IUN Northern Philades Air Base, Berngen, Kingdom of Topa — December 25, 2020
Alright, convicts, listen up! As you all no doubt know, your mission is to atone for your collective crimes—alleged, confirmed, or otherwise—by performing missions that the regular forces have neither the time nor resources to fulfil themselves. To this end, you have all been deployed here to the Kingdom of Topa to assist their efforts to relieve the Kingdom of Esperanto of a demonic incursion within their borders.
Because High Command believes that it’s important for you convicts to actually have a basic understanding of what’s happening here, I’m only going to say this once: Topa asked the IUN to assist in exploring the Grameus continent in search of a supposed fabled kingdom sworn to destroy the demon hordes along these parts. Well, they clearly didn’t do a good enough job—we’re looking at a sizable mass of monsters and unnameable bastards only barely distinguishable from you lot descending on their capital, and not even the Osean contingent currently in the city’s going to be enough to hold them back. That’s where you lot will be coming in—your planes are all being loaded with ordinance as we speak, and you’ll be flattening every single square inch of land between the city walls and the last unholy cretin fleeing for its life.
This should be a perfectly simple mission for you to accomplish—I don’t want to hear about any planes getting shot down or crashing, or some kind of weird magic making a single bomb not work properly! I’m kind enough to even let you out of your jail cells specifically for this, so don’t abuse my generosity with whatever bullshit you convicts manage to cook up, got it?
Now, get out of here!
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Kingdom of Esperanto — December 26, 2019
“No command structure again? Guess I’m going to be flight lead once more, then—“
“Yeah, sure, Count, as if anyone’s going to follow your arrogant ass,” another Spare pilot drily replied, “and as if you’re not going to suddenly claim more kills than every single one of us at the end of the sortie again!”
“Hey, that was one time—”
“Alright, cut the chatter,” AWACS Bandog cut in, “Osean ground forces have a visual on the first wave of attackers. Help out our guys by softening them up with your weapons, and that’ll be mission complete.”
“Nice and simple, huh? No wonder the Colonel was more anal than usual about us coming back without a scratch.”
“Damn, you see all of that? That’s quite the army!”
“Not much against a good bomb, though—hey, Bandog! Are we cleared to engage yet?”
“Spare Squadron, engage. I don’t want to see a single weapon left in your weapons bays after this, so get going!”
Spare Squadron swiftly swept across the battlefield, unloading their respective payloads on the advancing monster armies—a deadly combination of bombs, missiles, and machine gun fire made swift work of the first wave of attackers even as they advanced on Esperanto’s city walls. Another pass transformed the valley itself into a riverbed of blood and death, with a rapidly advancing wall of fire and flame incinerating whatever lifeforms managed to survive the initial onslaught. The effect was immediate: the advancing lines were either wiped out or collapsed altogether, the would-be conquerors fleeing the battlefield for parts unknown.
Count sighed in irritation as his Flanker made another pass, mindlessly ripping through another swathe of monsters with his machine gun. “This is boring! Aren’t there supposed to be any big monsters around these parts for us to fight?”
“Count your blessings, Count,” Bandog drily replied. “We could be dealing with a horde of wyverns to fly into your engines or a mage with EMP capabilities, but HQ’s already generous enough to give you convicts a simple task of sorting out the local politics in these parts. Finish this mission to my satisfaction, and perhaps we might get something more in line with your sensitivities.”
“Oh, I’ve been reading the files Full Band managed to find—we’re here because Oured decided at the last minute to send us here instead of the Fenn Kingdom for some reason. Imagine, all of us enjoying a sunny day out and enjoying something straight out of the ancient Comona Shogunate instead of freezing to death in the middle of nowhere and shooting random nonsense—”
“Wait, Full Band managed to bribe someone into letting him use their terminal again? How the hell does he manage to do that?”
The interloper snorted self-assuredly. “Nothing that hasn’t worked just yet, High Roller. Trade secret; I’d probably have to lose a bet with you first before I tell a single thing—”
“That, or we actually have you shot for espionage instead of the regular solitary, Spare 6,” Bandog quickly interjected. “Focus on your mission—besides, it’s not like you would have seen anything different in a prison cell in Fenn rather than here in Grameus, Spare 2.”
“Hey, at least we might have actually been locked up in an actual castle for a change!”
“Got eyes on the second army marching on Esperanto—damn, that’s a large horde,” Full Band remarked. “Are you sure we’ve got enough ordinance for all of that?”
