace between the Guthic nations was shattered by the screech of air raid sirens across Galavaria. Cruise missile strikes lit up the night sky, and many videos began circling the internet of missiles flying over cities to strike targets, sometimes within the city. To coincide with these strikes, Ninhundish artillery began slamming positions on the border at around the same time. Individual artillery impacts could not be made out from a safe distance, and to onlookers it seemed as though hell itself was emanating from the battle area. Ninhundish fighters that attempted to breach the border to conduct SEAD operations found rather quickly that their initial strikes had done little to nothing in degrading Galavarian command and control. In fact, it almost seemed as though the Galavarian fighters were waiting for their Ninhundish counterparts. The first skirmish of the war, taking place between a pair of Eurofighters on escort duty and a pair of F-16s on interception missions, resulted in both sides withdrawing for no losses. Ninhundish pilots, realizing how hot Galavarian airspace was, broke off the attack. This in turn forced Ninhundland to pull back its SEAD aircraft, leaving Galavaria’s airspace firmly in their control.

0640 local

Ground invasion

In a move that shocked military strategists around the world, Ninhundish troops crossed the line of contact just before 7am, not even two hours after the start of the opening barrage. To their surprise, they found the positions on the border almost entirely devoid of troops. It was only after they had reached the first major city along their axis of advance did they finally hit the Galavarian defensive line. Dug in on the outskirts of Feuerblume, the troops there laid into the oncoming invasion force with heavy weapons and precision guided strikes. By 12pm the invasion ground to a halt as a convoy a mile long backed up into Ninhundland because the advance force was not able to secure an MSR around or through the city. SOF attacks on the convoy also meant that supply issues could become a real threat if left unchecked. Fighting continued in this sector well into the second week of hostilities, with the defenders slowly retreating further and further into the city, making the attacking Ninhundish forces bleed for every inch. Seeing a political necessity in staying mobile, the Ninhundish high command ordered the city bypassed on the 23rd, letting follow-on forces deal with its capture. The damage to the tempo of Ninhundland’s tempo of operations had already been done however. After one full week of fighting, they controlled no major objectives, cities, and were making excruciatingly slow progress. To avoid a potential stalemate, despite the air war being nowhere close to over, an ambitious air assault operation was executed to take a strategic military airfield some 10 miles from Feuerblume, and 5 from the front. It took place on February 28th, and combined with a localized offensive, cracked through the frontline and secured the airfield. This forced Galavarian forces to withdraw to a more stable frontline, and damn the defenders of Feuerblume to an encirclement. The Hun was not the only side making bold moves however, by week two Galavarian aircraft marauded the Ninhundish rear areas, with limited strikes taking place across the border. All corps have pulled off the border, and are reorganizing for a counter offensive to drive the Hun from Galavaria once and for all. The second week of operations closed with Ninhundland still far off from taking the capital, but making more progress each day. The effect of the first two weeks of combat between the two nations was some of the most bloody fighting the continent has seen since world war 2. Lowest casualty estimates from Kanadorikan military think tanks put both sides dead at three thousand a piece. In the age of the internet, combat footage from both sides spills out in torrents to the unaware worldwide public. A Galavarian information warfare campaign puts out the simple message on repeat as much as it can:

Help us now, or be us later.

MAP KEY (I don't doodle so good so approximate and purely fluff):
Ninhundland
Black: main axis of advance
Green: frontline as of February 24th
Galavaria
Blue dot: Feuerblume
White: I Corps
Purple: III corps
Blue: II corps

Galavarian Soldiers detained while trying to cross the border, Ninhundish Parliament debates on the conflict!

In light of the border conflicts between Ninhundland and Galavaria, the Ninhundish Parliament had debated to what extend the military actions should be and whether conflict is necessary. The Galavarian Government’s actions were undeniably actions that caused the instability of the Eporan Union and Eporan as a whole, first by not cleaning up the conflict of their new territory and then without notice shooting down a Ninhundish fighter. The Ninhundish Government will not accept instability within the EU which Galavaria has contributed to, in which an arms embargo is justified. A proposal to Galavaria has been issued regarding potential peace talks within the EU and that hold those that carried out the recent incidents responsible. This includes the government of Galavaria to investigate their military commanders by taking full responsibility and seeking justice for those involved in the plane crash. Failure to do so would show to Ninhundland that either Galavaria does not care about the situation or that it no control over its military generals or commanders. If they choose to do so, Ninhundland would be more than willing to discuss diplomatic talks showing that they care and have control to bring justice and responsibility to this crisis in which Ninhundland would be happy to hear. It is only a request that Galavaria takes matters of their own people which as of recently with the instability brewing over the last year has been shown to not be the case, does a foreign body really have to take matters that Galavaria is not willing to do themselves? That is the choice left up to Galavaria for the international community to see.

“A war is not in the interest of any party of the EU. It is in the best interest that a peaceful resolution is brought forward and that actions against Galavaria is directed at the military superiors as opposed to an all out war between two EU member states. The millions of Eporo that a dragged on conflict would cost and countless lives lost would be not to dissimilar to the war Galavaria raged back in 2021. It is clear that the best interest is to end the conflict quickly. All actions taken should directed towards the Galavarian military and lack of government competence in controlling the actions regarding the stability of the country and of Eporan, the citizens should not have to suffer for the actions of their government or military and we would like to acknowledge that. If an agreement between the states is to be discussed on neutral ground, a neutral party such as the EU can be present at the negotiations.”

Recently in the Imperial Palace

Camus Moran sat in his darkly lit study and glanced up at the only light source in the room; The dimmed flatscreen on the wall. He noticed the Hvidovian anchor and reached for the remote on the desk, upping the volume a few notches.

“… And as such the Kanadorikan representation to the EU has proposed a bill that condems the nation of Ninhundland for its invasion of Galvaria, seeking an end to free trade and travel with the nation, so far with the bill being backed by most nations in the EU. More news now…”

The voice trailed off as Camus turned the volume down again. He reacked for his drawer and pulled out some matches. He struck one against the paper on the sable he was writing on and lit the candles on either corner of his desk. He turned the television off altogether.

The crickets could be heard through the open windows, with a slight spring breeze making the white curtains dance a little. His mind was awash with bureaucratic dealings and trade offs for the upcoming imperial council elections. At this rate it was looking like he would have to pass the Impireship to Joan Vorel of Torusia, in order to maintain the promises he had made to the council. Along with the internal party politics he had to deal with, Camus had a mass of other international situations weighing on his mind.

First and foremost, Kamina. His newfound love, which is a story of its own. Secondly, the incoming stream of refugees from Shwobenland, now at 150% the original estimation, housing them would really push the humanitarian budget out and lose him some more position for the election, however it was the right thing to do ethically. Camus had always been strong willed like that. Humanity has always come before nationalism in his mind. Third, there was the escalated tensions in Ninhundland/Galvaria, amplified by the news out of the EU. Fourth was the now pressing matters of the western Nimbifer, regarding the Island of Hishoji’s sovereignty.

Camus checked his phone again, expecting a call from Sarah tonight that never came. He hoped she was okay, but had the slight inkling that she might have wound herself up in some sort of mischief. He added a reminder to call her in the morning.

One thing seemed to be clear from all this international turbulence. Ninhundish authority had lost its grip with reality and threatens peace for the world. Etharia has no need for armed conflict. Matters can be resolved with diplomacy and reason. The global community has a right to voice their opinion and enforce democratic decisions.

Camus took out his pocket watch. The hour was late. He still had to write an address to the press about the Ashian situation, to be presented in the morning. With the knowledge that Aztlan, our close friend, has condemned the nation of Ninhundland for its transgressions it seems that it is quite clear that Ninhundland is the aggressor. Camus had several key points to incorporate in his address:
- Noremacia will call on the LEN to deliver an ultimatum to Ninhundland.
- An article to hand the island of Hishoji back to the rightful de jure realm of Ashia
- Noremacia will directly address Ninhundland and demand answers for their recent global aggressions.
- Noremacia will draft and back a proposition to CAN not just in support of Ashia in an ensuing conflict, but a plea of support to quell the aggressor that is Ninhundland by whatever means necessary.
- Noremacia will also address Michu, Khaw and Ashia in talks of military support for the region.
- Noremacia will deliberate in talks with CAN to hinder Dougland and CSO support of Ninhundland in the area
- Noremacia will arrange talks with Kanadorika and vizelia in favour of haulting Ninhundish aggression, wether through embargo or something more, kana, Nore and Vizelia are in the best position to make those moves in the Ninhundish heartland.

Above all else one thing cannot be overstated. Noremacia will NOT tolerate unfounded aggression from the Ninhundish and from anyone in fact. We want peace. We want prosperity. We want harmony. Camus put pen to paper and continued writing his speech.

Lingwei in Galavaria, Part One

I was touring Vizellia at the time, when I heard that developments at home had stunted my entire life. The weight of the coup demanded that I cut the trip short, and return to Shaozi Palace. When I had left, the most ancient of Palaces was full of decorations, celebrating the Harvest Festival, though when I returned, the sombre atmosphere permeated everything. Though I only met Hungli once, I sensed a feeling of barely concealed hatred within the man. Standing within his gaze felt like a violation of sense, like a lion being stalked by a zebra, yet the fear remained. The columns of humble subjects, lowly maids skulked with a new sense of anticipation, and palpable dread, more alien and stilted than usual. Sain, my old tormentor, had achieved power unbecoming of her, her venomous words now had reach far beyond the palace walls. Controlling the fates of thousands with mere gestures. Hungli, flanked by the outgoing Court Chamberlain Gong Fang, addressed all assembled Princes with an Imperial edict, written primarily by himself. In dutiful obedience, all had kneeled, from the Second Prince, all the way to dearest Duanxi, to receive the cursed edict. Couriers of the edict had already been dispatched to provincial governors, party leaders, and media outlets, though the text in full revealed the full debauchery nestled within the tyrant’s schemes.

“Disturbances have permeated both this Palace, and the vast beyond for many years, preceding my own ascension. The seeds of decadence and corruption have been planted within fertile soil, leeching of the light of heaven. Each seed has now fully blossomed, and responsibility falls upon all, forin failing to uproot them, you have defied me. Now, there is left no alternative, but to appoint the dutiful subject, Hungli, of the Cuyan Clan, as Chancellor, and Imperial Consort. Through his vast knowledge, and honourable character, the Great Zhi may endure any trial. His words shall carry authority over all subjects of the Empire, all shall respect this.”

I felt a deep pressure within my heart, under no circumstances should my sister be subjugated to this man. Yet, through brutish means, the tyrant walked into the Palace, and took her hand, and so much more. I gave the most tepid of bows, barely containing tears, and coughed on the Imperial rug. I almost expected Hungli to demand his own harem, after how compulsively he glared at me, though that humiliation would not come. Instead, a less direct form of castration for us all. Hungli rose from his knees, after receiving the edict legitimising his power. He then personally read his own prepared speech, gesturing that all must remain prostrated, while he spoke. There was a certain relish to his words, reminiscent in a way, of Sain showing off her young mastery of the Weishun language to the former Emperor.

“May the reign of the Shensheng Emperor be prosperous for all. This humble slave is graced by words undeserved, yet he shall comply. No longer, may the distractions of vice and perversion temper grace and virtue. All Princes and Princesses shall undergo reformation into their truest selves, that which the Emperor wishes. I am the harbinger of change, follow me, and you shall not be swept asunder. Resist me, and be broken, bent into submission until you follow me. There shall be no more extravagant spending. No more abuse of the Emperor’s maidens. No more degrading the Emperor’s gifts in public. All these habits, vices, shall be burned away. Respect this, and obey.”

“This command contravenes prior edicts of the Emperor, and while you may have force of arms, the legitimacy of Tianqing ultimately flows from the Emperor to you. Without a secondary edict, you may not restrict actions authorised by Imperial Edict.”
While legally questionable, my objection spared me enough time to escape the Palace with Duanxi, a feat that caused much chaos throughout the Empire. Though the crisis was resolved by my ‘emergency tour’ to Galavaria, I refuse to return to Michu, until this tyrant keels over. He speaks of idealism, romance, and dignity, yet usurps his way to power, marries his Emperor at gunpoint, ravishing her like some disgusting doll, and still raves about feminism! I hurried to Zhijing Airport, taking my private flight to Varbrook, Galavaria. Anywhere, I mean, anywhere, is better than Zhijing right now. Oh, how wrong I was.

Getting off the private plane in Varbrook, the first, and most pervasive factor at play was total silence. Since my earlier Big Empire Tour of Kanadorika, I have grown rather numb to the sensation of my ears popping, or travel sickness. The last thing anyone needed at this point, was an Imperial Princess on the run, covered in vomit and crying about ear pain, in this critical hour. The Galavarian government was well aware of my online activities, activism and the like, so were more than accommodating with my offer of aid. I packed as much money as I could afford, food and supplies, as well as practised my singing in preparation to lift spirits. Accompanying me was a rather large Imperial delegation, primarily composed of Zheng, though some Weishun had joined me. No doubt, Hungli’s goons, keeping an eye on me, making sure I don’t tell my hosts about the situation at home. The airport was slightly dirty, with even the cleaners taking shelter in their homes. By this point in the growing conflict, all air traffic had been temporarily halted, there was a small delegation of Galavarians, all dressed in tailored suits. They gave a little, courteous bow, though I dismissed their praises, and had even dressed myself down. Wearing my standard Princess dress felt so alien, after the tyrant Hungli tore down my life. Instead, I wore a smaller top bun, and a red dress, laced with token gold embroidery as highlights. Varbrook was practically deserted, boarded up shops and houses littered the streets, with my Galavarian bodyguards expressing disinterest in the local area, anxious about the upcoming war. Travelling to the town of Feuerblume, near the frontline, the atmosphere was tranquil, blissful, yet full of fear. Mirroring, in a concerning way, the Imperial Palace itself. Though, the temperature was far higher, and had I been wearing my standard dress, I’d probably collapse from the heat, as I once did in Ashia. Noticing a botanical shop that retained some of its beauty, even through war preparations, I entered, and felt weak in the knees. Reminding me of the resplendent beauty of the Imperial gardens, I simply had to adorn myself with one of these perfect flowers. The shopkeeper, a grizzled, elderly woman, spoke in a rough tone, without looking at our party. I fully understood Galavarian at this point, though her directness startled me, despite it being aimed more towards my bodyguards.

“I don’t care how many times you soldier boys tell me I should evacuate, I ain’t leavin my store.” Noticing me, her mouth fell agape, and she spoke in a far softer tone. “You get on the wrong flight dearie?”
Such slang made my ability to process the words a little difficult, the informality of the outside world is known to confuse many Michise tourists. Though I formalised a response fairly quickly, not allowing myself to be tripped up.
“Not at all, mam. I am from Michu, here to visit Galavaria, see the people, raise spirits.” I paused, the silence turning awkward as I searched for the right words. “I’m also looking to buy some flowers. We won’t evacuate your store!”
I withdrew some Galavarian currency, as I began perusing the flowers, examining their colours. The old shopkeeper stared for a moment, taken aback that I could speak her language. She spoke slowly, yet softly.

“Why of course dear, what is it you were looking for? The Red Pansies are what are popular this time of year. We could also see about doing an arrangement of colours.”
Her eyes twitched, following my guards and the interpreter, who seemed shaken at almost every moment. He spoke for me, without invitation, though his intervention was not too unwelcome.

“My lady here is of noble blood, and thus requires our assistance moving through the kingdom. We, uh, seek to cause no trouble.”

She chuckles to herself. “Trouble? The trouble you soldier boys caused with all this racket damn near drove me out of business.”
As if to punctuate her point, I heard the rumble of a pair of fighter jets pass by overhead, causing the assembled group to duck, besides the old shopkeeper, who remained firmly standing.

“Red… pansies?” I paused, slightly confused by the word, before settling on it. “Ah, yes I’ll take them. In Michu, we love to adorn our hair and dresses with fauna. The family garden is crammed with flowers, though little like the selection in this store.”
Unlike many of my brothers, and even some sisters, I took virtually no interest in military matters. The air force, even less so, the tranquillity of the Palace may not be violated by jet engines, by law. I asked a question borne of ignorance, that made my interpreter cringe visibly.
“Why are your peoples so close to war?”

In the once beautiful capital city of Varbrook lies the center of the Galavarian war effort. Security is tight around key installations, and the Kriegsschloss is no exception. Ever since recent developments, air raid sirens have gone off at least twice a day, forcing its defenders to seek shelter. Many times it's just a false alarm, and on one of these false alarms the Apparatus of Serene Seas decided to make their move. . .

