Cent. Calendar 04/03/1640, Royal Castle, Le Brias, Altaras, 9:00

  “Urk!”

  Violent coughs echo throughout the stone halls, disturbing even the dust on long-unchanged drapes dangling still from the walls. For every clack of the thick leather soles of General Kainarka’s shoes, a louder wheeze superimposed on it. The old general, the venerable Chief of Staff of the Royal Altaran Army, loosened the buttons on his collar to get more room to breathe. For the better part of the past three months—most of the war, essentially—he had been bedridden with fever, a runny sinus, and a bad cough. His deputy chief of staff had filled in for him, but now that his fever had gotten better, he was back on his feet.

  His first order of business since organizing the defense during the outbreak was personally delivering the counteroffensive plans, meticulously drawn up by his subordinates in a last-ditch effort to break the Parpaldian tempo and reverse their situation, for King Taara’s approval. Ever since the fall of Kagis, the King had given his express approval to most actions the military would enact, giving them free rein over resources and manpower. But the counteroffensive entailed going against the King’s previous orders of concentrating defense around the capital, hence the commanders’ wanting to get the King’s explicit approval.

  As he was nearing the King’s study, he felt a surge of pain in his chest. He clutched his chest with his hands out of reflex, dropping the papers detailing the counteroffensive down on the floor. Then, a series of coughs.

  “Koff koff!”

  The royal guardsmen posted next to the King’s study saw the old general clutch his chest and heard the papers drop and his coughing. They broke posture and went to help him.

  “Are you alright, sir?!”

  One of the guardsmen walks up to Kainarka to assist him while the other picks up the papers scattered on the floor.

  “I’m quite alright, thank you...”

  Kainarka politely refuses the guardsman as he takes the papers the other guardsman picked up. As he continues to walk toward the King’s study, the guardsmen stop him, however.

  “Wait, General! What’s your business with His Majesty?”

  “My... business?”

  Kainarka turned around, letting out a soft cough under his free hand.

  “I’m here to see His Majesty for his explicit approval on a matter of utmost importance. The fate of the kingdom lies with this operation!”

  The old general proudly declared in his raspy voice. The guardsmen, however, didn’t look impressed.

  “Our apologies, sir, but His Majesty isn’t expecting an appointment with anyone at the moment.”

  “That’ll be fine. His Majesty will understand.”

  Shrugging them off, Kainarka turned back around and continued toward the study, but the guardsmen stopped him short of the doors.

  “No, sir, you cannot see His Majesty.”

  “And why not, dammit?!”

  Kainarka roared. He may have been an old man with a minor limp and a cough, but he had the airs of a high-ranking general. The guardsmen, however, were unfazed.

  “His Majesty is currently preoccupied with business elsewhere.”

  “Elsewhere?! His Majesty is not here?!”

  His eyes widened in disbelief. How can the King be “elsewhere”? They were in the middle of a war, and the Army’s command structure and apparatus were located underneath the Royal Castle, so the King didn’t need to go anywhere outside the well-defended walls and moat. The government ministers have also been designated to meet, whether with themselves or with the King in attendance, inside the castle walls. The Parpaldian battle lines essentially locked them out from the rest of the island, and their naval dominance meant that they couldn’t even get out from Le Brias. In summary, the King had nowhere he needed to be. What else could the King be doing so important that he had to be outside the Royal Castle?

  Kainarka’s mind immediately went about casting suspicion on the royal guardsmen. Perhaps the King was present, but for some damned reason, they weren’t allowing anyone to see him. Was it a plot against him? Against them? He heard about what had happened the past few months and how his commanders had been at odds with His Majesty, but surely it hadn’t gotten that bad.

  However, his suspicions were immediately cast aside by what the guardsmen said next.

  “Yes, sir. His Majesty is currently at the airfield. I’m afraid we aren’t in the position to be sharing this, but since you’re the Army Chief of Staff, we believe you deserve to know...”

  As he listened to what the guardsmen had to say about the King’s business, the look on the general’s face turned from doubt to horror.

  King Taara XIII Airfield

  To the north of the main city of Le Brias and its urban sprawl was the King Taara XIII Airfield. Built by a Muish contractor under the orders of the previous king and its namesake, Taara XIII, the airfield serves as the primary aerodrome of not only Le Brias but the greater region as well. It competes directly with Esthirant Airfield for air traffic connecting the First and Second Civilized Regions to Sios and, as of late, Japan. However, with the war freezing all flights, the airfield has turned into a massive evacuation zone.