“Don’t worry—HQ’s been generous enough to give us a return line in case all of your bombs run out. Don’t take this as an opportunity to skive on the job, mind you—I’ve got eyes on all of your weapons, so don’t try and claim you’ve already run out!”
“Fiiiiine, Bandog. Man, I wish we had to fight something big like the regular troops do on a regular basis—they get to fight spaceships and large dragons! I’d take on one of those in a heartbeat, and I’d win!”
“Break, break—copy, hang on…standby…shit.”
“Bandog,” Full Band chimed in, “what’s up?”
“Spare Squadron, be advised: you have been given new orders—you are to ensure not a single individual from outside Esperanto makes it inside. The Castle and its contents now take precedence above anything else—even your own lives, got that?”
Count blinked in surprise. “What the—shit, what the hell happened?”
“That’s above your paygrade, convict—suffice to say, if Esperanto falls, even solitary will be the least of your problems. Is that clear?”
“Alright, chill,” Spare Two drily interrupted, more audibly annoyed than concerned by the AWACS operator’s unexpected change of tone, “it’s not like we’ve got anything left to be concerned about—everything below us is dead, remember?”
“Hey, is anyone seeing that mountainside twenty kilometres to the east? Something’s not right with that thing—”
“Focus on the mission, Spare 8! Stop getting distracted by the local geology!”
High Roller frowned, glancing to where Champ was gesturing. “I’ll be damned—Bandog, that volcano looks like something’s about to burst out of—”
A thunderous explosion rocked the valley as the mountain was instantly shattered into thousands of rocks and debris that began to rain down on the valley itself. The aircraft that made up Spare Squadron and Bandog quickly found themselves weaving back and forth amidst the falling projectiles—some even larger than the E-767 Bandog and his crew were hosted in—all while an unusual yet not less ominous roar could be heard from where the distant landform used to be.
From the cracked ruins of the now-destroyed Vaglar Volcano, a pair of wings unfurled as one—no, two—no, three—heads emerged from the fire and embers. The Kingdom of Esperanto trembled as an ancient screech from a time long gone echoed, signalling the return of the most dreaded creature of all—
“Aji Dhaka! Aji Dhaka returns!”
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“Dust Mother, what the flying fuck is that?!”
“Dragon! Dragon! Bandog, we’ve got another dragon in the AO!”
“Technically, according to Emmerian mythology, that’s a hydra with the three heads and potential regeneration abilities—“
“Worry about the semantics later, Full Band! We’re not equipped for this, Bandog—I’m getting out of here!”
“Negative, Spare Two—engage that dragon before it poses a threat to the forces on the ground! Desertion is punishable by solitary!”
Count paled. “What?! But we don’t even have the weapons to fight an enemy of that size; we need ground troops or even the Navy for this!”
“You’re all that we’ve got at the moment, Spare Two. Besides, don’t you have missiles and machine guns? Just keep shooting that thing until either backup arrives or it no longer poses a problem, got it?”
“Easier said than done, Bandog, but—well, here I go! Spare Two, engaging!”
A stream of missiles struck the Aji Dhaka with noticeable effect, dealing gaping wounds upon the creature’s torso. But as Count watched, the injuries quickly began to heal, visibly shrinking with each passing second even with more missiles and bombs from Spare Squadron finding their mark—if anything, their first salvo seemed to have only further agitated the mighty creature itself.
Its mouth opened, and a faint orange glow began to emerge from within—
“The dragon’s going to release its fire! Spare Squadron, evade!”
“Shit, moving! Spare Ten, get out of the blast zone!”
“Don’t tell me what to do, Spare Two! I’m already doing it, anyway!”
A significant portion of the skies above Esperanto were instantly bathed in dragonfire, incinerating anything caught in its path. Yet already the Aji Dhaka was on the move once again, moving to swat away the small aircrafts now harassing it like flies as it began to extend its wings and launch itself into the sky—
“Spare Fifteen, look out!”
“Holy Dust Mother! I can’t—”
With a sweep of its wings, the Aji Dhaka caught a MiG mid-maneuver, swatting it out of the sky as the beleaguered fighter was crushed in an instant and burst into an orange fireball—with visible horror, Bandog watched as the flaming wreckage of the first Osean fighter to be destroyed since the Transference itself crumbled and crashed into the valley below. The effect on Spare Squadron was instantaneous: in a matter of seconds, any sense of cohesion within the penal unit instantly disappeared.
“Ground to Bandog—we just saw one of your fighters go down! What the hell’s going on up there?!”