At the borders of the main entrance of the targeted structure stood a young woman, seeming to have been fresh out of college or from an accelerated university course, both highly believable for what she posed as. Both her eyes and hair were dark brown, the broken light from the sun faced in mortal combat with the clouds, making her hair seem a bit reddish,rogue strands of hair escaped her ponytail and lauds themselves past her eyes. Judging by her eyes seemed at least partially of East Herzanan Descent, the use of black framed reading glasses attempted to hide this the best she could while a black neck gaiter covered most of her face up to her nose. She wore dusty black work pants that seemed just a little bit too baggy to be professional as it reached nearly the halfway point to her shoes, it was complimented by a black athletic shirt that clung tight to her small and fragile frame, that seemed to stand around Five foot six inches, with sleeves that went way past her wrists, her thumb slipping through a purpose made hole for them, over that a low profile body armor system in black with the thick measure of ballistic plates being visible, matching the black high cut style protective helmet she wore without ear protection, the helmet covered everything above her thin eyebrows. Her feet were protected with black hiking outdoor style boots that seemed to definitely be worn, dust nearly making it look grey. Around her waist she wore a black combat belt with an excessive amount of black pouches on it, several admin pouches, a couple pistol mag pouches, a medical pouch, several identification and access cards hanging off a extendable lanyard, and a holster that held a complimentary sidearm. Covering most of her frame was a high visibility jacket in yellow and white that she secured only with the arms holes, only buttoning up the first two buttons, making it flow like a cape as she walked through the Windy City.

With ease that would unsettle the valiant defenders should they ever discover her, the door to the main entrance was completely open to her, not a single individual to be seen, not a single security system. The situation inside is that of pure chaos, by the looks of it the complex has taken multiple direct and glancing hits from Ninhundish cruise missiles, hypothetically leaving only but a skeleton crew able to work out of the bombed out offices. With not a care in the world she made her way down her preset route, finding herself at the edge of a staircase that seemed to be enclosed in darkness. With a deep breath and a hesitant first step she delved further into the lonely complex, finding herself at the next area of the complex.

The crew were finally visible, mostly consists of high ranking intelligence officers working out of a bomb shelter in the basement of the building. Inside she finds a small group of around twenty men that look like they haven't slept in days wearing basic army fatigues, they pay no mind to the intruder as they pore over computer screens and data sheets. A soldier comes into the shelter from the way she came in, pushing past her shouting, not seeming to pay any attention to the girl. "General Wagner! General Vogel wants to meet with you in his TOC!"

One of the older men loudly proceeded to use some very colorful language, before standing up from his desk to leave with the soldier. Neither pay the girl any mind, but as they pass her she took the opportunity to begin moving again, only taking half a dozen steps before crossing the intersection of a hallway, bumping into a soldier in a full combat loadout, his helmet bumping off his waist from a strap. With a questioning look he fixed his eyes on the now slightly dazed girl, demanding sternly "Hey, this is a restricted area, civilians are not supposed to be here. State your name and purpose.”

She emitted a rather innocent aura as she looked around her surroundings as she tried to break out of her daze. Her eyes sheepishly locked onto the soldier’s after taking a couple seconds to get herself out of a daze, a wholesome smile plastering itself on her face. Staring into the man's eyes tells a lot about his state of mind. Bags under the eyes, unkempt hair, a vacant stare back and an unsure stance tells her this man was recently on the frontline. With no hazard she raised up her identification card towards him, happily complying. “Minna Weiss. I’m here on behalf of the Foreign Relations Group to present a brief and concise report on the situation across the border.” Her tone of voice implied she was still filled with the enthusiasm of youth.

He barely looks at the identification card, glazing over her stated name, her alleged age of freshly twenty, the agency she was employed at, and the specific department she was in. . . although a oddity was pertaining to the latter part, it states a most curious Section Zero. Unaware of the specifics of the Group he simply shrugged to himself and stated "Go see Colonel Schwarz, through the door in the back, down the stairs, hang a left, 3rd door." Her eyes did not break from the vacant stare that she received from the soldier, a slightly concerned smile masquerading itself hidden underneath her neck gaiter, almost as if she was privy to knowledge that he would never be privy to.

Her eyes filled with assured confidence in herself. “Thank you, Sergeant. May the future hold better days for you.” She remarked before letting go of the hold of her access card, snapping back to the karabiner on her belt loop, plastic smacking against metal creating a sharp noise for a brief second. She then immediately took off, moving with a slightly faster than average walking pace further down into the complex, but before disappeared through the door in the back she turned back and waved at the soldier who was still watching her, gratefully exclaiming “Thank you for your service!” Following his instructions makes her realize that the basement is much larger than once assumed, it likely having once covered at one point the entire street, but it looks like part of it is caved in. Striking her like a brick flying through the window is how desolate the post is. On the sublevel, she only sees one other person traversing the hallway. It looks like it's being used as a barracks for whatever military intelligence unit is based out of here. The clacking of her the heels of her black combat boots smacking against the hard concrete, echoing throughout. While alone in the ghostly halls she extended her arms out from her side, her fingers gliding across as they scraped ever so slightly against the walls. Eventually she reached the final door, while still in motion she opened the door and spun her way in, twirling her way into the room. With the momentum from the spin she immediately moved to genuflect, her head bowing as her body lowered, almost as if she expected the company that encased itself in the room. Her gaiter fell back to her neck, barely away from her chin now, revealing a confident smirk as if she had practiced such an entrance.

When she gets to the designated room, there are three people inside. One wears a dirty set of army fatigues with the rank of Colonel, another wears a much cleaner uniform with the rank of lieutenant general on it, the third a man could barely be classified as one. He carried the face of a child, yet the stare of a man that's seen too much. Knowledge of the royal family tells her this is eighteen year old Karl Brandt, third to the throne, and last known to be in a military academy in the south of the country. An academy that was virtually destroyed by cruise missile strikes on day one. He also wears a uniform, with no rank on it. If the men were having a conversation, it stopped before she entered. The Colonel motions to the rest of the room with a mirthful smile. "Gonna have to wait in line, miss...?" He says questioningly.

“Ms. Weiss.” She answered immediately, not a hint of hesitation in her tone, bordering on defiance. She then brought herself back on her feet, interlocking her hands behind her back and presenting herself in a polite and respectful manner, the smirk remains as she explained. “I must apologize for my intrusion. . .” Her eyes narrowed on the Prince as if she was awestruck with being in the presence of royalty “. . but such matters are unfortunately time sensitive in nature.” She said as she tilted her head slightly, revealing her apology was more so just for the sake of politeness as she clicked her heels together as she explained herself further “I am a representative of the Foreign Relations Group’s International Studies Department. Our companions in international communications would like for me to present you some findings on the Ninhundish force composition. . . alongside an analysis of possible options if his majesty the King deems such intel actionable.” She explained light heartedly with the same ever present smirk, sophistry obviously being one of her attributes. Her eyes remained on the Prince as she seemingly thought on the subject in question. She would have expected him to at least have worn a rank, a small exhale escaping her nostrils in excitement as she thought about what is soon to come in this foreign escapade. Her eyes dared not to make contact with the officers in the room, seeing their participation in the coming events to be minimal to middling. Her mischievous smile grew on what seeds she could sow and on what she could find herself getting away with clandestinely only if she could get the Prince alone in the room, but the situation she could herself in would have to do. She returned to reality and generalized her gaze as Colonel Schwarz threw his hands up in a mock surrender gesture. "Oh no, I'm really in trouble if someone from the group wants my ear. You've come at a good time. Ms. Weiss, General Müller, de facto head of military intelligence." He says, motioning to the three star. "And forgive my rudeness, Cadet Brandt. Not very often you get to refer to royalty outside proper titles eh?" He says with a chuckle to the girl. She smiled as she joyfully replied “I suppose it really isn’t every day!” Karl only offers a dissatisfied huff in reply, and gives her a nod, asking "Don't suppose this intel will get me away from these geezers and get me an assignment closer to the front, eh?"

Unexpectedly the girl would be subject to a genuine smile. Finding the essence of humanity from the Colonel rather endearing. After all his years of service he maintains this light hearted demeanor; even with the war striking so close to home he is not deprived of his humanity and spirit. A very brief exhale of amused air came from her, clearly amused. “Luckily I am but a lowly analyst, now if my boss was here I’m afraid that such pleasant words would be strangled by the monotonous work of bureaucracy.” She honestly stated as she made a polite bow towards the three. The men in the room are clearly unnerved by the smile, but know better than to question an agent from the group.

“It is my great pleasure to meet you, although under these circumstances are rather macabre.” A depressed sigh escaped her “But I guess that if the only reason why someone like me would even be in this room.” She then referred her optics back to the Prince, giving the same polite bow “I suppose it is not a everyday occurrence after all.” She says in reply to the Major, almost as if she was pondering something on her mind, the amusement in her tone somewhat lessening. Her parade rest-like stance becoming only more firm as the Prince posed his question. “As a matter of fact this may be the providence you seek, your royal highness!” Minna exclaimed as her amused smile grew bigger. “Although moving you closer to the front might not be the most sensible move from a purely cost benefit analysis. I wouldn’t consider the chances too unfavorable as the decision ultimately is up to his majesty and the general staff-.” Minna gets cut off as just then, the room shakes and the lights go out for a second, as several dull booms are heard overhead. The battering of the city shook Minna from her feet and in the brief second of darkness and absence of light it looks almost as if she disappeared. “Well now, that’s rather unpleasant.” She mumbled to herself, visibly annoyed at the bombardment of precision guided munitions. The smile momentarily was gone until she picked herself back up onto her feet, having fallen during the strike.

A radio sitting on the Colonel's desk crackles to life. "Cruise missiles, weren't aimed at us. looks like they hit a unit traversing the highway out of the city. Report is a couple of fast movers are coming in behind them, stay in cover." Directing her eyes to the radio and its message, sighing.
No one moves to respond to the radio, and Müller actually turns it off. Karl matches her stare, and from his face she can tell he is unsure of her, no doubt wondering why she is singling him out. "Right, well I doubt a lowly intel analyst would have the clearance to get me to a unit where I could do some real good, or get me a battlefield commission. Even if you are from the group." He says, eyeing her with suspicion. The girl’s strange smug-like smile remained as the Prince reciprocated her stare, unwavering in her commitment and determination, the smile only growing wider.

Minna then inquired towards the three men “Does this installation happen to have a projector available?” She asked in a curious and seemingly genuine tone of voice. Brandt leaves the room to find a projector, his combat gear creating a rhythmic clanking as he makes his way down the empty hallway. Her eyes turned to the Prince as he began walking, following him through the entirety of his exit from the room, silent as her stare lingered on the door. Once Karl was gone the colonel scoffs at her reaction to bombardment.

"Saying what's on all of our minds, miss. Don't know where you group fellas are camped out, but judging by that reaction I'd say you aren't a target yet." Upon the Colonel’s scoff and assessment a look of anger would briefly overtake overtook her, a fire in her eyes that nearly boiled over before it was snuffed out with a light pouting sigh as she replied in a somewhat annoyed tone towards the senior officer, clearly holding her tongue and restraining her dialogue so she may say nothing too out of turn or unnecessary as it is very obvious that the officer had struck a nerve of the girl. “You would be right. .”

She admitted meekly as her eyes trailed off to the side, not wishing to make eye contact with the Colonel anymore, or at least not for now. She placed her hands behind her back in her parade rest as she twisted the toe of her black paratrooper style boots against the concrete, kicking it twice before she remained in the same position as she was before bombardment. Noticing that he struck a nerve with her, the colonel sighs "Hey, it ain't no shame. Combat is not what it is cracked up to be, especially what we are dealing with now, and don't let anyone tell you different." Her eyes remained far from the Colonel as he attempted to comfort her “If you say so. . .” Karl then returns before returning with a projector. Her eyes excitedly pushing to Karl as he entered the room and set up a projector. Karl more than notices the undue attention she is giving him, and he clearly doesn't like it.

His demeanor is less apprehensive and more annoyed that you seem to be star struck in the presence of royalty. Her hands flew from her back as she walked with quick pace to the projector, grabbing her phone and a cord from one of the admin pouches on her black battle belt and plugging in into the projector as she unlocked her phone and entered a app that seemed to already have a pre made powerpoint presentation. As the presentation is set up, the General asks her "So, Miss Weiss, what sort of intel did you have for us? Last briefing I went to with your people there didn't exactly have much in the way of a fatal flaw in the Ninhundish force structure. Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen one of the grunts out and about giving briefings. Why'd they farm the late breaking development to you?" Upon the General’s question her face remained unmoving, her smug turning to a sigh. “If I may be honest I do not know. I only question orders when they are unlawful.”

After setting it up it dimly projected a zoomed in picture of a Ninhundish officer of the major rank, presumably taken in the field. By the angle and photo quality it was apparent that someone in the officer’s unit had taken the picture. The girl then excitedly ran over the door, flipping off the lights in order to make the presentation more palatable to the naked eye. There seemed to be a near childlike excitement in her eyes and voice as she turned to look over at the Officers and Cadet, standing right behind her phone setup wired to the projector, swiping on it without looking. The next picture was a satellite image of a Ninhundish mechanized column.

“Signals Intelligence and space borne reconnaissance systems show us that Ninhundish Ground Forces are in the process of reorganizing and are significantly more vulnerable to a high profile offensive on their southern flank. This could potentially force them to respond with the deployment of their reserves or transfers from the center or north in order to fend off the attack to prevent mass encirclement of their maneuvers and auxiliary units in the south. Ninhundish Air Defense Systems have proved themselves to be in low numbers and significantly under equipped in the rear line and past the border, seemingly focusing on keeping combat units already on the line of contact safe from aerial bombardment. If the Air Force can launch a strategic effort to hit Ninhundish Supply Trains and Convoys during a attack in the south then we can cripple their ability to threaten the homeland effectively, furthermore if they decide to deploy the forces they are keeping in the reserve then the air forces would hypothetically be able to engage those moving units with near impunity, except from organic anti air assets in the Ninhundish maneuver units. If losses continue at the same rate as they are accruing now then their tentative hold and garrison on the line of contact will crumble unless they remove themselves from their own offensive operations. In addition to this if we can mobilize SOD elements to implant themselves in the Ninhundish rear, alongside junctions and roads then the devastation should be enough to break the Ninhundish initiative so we can make this war on our own terms.” Every sentence she swiped her phone, revealing satellite image after satellite image of Ninhundish positions and units.

“Furthermore, our friends abroad believe that the Ninhundish would not be capable of putting up an offensive counter attack due to observations of previous Ninhundish Combat Deployments in Aztlan and Laurentia. In both instances Ninhundish Command did not deploy anything bigger than a few brigade or battalion sized elements of a rapid reaction force or special forces. It is unknown if Ninhundish High Command are capable of sustaining themselves for large scale maneuver warfare against a peer like adversary. In the latter most example Ninhundish Invasion Forces pulled out after facing light ground resistance and international condemnation.” As she talks through this section the slideshow photos taken of a drone feed of Ninhundish special forces in both theaters, the final picture being a picture of a fireteam size element of neutralized Ninhundish Special Forces in an arid environment. As she would finish up the last slide and sentence Minna would make a polite and regal bow towards the officers, ending it only after a second as she twirled around in a blur of motion, returning after twisting three hundred and sixty degrees, with that she slaps a folder she seems to have been hiding in a pocket like compartment in her high visibility rain jacket. They splatter across the table that the projector was on, splashing to reveal the satellite images that were on the slideshow and many more.

Karl says nothing throughout the briefing, and it's clear he isn't really paying attention. After its over, the Colonel mouths "Fuck me" He gives a low whistle and says "You spooks in the group had access to this kind of intel collection and you wait till the enemy is at the gates to dump it on us? Either your boss has some poetic timing or I think you might be fighting for the wrong side. Shit the things I could do with this kinda capability, it's wasted on you group types in wartime. No offense." Before she can respond, the general takes the opportunity to take control of the situation "Yes Miss Weiss, the capabilities here far exceed anything I've seen from the group. Quite interesting they choose now to dump the intel, and that it's so detailed." He studies her for a long moment, and she can see out of the corner of her eye she sees Karl’s hand is resting uncomfortably close to the butt of his pistol. Not a direct threat, but certainly something. After a silent few seconds, he smiles and reaches his hand out "Damn fine work Miss Weiss. . .” Upon the Colonel’s comment and the General’s suspicion she would rub the back of her head “Yeah, I wasn’t privy to this until I was told to make a presentation out of it. My guess is that Center wanted to confirm everything first.”

She admits with seemingly genuine embarrassment in her voice as she blushes. As she moves to scratch her head more her jacket is pushed up a bit, revealing that she now bore a holster with nothing in it, but the pouches next to it had two sidearm magazines poking out. Her face would blow up with excitement and blush as she went to shake the General’s hand, once shaken and having pulled away the General would continue.

“There's just one thing" Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Karl standing behind her, near the door. his hands are visible, resting within reach of his pistol belt. Her young voice cracked as she stammered out a response to his ominous ending as her face grew worried, scared she did something wrong. “Wh- what might that be, sir?” His face loses its friendly edge as he claims

"FRG doesn't have any operatives in Altzan. If we did, I would know about it, especially now.
She hears Karl's pistol clear the holster, and the Colonel's hands are now beneath the desk. She would grow visibly scared as his friendly demeanor evaporated, she nervously tried to explain herself as she pulled away from the handshake. “I- I never said we did?” Her answer seemed more like a question as she took a step to the side. “I said our friends abroad engaged them in Aztlan. . . I’m guessing Central asked them for some data on previous Ninhundish Combat Deployments. . ” She looked down at the concrete floor as she seemed to hug herself, clearly uncomfortable at what the General was implying, seeming to flinch when she heard Karl and the Colonel reach for their weapons. Karl takes a step in front of the door, blocking her exit. He keeps his pistol trained on her. Colonel Schwarz pauses, and attempts to diffuse the situation.