  Gigantic evacuation camps populated by foreigners and Altarans alike sprawl over the wide open expanse of the airfield, occupying most spaces the singular runway doesn’t. The ruins of the military base, which housed both the Altaran aircraft fleet and wyvern corps, which has since moved to a smaller airfield to the north, were given to the foreign diplomatic missions still present in the country to manage their respective citizens’ evacuation. The missions of the Muish, Mirishial, Japanese, Siosan, Rieman, Centralian, and other countries were crammed inside the hangar, their reception desks and office spaces in close proximity to one another. Information about their occupation of the former military base was communicated to both the Altaran and Parpaldian militaries to prevent them from targeting it, but they’ve posted their countries' flags all across the military base, in addition to painting the hangar with a large Lamp symbol for visibility from above.

  Outside, a row of gigantic aircraft is parked along the apron, receiving evacuees by the minute to be flown out of Altaras. The Muish had their massive bomber-like piston-engine passenger planes and the Japanese with their streamlined, hawk-shaped C-2 cargo plane. The noise of jet and piston engines reverberated all across the airfield, keeping every soul who could hear it at the edge as much as the war did.

  Today seemed like any other day; the diplomatic missions would be processing evacuees, handling complaints from both their citizens and the Altarans, and locking down the facility when the inevitable sirens sounded and the Parpaldians flew their probing raids. However, the Muish, Mirishial, and Japanese chiefs of the diplomatic mission all received a heads-up that morning: the King of Altaras was requesting to meet with them. Out of nowhere, the sovereign of the kingdom they were in—that King Taara XIV—had shown up at the airfield requesting to meet with all three chiefs. They all felt a chill run down their spine as they steeled themselves for the meeting and then wondered what business His Majesty had for them.

  The base’s briefing room—a small room with chairs, a desk, and a chalkboard—was hurriedly cleaned and repurposed as a makeshift meeting room to accept His Majesty. The three chiefs and their secretaries occupied the room before King Taara was allowed in. Both sides exchanged greetings under the dusty, flickering light before sitting down on rugged wooden chairs around a high steel table.

  “Now, may we ask Your Majesty what business you have with us?”

  The Muish chief opened the discussion in Asheran common. All their secretaries, including His Majesty’s, promptly started taking down notes.

  Without uttering a word, King Taara turned to look at one of his aides, who was carrying a leather briefcase. The aide promptly opened the case, took out a set of neatly arranged papers, and handed them to the King with a bow. The King then placed the papers down on the steel table.

  “I present to you a proposal.” He curtly said in Asheran common before crossing his legs and leaning back on his chair.

  Setting aside the King’s rude posture, the three chiefs leaned in close to examine the proposal, which appeared to have only a single copy. However, they didn’t need to read it in detail; on the topmost page, written in the Asheran common script, was the word for “CEASEFIRE.”

  As soon as they recognized the word, all three chiefs’ eyes widened in horror and the drops of sweat on their backs turned ice cold. They turned to look at one another, finding solace in seeing that all of them found the proposal dubious at best, alarming at worst. While the King looked on with expectant yet seemingly apathetic eyes, the three took turns perusing the document.

  Caution may have been too weak of a word—what actually went through their minds was that they didn’t trust the King enough with this ceasefire proposal. This was the same Taara who pressured Sios into pressing sanctions against Parpaldia by sending gunboats to fire blanks at Messina. He was eccentric and a wildcard, and if HUMINT/RUMINT was to be believed, he was responsible for questionable military decisions that ended up relinquishing what should’ve been key Altaran advantages to the Parpaldians. Going back to the anti-Parpaldian rhetoric he had been pushing for years, not to mention the period leading up to the war from the granary explosion, they had enough to doubt that the King suddenly had a change of heart and was pushing for a ceasefire to negotiate a peace settlement.

  Sure enough, their suspicions proved more credible: nowhere in the documents was it mentioned that they would negotiate a possible peace settlement to end the war. Instead, the documents outline that the ceasefire’s primary objective was for “humanitarian reasons”—the inflow of aid into besieged Le Brias, the deployment of Lamp aid workers to assist the sick and wounded, and the evacuation of civilians and foreigners still trapped in the battlefield. Noble goals on paper and a ceasefire were indeed necessary for these to happen, but the lack of any roadmap to peace, not to mention control measures and incentives to uphold the ceasefire, were damning points that were missing.

  The Muish and Mirishial chiefs, having nothing to lose from opting out of this agreement, signaled their intent to the Japanese chief, who seemed to be more conducive to pursuing it.

  “I think the intent is here. It just needs more concrete measures of enforcement and a roadmap to ending the war and establishing enduring peace.” The Japanese chief explained his position to the others.

  Unlike the URDM and HME, Japan is currently under severe economic pressure. Japan, having cornered every exploitable niche in the regional market (much to the region’s expense), needs exponentially more than what the region offered just to survive. Trade and resource exploitation deals with Parpaldia, Altaras, and the Northern Alliance are either frozen or deadlocked because of the war in Altaras, not to mention the ongoing famine in North Philades, so it has every incentive to look West for trade. However, it cannot hope to establish lines of trade if the Altarans and the Parpaldians continue to duke it out. Japan absolutely needs peace in the region, and if settling this ceasefire would get them closer to it, then so be it.