“We just lost one of our own guys to that thing! Shit, Spare Fifteen’s down!”
“Wait, that thing’s opening its mouth again—”
“Shit, Spare Twenty—evade!”
“It’s no good—we’re losing people too quickly! Retreat!”
“Retreat is not an option! Engage that creature or face punishment!”
“Don’t tell us what to do, guard dog! Woof, woof!”
Bandog snarled. “You’re actually fleeing from that hydra, Spare Squadron? Whatever happened to atoning for your crimes?”
“It’s not atoning if you’re just sending out people to be slaughtered, asshole! We’re not exactly capable of killing that hydra, and you know it!”
“Shut up! Turn around and shoot that thing down, now!”
“Wait a minute,” Count interjected, “what the hell’s that coming from my headset—”
A burst of feedback unexpectedly screeched through the squadron’s frequency, causing Bandog and the Spare pilots to wince in pain. Cursing, Bandog hastily reached for a dial and twisted it, speaking urgently onto his mic.
“Damn it! HQ, Ground, McKinsey, be advised: morale has collapsed and Spare Squadron is deserting the AO. We require additional reinforcements in order to defeat the creature, or we will be unable to defend Esperanto!”
“What?! How are those reprobates not doing their job, Bandog?! Have them turn around and re-engage that dragon, or I’ll have you flying out to shoot down that thing in a penal fighter yourself!”
“McKinsey, kindly maintain radio silence for a moment. Bandog, this is HQ—Ground has notified us of the situation in Esperanto regarding the Aji Dhaka, and we’re deploying an experimental unit to your AO shortly. ETA is—actually, stand by…she’s already patched herself to you right now—“
“Bandog, this is Captain Kei Nagase, callsign Edge. Have your fighters draw the Aji Dhaka away from Esperanto and head towards the following coordinates—you’ll have ten seconds to get clear afterwards as well.”
Bandog blinked in surprise, not expecting Kei Nagase of all people to be speaking to him on the radio. “Err…roger that, Edge. Spare Squadron, I’m sending a set of coordinates to your HUD—get the dragon to follow you to that place and get out before HQ does whatever they’re planning to do. Go!”
“Hey, wait a minute, was that—”
“Nagase? As in the poster girl for the OADF herself? I’ll be damned!”
“Well, at least I’m gonna die having heard her lovely voice, amiright?”
“Hell yeah!”
“Well,“ Champ barked, “you chumps heard the pretty lady—let’s go kill ourselves a dragon!”
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Closely pursuing the Aji Dhaka on an off-road vehicle from his homeland, Darkshield grinned to himself as the hydra made quick work of the Osean fighters above. At last, the mighty Annorials finally had a weapon capable of striking back at these Osean interlopers! Just wait until he returned to the homeland—with Philades in ruins and a revival beacon to boot, his superiors would surely reward him well for his efforts—
A blue light abruptly began to shine down from the heavens, illuminating the Aji Dhaka in bright azure glow. Around it, the air began to heat up—the vegetation within the valley began to shrivel and crispen, the very instruments aboard Darkshield’s car flickering and shuddering as the agent—having long avoided the warmer climes of Philades where a warm and sunny day at least a dozen times a year was an absolute certainty compared to Grameus—began to physically sweat for the first time in years. Peering out of a window, Darkshield frowned as he glanced upwards to see if he could spot the source of this unusual phenomenon.
His eyes caught sight of an angular object, barely visible to the naked eye—his eyes widened in confusion and surprise.
“What in the name of the Ancestors—”
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From outer space, a singular beam shot down enveloped the Aji Dhaka, slamming it onto the ground and shattering the surrounding hills and mountains in the span of a single second—yet the laser grew brighter and brighter, microwaving the entire valley and triggering a critical reaction of core magic as ancient sorcery was undone in an instant by raw light and the power of a small sun was focused upon a singular point in Elysia: another ancient weapon of the Ravernal Empire designed to strike fear upon the world—
A blue ball of plasma and light exploded and expanded outwards as shock waves reverberated throughout Esperanto, shattering windows and blasting wagons and vehicles alike—from Eshirant to Calamique to even November City within the Osean mainland itself, a faint seismic rumble announced the death of the terrible beast. From the castle at the centre of Esperanto, the King himself risked a glance as the light gradually faded and the near-apocalyptic shaking came to a halt.