"Your Majesty, I think it's time for you to leave." He says, bringing up his service pistol and resting it on the table. "Miss Weiss, forgive our quick reaction. We've had many bad run-ins with saboteurs, they've been active all over the damn place. The negative effects of sharing a genetic line with those devils across the border." His pistol is not aimed at her, but he holds it at the ready. Karl has not left the room yet, and he takes this time to speak up "No. Dammit we have bigger things to worry about then you trying to protect me!" During this moment, the General takes the time to rifle through the file she left behind. addressing her directly he says "This is good intel. My god, it confirms exactly what our eyes in the sky have been telling us. Tell me Miss Weiss, who exactly are these friends? As I understand it, most of FRG has been attempting to get into Ninhundland for deep cover operations, along with facilitating weapons shipments from abroad. That doesn't leave many assets to go poking around in other nations."
He pauses and notices that both men still haven't truly lowered their weapons and he bellows out "For god sakes gentleman the girl is scared. Lower your damn weapons!" With the Prince actively aiming at her a couple tears could be spotted coming from her eyelids, dripping down her cheeks.

As she began to sweat lightly, wiping her forehead sheepishly before she subconsciously started rubbing her neck as the Colonel and Prince began to air their open disagreements. Not responding verbally or at least successfully as she began to stammer out something before the general took the lead, still rubbing her neck. As she finally spoke, meekness being her tone. “I- I- I’m not entirely sure if I’m allowed to tell you specifically but I don’t think I’m in a situation to refuse. .” Nervousness and a fear of Central getting on her for revealing secrets to the Ministry of Defense.

“It’s true everyone else is busy, but we do have a skeleton crew that is maintaining contact with Prosperity. . .” She took a deep breath as she almost seemed to blurt out the rest. “Some of their field agents embedded within Xinmei made a report and our friends were able to let it drip down to us without the rest of Prosperity noticing.” Half way through she would stop rubbing her neck, revealing smeared makeup now on her hand and marks of strangulation on her neck as she went back to hugging her own frame. Her eyes darted off to an empty side wall, breaking her meek gaze on the General as she explained. Seeing her pitiful state, the men relent.

Schwarz puts gun away, and stands up, moving to her. The girl doesn’t respond verbally to any attempts at consonance from the Colonel, only flinching as he approaches. "Shit young Miss, didn't mean to scare you like that. But these are scary times." He gives Karl a death glare, and he huffs and holsters the pistol. "Look, why don't we get you some water and some hot food-" The general cuts him off. "Hold on colonel. Miss what did you mean when you said prosperity? That's not an organization I've heard of before." While she formulates a response, he looks to the two other men and says "When we are done here, she's your problem."

The colonel nods, Karl starts banging his head lightly against the concrete wall in annoyance. As the General asked his question she rubbed her eyes from the tears, smearing even more makeup onto her hands and sleeves, revealing the deep and nearly charcoal black dark eye bags of someone who hasn’t gotten a good sleep in God knows how long. A look of horror eclipsed her face as she slowly looked up at the General, seemingly talking to herself, she seemingly said something she probably shouldn’t have. “Whoopsie. . .” She hesitated to answer for nearly a whole ten seconds before she finally said what she meant to say, quietly, as if she was scared of prying eyes hearing.

“Michu’s Intelligence Service. They specialize in counter espionage and maintaining the peace, yet they also handle matters of foreign nature. Biggest internal intelligence service by sheer personnel if I’m not wrong.” The men give her a perplexed look. The general is the first to speak up. "So then your working with Michese intelligence, why didn't you just say that from the beginning?” Meanwhile the colonel just shakes his head "Look, the jig is up Miss, you provided good intel, so just make this a little easy on yourself and tell us who you really are. You aren't in any trouble, actually Karl, grab some water and some hot grub.”

Please sit down." He motions to a chair, taking a seat himself. The girl remained silent, feigning fear "General, I think I got it from here. This intel should really be acted on" he says motioning to the file "I agree. I'll post some guards on my way out." with that he takes the folder and moves to walk out the door. Her scared demeanor dissolves within a second as the smirk returns, sighing as she speaks up. “If only you knew how bad things really are. . .” She said in a disappointed and near depressed tone. “Section Zero’s activities aren’t exactly supposed to be known by Officers of your rank, no offense.” She said with confidence in her voice and swagger in her step as she leaned against the table.

“It’s hard to find people who can keep a secret nowadays after all.” Her gaze returned to the Prince, confident with every fiber of her being, seeming to ponder something on her mind. Karl mouths 'what the fuck?' and storms off. Once Karl removed himself from the room a brief and sharp exhale came from her, amused, she looked to the Colonel before taking a seat, being silent for thirty seconds before asking “So what gave it away?” Leaning back in his chair, the colonel is momentarily shocked, before composing himself he shakes his head "Tsk, shoulda realized you were faking. Way to pull the wool over our eyes, same team mean anything to you?" He says jokingly "Never heard of a section zero either, but at this point I'm convinced you're a super spook of some variety. As for what gave you away? well originally the waterworks routine had me thinking you were an agent of some kind not from our intel orgs.”

“What really gave you away was name dropping the Michese intelligence service, clearly a slip up, and your hesitation to answer confirmed my suspicions you were telling some kind of lie." Karl returns at this point, and leaves a bottle of water and a freshly cooked MRE on the desk, to which the Colonel motions to "By all means, take. Not often you get served by royalty." Once Karl returns a soft smile comes over her, asking in a concerned tone “What has come over you, companion?” Karl spits back "I don't know you, and you sure as hell don't know me. Refer to me by a proper title or not at all." The colonel puts up a hand "Settle down Cadet, threats over. And you should really make nice, I'm assigning her to you if she turns out to be an asset and your father approves it." He leans in and adds some edge to his voice

"I'll be straight with you Miss, if you're straight with me. If you're here to help, we'll take it. If you're not, say so now, and you'll ride out the war in a cell somewhere. If we find out later, well, can't guarantee it'll be a mistake you live to regret.” “Didn’t expect you guys to not know our Michese friends by name.” She shook her head “I suppose I expected a bit too much from you Ministry of Defense guys.” She clicked her tongue as she started tapping against the desk, looking at it with no emotion before returning to look at the Colonel. The colonel rubs the back of his head "Yeah, you'd think so. Different units, we don't really interact with foreign civilian agencies. Even in wartime the most non military people we deal with are the occasional messengers from the group." The girl scoffed at the Colonel’s explanation, deciding to lament on this situation, sighing she said “I guess not everyone has the answers . .” She rubbed her eyes in exhaustion after such. Only speaking when they were all done speaking.

“Not every day a royal gets served by another royal.” When she speak to Karl, at first laughs her off, though he is clearly annoyed by the comment. "Yeah, right. You're a royal. And I'm secretly half Hezranian. Her smirk is even bigger than before as she made herself comfortable in the chair, holding her chin up on her hand as she looks at Karl. “What’s wrong, little boots? It hasn’t been that long since our play dates when we were little.” She says to herself with a sigh before continuing. “We’ve known each other for how long? Nine years? Eight?” On mentioning his nickname, he lunges for her throat, and is only stopped by the colonel being slightly faster "Jesus H. Christ Karl calm down! what the hell has gotten into you?"

He shouts "How do you know that name, spy." He hisses with pure anger. With the same smirk across her face she decided to briefly ignore Karl’s attempt to strangulate her. “I never said I was related to you by blood, boots.” Her excitement and pleasure with herself grew to a sight never before seen as she casually leaned back in her chair as she questioned her circumstances. “Twice in a week someone has attempted to assault my neck. Not sure why.” She stated with the marks on her necks being a clear reflection on at least this being a truth and not a lie.

Her eyes rolled around the room, not sure if Karl was serious in his attempt, a set of now confused eyes laying onto Karl. Her comments only seem to enrage him further. If there was any doubt he was serious about harming her, it's dispelled when he starts reaching for his gun. "No one outside blood knows that name!" Colonel Schwarz looks at her, then Karl rapidly several times. Noticing Karl reaching for his gun, he goes to pin him against the wall. He succeeds, and Karl gets the wind knocked out of him as he smacks against the concrete wall. "Calm yourself boy! This is no way for a soldier to act, let alone a Prince!" While maintaining his pin, he turns to her and angrily shouts "Explain yourself!"

The commotion has attracted footsteps, and it is likely that people are coming to investigate. Minna would sigh at such a violent escalation of force, standing up from her chair and putting her glasses down on the ground, resting both of her unmolested hands on the the desk, speaking up, hoping that the statue of truth may be able to stop Karl from hurting the Colonel in their struggle. “I am Lowly Princess Is, Aspect of the Goddess of Snow. Shadow Spymaster of the Apparatus for Serene Seas and as of now first in line to the throne of the KPPR. Visage from the past and unwanted royal of the Khoslol.”

She spoke in a tone demanding respect, a regal and official tone of voice, a stark contrast to everything else she done. In a defeated tone of voice she attempted to get Karl to stop struggling so the Colonel can relieve himself from struggle. “Karl, if you sit down I will answer any questions either you or the Colonel have.” She slumped down back into her chair, as if actually being honestly drained all of her energy and enthusiasm. As she melted into her chair she almost seemed to flicker in and out of reality before she was anchored and stared directly at the roof, absent mind-idly taking off her watch without looking and sliding it on the table, its back exposed. On the back it was shown the seal of the Royal Family of the KPPR, the House of Khaw Si Khaw.

At first he continues to struggle against his pin, and seems to not be listening to her. When he gets a look at the watch, he stops struggling almost immediately. The Colonel, also shocked, lets go of Karl to get a look at the seal. "My god." He mumbles The Colonel looks at her far differently from her previous interactions, and gives her a half hearted bow "My deepest apologies Miss Is, had we known of your arrival we would have planned better."

Looking to Karl he says "Your Majesty, you know better than I what a royal seal represents, it is legitimate...right?" He sounds unsure, as if the entire situation is just a little too much to wrap his head around. Karl takes two cautious steps forward, eyes on her the entire time, hand hovering near his pistol. He peers at the seal and studies it, scrunching his face in an effort to recall knowledge from his childhood teachings. Before he can say anything a pair of soldiers come bursting into the room with rifles at the ready

"Your Majesty, are you alright?" "LEAVE US. NOW." The colonel roars back at them. He shouts loud enough that it reverberates off the walls of the concrete room. "You saw, nothing. This woman? Never here. This was a conversation between me and the Prince. Now.Leave.Us." Contrary to his previous shout, this was uttered at a hiss venomous enough to kill an elephant. Not needing any further encouragement, they leave as quick as they came. Karl hasn't taken his eyes off her. After a few silent moments he finds his words "How? This seal, it's not something that can be faked. You..."

His words flounder again "Why are you here? How are you here?" “There is no need to apologize, Colonel. In fact I thank you for indulging me in my childish need for deception and lies. . .” She leaned back further in her chair to the point that it was nearly going to tip over, the only thing keeping that from being already true is her tippy toes still being on the ground. “I would have planned and executed a much more elaborate meeting much like a manhunt if the current circumstances weren’t what they are now.” She sighed greatly in disappointment, “I guess that’s why you can’t leave a Arch Duke alone with the Ministry of Defense for even a minute.”

She edged herself further to falling to the concrete ground. “But I assure you, the time for truth has now arrived. I shall no longer lie to either of you, something only reserved for a select few, including that of my sisters, their royal majesties.” She says in a serious but bored tone as she maintains her precarious position, seeming unphased by the two’s shocked state and the Colonel’s yelling. “And yes, Karl, that is real.” She says before letting herself fall to the ground, a metal clank ringing through the room as she lazily laid on the concrete flooring, once again seeming to flicker in and out of reality. “I am here because I am the only person in the world who hates Ninhundland probably more than you lot or your King. As for how I’m here. . . this isn’t my first time in Galvaria. Plus it would be probably surprising to you how far you can go with just a uniform.”

She said as if she had tone actions like this a thousand times. As if she pulled off scenarios like this more times than one could count, she seemed unphased by it all. “Also, Colonel, no need to bow. I am less than the dirt this bunker brushes against. . .” She said in a depressed sigh. “Begging your pardon, your highness, but you're in line for the throne of another sovereign nation. That alone deserves some modicum of respect” he sighs, looking between her and Karl. “What is it with royalty today and their suicidal desire to put themselves in harms way?” While still laying on the ground she would begin to reply “I am only in the aforementioned line of succession as I am the last of the House that remains legitimate and not the sovereign or sovereigns of the state, yet I remain unknown.” She says as she is obviously bemoaning and lamenting on her status as a shadow heir, unknown to all in the world except a select few.

“My life is only to serve my sisters and my purpose on this earth will become redundant once a true heir is achieved by them. My purpose is no greater and quite possibly even less.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, and lets out a soft chuckle “Well. Seeing as you are here to help. Let's see about getting you some proper clearance.” His gaze turns to Karl “If you wouldn’t mind of course, your majesty” without responding, Karl takes out a small stamper from his uniform pocket. He then walks over to the desk and procures an empty sheet of paper, writing a short message, and then stamping it. It reads: This woman is a friend to the kingdom, and should be treated as such. -Karl Brandt, R

“Don’t make me regret this, it's not something I do very often” The girl is not sure if he’s addressing her or the colonel, but non the less he places the paper back the desk.She remained in hollow silence as the two men conversed and made a plan of action, unmoving as she stared up blankly at the sky, leaving a open question. “When have I ever made you regret something, little boots?” Her tone of voice becoming excited

“This should get you talking to the right people. And prevent you from being detained.” Stepping towards her, the colonel extends his hand “Your intel will prove invaluable, and for that this nation will be eternally grateful. Are you staying in the country long, or were you just here to drop off the intelligence?” A small smile appeared on her face as she brought herself onto her knees and began to stretch her arms, forcing herself onto her feet as she met the colonel’s hand with her own. She would sigh as she answered his query* “Unfortunately for me but fortunately for boots over there I am to leave immediately for Michu. An opportunity to resolve some conflict with the in-laws has arrived and I very much plan to take it.” As she shook his hand she seemed to disappear and reappear out of reality once again. Slowly pulling herself away with grace. “Although I will be back to coordinate a thing or two with dear Jorge, expect a military assistance package and to see a few of my people.”

On using his nickname again, Karl visibly cringes "For the love of God, please stop using that. Would it kill you to use a proper title?" Her smile only grew bigger as Karl cringed at the use of a familial nickname “You know I would but. . .” She seemed to be filled with a mixture of content and glee as she prepared to continue, releasing a playful breath. “I don’t think that’s what dear Jorge would want me to do, but since you asked nicely I suppose I could accept, no matter how much it pains me to do so.”

She feigned despair in her tone of voice as she leaned back, turning to the Colonel as she grabbed the paper. Ignoring him, the colonel says "Damn shame you can't stick around. If you see anyone related to the Michese relief effort to Galavaria, give them a thank you from but a humble soldier on the ground. Good luck to you on your mission, and please do try to stay out of trouble. Oh and next time, if you want to help, how about a little warning next time before you sneak into our country?" He gives her a quizzical look when she seem to disappear and reappear, and in his moment of hesitation Karl says "Attempting to sneak up on my older brothers is a very bad idea. Their guards are very much in a shoot first and ask questions later kind of mood. Just..."
he struggles for a moment to find the right words


"Don't go getting yourself killed. and"
He trails off again, and rubs his arm in a self comforting gesture "Sorry for trying to kill you." Is immediately replied “If I may be honest I do not see what everyone likes in the Michese, working with the new administration is like throwing yourself a brick wall until you make some headway, pun very much intended. Plus those maids are something else~.” Is said the last part with blush filling her checks. “But when I do see the dear sixth prince again at the Imperial Capital I will be sure to find my best regards. Unfortunately for your security forces I’m not one to ring ahead of time though.” Is said with a smirk as she wandered over to the exit, her arms swinging in front and behind her, turning back as she neared the door. “Believe me, your royal highness, I have acute experience with how trigger happy the protection detail around your brothers are.”

As the two talk, a paper slides under the door. The colonel picks it up, and shakes his head solemnly when he reads it. Is seemed warmed by the Prince’s apology and concern, a genuine smile overtaking her. “Now that is the Karl I know.” She said with assurance as she looked at the orders and waited for its contents to be announced. "Hey cadet, you happy now? Transfer orders, signed by your Brother, crown prince Michael. You’r to report to the headquarters element 7th ID. Your going to the front." “A couple minutes late but it’s here nonetheless I suppose.” She shrugged to herself as she opened the door, stepping half out, seemingly flickering from reality. “You two stay safe, especially you Karl, Jorge loves you more than you could ever know. . .” She trailed off before disappearing fully, the door staying open a minute too long for her to have exited that space from reality, but it did close nonetheless.

Michael Brandt hadn't slept in days, and it showed. His normally bright blue eyes had dark bags under them, and his sandy brown hair was ruffled and covered in dust. His normally well groomed face also sported a smattering of facial hair. In stark contrast to his father's well manicured beard, Michael's facial hair was sparse and the result of not shaving for a long period of time. Practically stumbling into the Varbrook Cathedral, he found a pew near the altar, and collapsed into it. Bowing his head, he began to quietly sob to himself, and mumble under his breath. Only half a minute after Micheal would have taken his seat the singing of a young woman in Church Venesian, seeming to be the song Amazing Grace. Her voice was angelic as she walked across the indoor balcony, her hand glazing over the wooden railing as her footsteps didn’t even register to make audible sound.