  The Muish and Mirishial chiefs understood the Japanese position, but given Taara’s unspoken reputation, they knew that there was a risk it would blow up in their face. Then, of course, there was their governments’ view on Japan: given everything they knew so far about the country, coupled with the threatening position the Gra Valkas Empire now held to the West, Japan held an astronomical amount of potential as a military and economic ally. With advanced technology and military but with a rather timid disposition, a hungry economy that’s starved of customers, and a willingness to play nice in the current Asheran world order, Japan was the perfect country to get on their side.

  If Japan decides to pursue this ceasefire, they could at least back them, but still maintain some level of ambiguity in support should their suspicions about its authenticity prove true.

  Earning the tacit support of the other chiefs, the Japanese chief turned his attention back to King Taara.

  “We will look into this ceasefire proposal. We will contact you once we have a consensus.”

  Official Residence of the Prime Minister, Tokyo, Japan, 16:15

  The diplomatic mission in Le Brias, using whatever elementary radio communication they had, transmitted King Taara’s ceasefire terms to the embassy in Esthirant, which had better communications infrastructure. The terms were transmitted to the new foreign ministry extension office in Naha, which then relayed the terms all the way to Kasumigaseki in Tokyo.

  The terms—notwithstanding the idea of a ceasefire itself—sounded alarm bells at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. They advised the National Security Advisor (NSA) Asada to arrange an emergency meeting of the National Security Council (NSC)—a rather common occurrence nowadays. Cabinet members of the NSC and officials from MoFA and the JSDF descended on the Prime Minister’s residence and gathered in the conference room, convening the meeting at four in the afternoon.

  After a brief overview of the terms and possible implications by MoFa and the NSA, they turned to the man at the head of the table for his response. The old man, Prime Minister Takamori Hideaki, was advanced in age, but his passive-aggressive glare at the presentation and his sagging face evoked doubts from the NSC that he may have gotten a whole decade older in the last year since the transfer event. A couple of seconds passed, and the old man clicked his tongue out loud.

  “What kind of useless terms are these?”

  He exclaimed, slamming his hand on the copies of King Taara’s ceasefire terms. His concerns were largely the same as the Japanese diplomat who first laid their eyes on the document.

  “Ahem!...”

  A forced cough came from the direction of the Minister of Defense, Okada. She sniped a couple of glances at Takamori, making eye contact on a couple of occasions. The cue was more than enough for Takamori to set himself straight. After all...

  “Right. Excuse me for the outburst.”

  The prime minister muttered, his bravado tamed. The other ministers looked on with exasperated faces.

  It was a closed-door meeting between members of the NSC, so there was no need to keep appearances. There were no media members, pesky journalists who get up in their faces, and no sudden queries from bullheaded non-Kisha Club members—this was a space where they could afford to look a bit more frustrated and air more candid thoughts. But the NSC members were mostly made up of his own Cabinet, which were also made of his appointees. They were members of the Liberal Democratic Party, yes, but an agreement made before the transfer ensured that some of these members were from internal factions different from Takamori’s.

  Their grave faces struck daggers into the composition of the usually bullish Takamori. He could recall the phone call they had with other faction leaders the other day.

  “Conditions in the country and in the political space are rapidly deteriorating. There is an uptick in polarizing rhetoric.”

  “We’re seeing a recent surge in outpouring of support for... undesirable elements. Our constituents are frightened.”

  “We had an agreement that we’ll maintain the current power alignment for the sake of stability, but if trends continue, we will lose our majority.”

  They didn’t need to point it out, but Takamori knew what they were saying: “Your actions are rocking the boat! Stop it!” This phone call, along with provisionary US leader Francis Woods and the Cabinet Intelligence and Research Office (CIRO)’s warnings about dissent brewing among the (Earth) foreign population, made him feel as if he were sitting right on top of a powder keg.

  His attempts to get out of it had set the fuse alight. It was up to him to control himself and stop it.

  Returning to the topic at hand, Takamori turned to the Chief of Staff, Joint Staff.

  “What’s the military situation in Altaras? Are the conditions suitable for a ceasefire?”

  The Chief of Staff turned to an aide and handed him a flash drive. The aide promptly went to the computer connected to the projector and loaded up a file to flash. The projector cast an image of a map of the Altaras capital peninsula, complete with symbols denoting the positions of major Altaran and Parpaldian units. Looking closer, there were some minor edits, notes, and annotations that made it look as if the map wasn’t ready to be presented.

  “My apologies for the crudeness. This was supposed to be for JSDF internal use only, but I will need it to explain.”