“B-b-by the gods…”
Where a valley filled to the brim of monsters and demons once lay, a large crater glowed, its surface hot to the touch and mere degrees away from melting altogether—smoke billowed from within as debris and the crisp organic remains of the creature and its escorts began to rain down on the surrounding landscape. Recognizing the familiar shape of the blackened skeleton barely visible amidst the fires and devastation, Bandog nodded in approval.
“Edge, looks like whatever toy you’ve got there did its job. The Aji Dhaka is gone—and so’s the entire valley itself.”
“Well, at least we now know that the laser itself works at maximum capacity. Thanks for your cooperation, Bandog—and give my regards to the rest of you boys down there, too, out.”
“You’re welcome, Edge, out. Hear that, convicts? Looks like Kei Nagase herself likes you boys a lot, for some reason. Mission complete—there’s not a single living thing left for us here to kill; RTB.”
Cheers and catcalls echoed in the radio from every surviving member of Spare Squadron—more than a decade had passed since the Circum-Pacific War, yet the Nagases themselves were still universally considered nothing less than the most beautiful women in the entirety of Osea. From his cockpit, Count grinned to himself.
“Hey, who wants to bet any of us might have a chance with Kei Nagase herself?”
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
“In your dreams, Count—even I know that’s never gonna happen,” High Roller drily remarked. “How about we bet if we all get thrown into solitary for losing some of our planes against that hydra?”
“Now that’s something I’d be willing to bet my own money on! Twenty bucks says it’s Count for running his mouth off again!”
“Make that thirty! Damn moron asked for something bigger than blowing up demons, and we damn well got it!”
“Oh, for f—”
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Bright Hill, Oured, Osean Federation — December 27, 2019
“Remind me again, Lieutenant General—who exactly are the 444th Air Squadron?”
From his seat, Lieutenant General Shepherd shifted uncomfortably as he tried not to shrink before Vice Chairman Edwards’s disapproving expression. With news having spread about the situation in Esperanto, the officer had been summoned all the way to Bright Hill to personally explain the situation to one of the highest-ranking officials in the Osean armed forces—the man himself continued to stare expectedly at Shepherd, waiting for an explanation as to how the Osean Federation was now looking at its first major military losses since its arrival in Elysia.
“Sir, the 444th Air Squadron is a personal project run by Colonel David McKinsey—it’s his idea of recruiting military convicts with experience in flying aircraft to conduct missions on behalf of the conventional Osean military in return for commuted sentences. With the ongoing situation in Philades and the majority of our forces either conducting postwar operations or patrolling the East Coast, it was his belief that an additional penal unit would be essential to continue our standard peacekeeping operations even while the IUN’s busy in Eshirant.”
“And so you sent them to Esperanto to what was supposed to be a standard shock and awe operation on par with our Louria campaign—and they somehow managed to awaken a large dragon that required not just our first major casualties in Elysia but the premature deployment of our Arkbird? How do you explain that, when the situation with Nosgorath in literally the same region would have suggested at least some form of anti-monster armaments would have been necessary?!“
“At this point, sir, the only special weapons we have that are capable of dealing significant damage to monsters beyond conventional missiles and naval artillery are railguns and some experimental laser modules like that on the Arkbird—and even assuming we would even be able to train the pilots of the 444th to use such technology on such short notice, it would be a significant security risk and a violation of several military regulations to place such items aboard the aircraft of known military convicts in the first place.”
Clements glowered, “So it never actually occurred to you or McKinsey that judging by the number of missions within that particular area that ended up involving sizable creatures of considerable power, that more firepower would have been required, then?”
“Underestimating the potential scale of the monster threat was, admittedly, a failure on my and Colonel McKinsey’s part—even with Osea’s past history with Calamique and Topa, we didn’t believe that the situation would have escalated to the point that the Arkbird would have been required. It would be on par with sending a pair of police officers to somehow repel an entire Yuktobanian landing fleet on Sand Island—the 444th simply did not possess the skill, equipment, or manpower required to single-handedly eliminate the monster in comparison to their IUN counterparts. And even they had to rely on the assistance of the Navy to deal the final blow on both creatures in Calamique and Topa, mind you—if the 444th required additional support in order to complete its own missions, it would have ultimately defeated the whole point of deploying them as an auxiliary unit in the first place.”
The Vice Chairman sighed. “So what you’re saying is that the 444th was simply at the wrong place and at the wrong time?”
“Indeed, sir.”
“Very well—I hope you’ll be able to defend that position when the Legislature hauls you and McKinsey in for their subcommittees. Anyway, were we able to recover the crashed aircraft?”