She walked in the middle of it, no physical way for her to have walked that distance from some hidden compartments or side room upstairs in the time allotted. She was in the attire of a Papist Nun, although her head attire was not on as her combed straight dark brown hair dragged a quarter of the way down her back, seeming to not even notice the rest of the people currently inhabiting Church.

Micheal does not look up, nor does he stop mumbling. A royal guard from the other side of the church rushes towards the singing, rifle in a low ready position, going up the stairs to the second floor in no time. A second guard takes up a firing position and begins to scan the inside of the cathedral. The guards are clad in plainclothes, with plate carries and high cut ballistic helmets being the only notable equipment on them. "Halt! Who goes there! this place is supposed to be evacuated!" The guard taking a firing position shouts up towards the mysterious figure, demanding in tone.

The figure did not seem to flinch and did not seem to really react, it did however stop her in her tracks. With an annoyed look on her face she looks at the guardsman who had shouted at her, clearly not amused. “We can’t have everything we want in life, child.” She slowly turned to face them head on, leaning on the wooden railing as she tilted her head. “I would know, I’m the one who evacuated this building. Although the reason given wasn’t for the privacy of his majesty over there.” She explained as her gaze fell on the Heir to the Kingdom. Despite being directly addressed Micheal still refuses to look up. His body rocks slightly as he clearly has not been able to overcome his own emotion. The guard on the ground floor grabs a radio off his plate carrier’s molle and says into it "Got one inside, requesting backup." The guard advancing on the mysterious figure shouts while keeping his rifle steadied against the woman "Lemme see your hands! No sudden movements!"

“I find it hard to imagine this is how you usually treat all clergy, unfortunately I am not as forging as the God of Abraham. . .” She says calmly and with a hint of sarcasm in her voice, turning more ominous with the last half of the sentence. The woman refused to even look at the man rapidly approaching, maintaining her gaze on the prince as she remained unmoving. “His Majesty must either be devout or still processing what he has seen, eh?” The figure asked rhetorically, seeming to no one and everyone in the room, not seeking an answer to anyone but herself. While remaining bowed, Micheal just manages to croak out “Leave me.” In a depressed and sullied tone.

The furthest guard does not take his weapon off the mysterious figure as more guardsmen begin to spill into the cathedral innards. Now slightly more confident, the guard closest to the mystery girl says “It’s time for you to leave” confident in the security provided by numbers. The figure grew impatient in basically being ignored by the prince, interrogating “Oh come on, Micky. You came here for a reason didn’t you?” *An almost sadistic smile swept across the figure’s face before she then started counting in a whisper that only the guard closest to her would be able to hear. “One. Two. Three. Four.” She then slowly turned over to the approaching guard, muttering “Five.” She would make use of a disappointed sigh before she tilted her head and said to the guard “We are missing a few friends aren’t we?”

At last the eldest prince began to raise his head, revealing tears streaming down the man's face, he yelled "LEAVE" The guard nearest to the figure became unnerved and took a step back, and placed his finger on the trigger ever so carefully. "Don’t try anything. It's not worth your life." he says as the other guards take up firing positions, with one breaking off to get the prince from his currently exposed position. “Six. Seven. Eight.” The woman counts with amusement as three more guards rush in to secure the exit, not even looking at them she begins to laugh manicouly.“Perfect! All the pieces are in place!” She would quickly raise her hand and snap her fingers at that very second the guard closest to the figure would feel a gentle nudge from the back of his head from the unmistakable muzzle of a suppressed long gun, hearing a whisper only he and the figure is privy to. “Don’t try anything, Guardsman.” The voice speaks in a rough accent when compared to the figure’s seemingly naturally fluent Galvarian. “Put the gun down on the floor. Don’t move and do not look at your friends down there.” Simultaneously the guard running to the Prince would experience the same thing and the same instructions, alongside the rest of the Royal Guard detail.

"Mo.ther.fucker." The guard snarls as he drops his weapon to the floor. “Good boy.” The girl says mockingly as she looks over to see Snowfall reveal themselves downstairs, seemingly to flicker into reality, at least thirty of them total surrounding the royal guard element. The infiltrators wore a harness plate carrier system, high cut helmets, tan color shirts, camouflage combat pants in a digital snow pattern, a single hole balaclava in the same pattern, and the final piece of apparel being black tinted shooting glasses. They all seem to be armed with eleven and a half inch AR-15 styled rifles, all of them suppressed with ir lasers mounted on the rails and all having LPVOs with aim point style sights on a angled canted rail for close quarters engagements.

Two of the guards on the ground floor decide to be brave, one wheels around with his rifle attempting to parry the gun out of the way, with another grabbing his radio and shouting "Checkmate!" The resisting Royal Guard would instantly be actioned by the platoon sized element surrounding them, six of the infiltrators would move to action instantly, smacking the first man from both his back and his stomach with the butt of their rifles with a third tackling him. The second brave guardsmen was inflicted with the butt of one of the infiltrators’ rifles hitting into his stomach while one near instantly knocks the radio out of his hand, the final infiltrator assigned to actioning them kicking the back of the Guardsmen knees and forced him to the ground, keeping his knee on him to pin him. After the attempt at defiance each guardsman would be zip tied by at least two infiltrators to stop any more heroes.

The leader of the element on the ground would yell towards the figure. “That is all of them, young mistress!” A giggle would come from the mysterious figure. “Now come on, Praefecti. That is no way to treat our friends!” She said, clearly amused as she began walking to the stairs and eventually came down to the ground floor, her eyes on the Prince. Realizing the gravity of the situation, Michael's eyes begin wildly darting back and forth between all of the assailants. Allowing his hand to hover near his pistol belt, he says in a shaky voice "Assassins? Is there no low Ninhundland that won't sink?" putting on a brave yet fictitious face, and coiling himself like a spring, he adds "When they tell of my story, they'll know I didn't go with a whimper" He begins to draw his firearm.

“Your royal highness, need not worry. I am not longer in the business of killing royals. Believe me, Familicide is an exhausting routine, especially when done against one's own kin.” The figure says in a light hearted tone as she approaches Micheal. At this distance it is close that the figure is no older than Karl, perhaps even younger, in addition to this it is clear she isn’t guthic or at least fully guthic. She seems unphased by the gun as she approaches further.* “May I take a seat, your highness? Dear Jorge is rather worried about you?” She says in a sincere tone of voice, her eyes reflecting this as she stops some feet away from the Prince, seeming to actually wait for permission. The infiltrators do not even point their firearms at the prince, instead maintaining it at a low ready as one of them takes a concerned step forward. “Young Mistress. . .” Cautioning her against her own actions.

Unsure of the mysterious figure's intent, he half heartedly raises his gun towards the figure. It is clear he has not really used firearms much in his life. "Stay back!” His eyes darted back and forth with increased frenzy. His mind races, before he seemingly comes to an epiphany. He yells "Aargh fuck it! You won't take me alive you bastards" He quickly moves to shove the barrel of the gun under his own chin. Before the Prince could pull the trigger and pacify himself a suppressed shot from the balcony would ring out as a single round would impact the handgun and send it flying. “Thank you, Lieutenant.” *The figure would say after a disappointed sigh. “Anything for you young mistress!” The infiltrator marksman on the balcony would yell back. Michael flinches as the pistol is ripped from his hand by the shot.

The figure’s eyes would remain affixed on the prince. “If you won’t listen to me maybe you will listen to little boots, you did send him to the front after all.” She says before producing the paper slip that was provided on her previous Galvarian infiltration, holding it out with an outstretched arm so Micheal can read. He reads the paper, and his face contorts in pain. After a moment, tears well up in his already bloodshot eyes, and he collapses into the pew. He is once again sobbing, and once again mumbling under his breath. He is hyperventilating, and makes a half hearted attempt at moving away from the woman.

“Præfecti, transfer the guardsmen to a side room and set up perimeter security and keep a eye on the bandwidth, I don’t want any interruptions.” She says in a cold dead tone of voice, immediately the Officer answered. “Your wish is my command, young mistress.” The leader of the lack placed a clenched fist over his heart before seeming to disappear into thin air, the same happening to two more infiltrators flanking him, soon followed by all the infiltrators and the captured guardsmen.

The figure then approached Micheal and calmly sat next to him, saying. “I wouldn’t worry about little boots if I were you, he’s gonna make it through this, that I can promise you.” She remorsefully sighs before continuing. “Dear Jorge is worried about you, dear. Tell me what bothers you.” Whipping his head around to face the woman. Tears streaming down his face, Michael snarls "What do you know? My brother is dead! And it's my goddamn fault!" He lowers his head again, losing himself to emotion. The woman’s face remains unphased as she says “Listen, your highness, I’ve seen the reports from both sides from the engagement. Due to the absence of evidence there is only evidence that he is absent. Missing does not mean killed.” The figure then ruffles around in her clothes and reaches for something inside her bra, producing a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, she continues talking in a now depressed tone of voice as she grabs a cigarette from the carton and places it in between her fingers. “I’ve dealt with similar cases and Jorge trusts my assessment so have a little bit of faith in me, okay?” The figure then lit the cigarette but did not place it in her mouth, instead letting the embers action it as she kept it in between her fingers, thinking to herself. In all honesty she had no idea whether or not Karl was dead, the evidence provided did not paint it to be hopeful, she honestly believed with all heart the youngest prince to be dead due to all the evidence there was, but she decided truth was of secondary importance. “Karl is a tough bastard, especially at such a young age. My money is that he is still alive.” She says, lying through her teeth with a comforting smile.

Taking a second look at the woman, a glimmer of recognition hits eyes. "I know you.. You're the aspect of that cult from the KPPR that Jorge knows." Shaking his head in disbelief, he sullenly says "I've been fed the same line a hundred other times. And you're right, missing doesn't mean dead. It means there's not enough pieces left to find." Leaning back in the pew, he scoffs at the situation. "I don't know if I trust your judgement, but I do trust my brother." Staring at the girl in the face, he continues, drained of all emotion "Why have you gone through so much trouble to corner me?" A silence overtook the girl as she looked off to the side, embarrassed. “Because I care about Jorge and your family more than my family does for me. . .” She says honestly before dropping the cigarette to the floor and crushing it beneath her feet. “Sorry about that, force of habit for when I’m with Jorge. I forgot you don’t smoke, your majesty.”

Laughing mirthfully, he says "In better times I might have cared. Times like these make me wonder how I haven't turned to that, or drink with all that's happened." “It’s probably best that you don’t pick up such habits, unlike me you are still young and still have your full life ahead.” The significantly younger girl said with all seriousness as she stuffs the items back into her bra. shaking his head, he mumbles "Can't tell if you get it from him or he gets it from you." A small amused exhale would come from the girl as she explained “Back in 2015, when he first took it up when he became an adult I tried imitating his tendencies. . .” The girl rubbed an engagement ring of white gold “I was able to get out of it but. . . I fell back into it. . .” It is clear the girl has a deep respect and even more for Jorge. He chuckles darkly to himself. "You know, if you were any older, I'd have assumed that there was something going on between you two. The way Jorge used to get that extra pep in his step every time you'd visit, hell half the time I wouldn't need to hear that you'd been through via my father. I'd know from how he was acting. I'm sure if you paid him a visit before me, he's doing just fine right about now." The girl’s face would fill with a bright red blush as she looks at the wall behind the Royal, averting purposeful eye contact, muttering something under her breath. “I wish. . .” In a dismissive tone before she seems to snap back to reality.


Looking past the girl for a moment, a small smile comes to the corner of his mouth, before being dashed again. "I suppose Jorge put you up to this? Well. Here I am." he gestures to himself. A smile plastered itself across the girl’s face as she waved her fingers “Bingo. Not as if he would openly admit it to me but the war seems to have been taking its toll on him too. I guess he is trying to keep himself busy by worrying about you guys.”

"You know, when I thought you were a Ninhundish assassin, I was at peace with my fate. Thought the devil had finally caught up with me." he says bitterly "I do appreciate the concern" He mumbles as he looks away. The girl leans back into the pew as she rubs her neck, revealing battered marks on it “Yeah, near death experiences have a tendency to do that, believe me when I say it’s a comforting feeling but not something you should be getting into at such a tender age.” A light smile would be placed upon her face as she looks up at the ceiling. “Originally I was hoping that I could ambush you in the confession box but after learning you usually like these places to be empty and that nuns can’t do your fancy confession things I realized the disguise didn’t make much since only after it was too late.” Once again, a smile comes back to Micheal's face, this time for slightly longer. "I know we tell you this a lot, but you could just call ahead you know?" He says in a teasing tone “There is no fun in such simple actions. Plus, I have such a tight schedule that it really isn’t even an option as most of my time off is spontaneous. Wish I could have visited more before hostilities started, I suppose I’m trying to make up for lost time from, mind being poisoned with guilt and all that stuff.” A light chuckle comes from the girl. Scratching the back of his neck, says quietly "I suppose you're right."

Looking through her when he notices the marks, he says, rather distantly "It's not the physical wounds of war I’ve found most troublesome, it's the mental. I've condemned more men to die in the last two months than I’ve met in my entire life." The Prince admits before she responds “That is the worst part of war really. Whether you like it or not you can’t save everyone, even if they mean the world to you.” Snapping back to himself, he puts on a sad smile, and says "But enough about that, how is my brother doing?"

Her eyes would begin to swell with tears before she wiped it off. “Jorge is worried to death about you guys. He feels an irrational guilt about ‘sitting this one out.’ I’m guessing he feels rather guilty, which would explain why he is drinking a lot more than usual. On one hand I’m glad he can’t be too dissatisfied with me starting early but on the other hand I worry that dear Jorge is gonna drink himself to death.” Studying the girl for a few moments, before sighing, he says "That's my brother all right. He likes to hide it under layers of sarcasm, but I know he cares deep down. I would have thought putting him in charge of facilitating the international aid effort would have eased those worries, but alas. Can't save everyone, can't please everyone" Seeming more at ease that at least one of his brothers is safe, he wipes away some of the last bits of moisture in his eyes. He also takes a moment to clean his face up slightly with a handkerchief, before saying "I've said it a lot for the cameras, but in this case I mean it from the bottom of my heart, I thank you for being a friend to us in these trying times." While more at ease, his face struggles to maintain a joyful demeanor, instead coming to rest in a melancholy stare, punctuated by the occasional sad smile.

She then faced forward to the altar as she claps her hand three times. “Ensign!” Immediately one of the masked infiltrators would seem to blink into reality in front of the pew in front of them, having already been faced towards them as his rifle is slumped across the seat. “Yes, young mistress?” He asks with concern in her voice as a displeased smile takes over on the girl. “How long have you been there, ensign?” A single second of silence passed before she was answered. “Ever since you sat down, young mistress.” The youngest infiltrator admits after gulping. Slight anger seemed to fill her eyes as she asked rhetorically. “What did I say about privacy, ensign.” Her voice was stern. “But your safety is paramount, even beyond your own wishes, young mistress.” The girl would sigh as she rubbed her head, stating. “Just be a dear and go grab the cooler, okay?” Another infiltrator would decloak, only a few inches from his comrade, holding a cooler in his hands with the rifle slung over his back. “Already done, young mistress.” The girl’s face would only grow more displeased as she let out a light scream of frustration as she buried her face into her hands, embarrassed, coming up a second later to snatch the handheld cooler. “Now leave us.” Both figures would disappear in the same second before she opened up the cooler, revealing an ice cream scooper, two waffle cones, a carton of vanilla ice cream, cookies and cream, and various different chocolate flavorings, seeming to hold it out for the royal to take his pick.

Jumping at the sudden apparition of people, he mumbles “Jesus Christ.” Composing himself just in time before the cooler is presented, he looks dumbfounded. “I-what? How? *Why?“ he sputters out before his hunger getting the better of him, He slowly moves to grab a heaping full of ice cream, and a smattering of chocolatey toppings toppings that would put a child’s dream cone to shame. The figure would calmly put a single scoop of cookies and crème in her cone. She would look over at Michael’s cone with a light hearted smile, waiting for him to begin before she starts, seemingly content in this moment. “Are you sure you are the older brother?” She asks teasingly. Seemingly about to dig in, pauses, and gives the girl a playful frown "You sound just like Jorge when you say that." She sarcastically sighs before saying “I wonder where I got that one from.” She says, feigning curiosity.

Taking a few spoonfuls of the ice cream, he says after a moment "I haven't had something like this since before the war started, sue me." After scarfing down a few more spoonful's, he holds his head and groans "Worth. It." Color has come back to the man's face, and his body slowly uncoils from the anxiety that had been held onto. By the time the royal had scarfed down all the scoops he could, the figure had just finished her one scoop and ate the waffle cone, some ice cream remaining on her lips, fingers, and some spilling onto her attire. A satisfied smile comes over her as she licks the remnants on her fingers. By looking at her nails it is clear she bites them out of nervousness. She would melt into the pew, “If you like it you can keep the carton. If so, I can make an effort to bring it to you from Mæna.”