  Clearing his throat, the Chief of Staff proceeded to answer the Prime Minister’s question.

  “The current military situation on the ground does not look suitable for a ceasefire. It remains bleak for Altaras as Parpaldian Imperial Army units continuously push toward Le Brias. To their credit, the extensive urban sprawl of Le Brias and surrounding towns means that the more the Parpaldians advance, the harder it is for them to fight the defending Altarans. Consequently, this has resulted in a slowed advance for Parpaldia; in the last week, they’ve only managed to advance their frontline by 3km. Nevertheless, it is still an advance, and they continue to maintain the initiative.”

  “So the Parpaldians are still gaining ground? Doesn’t that mean a ceasefire would be counterproductive?”

  “Indeed, but the Parpaldians’ steady advance isn’t the only reason why I believe a ceasefire isn’t feasible. Our intelligence on the ground is almost non-existent, but data from reconnaissance flights has given us reason to believe the Altarans are planning a counteroffensive.”

  The Chief of Staff motioned his aide to show a photo from the drive. The photo showed an aerial view of a train station south of Le Brias. On the opposite side of the tracks to the station building was a rail cargo hub, which had a lot of multi-car trains carrying what appeared to be large-caliber guns, ammunition, and rudimentary armored vehicles.

  “We have identified this rail hub to have ferried reinforcements of men and munitions to the frontline to the south since the start of the war. In the last week, activity has visibly increased: more trains destined for the frontlines have parked here, more supplies and heavy weapons have been identified, and so on. Furthermore, this is not the only place with notable buildup.”

  The aide loaded more aerial images of train stations, base camps, and public spaces, such as parks close to the frontline that were repurposed into barracks. The sample of data they had was indicative of a force buildup before an offensive.

  Takamori exhaled in a subtle chuckle.

  “So, His Majesty proposes a ceasefire amid a looming counteroffensive.”

  Due to their non-existent intelligence presence in Altaras, they had no way of knowing that King Taara had not been communicating with his military commanders, who had separately planned a counteroffensive. Just looking at the data alone didn’t indicate malicious intent, but considering the King’s character...

  This was Asada and Okada’s train of thought when they spoke up next.

  “I strongly advise against supporting this ceasefire, Prime Minister. Even if we can propose modifications and addenda to the terms that would make it more binding and enforceable, we have no feasible means of preventing Parpaldia or Altaras from breaking it,” asserted Asada.

  “Besides the fact that our resources are limited, a JSDF peacekeeping contingent similar to Iraq and Cambodia cannot adequately defend itself in the event the ceasefire is broken. The small space they will have to operate in and the large number of belligerent troops present mean we cannot guarantee our personnel’s safety without resorting to a larger intervention force,” added Okada.

  These were good points raised by the NSA and MoD, but Takamori also wanted to hear a different perspective. His eyes turned toward the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Agano. The typically resigned foreign minister, the type of man who you’d sometimes catch detached from meetings, had a stern look in his pupils looking back into Takamori’s eyes. It was clear he had a lot of things to say.

  “You have something to add, Agano?”

  He threw him a bone—nay, the stage. Agano took it without hesitation.

  “I do not disagree with the MoD or the NSA in doubting the character of the proponent, but I believe we have something we can work with here...”

  He readjusted his pose, turning his torso to face Takamori.

  “The humanitarian reasons for this ceasefire can be utilized to our advantage. Providing aid is a politically sound motivation, both in convincing the Diet and the people and the international community. According to correspondence with our chief on the ground, the Mirishials and the Muish have expressed doubts. More than their suspicion of Taara, it’s not a stretch to think that they are also dubious of our commitment; we bowed out of the multinational commitment to enforce an exclusion zone around Altaras, after all. By taking center stage with the ceasefire, we can earn back their trust, which can aid us in future negotiations with them to open formal economic and diplomatic relations.”

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Agano took a sip of water before continuing.

  “Taking center stage with the ceasefire also allows us to have heavier leverage in the final ceasefire document. I agree that the current draft—if you can even call it that—is half-baked and filled with holes, but we can use our position to make it more binding for all parties. Then there’s the humanitarian situation in Altaras...”

  He motioned to an aide behind him, who promptly handed him a document from a briefcase. Agano took a couple of seconds to read through it before resuming.

  “The embassy in Esthirant and the mission still present in Altaras have compiled a list of Japanese nationals still stuck in Altaras. They are individuals they have not been able to contact since war broke out, or have lost contact after the fact and have since been unable to reach. The list is 200 individuals long, and while most are Japanese and foreign volunteers with the Red Cross, we have 50 individuals from three science missions under MEXT and MoFA mandate.”

  Asada and Okada’s faces darkened upon hearing this. The Minister of Education, Culture, Sports, Science and Technology has brought up the issue of the researchers before, but since they couldn’t commit to any rescue operation, the issue has been left as it is. Their opinions about the ceasefire didn’t change, but they appeared to be a bit more partial to its merits.