Shepherd nodded, more than happy to steer the conversation away from Spare Squadron’s shortcomings as a unit. “It was one of the very first things the local IUN units accomplished as soon as the Aji Dhaka was confirmed to be dead. We’re in the process of shipping the remaining parts back to Sand Island—needless to say, the locals—or any other interested parties in Elysia willing to go all the way to Grameus, for that matter—won’t be able to examine our aircraft anytime soon.”
“And the creature itself? Anything of interest from what little of it was left?”
“Actually, there was something we found on the corpse that might be of interest—”
The Lieutenant General pulled out a briefcase from his coat and placed it on the table; opening it, he pulled out a series of photographs: a collar of unknown metallic composition the size of a tank, wrapped around the charred remains of the monster’s neck. A series of runes and alien text emitted a pale teal light, and a holographic console that a Milishial researcher was manipulating with visible horror. Clement’s eyebrows rose in surprise.
“So…we’re looking at a Ravernal weapon like Nosgorath?”
“It would appear to be the case, sir—that is, if we hadn’t found this as well—”
Another set of photographs was placed on the table: a scorched mainframe of what used to be a vehicle, with the skeletal remains of a humanlike figure inside. If not for the odd winglike frame on the skeleton’s back, it would have actually passed for another humanoid like the Elysians or even the Oseans themselves.
“Crap…do we know what happened to this person?”
“Based on where we found him in proximity to the creature, our John Doe was closely pursuing the monster on its rear when the Arkbird fired its experimental laser—our guess is that he likely got caught in the blast zone and was killed instantly. It would have been a case of collateral damage, if not for the fact that—”
Clement’s eyes widened as he saw the last photograph. “Wait, he was also in possession of a similar device?!”
“From our attempts to interface with both devices, we think that the individual was controlling the creature with the intent of using it on Esperanto. With the revival beacon we recovered from the Kingdom in mind, we think that it might have been what this individual was looking for—whoever this individual was, he was seeking to obtain and potentially use Ravernal weaponry. For what purpose, we’re still investigating, since…well, we can’t interview a corpse just yet, sir.”
“Do we have any more information about the individual itself? Possible identification, DNA samples, forensic observations? Maybe someone from Esperanto might be able to ID the poor bastard?”
Shepherd pulled out a stack of documents, carefully parsing through the contents as he handed them over to Clements. “The locals in Esperanto believe this person to be an individual named Darkshield—not the best of reputations considering he’s reportedly the man behind the whole situation in Esperanto, and a tad bit of a resemblance to the Ravernals of old. Our resident Milishial researcher in the IUN contingent believes he might be related to the Annorials—we have been detecting and observing some odd things over their part of Elysia as well, lately…”
“A possible third party interested in the Ravernals as well…” Clements sighed in frustration, already sensing a possible conflict of interests—at best—in the distant future. “We haven’t even established diplomatic relations with the Annorials just yet, and already we’re getting mixed signals from these people? Foreign Affairs might just be right about being careful…”
“It would corroborate with the devices we were able to recover from the downed Pal Chimera over in Eshirant—whoever these Annorials are, they’re already moving in response to our activities in Rodenius and Philades. It would seem that they don’t necessarily agree with our current administration’s ideas for unifying Elysia through peaceful means.”
Clements nodded agreeingly. “We’ll deal with them when their time comes. Alright, give the 444th their due reward for their actions and find McKinsey something appropriate—maybe a medal or some kind of commendation. Afterwards, have them deployed somewhere where we can keep a closer eye on them like Louria or Parpaldia—and stick to conventional air squadrons from now on when operating in Grameus. Bring in the Vulture carrier fleet from Calamique if you have to, is that clear?“
“Crystal, sir.”
“Now, is there anything else that needs to be brought up to the President?”
“Oh—we’ve received a radio message from the Gra Valkans, sir. They’re apparently requesting permission to attend the Peace Conference as an observer, and are also interested in formally establishing diplomatic relations with us as soon as they arrive.”
Clements’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Wait, they actually want to come to Selatapura? Do they have any details about their retinue or how exactly they’re heading here?”
“We managed to intercept a radio broadcast from Ragna yesterday, sir—around the same time that Ambassador Harling was taken hostage by the Parpaldians, the Gra Valkans apparently launched a major diplomatic tour of the Elysian superpowers with their First Conquest Fleet. I’m fairly certain a report was sent to both your and the President’s offices regarding that particular development, but the situation with Eshirant likely took precedence at that point.”