Quickly finishing the entire cone, he lounges back in the pew. "God damn I haven't something that tasted that good in too long." He holds up hand, and makes a stop motion "Now I appreciate the sentiment, I really do. But it wouldn't be right. I've got to meet many people, many of them I've had the pleasure of working with recently, who are struggling far too much for me to indulge in such luxuries." Taking a moment to stare at the alter of the church, slightly covered in dust, he ponders for a moment. After a moment of silence he quietly says "I'll take some of the dry toppings though. If you're right and Karl's still out there, I intend to give it to him." Continuing to stare into the candles lit near the altar, he says "You know, he always hated how Jorge and I would treat him like a little kid. Even when he was a teenager, we still saw our baby brother, you know? I signed those orders for him after we had gotten into a shouting match over it. The last thing I said to him was 'Stop acting like a child, it's for your own good'" letting out a sigh, he turns to her, and says "I looked like the fool when reports started coming in of his bravery. My little brother, all grown up." tears start to well up in his eyes, before he blinks them away, and replaces it with a soft smile "You've been a good friend to our family. If there's ever anything you need, anything at all. Know you can turn to the Brandt family." Funny enough, Michael has unwittingly repeated near verbatim words that she has heard in the past, from Jorge.

The figure nodded* “That’s fair, your highness.” The girl begins to straighten her back while still sitting, she stops however when Micheal begins speaking of the youngest prince, sitting patiently to let him finish. As he begins to address her she smiles and says in a meek tone of voice. “I appreciate that, your highness. I might have to ask for a favor before the month is over, that being if this terrible war on your soil ends when I think it will, I really don’t wanna leave it up to the in-laws.” She says, clearly stressed but joking a bit on the last part. She then stands up and roughs Micheal hair a bit, clearly taking enjoyment in messing it up.

“I’m going to have to make my leave, have to deal with damned Michese and their hellish conferences.” She then begins to walk away before stopping right before she is out of reach, producing a sheathed dagger from somewhere underneath her apparel, placing it on the pew’s hand-guard next to Micheal. “You are gonna need this to untie your guardsmen. I suggest you don’t ruin their unit’s reputation by telling people about this incident, especially dear father.” Michael goes to respond, but stops short. Taking the dagger and shaking his head, says to himself "Not the first time you've ruined their reputation."

She then begins to walk away and as she reaches halfway to the exit she exclaims. “Præfecti, we are leaving!” She then disappears. Calling after her, he says "We'll be there when you need us. Stay safe out there, Is." Turning away and moving to look to the room that held his guards, he thinks to himself 'Because I'm not sure we can handle that kind of loss right now.'

PFC Joseph B. Hess
C Company, 3rd Brigade Combat Team (BCT) 9th Infantry Division
March 4th, 2022
Feuerblume City

Glass crunched under Pvt. Hess’s feet as he moved through the destroyed streets of Feuerblume. He, like many in his unit, were forced to retreat from their positions on the northern flank of the city. He walked at the rear of a 9 man column, bound for some defensive position dug out of an old apartment block. The march was quiet, as each man reflected on the last few days of intense combat. In Hess’s own thoughts, he reflected on all the good buddies he had lost in such a short time. He was jostled out of his thoughts when he bumped into the man ahead of him.

“Oof. Hey Weiss, can you watch where you're going?”

The man didn’t reply, and simply pointed to the head of the column, to his squad leader. He was making hand and arm signals.

Halt.

After a few tense seconds Hess began to hear it. The rumble of an armored vehicle making its way over the destroyed road. His squad leader then began frantically signing.

Move left, into that building.

Frantically, his team scrambled into what was a restaurant that sat in a row of shopping centers of the city. Being the only one in his squad qualified on the Michese Type 08 recoilless rifle, he was positioned on the first floor of the two story building. Quickly, he unslung the launcher from his back, and made it ready to fire. As he did, the roar of an autocannon tearing up a building reverberated down the block. Coming up behind him, his squad leader says

“It hasn’t seen us, it's shooting to the east. Sgt. Koch, take Weiss and Hess around the building to the next block over. That should give you a clear shot at it. We’ll cover your retreat from here. Don’t come back here, pull back down the block, Lt. Neumann wants us to meet with what's left of 2nd platoon there.”

Going out the back door of the store, Sgt. Koch poked his head out slowly, and spent a moment looking around, before pulling his head back in, saying

“Alright, looks clear. Weiss you go first”

Quickly, the two men ahead of Hess made it out the door, and it was now his turn. Bracing himself, he kicked the door open, as his hands were still full with the launcher, and sprinted across a small parking lot that made up the back of the restaurant, to a wall that made up the back of a store on the next block. With Weiss taking up a firing position aimed , Sgt. Koch inched his way to the end of the brick wall, and peered his head down an alley. He stayed there for a moment, before turning to Hess.

“Alright Hess, His ass is facing us, should be about 35, maybe 40 meters down the alley. Smack em.”

Sgt. Koch says, moving out of the way so he could get a clear shot. Stepping out into the alley, and crouching down, he looked through the sight of the anti tank weapon. Very quickly, he had his sights set on the target, a Marder APC. Its 20mm cannon still roared as he sited in on it, pounding an unseen building. Scattered around it were around a squad sized element of Ninhundish troops, with only two standing next to the vehicle. Both figures appeared to be observing the effect of the shots from the APC. Stilling his breath, Ptv. Hess lays his sites on the APC’s back rear track.

“Backblast area clear?”

He asks Sgt. Koch. Without verbally replying, the Sergeant gives him the ok. Depressing the trigger, there is a deafening WHOOSH-BANG as the rocket impacts seconds after firing. The APC stops its firing, and all the soldiers around it bury themselves further into their cover. The two nearest to it are knocked over by the blast, with only one getting up and limping away. Before Hess could process any of this information, he was yanked back behind the building by Sgt. Koch.

“Great shot Hess now let's move!”

He yells. Just as they displace from the building and begin to run down the street, gunfire from the building the rest of his squad was hiding in erupts. The Ninhundish troops around the now disabled APC also begin to shoot down the alley. The rattle of gunfire chases the trio down the street, where they are met by Galavaria troops setting up a defensive position.

“You guys with C company?”

A man asks.

“Yeah, 2nd platoon! Who are you?”

Sgt. Koch responds

“Whats left of 1st and 2nd. I’m Lt. Neumann, you guys answer to me now. Whats the status of the rest of your squad?”

The man asks

“Pinned down two blocks up, we gotta help them!”

Weiss interjects

As if to exaggerate his point, the thud of artillery could be heard, before seconds later it came crashing down on the block, kicking up bits of road and debris. Through the smoke came Hess’s squad leader, and most of his squad. More artillery shells landed on the block in short order, sending Hess and everyone around him scrambling for cover. As quick as they came, they stopped. After a quick headcount, in exchange for 1 Ninhundish APC, Hess’s squad was one man KIA and 2 injured. Deciding that pushing forward wasn’t the best of ideas, Lt. Neumann decided that the platoon would “dig in” one block back from where they had met up, on a perimeter around an old church that the brigade was slowly retreating to.


SSG Micheal W. Hoth
B squadron, Special Operations Detachment Alpha (SOD-A) Special Operations Division
March 12th, 2022
25km behind the frontlines, Southern sector

A UH-60 flies low over the countryside, attempting to avoid Ninhundish anti air systems. High above, two flights of F-16s and an E-3 Sentry of foriegn origin watch the skies for potential Ninhundish bandits. In the Helicopter, Hoth chews on tobacco, to attempt to hide his nervousness. Flying close to enemy lines for an insert was risky, but flying over was just plain suicide. According to intelligence reports, there was a noticeable gap in Ninhundish lines in this area, and Hoth’s team, along with many others, were being sent to exploit the gap and harass supply lines. In actuality, his flight was actually mostly a supply dump for those already present on the ground. He was alone on the chopper, with the rest of the passenger area taken up by cargo. Not keyed into the comms channel the pilot was using, he could only sit and pray that a missile wasn’t streaking towards them, or that a Ninhundish fighter was actively maneuvering to kill them. Such a dark thought process was interrupted when the pilot hand signaled

30 seconds

Bracing himself for landing, Hoth triple checked his equipment, and ensured he had a round in the chamber of his rifle. Feeling the audible thump of the helicopter touching the ground, he pulled the door open and leapt into the field. Instead of coming to the hostile environment he assumed, it was a gaggle of about 13 SOD operators that looked, and smelled, like they hadn’t bathed for days.

“Took your sweet ass time getting here Hoth.”

One jeered, pushing past him to start unloading the helicopter. In a whirlwind that would make a career thief proud, the helicopter was stripped off all supplies, and was quickly making tracks to friendly lines. The next few days for Hoth would be spent moving across the countryside with his “hunting party” as they’d come to be known. For the next week they would set up sniper positions and pick off Ninhunish troops in rear supply areas. If a particularly juicy target, such as a supply truck, appeared, they had light anti tank weapons with them to destroy them. Many hunting parties like the one SSG Hoth found himself a part of working behind enemy lines, however it was not always an easy task moving around undetected. Hoth would only spend one week with his hunting party behind enemy lines, before ammo scarcity and depletion of their anti tank munitions forced them to start hiking back to friendly lines. This says nothing of the casualty rate such a unit sustains. Joining a 13 man team, Hoth would make it back to friendly lines with just 9 men, none of them without an injury.

2nd Lieutenant Karl Brandt
A Company, 1st battalion, 33rd ICBT, 7th Infantry Division, III Corps
400km from Varbook City center
April 11th, 2022

Driving along a deserted highway towards the frontline had Karl’s stomach in knots. Sitting in the back of a supply truck was also far different from the limos and other fancy ways he used to travel. Namely, the cursed vehicle seemed to rattle his very being at every pothole. It wasn’t until he poked his head out the back of the truck did he see what the potholes truly were, blast craters in the road, and the truck casually moving off the highway to circumvent them. Every once and a while, a burned out vehicle would fly by his limited vision out of the back of the truck bed, and it always turned his stomach over. Did they realize what was coming? Was it an airstrike? Can Ninhundish planes reach this far into the country? Of course they can, he repeated several times in his mind. They hit the capital, they can hit just about anywhere west of it. After hours on the road, made longer by the driver pulling off the road randomly to have all 3 passengers of the truck flee from it as fast as they can due to air activity by the enemy. Eventually, they came to a stop on the edge of a town, and the driver turned around in his seat to say to him.

“This is your stop, help us unload the truck before you go looking for A company will ya?”

Obliging the man, he spent the next five minutes unloading the supplies from the back of the truck as quickly as they could muster. More soldiers soon joined to expedite the process. Allowing it to stay in one place for too long was asking for Ninhundish artillery to try and hit it. Once that was done, and he was weighed down with all of his personal belongings, he turned to one of the soldiers milling about the truck and said.

“Anyone know where I can find Captain Lang?”

He was pointed to a cluster of houses situated on a small hill in the town, told to look for a white house that doesn’t have a hole in the roof. He walked up the hill to discover what the man meant. Situated next to each other were two white houses. One of which had presumably a red roof before a 155mm artillery shell landed on it and collapsed the house in on itself. The other had a cobalt roof and was damaged by shrapnel, but otherwise structurally sound. Going to knock on the front door, he stopped himself, noticing it was swinging limply on its hinges. Entering the house in what must have been the foyer that led into a kitchen, he saw a man sitting at a table. The man’s helmet was off and sitting on the table, a cigarette sat idly in his mouth as he listened to a man standing above him. The man also wasn’t wearing his helmet, but it was under his arm, at the ready should he need to put it on again. As he approached them, the turned to look at him, and the man sitting down said

“If it’s bad news, go tell Colonel Berger, If it’s good news, It’d better involve some replacements and resupply.”

Realizing who the man must be, he snapped to attention, and said crisply

“Sir! 2nd Lieutenant Brandt Reporting in as ordered”

The man’s mouth hangs open, cigarette falling to the floor. The man standing says what the room is thinking.

“You’re joking right? A member of the royal family? Here?”

Getting sheepish, he falters, and stammers

“Yes, I was told by my brother to report to the 7th infantry division, and they told me to report to a Captain Lang, A company, 1st battalion.”

Finding his words the man sitting down stamps out the cigarette on the floor, and stands up.

“Well god damn, I thought it was a joke when I got the word you were reporting to me. Well your majesty, I lead an infantry unit, and I’m not sure that suits you very well.”

The man says, studying Karl’s clean uniform. Stiffing slightly, and doing his very best to hide his anger, he responds

“I’m trained, and ready to fight, Sir.”

Giving him a shooing motion, the man says dismissively,

“Bah, Go home your majesty. It’s not safe for someone like you here.”

Not being able to fight the anger bubbling inside him, he responds with it creeping into his voice

“I’m here to serve my country, what my royal blood calls me to do. I left all that behind to join this war.”

Not convinced, Captain Lang asks

“And what do I tell the king when you end up dead?”

Not relenting, the prince says

“Tell him I died doing my duty”

Shaking his head, the captain wordlessly asks for Karl’s orders. He reads them over before scoffing at them.

“You? lead an infantry platoon? You're younger than some of the privates, let alone my junior officers!”

Definitely, he responds

“You wanted replacements, and supplies. I brought both, sir.”

Looking skeptically to the man he was with, who returns an equally skeptical look, Lang responds

“Alright, You can take 1st platoon. Their last platoon leader bought it and Staff Sergeant Martin here has been filling in for the last two weeks.”

To his credit, the staff sergeant did voice his objection, but his face practically screamed it. Giving the man a stern look, and responding to Karl without looking at him, he says.

“Sergeant Martin will show you to 1st platoon, now don’t bother me, I got a briefing with Major Pennick in an hour and I’d like to catch some shut eye.”

Without saying another word, the Staff Sergeant stormed out of the house, slamming his helmet onto his head as he left. The prince was quick to follow, and he was taken to a trench system dug around 100 meters from the edge of the town, with a commanding view of nothing. It sat in a tree line overlooking a road that led to a hill around 400 meters from the position. Beyond that hill lie Ninhundish lines. In a whirlwind, he was introduced to the lead NCOs of the platoon. SGT’s Sauer, Horn, Ziegler, and Sommer. At the end of the day, after giving a very brief introduction to each squad, with varying degrees of success, he was given his first set of orders as a platoon leader. They came from Staff Sergeant Martin, who had them as standing orders from the captain. They were simple: Hold the line. To do this he had at his disposal several anti tank weapons from various nations, along with a direct line to the companies mortar section. Taking a dugout in the tree line, rather than a house offered to him by the captain, he set up his things and settled into his life on the front.

Journal of Karl Brandt
Start date April 12th, 2022

Day 1

My first day on the front past with little action. Some fast movers in the morning targeted our rear area. In the afternoon some artillery from our side sent some shells over. I must have looked a sight to the men, damn near pissing myself screaming about incoming. Night past quietly.

Day 2
More interesting today. I learned from sgt. Sauer that this unit was recently on the advance, until they were forced to wait for resupply. Rumor is we will go over the top tomorrow to continue the advance.

Day 3

Today went by mostly uneventfully. The front has been more of the same from what I experienced in the rear. Only thing of note was a sniper harassing us in the mid afternoon. I’m sure the mortar team thinks much less of me after how excited I was calling that fire mission in. Still think I got him though.

Day 8

It's been a rough past couple of days. We went on the advance 4 days ago and are only just now stopping. We moved up to another town, though I won’t write where here. First day went well, the enemy had abandoned their positions after we hit them with artillery that first morning. Casualties started coming in on day two. Two men from sgt. Ziegler’s team got mangled by artillery. Ziegler only took some light shrapnel wounds that doc Kempt was able to fix up. Herd that one of them died en route to the hospital. The next day we lost Sommer and some guys from Horn’s team on the assault of the town. The third day of movement was the hardest, clearing the Hun from their last positions in the town. Casualties were thankfully light, but I experienced combat in ways I shudder to put to paper.

Day 14

Two weeks. I’ve spent two weeks in hell. We advanced some 100km from where I joined Alpha company. Lost a lot of good people in a short amount of time. Sauer bought it on the 22nd when his team’s vic got caught in an ambush. Armor and infantry. I’m surprised the whole damn company wasn’t wiped out. Staff Sergeant Martin was killed on the assault for the hill I’m currently writing this entry from. It’s got a nice view of the surrounding area, but it cost too much to get it. Orders are now to hold the hill, and wait for reinforcements.


2nd Lieutenant Karl Brandt
A Company, 1st battalion, 33rd ICBT, 7th Infantry Division, III Corps
~500km from Varbook City center
April 26th, 2022

Rain had rolled in from the southern mountains, and I was soaked. The meager tarp put over the shelter sgt. Horn and I used as the platoon HQ did nothing to keep us dry. It’s been quite ever since we took this sector. Word is the company will be rotating off the line soon. The men are excited to get some rest, and I can’t say I blame them. I certainly can’t wait to sleep in something that isn’t a hole in the ground. Mostly, right now I wanted to get me and my men off the hill. It was basically screaming ‘shoot at me’ to Ninhundish artillery, and we were essentially detached from the rest of the company defending the town the hill dominated the heights of. Taking the hill would be a top priority for taking the town. Scanning the fields ahead of the hill, I started to watch a tree line for enemy movement. So far, it has been quiet. As I scanned the tree line, I saw movement in the trees. Ninhundish infantry, likely a reconnaissance patrol sent to observe my post. Nudging sgt. Horn, I said

“Horn, Infantry in the trees, moving north to south. Probably trying to get eyes on us.”