  Takamori stared on, biting his lips in thought. He believed that the ceasefire was doomed to be broken. The situation, while far from a complete mirror, reminded him of conflicts in the Middle East and Africa back on Earth. It didn’t help that the Parpaldians were hell-bent on pressing their advantage and that King Taara was a character who couldn’t be trusted. Agano had a point; they could take center stage with the ceasefire and maneuver it to a state where the likelihood of it being broken would be minimized. However, the fallout from it being broken, should they take center stage, would be tremendous. They’d lose trust and prestige abroad and at home, and Japan was in a precarious state in both arenas.

  Still, the diplomatic benefits of pursuing the idea are good in themselves. Not to mention that 200 of their people are stuck in a warzone, and with the JSDF unable to deploy, using the ceasefire to deploy foreign aid and troops to pull their people out is the next best thing.

  With a heavy sigh, Takamori resolutely commits to the process.

  “We’ll pursue the ceasefire, but not in this current form. Contact Le Brias; we’ll need to iron it out.”

  The members of the National Security Council nodded. Agano, confused, raised his hand.

  “What about the Parpaldians?”

  “Sorry?”

  “Apparently, Le Brias hasn’t given them the draft yet; it was our embassy in Esthirant that informed the Imperial Palace.”

  “What the hell?” was perhaps the collective response of the people present in the room. Asada and Okada buried their faces in their palms while the Joint Staff aired out exasperated sighs and scoffs; Takamori slammed his fist onto the table in annoyance.

  “Tell them we have a draft from King Taara himself! Convince them however you can to get them to listen!”

  Agano nodded in acknowledgment. Takamori scratched his head as he gritted his teeth.

  “These... children, for goodness’ sake!”

  Cent. Calendar 06/03/1640, Imperial Palace, Esthirant, Parpaldia, 10:00

  The Parpaldians were informed by the Japanese embassy in Esthirant that King Taara XIV approached them with a ceasefire proposal. At first, the Parpaldians, represented by Third Foreign Secretary Kaios, thought that they weren’t serious, but the Muish and Mirishial ambassadors descended on the First Foreign Office and convinced Secretary Elto. His Majesty, Emperor Ludius, was subsequently informed, and he called for a session to discuss the ceasefire proposal. Two days later, the Japanese embassy gave them the latest draft, and the session was held at the Imperial Palace.

  The session was attended by Emperor Ludius, his advisors, the various arms of the imperial cabinet, the War Department, the military, and a special Senate committee confirmed by the Imperial Senate to assist in the negotiations.

  As the Emperor took his seat at the head of the chamber, he motioned to all the members present to take their seats. The sound of dozens of heavy wooden chairs sliding against the ornate marble floors took only a second, but their reverberations against the solid gold fixtures and ornately decorated pillars continued for some time after.

  “Let us open this session with haste so that we may be finished in good time.”

  Ludius’s voice thundered across the hall, declaring the session open. At once, Kaios stood up with a document in his hand. He turned to the Emperor and bowed before speaking.

  “Your Majesty, I present to you the ceasefire proposal presented by King Taara XIV of Altaras with amendments from Japan.”

  He proceeded to read the document in full. The bones of the document were still present; the ceasefire will be for a humanitarian purpose—the evacuation of foreign nationals still in Altaras and the allowance of Lamp aid workers to tend to wounded civilian populations. However, the Japanese added a new purpose: the ceasefire would only serve as a temporary measure, and negotiations for a lasting Parpaldian-Altaran peace would commence, which would be held in Sios. The Japanese also added that a multinational foreign peacekeeping corps and military observers would be deployed to enforce a new ceasefire boundary with provisions for a demilitarized zone.

  As Kaios outlined each article and clause in the ceasefire proposal, the aides and secretaries of the attendants took notes. The bigwigs, however, look displeased—visibly perturbed, even—at the contents of the proposal. They were already somewhat against the idea of a ceasefire, but the heavy-handedness of the terms made it untenable in contrast to their current military advantages. If the military and War Department’s estimates are to be believed, the Army will breach the Le Brias inner perimeter in a couple of weeks. In that time, which will likely be the amount of time they’ll haggle back and forth regarding the ceasefire provisions, they can easily bypass all of the hassles and nab the kingdom for themselves. In any scenario with a ceasefire, they will come out at a disadvantage.

  Once Kaios had finished reading the ceasefire proposal and sat back down, attention turned to Emperor Ludius. Silence gripped the chamber as they awaited his response. Then, his lips parted.

  “I’m privy to knowledge that the Muish are reconsidering the proposal in the wake of Japan’s support.”

  The foreign affairs department/s did not budge from this statement, but the other attendees looked at one another with concerned expressions.