“And with Parpaldia out of the picture, they decided to make one last stop to the Osean Federation before heading back home.” The Vice Chairman groaned in thinly-veiled irritation, wearily massaging his temple with his free hand. “We’ve barely even finished dealing with the antics of one local superpower, and now we have to deal with these guys as well?”
“Sir, I know that the details about what happened during Operation Lighthouse Keeper are still heavily classified, but perhaps the actions of the Gra Valkans during that particular incident would suggest they’re a lot less likely to do something reckless like the Parpaldians would have done—that said, we are still dealing with the traditional mindset most of the locals still seem to have…”
Clements paused, pondering the choices available before him. To recommend refusing the Gra Valkans entry to the Conference despite the rather abrupt nature of their arrival would needlessly sour relations between the two nations and seem somewhat ungrateful, while to delay dealing with the First Conquest Fleet would only serve to kick the can down the road and potentially leave Gra Valkas out of what would likely be a pivotal moment in Elysia’s history—but would agreeing to being a willing recipient of gunboat diplomacy be any more different than sending the Kestrel II to establish first contact with Eshirant all those months ago, or simply let less powerful but no less arrogant powers attempt to wield their influence before Osea?
“What exactly are we looking at when we’re talking about the First Fleet? A standard carrier fleet, the Grade Alastar we’ve heard so much about?”
“Pretty much, sir. Here’s the latest satellite imagery we’ve managed to obtain when we last sighted them off the coast of the Marl Kingdom—they’ve definitely brought the Grade Alastar with them along, and at least the equivalent of two carrier fleets. Likely their version of demonstrating their own capabilities and the fact that they’re not really something to be going up in a fight against…”
Shaking his head, Clements decided to let the actual people in charge of diplomacy deal with the information in his hands—whatever they decided, it would be up to him to translate into tangible military action, after all. “All right, I’ll notify the President about the Gra Valkan delegation, and Jack’ll probably have the Foreign Affairs Department prepare something appropriate for the situation. Just keep an eye on that naval fleet as it heads towards us—the last thing we need at this point is something, or someone, crashing the party we’ve got planned back in Selatapura.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll inform our ISEV boys to continue their observation efforts, then.”
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Osean Broadcasting Corporation, Oured, Osean Federation — December 28, 2019
An IUN coalition of forces under the Osean Federation and the Kingdom of Topa formally established contact and diplomatic relations yesterday with a new nation in the Grameus continent: the Kingdom of Esperanto, believed to be descendants of a Topan expedition sent to the north to relieve Topa of demonic incursions.
Esperanto itself was on the brink of becoming overrun by a horde of demons when the IUN coalition arrived, resulting in a protracted military engagement that resulted in several casualties within the Osean armed forces. Reports on the release of several monsters on par with Nosgorath of Topa and Diobehemoth of Calamique being present have yet to be determined, but a Milishial diplomat in Oured believes that such claims might have merit to them:
“The Grameus continent was a former stronghold of the Ancient Sorcerous Empire during its reign of terror, so it wouldn’t be of much surprise that some of their ancient weapons would still be in storage within those desolate regions. That even Osean Heavenly Flying Ships would somehow be unable to bring them down without significant effort would be a cause for concern, though—perhaps the Holy Milishial Empire might be able to lend a hand?”
In other news, the Gra Valkas Empire’s First Conquest Fleet arrived in the Kingdom of Atlaras as part of Ragna’s diplomatic tour of Elysia. In a formal ceremony, the King and Princess of Altaras received delegates from Gra Valkas while their vessels refuelled for the next leg of their voyage in Elysia; as per previous hosts of the First Conquest Fleet throughout its voyage, Altaras formally opened diplomatic relations with Gra Valkas and gave the delegates a full tour of the ongoing reconstruction efforts in Le Brias before hosting a special dinner in the Royal Palace.
Due to the collapse of the Parpaldia Empire, its subsequent loss of its position as a so-called superpower, and the still-volatile situation pending the start of the Lighthouse Peace Conference, Ambassador Gesta, the head of the diplomatic team leading the First Conquest Fleet, confirmed that Gra Valkas would be postponing its visit of Eshirant “for the foreseeable future” and would instead be contacting the postwar government through other means “at a later date”. Instead, the First Conquest Fleet will be headed to the Qua-Toyne Principality before setting off to the Osean Federation itself—whether they will be staying to simply establish relations or to attend the upcoming Peace Conference has yet to be confirmed by either Gra Valkas or Osea, but a spokesperson from Bright Hill confirmed that the two nations are currently in talks regarding the upcoming visit.