He nodded in the affirmative, and began calling it in to the captain via radio. Just then, thunder rumbled in the distance. However, to my now trained ears I knew the sound wasn’t actually thunder, but incoming artillery.

“Get down!”

I shouted as I dove down in our dugout. Seconds later the powerful 155mm artillery rounds slammed into the hill next to the hill around me. Then, The rumble of armor peaked over the sound of the rain, and soon I could make their shapes out in the tree line. Fire belched from their cannons as autocannon and tank fire began laying into the hill. Our anti tank weapons attempted to return fire, but were quickly suppressed.

“We gotta go! They got us dialed in!”

Horn shouted. Not responding, I yelled into my radio

“All Stardust elements, this is Stardust actual, pull off the hill! I say again, Pull off the hill!”

Waiting for a break in the artillery, I motioned to Horn and we both sprang out of the trench, and began running down the opposite of the hill. 30mm cannon fire raked our former position, and I felt something hot hit my shoulder, dropping me to the floor from the impact. Quickly, I surmised that I was hit by a piece of shrapnel from the cannon fire, and Horn rushed over.

“You're OK sir! Get up, we gotta keep moving.”

I could see that the rest of the platoon was rapidly making their way off the hill, and Horn and I were falling behind. He pulled me up by my plate carrier, and practically shoved me forward. Continuing our sprint for what felt like an eternity, I was suddenly interrupted by an earth shattering crash. White hot pain racked my body as I was tossed several feet and smacked into the dirt. Attempting to force myself to my feet elicited pain beyond what my brain could process. My face hurts, legs hurt, my whole damn body hurt. Looking over, I could see sgt. Horn had fared no better, and he was laying a few feet away, facedown, unmoving. My vision was starting to get blurry, and the last thoughts to run through my mind were

‘Is this how I go out?’

The last things I saw before my eyes were two pairs of boots rushing towards me.

March 23rd, 2022

The war in Eporan has raged for over a month, with no signs of stopping. Thousands lay dead on both sides as increasingly desperate nations attempt to end the war swiftly. The frontline slowly crept in favor of Ninhundland for a week, before their offensive finally ground to a halt. The furthest extent of the Ninhundish advance lies just 100km from Varbrook city center. For their part, the Galavarian Joint Forces Headquarters (JFH) came up with a daring plan to shift the tides in their favor. A two stage operation, designed to strike back at Ninhundland, and severely degrade their ability to maintain the war. After much argument between the various branches of the armed forces on how such an objective could be achieved, a watershed moment occurred. An anonymous source gave an intelligence dump of historic proportions to the Kriegsschloss, giving priceless information of Ninhundish force posture. A concrete plan formed naturally after review of the information, and its approval was near instantaneous. The reason for a slight delay lie in the nature of the plan. It calls for a concentrated wild weasel campaign against Ninhundish air defense covering a specific air corridor. The idea being to punch a hole in the Ninhundish air defense network, and open up a safe zone by which Galavaria could mount the second stage of the operation from. What some called into question was the casualty projections for the aviators involved in such a mission, given the use of the older F-16 airframes, and minimal fighter escort for the SEAD fighters. All of Galavaria’s 5th generation fighters would be withheld for the second stage of operations. To put it bluntly, the aviators taking the role of the Wild Weasels would be on a borderline suicide mission. Given how exhausted Galavaria’s fighter pilots were fighting off daily raids by Ninhundish fast movers, the operation was opened to volunteers only, who were informed of their grim prospects of survival. Despite this, planners found they had no shortage of willing volunteers. The codename for the daring operation is: ALBATROSS. Two squadrons of F-16s, along with 1 squadron of F-15Es were put under the command of a unified air command with the callsign ‘Valkyrie.’ In the early morning hours of the 26th, the pilots sat in ready rooms getting the last details they would need before stepping off.

“I’m not going to lie to any of you. This will be a one way trip for most of you, hell potentially all of you. If any man has any reservations, he should back out. Do so now, without shame.”

The man in charge of the briefing, an aid to General Vogel himself, said. The room remains silent.

“Okay. The Hun is familiar with us mounting small scale cross border raids, both from the air, and the ground at this point. What he is not expecting-”

The man says, clicking through a slide show detailing the operation.

“-is a concentrated attack aimed at his air defense network. While he isn’t expecting it, he’s damned prepared. Your job will be to conduct SEAD on air defense sights covering objective ‘thunderstorm’. It’s an air corridor marked off by the boys upstairs as the least defended area by Ninhundish air and ground assets.”
He points to a line drawn on a map of Galavaria and Ninhundland, starting from an area where the center and southern fronts meet, leading all the way into Ninhundland. It stretches to at least 500km. Several of the men murmur about the audacity of the plan. The briefing officer continues

“You will be charged with making sure the way is clear for a follow-on force of fighters, who will be charged with keeping the skies clear.”

One of the men in the crowd raises his hand at this

“Clear for what, sir?”

He asks. Nodding his head solemnly, the man replies

“Due to the threat of your capture, I am not allowed to divulge that. I’m sorry. You are all being asked to fight so hard for an objective you simply will not see. Suffice it to say, Payback is what you will be fighting for.”

This seems to satisfy the questions in the men, and when the officer in charge of the briefing asks

“Any further questions?”

He gets silence in response. Giving a nod to a chaplain standing off by the only doorway into the room, he says

“The chaplain will be holding a service prior to takeoff, and Master Sergeant Becker will be giving out a ration of a single shot of whiskey to all of you. Godspeed, and God bless you all.”

With that, he walks away from the projector, and The Chaplin starts giving his remarks, along with the aviator's shot glasses getting filled, one by one, with whiskey produced by the country they fight for.

…

The fighting in the skies for objective thunderstorm was nothing short of legendary. For the first time in decades aviators found themselves engaged in a massive battle for the skies. Very quickly, objective thunderstorm would earn the name it would have in the history books "Thunder Alley". AWACs planes flying in support of the task force worked themselves to the bone to coordinate the chaos. Flying at suicidally low altitude, Galavaria F-16s marauded Ninhundish air defense sights with HARMs. These found their mark, after they were made to engage a serious of bogus cruise missile and drone attacks. To ensure the sights were fully neutralized, F-15E’s launched PGMs behind them to ensure the job was finished. The Ninhundish troops on the ground were completely blindsided, at first. What resulted was exactly what Galavarian planners hoped would happen, A 500km long hole in the Ninhundish air defense network. To plug the gap, the Ninhundish air force quickly mobilized and descended upon the vulnerable SEAD fighters. Already devastated by their losses against the air defense network, the encroaching Euro fighters easily overwhelmed the 20 fighters sent to save task force Valkyrie. Just as the planners expected, the Galavarian air force took horrendous casualties. Of the 92 airframes in the task force, only 52 would land back at their airfields. Three of these would be damaged beyond repair. 17 of the fighter escorts, and just 27 of the 68 SEAD fighters. Of the 40 airframe losses, Ninhundland would take 27 pilots prisoner, with 3 succumbing to their wounds before treatment could be administered. It remains the single largest losses of aviators in a single engagement since the second world war, when you factor in Ninhundish losses. While they savaged the task force, the Ninhundish air force fared no better. Timely intervention from a squadron of F-35As kept the air corridor open, and forced Ninhundish planes to withdraw. As a result, operation: Albatross was marked as a responding success, and the next phase of the plan was quickly put into motion. To demonstrate how brutal the fighting was, an radio excerpt of a conversation between a flight of F-16s (callsign Viper) to a loitering E-3 (callsign Director)

0723, March 26th
Over the skies of 'Thunder alley'
50km behind the frontline

VIPER 5-1: “Shit! This is Viper 5-1, I spot a madcap on my radar bearing 350, far. Looks like it's gonna guide in some reinforcements.”

DIRECTOR: “Viper, this is Director, we have a positive ID on that madcap”

VIPER 5-3 “5-1, this is 5-3, what the hell are you doing?!”

VIPER 5-4 “This is 5-4, I see 5-1, he just passed my nose and is increasing speed.”

VIPER 5-2: “Jesus Christ is he heading for that madcap that he picked on radar?”

VIPER 5-1: “Viper 5-1 to Director requesting permission to break off from Valk”

DIRECTOR: “Director, Viper 5-1, state your intent”

VIPER 5-1: “Black on missiles, intent to intercept hostile airborne command and control, I’m closest to him, I can get him.”

DIRECTOR: “That's suicide, 5-1”

VIPER 5-1: “I know it is”

VIPER 5-3: “Have you lost your mind!?”

DIRECTOR: “5-1, this is Director, permission granted. I say again, granted.”

VIPER 5-2: “5-1, this is 2, how they hell are you going to shoot him down? Cannon fire?”

VIPER 5-1: “Negative Theo, I’m black on ammo. Intend to ram. See you on the other side!”

March 26th, 2022

With the success of Operation Albatross, Galavarian military planners wasted no time in getting its follow up operation into motion. The success of Operation Albatross meant two things for the overall state of the war, first and foremost being that Galavaria had contested Ninhundland’s own airspace, and that the Ninhundish army was utterly parilized to respond to such a bold move. A consistent stream of airstrikes, raids, and small scale counter attacks sent the Ninhundish forces in the southern sector into complete disarray. Already stretched to the breaking point, and having lost the operational initiative, their logistics system could do little to resupply the forces in the sector. Worse yet, they couldn’t bring to bear more ground based anti air systems, for fear of them being destroyed in transit, let alone the need for them on other sectors of the front. The Ninhundish air force, already given just enough rope to hang themselves with, no longer had enough aircraft in theater to supply the needs of the entire effort, complicated by politics on the Homefront. The war was becoming too costly, and politicians in the highest seats of Ninhundish power were none too keen to lose more expensive pieces of military equipment in what they saw as a fool's errand. The end result was a lack of material to face the growing threat of a Galavarian counterthrust in the southern sector. Ninhundish commanders knew it was an issue, but despite the threat only one order came down: Stand fast on current positions and await resupply. Knowing that this was the only course of action available to Ninhundland, the JFH put into action a counter offensive on two fronts. The operation was codenamed: SHOT-PUT. The plan, given how complex modern war can be, was brutally simple. I corps would drive south deep into Ninhundish lines, with II corps mounting a similar attack to the south. Both corps were to move into the Ninhundish rear areas, and cut off the majority of Ninhundish forces that were positioned in front of what was left of III corps. On the 26th, artillery units began to work over the main axis of attacks. On the 27th, 28th, and 29th utilizing the air corridor one during operation albatross, Galavarian B-2 bombers raided Ninhundish supply depos that sat over the border with air launched cruise missiles. Further missile strikes also targeted rail junctures, and airbases. On the 28th, all across the line, spoiling attacks and shaping operations were mounted to confuse the Hun on where the attack would actually come from. On April 1st, the attack kicked off in earnest, sending Ninhundish forces into complete disarray. Badly overstretched and critically under supplied, they held fast to their positions for three brutal days of fighting. When it looked like it would all be a failure, the first parachute jump of the war occurred when 1,013 members of the 25th airborne division jumped behind enemy lines in the north, complimenting a SOF task force already in the area. The reason they were able to mount such a daring operation was the lack of Ninhundish air and ground based air defense. Much of it had been shifted south, or was in the process therein when the operation took place. They rapidly seized a key road juncture and airfield, allowing for resupply to be covertly flown in, and throwing the Ninhundish logistical system into chaos. After the early days of the operation however, the Galavarian air force was largely not present, after hitting their breaking points from a series of daring missions. Due to this, casualties began to mount rapidly as artillery and rotary wing assets attempted to fill the gap. Realizing they were being pressed from two sides, and the threat of encirclement was a real possibility now that the roads leading out of the salient were cut, the order was given by Ninhundish high command to pull back to a more defensible position. What they couldn’t have known, indeed what very few outside the brave souls set to defend such a position could know, was that there were no such positions made. In their haste for a quick victory, Ninhundish commanders were kept to a high tempo of operations. Always on the move, never give the enemy a moment to breath, and because of this, they had precious little in the way of strategic reserves, ammunition, and prepared defenses. What was a tactical withdrawal quickly turned into a rout as Ninhundish forces evacuated the salient with haste, and were immediately set upon by Galavarian forces. The airborne forces were relieved after a week of fighting, when Ninhundish forces withdrew from the area and a part of the 7th ID linked up with them. For the next month, the Ninhundish army fought a bitter fighting retreat all the way to their positions during the first week of the fighting. That is to say, just across the border. These, having been used as ammunition dumps and staging areas, were hammered by the Galavarian air force during the beginning stages of SHOT-PUT. By May 2nd, a little over one month after the offensive was started, Ninhundish forces were now no longer defending territory claimed in Galavaria, but were defending the very doorstep to their own nation. By the end of the first week of may, most of the Ninhundish army positions lie across the border and, more alarmingly to Ninhundland, some Galavarian positions lay within Ninhundish territory. This caused a mass panic in not only their high command, but the political class as well, who by now were screaming for a ceasefire before more of the fighting spilled over into the country. Operation Shot-Put was a responding success, but it did not come without cost. By this point in the war, 10s of thousands on both sides have perished, and both fighting forces have reached their breaking point. Galavarian JFH were intent on mounting one final series of operations to ensure Ninhundland would not try to invade a second time.

LINGWEI IN GALAVARIA PART 2


After an extremely awkward conversation with the stern shopkeeper, I returned to the streets of Feuerblume, as my entourage kept a slight distance, in complete silence. They mirrored the streets themselves, in a way, both were thoroughly grey, only my fellows were grey in suits, boring and tired, while the streets were melancholic. My guards and followers took this on by choice, while the streets of Feuerblume were coerced, suffering. No one here chose this, I had to constantly remind myself. I chose this, and shall continue to choose enduring whatever these people suffer, as long as it takes. I had hoped to sing more, to raise spirits, though the only movement in this city were some shutters in homes, looking out at the foreign girl, and her followers. I am greatly used to being observed, by this point, but this felt almost predatory, driven by fear, and I certainly felt the aura of terror. The alleyways were dark, concealing any number of vices, horrors, and I dared not investigate, even with my entourage. The poor maintenance during these times, had led to significant degradation of the roads, with mud and rain taking their toll. I almost slipped, several times in my Princess shoes, which were utterly insufficient for this environment, but I pressed on. The central heel of the shoes found itself stuck in the mud several times, causing muted laughter from some of the more despicable of the guards allocated by the tyrant to follow me. I strolled cautiously through the practically deserted town for what felt like hours, before one of my Zheng guards ran in front of me, and kneeled. As I trusted virtually none of the Michise detachment, especially not the Weishun, who had been personally selected by the tyrant for the purpose of spying on me, no doubt, I commanded each guard to remain several paces behind me. I required no escort merely to walk, and they provided less than fulfilling conversation anyway. The Galavarian guards were naturally distant towards me, laughing often, and preferring to stick to themselves. The pair were deeply macho, which I had little experience with, especially not foreigners. Most men in my life were courtiers, politicians or my siblings, none of which I had extended contact with. Though, I’d be lying if I didn’t appreciate what I saw of them, from a feminine perspective. In fact, I caught myself ogling a little too much, though at this point, I indulged, I no longer was restricted by Palace protocol, and the tyrant’s decrees can suck Eladistani cock. Feeling my face blush with embarrassment for even thinking in such terms, I turned back to the guard, prostrating himself before me. Typically, Zheng were not to speak first, as they lacked the authority to know, let alone speak the Weishun language. This was especially true for a member of the Imperial clan, though at this moment, I cared not at all for these formalities. I waved my hand, and spoke in a dismissive tone, in the Zheng tongue.

“Is there some problem?”
I asked in a warm tone, with my best smile, though it felt forced. My energy seemed drained by the darkness of this town, despite my attempts at optimism. The guard seemed immune, however and continued functioning normally, which disturbed me somewhat. Typically, Palace guards were initially confused by my persona, which I have shamefully grown to enjoy, especially since the tyrant’s takeover. The agents of oppression deserve love bombing, so that they may break their shackles to him, and return their soul to happiness.

“Your subject wishes to inform you that the train to Varbrook will be departing shortly. We must reach the rendezvous point.”
The guard spoke uncharacteristically, unusually stilted, and covered in a feigned monotone. I am partially aware of the training program, though evidently, standards had dropped, though unlike Sain, I was happy to see that this man’s soul was not ultimately crushed yet. I repaid him with more kindness, happy to have one so loyal, yet someone I could possibly talk to.


“Thank you! Let the others know that we’ll be going to Varbrook now.”
My voice reached its optimal tone, as some joy propelled my spirits back to their normal levels for a moment, I tilted my head, and leaned into to properly hear the guard, who spoke more quietly than normal. Though muted, his voice maintained an undertone of true reverence, for the institution he served, highlighting his loyalty, in a way far more poignantly than a raw monotone. We should cultivate the loyal, and the dedicated, rather than human machines, only existing to obey petty commands.