  “Uevareth (the Mirishial Emperor) has assured us that they have no such plans, but if the Muish come out in support, there is a high chance the Mirishials will fold. Considering the state of the empire and the war, I am not against such an idea.”

  Concerned expressions turned to hushes. The common sentiment among the attendees was to continue the war, or if they weren’t supportive of the war, then they were against the idea of a ceasefire. Only the head of the senate committee, Senator Percival Eusebio, and the lord of the treasury seemed to agree with Ludius’s leanings.

  The war may be going militarily well for Parpaldia, but it was a massive, rapidly widening hole in the imperial coffers and a drag on the economy. International trade, particularly with the Muish and their allies, had all but ceased, and they were forced to rely on trade with the Mirishials and their allies. However, while they held considerable economic sway over the mana-sensitive material-dependent states of the Central continent, trade was a two-way street; since the Mirishials and their allies were the largest buyers, they too could haggle with the Parpaldians to lower the price, which significantly hurt Parpaldia’s bottom line. This loss in revenue forced the Treasury and the Bank of Parpaldia to raise interest rates and taxes, causing inflation to pick up. Domestic production had been subsidized since before the war to develop local industries (an early form of import substitution), but subpar standards and the entry of Japanese goods mean that they haven’t been able to keep up.

  Ending the war would help reverse their fortunes here, and the ceasefire was a step toward that, but it was dubious that their primary war objective of Altaran subjugation would be accepted in any form by Mirishial, Mu, or Japan.

  The attendees were swift to form a coalition of opinions against the ceasefire, but before they could air their disagreement to the Emperor, the commanding voice of another figure silenced them.

  “Now, now!”

  Their attention fell on one of their fellow attendees, Senator Percival Eusebio, head of the special Senate Committee designated to assist in the ceasefire negotiations. A man in his late 50s with a clean dome and an impressive mustache, his eyes were well known for their capacity to switch between a killer glare and an amiable gaze. But beyond his personal character, the senator was known for his past: he was the Army Chief of Staff, an instrumental ally to Ludius during his ascent to power, and the figure who notably united the Army, Navy, and Wyvern Corps—usually distinct in character and prone to infighting—in pushing for the modernization of the military. For this, he had many friends among the Navy brass and is still popular among the Army; mass media nicknamed him “General Parpaldia” for helping broker the Leiforian-Parpaldian agreement that provided them with modern battleships.

  Once everyone’s attention was on him, Percival “General Parpaldia” Eusebio gave his piece on the matter.

  “I hear your thoughts, and I agree that the war must go on, but the ceasefire isn’t necessarily going to stop that.”

  The attendees were confused about what he meant, but they had to wait for him to light a cigar and inhale a puff before he continued.

  “The same reason that we all believe that a ceasefire isn’t tenable in the first place—that mad king being as trustworthy as a whore confessing her feelings for you—is precisely why it is opportune for us to take it!”

  This didn’t dispel their confusion, so First Foreign Secretary Elto pressed for an explanation.

  “How exactly, Mr. Eusebio, does King Taara’s dubious personality make the ceasefire advantageous for us?”

  “Oh, he’ll break it, trust me,” Percival replied before Elto even finished.

  “And how—...Oh.”

  Just then, it clicked for her; Third Foreign Secretary Kaios, unsure about which side to support, now looked like he was also convinced by Percival’s argument.

  “Now you get it.”

  Letting out a puff of nicotine-rich smoke, Percival explained his position.

  “By breaking the ceasefire, he’ll show the world how much of a bumbling idiot he is. If Messina didn’t convince them, the Sios ceasefire will. After that, no one will trust him or his government for as long as he sits on the throne. Meanwhile, we cooperative Parpaldians, having agreed to the ceasefire and supported it, will get support because we’re the ‘victim.’”

  The attendees’ eyes widened in realization. To hammer the point further, Percival pointed to the War Department.

  “And he’ll break it, I assure you! Isn’t that right?”

  The Secretary of War glanced at the military chiefs of staff before replying.

  “A-Absolutely, sir! Intelligence and battlefield reconnaissance show military buildup for the past few weeks, suggesting a counteroffensive in the near future.”

  The War Secretary’s statement was the final nail in the coffin of the anti-ceasefire opinion. From the Foreign Secretaries to the chair of the Imperial Communications Office to Emperor Ludius’s advisors—themselves imperial family members—they all looked convinced of Percival’s viewpoint. But he was by no means done.

  “A side-effect of this that I’d like to add is that once the ceasefire falls apart, its primary supporter will also face incredible scrutiny.”

  Percival declared with a subtle smirk as he put the cigar back on his lips.

  He need not name the “primary supporter,” but everyone in the chamber knew who it was. There was no shortage of people amongst the government and the imperial family who backed closer ties with a clearly technologically superior power, but one that was too timid militarily and more open to pursuing economic ties.