In an official statement, the Osean Space Agency confirmed that the Arkbird is performing “as expected” and will be ready to conduct scientific research postponed since its predecessor’s destruction in the Circum-Pacific War over a decade ago…
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Outskirts of Redmill, Osean Federation — December 30, 2019
“—after pondering deeply the general trends of the world and the actual conditions obtaining in our Empire today, we have decided to effect settlement of the present situation resorting to an extraordinary measure—“
The countryside throughout the eastern provinces seemed vaguely harsher and rugged than the rest of Osea, Ambassador Mugei mused to himself as he and Captain Rubiso made their way to their destination: a rugged, semi-abandoned airfield that served as a scrapyard and a warehouse that also functioned as a small business in Osean aircraft.
Mugei shook his head as a nearby radio continued to broadcast Emperor Ludius’s surrender speech. “Still working to save face, the young fool…”
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“Excuse me, are you Avril Mead?”
A short-haired woman looked up from underneath the jet engine she was working on, frowning at the two men. “What? What do you boys want now? Hang on, you’re not one of Harling’s lackeys—“
Carefully extricating herself from underneath the aircraft, the Osean mechanic rose to her feet as she warily eyed the two Muans—Rubiso and Mugei did likewise, mentally refraining themselves from staring at the exposed skin along her shoulders and arms.
“Fancy clothes, but none of the snobbish attitude of the Parpaldians…no pointy ears, so not Milishial either…can’t remember who else exists out there nowadays…”
Mugei cleared his throat. “Ambassador Mugei of the Kingdom of Mu. This is Captain Andel Rubiso of the Royal Muan Air Corps—do you mind if we refer to you as Ms. Mead?”
“Avril will do perfectly fine—calling me Ms. Mead makes me sound like some kind of school teacher. Now, what business do you two have in these parts?”
“As you are no doubt aware, Mu was involved in the recent peacekeeping operation in Philades—in exchange for our country’s participation in the war against Parpaldia, your government agreed to hand over to us several decommissioned fighters alongside a few mothballed prototypes. We were interested in inquiring if it would be possible to acquire your services as a mechanic and a technical expert on these planes in particular.”
“What, you want to have me tune up the jets in the back for your people to fly back to your parts? Well,, that shouldn’t be too much trouble, for the right price, of course—“
“Actually, we would like you to come to Otatheit with us and our associates and operate your business in Mu.”
Avril paused. “Well…that’s…that would cost significantly more…”
Glancing at Mugei, who nodded back in response, Rubiso pressed forward. ”Respectfully, ma’am, we’re not planning on simply acquiring a few planes for our researchers and engineers to examine. The Muan government wants to modernise its air fleet in order to begin working towards Osea’s technical capabilities—or, at least for now, be capable of outfighting aircraft more powerful than even our own Marin fighters. We’re looking for mechanics, pilots, engineers—basically any individual with experience behind these aircraft to guide us on how to maintain and operate these planes for a long time.”
“You will be paid triple of what you regularly receive for your regular commissions, and all necessary expenses for transporting your business to Mu will be compensated by the Muan government,” Mugei added. “And, suffice it to say, you will be given equal treatment as given to all citizens of Mu for your services to our country.”
Regaining her composure, the mechanic frowned as she stared at the two Muans in suspicion. “All right, but why me? You’ve got General Resource running a research park about ten kilometres to the north from here, and Gründer’s more than capable of making anything you want from toasters to experimental aircraft—surely they haven’t approached you about providing the technology and knowhow you’ll need? You’d be definitely getting more value for money hiring them, their business practices notwithstanding.”
Mugei sighed. “You would be correct in your assumption, ma’am, but we’re also aware that General Resource and Gründer Industries have their own reputation. We’re not naive, ma’am—we desire individuals of expertise whom we can be sure aren’t also actively working for Osea or what other factions may also exist in these parts, and these other organisations simply can’t offer that guarantee.”
The woman simply smirked in response, crossing her arms as she leaned her head towards the Starfighter besider her. “So what if I turn out to be another spy, just like the likes of General Resource or Gründer? What makes you a good enough judge of character that a loner in the middle of nowhere somehow makes for a better mechanic than a cogboy from the most advanced companies in not just Osea, but arguably the rest of Elysia?”
“Simple,” Mugei replied, “quite simple—we’ve been given your personal file by the OIA.”
Avril’s smile was wiped in an instant. Rubiso simply grinned, throwing the mechanic’s smug expression right back at her.