“Your subject obeys, Princess.”
His head was so low, that the guard’s back clearly ached, it seemed to shake as he maintained the intensive posture of submission that our Great Zhi Dynasty demanded of male servants. I raised my hand in the standard dismissal motion, and he rose, allowing me to look at his face. At full height, he was slightly taller than me, though with my headdress, I practically towered above him. This was by design, of course. The subject must always be shorter than the master, though I had merely dressed in a simple top bun, nothing like the extravagant gold and fauna I normally wore. His face was painfully average, almost exactly the model Zheng phenotype from my studies in the Palace. His eyes were on the smaller side, surrounded by dark bags, from a clear lack of sleep. I used to be similar, and in the last months, I have noticed that when I do not apply makeup, I also have horrible bags. His brown eyes conveyed little but deference, as I stared into them, he recoiled in apprehension. He went to fulfil my command, though I wished him not to leave, and so I grabbed his hand as he turned to leave, speaking in a single word, with all my hope that he may be changed.

“Wait.”
He stopped, turned to face me, and bowed as he went to speak once more. Less deferencial than normal, which pleased me. His face remained static, with an undertone of appropriate fear, the dread came naturally in service to the Imperial family, though

“Do you have further instructions, Princess?”
The risk I was taking in these moments was enormous, though I felt confident in the fact that Hongli, the great tyrant, would never place his faith in an untrained Zheng. Unlike back home, I shall need to value those who have the ability to fail, as they carry genuine loyalty to me, rather than the tyrant. I wished to reward him, and spoke confidently.

“For the duration of this trip, you are to address me by name, Lingwei.”
I paused, immediately after speaking, as I saw the young man go to respond, I realised that addressing fellows by first name in Zheng culture was irregular. As I quantified my statement to be more appropriate to him, I released his hand, pointing to myself, as I tilted my head the opposite, in a more informal way. “Or Yongsheng Ulanara, if you prefer. Anything but ‘Princess’, please.”
I noticed that the guard smiled, or smirked, at the awkwardness of saying the Imperial Clan name so flagrantly. Thankfully for him, as a Zheng, there is no taboo against referring to someone by their clan name, unlike in Weishun culture. I find it appropriate, as I want to stick it to Hongli anyway, degrading his precious romanticism. At that moment, I felt like a radiant flower, blooming for the first time in life, bristling with pollen and life. I looked back at the guard, hoping he would not react with too much hostility, or make a scene begging me for some kind of mercy, after refusing my orders. Fortunately, he complied, only after an awkward moment.

“As you wish, Yongsheng Ulanara. Shall I inform the others about this?”
Hearing my clan name, recited so clunkily, was liberating in a way. I felt in line with him, and in the heat of the moment, I wished so deeply to embrace him tightly. This absolute stranger, I felt magnetically drawn to, which was scary, in some way. I started noticing how his face, while fairly generic, drew charm through its demerits. His right cheek was cursed by blemish, protruding spots, and moles littered his chin. I almost wanted to pick them myself, he seemed so human. The face in my own mirror back home reflected none of this charm, it seemed too pale, with all humanity suffocated in layers of makeup and decoration. His jawline was uneven, soft, not at all traditionally perfect, though more in touch with the people. I went to reach for it, before remembering where I was, and rushed to answer his question, before news spread.

“No! Only you, and those I authorise. I shall be suffering with the people here, so I shall be one of them. I do not want to just call you ‘guard’, what is your name?”
Disaster would fall upon me, if I allowed the fact that my clan name was used so openly to become common knowledge among my entourage, as the tyrant has ears everywhere. Knowing a subject’s name, especially a Zheng, was irrelevant to our daily lives and commands, they simply submit and obey until they rot. I never liked this idea, even before the tyrant’s takeover, all my servants in the Palace were addressed by name, I argued, without success, that it led to increased devotion. The doubters were uninterested, and even Duanxi was hesitant in employing my methods. He seemed nervous, yet with a slight, warm smile, almost mirroring mine, though more subtly.

“Your subject is named Zhang Gongyi.”
After hearing his name, I burst into compulsive laughter, as the characters in Gongyi sounded similar to the word for ‘chair’. I pointed, rather mockingly at Gongyi, who could only stare, mouth agape at me. The image of one of these meek guards carrying me, like some kind of carriage, was hilarious. Gongyi was clearly perplexed by my uncourteous reaction, and a part of me felt discomfort in taking pleasure in such petty things.

“Like chair? Perfect for a guard. Though I won’t need a throne while here. Say my name again!”
I turned to the side, realising how haughty and callous I sounded in this moment, attempting to conceal my laugher, and my own shame. I was not like Sain, and Gongyi did not inherently deserve mockery just from his name alone. My laughter subsided, though I struggled to contain it, before Gongyi went to speak again, as I heard the mumbling of my entourage behind me. Simultaneously, I indulged in the petty craving for my name to flow from his mouth, his fear, yet obedience to my outrageous demands pampered me with illicit bliss.

“If Princ…” I turned to him and glared, before laughing again. “If Yongsheng Ulanara requires one, your subject would provide his meagre services.”
As he spoke, Gongyi adopted the more standard, formal posture, almost fully on the ground, and I felt a small resurgence of my callousness. I instead wanted Zhang to defend himself, though I was left craving something, anything but willing surrender. He seemed totally willing to oblige my arbitrary, decadent joke, as if a command he’d been waiting for his entire life. I turned up my nose, and sighed, making a second joke after a slight moment of silence.

“Don’t be too eager! You can return to your duties, Zhang.”
Part of me wished to play with Gongyi more, but even I heard the discontent mumblings of the men behind me, no doubt either scheming against me, or with each other to gain my favour before reporting any dirty secrets to Hongli. They’d send my laundry if they could find it, and the tyrant would be appreciative, maybe give them a nonsense job like ‘Minister of Social Cohesion’ while he kept the Emperor in chains. I made a promise to myself that I’d wash my own clothing for the duration of the war, perhaps it would help enter the shoes of the common people. Gongyi bowed, and ran back to his colleagues, as I made a mental note to keep an eye on the young man. My orders had been very unorthodox, even debauched, ordering Gongyi to refer to me by the clan name would be worthy of several beatings. Though Gongyi was Zheng, thus, he was trustworthy in this moment. I smiled, and turned towards the station. Activity slightly increased in the afternoon, as we approached the station, the damp, blackened streets gave way to deep greys. The train I was scheduled to take departed after a short wait, though I was invited to the private carriages, near the back of the train, to ensure my safety. Though normal people referred to the style of treatment I received as ‘first class’, it was a pale imitation of what any member of the Imperial Clan received on a daily basis. The seats, while tolerable, felt itchy and dirty, yet with a faux air of superiority, as I sat several paces away from my large entourage, who were cramped into the same two carriages. Walls were almost marble in colour, and felt suffocating, boring and stagnant. The train ride was the first moment I had without countless, invisible eyes following my every move. Now, I only had a few dozen watching intently, who I could trust even less than the average war victim. I still hear their mumbling as I lazily walk through the carriages, looking for a window seat, so I could see the countryside fade into the urban centre of Varbrook. I decided that the five hours of safety in a private seat, only with my guards for safety, would be boring. Instead, I eschewed the private first class carriage, and walked towards the public section, where I’d have dozens of absolute strangers to talk to, and brighten their day. Everywhere was taken, the trains were packed, though this time, I could see the people. My face lit up, and as I passed, I turned around and waved at every one. At first, I got the expected reaction, confusion, and some anger from those who were stressed, though eventually, I heard one of my favourite phrases in the world.

“Are you the Princess?”
For an excited few moments, I swivelled around, to find the young voice who had summoned me, like a lighthouse calling a desperate ship. The voice was a boy’s voice, and I identified him quickly, as my salvation. All my stress was lifted as I felt much more at home while comforting others. The boy seemed dressed in fairly standard Galavarian style, an old, worn and creased shirt, combined with shorts that seemed too large for him. His eyes seemed so full of life, excited through all the chaos of this struggle, and I wanted to return the favour.

“I am, but for now, what’s your name, young man?”

“Alex! I am Alex! This is my mother.”

“Don’t bother her highness, Alex. He is young, and we are all struggling.”

“Alex is not bothering me, if anything he is a relief to see. I am here to suffer with you all, and endure any trial until the end.”
My mind was flushed with joy, as more Galavarians began to speak up. I commanded my entourage to take their seats in private, as I felt no danger in this stuffed carriage. In fact, I felt truly alive, the spark of the people reinvigorated me, as I began to sing for the people. Cheers filled my mind with joy, as the applause flooded my ears. I soaked in it, bathed in the adoration, as I had grown accustomed to, the hit was always instant, hard, and electrifying. My entire body reverberated with radiant, opulent pleasure, the same pleasure that has carried me through my young life. Even the dank train could not dampen the communal atmosphere, as I began to, admittedly poorly, sing Galavarian folk songs, following the lead of the locals to produce a beautiful melody. I collapsed into a tired, sweaty mess into a seat, following several blurry hours of singing, partying and chatting. My throat had grown sore some twenty minutes before I fell back onto a chair in the crowded compartment. The lively chattering continued unabated in the once silent carriage, as I slumped into a slumber. My dreams were tranquil, for the first time in weeks, they were relaxing, and fulfilling. As I slept, I recalled my serene travels through Eporan, the train rides through Gietland, Osmanli. Back then, things were always so peaceful, I could simply allow the gentle rocking of the train to lull me to sleep, and I’d wake up in bliss. This was not so pleasant. Instead, I woke covered in sweat, as the heat of the carriages had increased over the last few hours. Gongyi spoke firmly, as my vision focused on his face, I smiled. Behind him, were about eight men in formal dress, who had barely spoken the entire trip. Elderly scholars, and young men, interested in nothing but their political fortunes.

“Yongsheng Ulanara, we have reached our destination. The refugees have been filtered out ahead of your delegation.”

“You are a pleasant sight to wake up to, Zhang. Though I wanted to see off the people…”
I playfully shifted to a disheartened tone, though Gongyi remained painfully stoic. His

“Pious and proper of a modern Princess, Yongsheng Ulanara. However, your extended rest has made it difficult to reach the Castle in time for his Highness’ speech.”
My eyes raised as his words reached my ears, glancing at the time on my phone, and started panicking. I jumped to my feet,
“Only you woke me up? I’m so grateful, Zhang!”
At my praise, I felt the silent resentment of the lesser servants fall again upon Zhang, who pulled on his collar in an awkward motion. His face appeared so much greater, radiant with quiet pride, brought out by my affection. I gently raised a hand, gesturing that I wished to be lifted to my feet. Back at home, I never bothered with such petty displays of power, though I wished to provide some kind of reward to a dutiful, obedient servant. Tempt him out of the stagnant life of a puppet, irregardless of what the sycophants thought. Typically I’d require a female Weishun subject to lift me, as physical contact in this way was inappropriate, though after I looked deeply into his eyes, he slowly complied, and I felt his rough skin against mine. Within him was such strength, that I rose quickly, and felt myself about to fall on him. Such a romantic idea, I blushed slightly, as I imagined his rugged body shielding a youthful maiden from harm. His embarrassment turning to joy as he received such a gift, and the indignation of the other sycophants, who’d run to report the entire affair to the tyrant. I considered letting it happen, like some romantic novel. Though I stopped myself, I had such good things to do here. The idea of tripping on my shoes and twisting my ankle made me cringe, the thought of the pain overwhelmed any concept of debauched pleasure. Instead, when I reached my feet, I glanced dismissively at the sycophants, and lifted my head in disdain. The lifeless sycophants took the hint, and began to file out of the carriage, towards the limousine reserved to take me to Castle Whitestone. Varbrook, the capital, was a beautiful city. On my last visit, when I accompanied Duanxi, we drove straight to the reception, and had no opportunity to see the sights. Now, I similarly have virtually no time, but the atmosphere was far less lively. Compared to the bleak stillness of Feuerblume, Varbrook was positively charged with fear. Terror dominated the streets, as desperate people shuffled to their destinations, whenever they could be seen. Fathers looked around in a panicked manner, as if attempting to detect a vile predator. The capital seemed so dirty now, all vibrancy seemed to have faded to a pungent, offensive grey, I assumed that funds spent on maintenance were instead being diverted to the military. Regardless, the enormous towers and offices remained, standing defiantly in the face of Ninhundish aggression. Though it must have been empty posturing, as the lights were turned off, and most likely, workers completing as many tasks as possible remotely. The limousine was not far from the train station, and the Galavarian special forces took point in covering my approach. It felt everso normal to me, suffocating protection, complete lack of autonomy. I could no longer see the people of Varbrook, as the soldiers took great care to block my line of vision. That short hundred metre walk reminded me more of home than anything I’d seen since leaving Michu for the last time. The driver had stepped out to greet me with a deep bow, though his formal, black suit was unblemished, as if it had been dry cleaned this morning for the occasion. He spoke briefly, as I approached him.

“Thankful greetings, your Highness. The entire nation is thankful for the support of your Empress, sending you as an emissary of peace and cooperation.”
His voice reeked of sycophancy, understandable as it may be to clamber for foreign aid, such words were deeply insensitive, and offensive to me. My Galavarian was still not exactly fluent, though I went to reply quickly.

“The Empe-”
At the mention of my sister, I grew flustered, frustrated and quickly grew furious. The Emperor was incapable of anything at this moment. I chose this path myself, and if the Emperor was thinking rationally, she may well have stopped me. I raised a hand in anger, though I was interrupted by the calm voice of Gongyi, who spoke perfect Galavarian, better even than my own.

“The decision to support Galavaria was taken independently by her Highness, and the stance of the Imperial Government is a matter of internal discussion.”
I looked to him in admiration, as he flexed his mastery of the Galavarian language before my eyes. I was beyond impressed, I stood stunned, overwhelmed by his display of intellect, and brazen defiance of Imperial protocol, intentional or not. Interruptions of a Weishun was a punishable offence, and many in the Imperial Court would have him flogged for such. Despite some dirty looks from my entourage, Gongyi would receive no ill-treatment from me. On the contrary, I resolved to nurture his spirit further. The Galavarian driver spoke again, bowing quickly to Gongyi, before speaking curtly.

“As you say, good sir.”
The driver’s smirk was vile, a filthy snake just waiting to pounce, though I had no time to scrutinise him further, as he quickly dived into the limousine. I was chauffeured inside the back, when I gestured for Gongyi to join me, for some privacy. My staff had specifically requested that all windows were translucent, so that I may observe the plight of the people. The true reason was that the stuffiness of cars, especially crowded ones, made me suffer ill effects. Many members of the Imperial Court suffer from claustrophobia, and the smell these machines produce makes me feel about to vomit, at the best of times. Travel sickness was inevitable, so I spent most of the trip simply staring outside, and enjoying the gaze of Gongyi upon my face. The atmosphere of terror never left the city, few military checkpoints were arrayed around crucial checkpoints, with grimacing soldiers checking the driver’s papers each time. Had Duanxi been with me, he’d rant over the uniform standards, identify units by insignia, or the weapons, but I had no interest, nor capacity to do so. Focusing my mind on Duanxi bought my mind out of it’s daze, and instead filled my head with depression. The last time I’d seen my dearest brother was before the tyrant’s coup, in late November before he went to speak with Prince Jorge. I have no idea if he was successful in returning to Khosol, though even if he did, the mental agony of the coup is shared by all loyal subjects. I started to feel a migraine coming on, and Gongyi passed me some pills, which he asserted would moderate the pain, and help relax me. The invitation to Castle Whitestone to attend a crucial briefing from Prince Michael was a deep honour for me, especially after his service rendered to me at the party. Perhaps I made that good of an impression, or he liked what he saw of me. I held back a giggle with my hand, even through the migraine, such self debasing jokes were inappropriate for a lady of status. Castle Whitestone was a slight distance from the station, though the capital itself was based around a river, much like Zhijing. The route I planned was tailored to run through the city, providing visual access to much of the nation's trade, and fisheries. The lifeblood of the nation, though strained, remained, if muted. When the rivers gave way to more cold, dead steel, I reached for my phone, and loaded up Squeaker. I promised my followers to update them on my quest against the tyrant, and I always made sure to deliver for them. I took a quick selfie with the Approaching the Castle Moat, making sure to focus in on the red pansies I purchased from the flower store. I captioned it with ‘Arrived at Castle Whitestone, ready to serve Galavaria!’ Followed by several emoticons, that I spammed much more than usual, subconsciously reflecting my anxiousness. No doubt, my Squeaker account was monitored by the tyrant, though he has not yet shut down my account, despite asserting that he would do so. Incompetence comes naturally to him, though. I glanced at the mighty castle entrance, and leaned sideways, to stare up at the peak. The castle was on a raised plateau, an engineering feat Duanxi greatly appreciated, that made the castle seem taller, though still, it paled in comparison to the modern skyscrapers dotted around the skyline. Entering the main gate slowly, I was entranced by luxurious entrance and decorations, definitely modern, yet constructed in a fashion that resembled traditional architecture and interior design. I recalled a similar experience back when we attended the Galavarian ball, though the grandeur was far more pronounced back then, and the entire city shared in the festivities. The guards chauffeured me through the Castle, though in a more relaxed manner, that allowed me to observe many chambers and rooms. I noticed the bar, where I committed my vast sins, and learned that I was a huge lightweight. Gongyi stood nearby, at a respectable distance, with him by my side, no such humiliation could be repeated. We ascended the stairs, and reached a compact conference room, where a multitude of figures in modern military uniforms stood around a large table. At the head of this table, stood a figure of great masculine fortitude. Prince Michael directed the meeting, and before him, was an enlarged map displaying military positions. His eyes rose from the map, and the room fell silent as I entered the room. The only woman present, and a foreign one at that. The Imperial followers remained outside, while my Galavarian special forces agents entered alongside me. Michael’s face was tired, no doubt overwhelmed by the stress of his station, and the huge duties thrust upon him. I dared not imagine the suffering of the King in these dark times, Michael’s eyes met mine for a moment, and an awkward gaze was shared between us, before I relented and instead looked down, and gave a courteous bow. His voice was sharp, and criticising, reminding me of court tutors, scolding me for poor performance, though it was far less mechanical or rigid.