  However, Percival belonged to the camp that believed that this power was a hindrance to total and rightful Parpaldian hegemony over the Third Civilized Region. Unlike other proponents, though, he was pragmatic; from the moment the War Department’s report on the Jin-Hark incident and the botched Lourian invasion of Qua-Toyne was released, he understood that Parpaldia didn’t stand a chance militarily. If it took them miracles and Altaran incompetency to gain the advantage over Altaras, a peer power, it would take divine intervention to smite Japanese military power. General Parpaldia thus concluded that they must be dealt with without going to war.

  “Hmmm.”

  The Emperor spoke, his eyes closed as thoughts swirled in his mind. Silence fell upon the chamber once more as they awaited his statement.

  Everybody knew that the once fiery Emperor Ludius had become a moderate when it came to balancing the empire’s position abroad. Wiping Altaras off the map had always been the objective, and it was part of Ludius’s rhetoric even during the time of his father. However, King Taara’s reckless diplomacy, the realignment of the Asheran international concert to the West, and Japan’s sudden appearance disrupting their geopolitical arena had all seemed to humble him. This recent trend has started unsettling many of his supporters and rekindling his opponents’ spirits, but for now, things are relatively stable. The Emperor’s word was final and remains unchallenged.

  “We will support the ceasefire.” The Emperor declared with finality.

  The attendees all stood up in unison and reciprocated the Emperor’s declaration with applause. However, it was unlike the thunderous roar in the Senate when war was declared; while everybody was convinced of the ceasefire’s benefits, there were minor misgivings about what the future held.

  Cent. Calendar 09/03/1640, King Taara XIII Airfield, Le Brias, Altaras, 14:44

  It has been three days since ceasefire negotiations commenced in Sios between Parpaldia and Altaras. Goodwill gestures were extended from all parties; Parpaldia and Altaras agreed to limit military maneuvers in the intervening period, while a limited number of Muish, Mirishial, and Japanese aid workers were deployed to begin relief efforts in affected areas in Altaras.

  Meanwhile, evacuation efforts continued, primarily from the King Taara XIII Airfield. The usual roar of loud Muish piston engines and the ominous hum produced by their propellers was substituted this time by the piercing shrieks of a Japan Air Self-Defense Force C-2’s turbofan engines.

  “COMET17, radio check”

  “Loud and clear.”

  The provisionary JSDF air traffic controller at the airfield tower contacted the taxiing C-2 COMET17, initiating the takeoff procedure. The Japanese haven’t studied or matched their protocols to Altaran or Asheran air traffic protocols, so in lieu of a special request they were able to bring their own mobile ATC equipment.

  “COMET 17, wind calm, runway 5, cleared for takeoff.”

  “Cleared for takeoff runway 5, COMET17.”

  The comparatively massive aircraft slid along the leveled dirt taxiway, its spacious hold filled with Japanese and other foreign individuals who wanted to evacuate from the war-torn country. The plane made one final turn, aligning its nose with the long, unpaved runway that stretched for about a kilometer. The pilots made one last check of the instruments.

  The three-man Japanese air traffic control crew at the airport tower sat back in near boredom as the C-2’s engines roared louder and louder. One of the ATC crew, having been at the post for the last couple of months still felt that their setup at the tower was sorely lacking. He maneuvered his office chair to face a console with a radar display, a standard part of an air traffic control tower, but even months into his tenure in Altaras the console itself was missing. Unable to stomach that they were operating without radar, he spat in annoyance.

  “Dammit, it still annoys me we don’t have radar! Yeah, we only see about two takeoffs a day—three if we’re busy—but having no radar bothers me!”

  His coworker nodded in agreement.

  “It took us four months to set up the radar facilities at Myhark, so I expected the same here. But we’ve been here way before the war!”

  “Well, you already said why they still haven’t gotten the radar here—a war broke out. But I get you; needing to rely on the Altarans’ good ol’ Mk. 1 for air traffic information is less than ideal.”

  As they talked, off to their side, the Altaran air traffic control crew were also talking amongst themselves. Their radio was alive, sputtering out details about an important event that was taking place.

  “Parpaldian wyverns inbound from NE, bearing 028. I repeat—”

  Hearing this, the Altaran crew scrambled to ready the airfield’s defenses and suspend all flights. One of the crew turned to the Japanese air traffic control to the side and cried out to them.

  “Hey, Japanese! Abort takeoff! Abort! Abort!”

  The Japanese turned to face them, taking notice of their cries. They didn’t seem to understand what he was saying as they scrambled to open their phrase book. After a good few seconds of repeating the important keyword, “Abort!”, the Japanese nodded and smiled, repeating the word as they heard it. Just as they were about to contact their aircraft, a loud wail sounded across the airfield.