“We are aware that your father died in combat during the last major armed conflict between Osea and the Union of Yuktobanian Republics, and that you’ve generally harboured a deep personal distrust of Ambassador Harling and the Osean government ever since—a bit unfair to view Vincent solely as responsible for your father’s death, in my opinion, although that’s neither here nor there—and that you’ve basically spent the vast majority of your life here, working on repairing and refurbishing seemingly unsalvageable fighters and abandoned experimental aircraft. There’s a record in the Osean Air Force logs where they intercepted a sixty-year-old decommissioned fighter that somehow performed in perfect condition and could even keep up with a pair of top-of-the-line Eagles sent to escort it back to the nearest air base—“
Rubiso whistled in approval.
“Ever since then, you’ve established a successful local business converting mothballed planes into recreational aircraft for both Osean airspace enthusiasts and the occasional Elysian tourist, and more than a few individuals from both this country and an assortment of nations within the First and Third Civilization Areas have been interested in acquiring your services for the betterment of their own national defence. There’s a nickname you’ve apparently given yourself, too—the ‘Scrap Queen’, I believe?”
The self-proclaimed Scrap Queen sighed, dropping her arms in defeat. “Fine. So what do you want—no, how is this going to go? You’re going to blackmail me into joining your air force and have Harling send some goons at me if I refuse to cooperate?”
“On the contrary, I’m here to give you an offer, in full acknowledgment of whatever views you may have of Osea and the skills you possess as a fighter mechanic and pilot—”
Rubiso abruptly chuckled, causing Mugei and Avril to look at him in surprise. “Look, Avril, let me put it this way: have you been directly involved in any military takeovers of a legitimate government? Actively conspired to undermine the affairs of a nation-state for a foreign power or your personal benefit like certain businesses and organisations we could mention?”
“Huh? I—no—”
“Then it’s simple—you’re not in trouble for your actions, regardless of your own beliefs about us or Osea in general. Let me put it this way: if you don’t wish to join us, then we’ll leave you alone and no one from either Otatheit or Oured will bother you for as long as you desire. Or, alternatively, you could come and help us ensure the freedom of my people for at least another generation—if you want money and riches in exchange, we can offer that; if it’s fame and recognition in Elysia you want, we can offer that as well; if it’s something as simple as not having to ever step foot in Osea again for the foreseeable future, then, well…”
The captain shrugged, the implications of his statement all but obvious to the target of his persuasions. Avril glanced around, carefully looking at the individual corners of the workshop with what seemed to be an unexpectedly nostalgic expression.
“My family lived and worked in these rooms for the last four generations…it’ll be the last time a Mead ever comes here to fly a plane…”
Mugei and Rubiso were silent, awaiting the Scrap Queen’s response.
“My grandfather told me when I was a child that his kind would soon disappear—many fighters here in Osea don’t even use pilots anymore, do you know that?”
The Muans blinked, a combination of mild confusion and shock at that particular revelation—the Oseans were somehow able to manipulate fully armed aircraft as the mechanical equivalent of magical familiars? Avril shook her head, ignoring their perturbed expressions as she continued.
“I’ve seen the aircraft you Muans use—my great-grandfather used to fly planes like those back in his day. You’re going to have to cover a lot of things if you’re planning on using and maintaining anything even close to the old planes I’ve got in the back—are you and your fellow pilots willing to do your best to bridge that gap?”
“For the safety and freedom of our people—even if it takes us four generations to get from where we are to where your nation currently is—we must.”
“Alright.” Avril suddenly smirked again, extending her hand forward to Mugei. “I can’t give you the equipment and components of Gründer or the piloting skills of the Razgriz, but I can give your flyboys and cowboys the basic concept of how to keep my planes running and not crashing onto the ground. Will that be enough, Ambassador?”
Mugei nodded in satisfaction, reaching to shake the Scrap Queen’s hand. “More than we could ask for. On behalf of the Kingdom of Mu, welcome to the Royal Muan Air Corps.”
Noticing something in the periphery of her vision, Avril turned to Rubiso—her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “See anything you like, flyboy?”
The Muan felt the blood rushing to his face, his eyes averting once more from her bare shoulders. “No—no, ma’am.”
----------------------------------------
“Mayday, mayday, mayday! This is the Grade Alastar to anyone who can read us—we are under attack by sea creatures! To anyone who can hear us, we are being attacked by a giant sea monster and are taking heavy casualties—“
“This is the IUN Lighthouse Division to Grade Alastar: we read you, loud and clear. Hang on tight, we’re coming in to help!”