“What are you doing here? There is going to be a war. You will die here.”

“There is nowhere I’d rather be, I’m here to help, and I never thanked you for the par-”
I found myself interrupted by a loud cough, looking over towards the man in surprise. I noticed he was a Galavarian official, who approached the prince, and whispered something into his ear, in a hurried, stressed tone. As Michael digested the words, he swallowed deeply, and nodded. His face seemed less flushed with anger.

“If you do intend to stay, you are welcome to. How do you wish to help? Bear no mind to the party, though you are certainly invited to any future party, should we be in any position to host one.”
My eyes lit up at the prospect of being invited again, or even just staying in this country. The idea of being free from the Tyrant’s grip forever, as a freewoman, was alluring.

“Anything I can possibly provide to Galavaria, is at your disposal. This nation has me until I fall, or it has no further need of me. Though please, no more parties! I can’t drink again!”
To keep the tension of the crowded room low, I tempered my sombre words with a joke, which bought only an awkward silence, as the Galavarian staff retreated into hushed voices. Michael’s tone turned slow, with a higher, more concentrated pitch, as if he had forgotten that I was fluent in the language.

“You are no doubt aware, as the entire continent is, that a Ninhundish invasion is imminent? War is messy, and you could be seriously hurt.”
I understood quickly, that he fully comprehended my words, and that I had made no mistakes in my Galavarian. Instead, Michael doubted me. This frustrated me, more than Zhang’s obstinate deference, or the flies infesting the Palace during summer time. I spoke up, in a more assertive, yet friendly tone, with an enormous smile. I’d convince him, and the entire world, that I was more than just another name in the Imperial Genealogy Department, or an entertainer.

“I’m entirely aware! I’d rather be hurt, or worse doing what’s right, rather than living a life of luxury back home.”
This time, I never relented, keeping the same wide smile, leaning in to face Michael, staring him straight in the eyes. The tension of the room pushed all attention towards the centre, as all eyes fell directly upon us. Michael broke eye contact, and looked around the room, towards the various staff members and military figures, who nodded at him as his gaze passed over them. Turning back to me, Michael’s tone shifted back to his more standard, stern, yet inviting tone.

“That is very honourable, we’d be glad to have your support, your Highness.”
Michael’s face betrayed a smile, he approached me, and extended a hand. Of course, I didn’t expect a foreign Prince to understand the depths of Imperial etiquette, but it took me aback how swift he was to offer me his hand. I understood, for a moment, what Zhang felt like this afternoon, put on the spot, I chose to take his hand. For a moment, I felt Michael’s rough skin, and he shook my hand firmly. I resolved, as I set forth on this step, that I’d show Zhang a new life, and bring the Great Zhi Empire the same joy. The growing smile on my face reached its zenith, and I shut my eyes, imagining the great happiness my potential success would bring to the youth of Michu. Michael let go of my hand after a few moments and I stepped back and spoke.

“Where am I needed most? I’ll provide whatever I can.”
Practically jumping in the air from excitement, I was willing to perform practically any task, to ingratiate myself here. Even if I did not wish to remain in this county, I was still indebted to the Princes for their heroism at the party. Michael turned for a moment, raising his hand to his chin, as he considered somewhere I’d be the most useful for the Galavarian cause. After a long pause, he turned back to me.

"Well, I could always use a friendly face in the political circuit. My father has me doing the rounds giving tough talk in the face of Ninhundish threats, so having someone of your stature there giving a show of support would speak volumes. I think my next conference is tomorrow morning at ten. Think you can make it?"
Michael’s initiative solution was wise, and for a moment, I considered the possibility that he followed my streams. That would be truly an inspiration, I’ll definitely give him a shout out tomorrow. Typically I opposed being used as a political showpiece, it felt like a violation, an affront to my agency. The Osmanli tour was ruined by the constant insistence on my shoring up of the government for the benefit of them alone, and the Douglandic tour felt like a business meeting. Though here, I felt genuine need, and I was always happy to help, lifting the spirits of the people in a time of stress and terror.

“I’d like to see anyone stop me! I’m a little nervous, though that’s never held me back before. As long as I can serve Galavaria in these trying times, I’m overjoyed.”
Severe restraint was needed to avoid jumping up and down, creating a scene in this serious hall. The military officials began to clap me. Michael nodded, and escorted me out of the meeting room. I felt rejuvenated by the encounter, and was swiftly met by Zhang, and a cadre of my sycophants. Zhang approached me first, and bowed deeply, his eyes strained, tired from a long day of travel. Unlike myself, Zhang had not been able to sleep on the train, and simply endured our tight schedule. He spoke while averting his gaze.

“Your Highn- Yongsheng Ulanara. The evening is upon us, and it would be advisable to reach the hotel before nightfall.”
I shot Zhang a glance when he misspoke, in defiance of my previous order, and smiled when he corrected himself. I gave a nod, and in a cheerful mood, we headed towards the limousine. Outside of the long, black car, one of the sycophants approached, I was not aware of his name, though judging from his Imperial robes, he was most likely a licensed official. Volunteering to keep an eye on me, no doubt. His face was aged, though his robes signalled he was in his late forties, he looked seventy, with wrinkles covering his entire face.

“Your highness, I am sure you had the wisdom to affirm the official position of the Imperial Consort Chancellor. Galavaria is a friend, yet no firm military or economic support is to be given.”
I felt myself twitch slightly, greatly undignified for an Imperial Princess, but I didn’t care. The idea of giving any reverence to the tyrant’s ‘official position’ made me sick. I raised a hand in anger, and shouted, in a tone reminiscent of Sain.

“The whims of the tyrant are to be disregarded here! I shall speak as I wish! So I wish you to be silent!”
My voice felt shrill, commanding, yet impotent. Despite my own inadequacies, the old man who approached, and my official entourage, recoiled backwards. Even Zhang seemed taken aback by my outburst, which disheartened me.

“Yes, your Highness! We obey!”
The ancient goon who stepped forward to question me retreated back into the ranks of my delegation, a snake repulsed. Part of me enjoyed the thrill of sending the snake packing, the rush of control, though the rest of me felt disgusted. The words felt sour, improper for me to say, yet they worked, for I had peace the entire ride home. I beckoned Zhang to sit with me, as his soft smile rematerialised, his gentle soul understanding the cruel words I employed. With his comfort, I calmed myself down, feeling my breathing fall back down to a relaxed pace, as I entered the car. Humming to myself, I spent the majority of the drive back thinking back on Michael, his good looks, dignified posture, and the stress he is going through. I resolved to help him through all of it, until my last breath. Such thoughts were unworthy of a typical Princess, but the way he reached for my hand compelled me to overcome such mental barriers. Zhang continued to keep his tired eyes on me, even allowing himself to yawn. The entire atmosphere of the town felt more at peace, as the fading sun ushered in a serene evening. I quickly felt myself yawn, almost immediately after Zhang, and was barely able to stop myself falling into sleep, though we arrived at the hotel.


My guards escorted me to the prestigious Hope Hotel. I had seen pictures of this establishment prior to the war, and the vastness of the structure towered above the streets. Unlike Shaozi Palace, Hope Hotel was tall, rather than sprawling along the ground, though the Palace is ultimately larger, Hope Hotel was far more modern. Luxuries that the common person appreciated were usually available, and even the waiting room was scented. However, for war, much of the decorations and luxuries were withdrawn, supply chains during conflicts are easily broken, and what could be provided to the war effort, must be provided. I understood, of course, but was still crestfallen, as the guards booked me in for a high room. My spirits rose slightly, as our elevator took me to my bedroom, on the seventy first floor. Hope Hotel was operated by a skeleton crew, with the building being far dirtier than I assumed was normal, no doubt due to drafting. I twisted the key, placed the red pansies from the store in a jar, and collapsed into bed, utterly shattered. I was so exhausted that I failed to change out of my dress, or even undo my hair. The texture of the bed was soft, unlike but not too inferior to my Palace bed, it was far larger, queen sized, I believe they call it. Probably for two people, which was good, I tend to roll around in my sleep. I withdrew my private phone, and updated my followers on the situation, though I exaggerated the positive vibes to the city. I let out a sigh, as I decided to text Airi. The two of us had struck up a tight friendship, especially since I spent the end of the year in Ashia. Such a beautiful country, everyone was so welcoming! Smiling warmly as I wrote a simple ‘miss you’ to Airi, I heard two loud knocks on the door. One of my entourage spoke loudly in Weishun, which frustrated me. I was hoping Zhang would attend me personally, though with chagrin, I called him to enter. Letting himself in, the interloper was much younger than his colleagues, and his uniform displayed far less notable deeds. He was clean shaved, and his eyes were definitively piercing blue.

“Your Highness, do you find the conditions satisfactory?”
I turned to him, noticing his tall, correct posture, not slouched at all like my elder sycophants. His face was pale, which was fairly typical of well-off Weishun, though almost ghostly when compared to Zhang. His eyes were shadowed by small bags, perhaps an insomniac, or just a man with similarly poor sleeping habits. His uniform, while sharing the same black, greyish tone as the other, older sycophants, shared merely a few symbols. The uniform was embroidered with the standard dragon around the neck, with the name of the Emperor, my sister. Besides that, symbols of loyalty, and noting his years of service were emblazoned on the uniform’s frock. I felt myself snap with anger, I was in no mood to be interrupted by Weishun sycophants in my room.

“Better than home, much more peaceful!”
My eyes narrowed with contempt as I spit out the words, and momentarily felt remorse for attacking him. Though his reaction dimmed any such doubts, with a chuckle, the man approached me slowly, taking a sardonic tone.

“Your highness, your comedic spirit is not dampened by these trying times, I admire it. My name is Tuksi, Jiage Tolo Clan.”
The Jiage Tolo clan offered little to the Imperial Court; I had virtually no interactions with any of their Clanspeople. Why such a man would accompany me on this trip escaped me, I thought as Tuksi’s smile extended creepily. I was not at all willing to be charitable at this moment, after his petty chuckling. His refusal to accept the seriousness of my concerns.

“Do you have something to report, or do you just want to pollute my room with your stink, Tuksi?”
Tuksi fiddled suspiciously with his hands, as my gaze turned to Tuksi’s serving pistol that he was permitted to carry. Typically bodyguards and servants employed such weapons, though seeing one so up close alone set me on edge. The man also carried a large case that could easily fit his pistol into it, though chose to keep it visible.

“Ah… Your retinue is settled in, I have taken the initiative to dedicate staff to hold posts guarding the room…” I turned towards him, with daggers in my eyes, and he seemed to sweat slightly. “From the outside, and alert you, should we need to.”
Proper thorough implementation of protocol may have endeared Tuksi to one of the Princes, but not me. I stumbled with contempt, still laying down on the bed, wiping a single tear from my eye.

“Okay…”
I spoke lazily, deliberately so as I let out a yawn to make Tuksi leave me be. Silence followed, as I noticed the interloper approach, and recoiled slightly.

“Additionally, I am here to deliver your ‘fan mail’ from around the world. All letters have been audited and deemed safe, if not cringeworthy.”
My irrational anger was given direction with this intrusion, and the insult laid upon my fans prompted me to rise to my feet and yell. Tuksi stepped back for a moment, and for a moment, his obnoxious smile faded, into a look of terror.


“Audited? Why would you read my mail?”
My yelling clearly caught Tuksi off guard, though he recovered quickly and returned to a sardonic, relaxed tone.

“To make sure there was nothing of strategic or political importance within, and we must ensure that a Princess of the Great Zhi is not the victim of vile conspiracies.”
While his reasoning is fairly valid, I took offence to the insult towards my followers.

“If you were looking for ‘treasonous talk’, you should have asked me. You and the tyrant can suffer eternal torment for that which you have bought upon the Empire, and my sister the Emperor.”
I enunciated every word in my condemnation, as if reading an Imperial edict, my word into law. Though blasphemous, I stopped caring about contravening national law. I spoke with the fury of my sister, who no doubt, agreed with me, even if she were confused by substances, or in captivity. My last visit to see the Emperor went as poorly as always, she was unresponsive, and the noxious toxins even drove me into a stupor.

“Her Highness is addled by the stress of war, and I will not trouble her further.”
The colour in Tuksi’s face faded, and he stumbled away from the room, closing the door shamefully, defeated. I breathed a sigh of relief, and fell back into my pillow, my last thoughts being the wondrous words in the letters, from my true followers, those who believed in me. The window outside gave me a perfect view of the night sky, so serene, and comforting. Sleep came quickly, and I mentally began preparations for the meeting tomorrow. Galavaria was relying on me, and I would serve her.

02:00, Galavaria

I was awoken by an awful bang, followed by wailing alarms, covered in my own sweat, I realised that I had fallen asleep so quickly that I forgot to remove my dress, or my headdress. My headpiece had fallen off my head awkwardly as I rolled around in the luxurious hotel bed, as my dress had grown creased, and clung to my body through sweat. I cursed myself for such carelessness, and quickly looked outside. Alarms thundered faster now, and I noticed below, vast fires, engulfing entire buildings. The smell of smoke assaulted me, and I started to panic, though my door was quickly forced open by Tuksi and Zhang, who entered, and each bowed. They put on a false confidence, though even a veneer of serenity was more useful than abject chaos. Zhang spoke first, with an understandable urgency

“Your Highne- Yongsheng Ulanara, war has broken out between Galavaria and Ninhundland. We must evacuate.”
Tuksi bolted past me, kneeled down and began to collect my various possessions into a large sealed bag. I was distracted by Zhang’s pleas for too long, and when I noticed Tuksi reach for my phone, left on my bed, I kicked him in the gut. My only regret is that I didn’t knock out a tooth. His petulant moaning enraged me, enough to ignore the constant pounding of explosions for a moment.

“Roaches like you may not touch my things! Keep your vile hands and vices to yourself!”
I shouted with contempt, and kicked Tuksi again, this time in the stomach. He recoiled on the floor, breathing heavily, before smiling with a face that almost prompted me to push him out the window.

“Your Highness kicks firmly!”
Tuksi’s voice, when speaking in Zheng, sounded like a wounded snake, crying out in pain, but in a pathetic way. The beast should be tamed, beaten into silence, and I went to kick him again, in the face this time, before I was interrupted. Zhang approached me, seized my hand and led me out of the room, leaving Tuksi to finish collecting my things after I collected my phone. I shot Tuksi an aggressive glare as a parting gesture of my contempt. Only now did I see that it was early in the morning, and as my eyes continued to adjust to the strong lights of the hotel, I heard explosions, louder this time. Zhang took point in leading me downstairs, never releasing his tight grip of my hand while doing so. His vigorous determination inspired me, and my heart skipped a beat as I saw his masculine features, a little smile, no doubt noting with approval my treatment of Tuksi. My mind was racing, with fear, anger, but most disturbingly, excitement. The thrill of the events unfolding gripped me with an almighty grip, overpowering all other sensations. Approaching the hotel reception, most guests were already filtering out, towards predetermined shelters, or to find their families. My elderly associates, in various states of dress, formal uniforms, pyjamas, or just casual robes, bowed as I approached, myself in a terrible, sweaty mess. No doubt, the men had been summoned and travelled down earlier, due to their lower down position in the hotel. The old men chanted “Blessings upon Her Highness this morning!” As if it were a regular occurrence, though with much less zeal, and some even dared twiddle their thumbs absentmindedly, from exhaustion or fear. I dismissed their greetings with a simple wave of my hand, and my mind was immediately distracted by the blood curling sound of a woman screaming. She called out for her son, as my Galavarian guards hastily subdued her from returning upstairs to look for him. I gestured for the guards to loosen their restraints, and ran after the screaming mother, even as my guards protested. Locating the son was dramatic, hearing the cries of my entourage, begging me not to leave, I continued ignoring them. The hotel itself was hit by a bombing strike causing the building to shake dramatically, I clutched my ears, as the ringing caused me great pain. Just as I was about to give up, I heard the sounds of loud footsteps, and I felt momentary relief, until I saw the dishevelled figure of Tuksi running down the stairs. Thankfully, he presented a small figure behind him, a little boy, with messy blonde hair. I almost cheered with joy, as the mother bowed to us in gratitude. We made our way towards the hotel reception, where pre arranging contingency plans came into effect, and our evacuation vehicle was swiftly prepared. I turned to Zhang, who seemed just as exhausted, leaning back into the car, speaking with my usual enthusiasm.

“So, when’s that meeting today?”