  WooooOOOOO!!!

  The low wail turned into a piercing siren.

  “COMET17! Abort takeoff! I repeat, abort takeoff! Hostile air! I say again, hostile air!”

  “Rejecting.”

  The sudden outburst through the comms caught the pilots’ attention, and they quickly understood the order. They reflexively took the thrust off their engines, causing the C-2 to come to a slow rolling stop along the dirt runway. As the powerful turbofan engines’ roar faded, the commanding shriek of the air raid siren replaced it.

  - - -

  Back at the airfield hangar where the foreign diplomatic missions were housed, staff, refugees, and aid workers all retreated under the plentiful tables and desks. Outside, several dozen Japanese aid workers wearing Red Cross gear with Lamp (the Asheran equivalent of the Red Cross) armbands scrambled toward the hangar for cover. They had just arrived in Altaras as part of Japan’s goodwill deployment as part of the ceasefire negotiations.

  “In here, everyone!”

  A tall elf wearing a Lamp uniform called out to the Japanese aid workers, guiding them inside the hangar. The Japanese neatly entered the hangar in single file and clutched their heads in their arms. As they entered, some of them looked up at the sky.

  A lone pair of dragons—Parpaldian wyvern lords in their routine air defense probe—prowled through Le Brias’s airspace with near impunity. They let out a horrifying growl as if in defiance of the air raid sirens and responding Altaran anti-air guns. All this talk of ceasefire and incoming peace, and yet the situation on the ground never felt so far from the negotiation table.

  “Will we really see peace in this country?”

  The Japanese aid worker mumbled to herself in worry as she watched the Parpaldian wyverns turn back, dancing in the air as they dodged advances from Altaran wyverns.

  Royal Palace, 15:10

  As talks of the ceasefire bring a flurry of unease and cautious optimism through the streets of the capital, the Royal Castle, tucked deep within the massive fort complex in the old city, remains in a confusing state between the two. As the site from where King Taara stoked the sentiments that allowed him to bring the war to Parpaldia, the Royal Castle has always been the place where momentous decisions have been made. Simultaneously, its modern defenses and well-armed garrison have kept the complex unscathed from the air raids Parpaldia’s wyvern corps ran against the capital, though the complex itself was purposefully spared from attacks.

  Even now, when the prospect of a ceasefire brought hope to many that the war will finally be over, the Royal Castle has remained locked off from the violence still raging beyond its wide moat.

  Today, the royal family and their staff were attending to their respective businesses: King Taara was currently in a meeting with his ministers and advisors regarding the ceasefire negotiations; Semira and Alira were attending a goodwill program in the castle to hear out the complaints and grumblings of the city’s poorest; and lastly, Lumies was in the theater being taught by her music tutor.

  The Royal Castle’s theater was built under the late Queen Yasmin’s close eye. Capable of accommodating up to 1,500 attendants, the theater was built to Muish standards. Before the war, it had only ever seen three plays and had never been filled to its maximum capacity. Most of the time, it was the place where Lumies and her sisters received tutorship from their music tutor.

  Sitting on the stage on her lone chair, the small-figured Lumies held a stringed instrument in her hand and a bow used to play it in the other. She kept a close look at the musical notations inscribed in the book placed on the stand in front of her while her hands and fingers maneuvered to play the notes at the correct time. A solemn tune, one that evokes a sense of dread and forlornness, filled the theater chamber as she swung the bow back and forth.

  Lumies, as in policy and war, was also talented in the arts, but as in policy and war, she was also too headstrong and impatient. Her tempo began picking up, turning the sorrowful tune into one of amping anxiety. Her tutor, a Muish citizen living in Le Brias named Russell, picked up on this and clicked his tongue.

  “Time, Lumies! You’re picking up!”

  He barked loudly as he clapped his hands in the correct time signature. She took a deep breath, coming to a high note before slowing her tempo down. As she exhaled, she continued to play, this time at the correct time. The piece entered its long chorus—a slow yet teetering staccato. As if to leave her motions on autopilot, she started to talk.

  “Do you have time, Mr. Russell?”

  “What troubles you this time, Lumi?”

  Russell replied curtly, addressing her by her nickname.

  “I have no hopes for this ceasefire, Mr. Russell. It troubles me that this is the policy action he decided to go for.”

  “I’m in no position to speak, Lumy. I’m just your tutor, and His Majesty pays for my entire livelihood here.”

  Lumies furrowed her brow as the chorus started to go into the lower notes.

  “I know, Mr. Russell... I just... feel frustrated!”

  The notes became more frequent as the tempo picked up.

  “The only reason why he’d pick this time to put out a ceasefire is that he’s planning something, and I know he’s up to no good! I don’t know how to kick some sense in him, but every time I do...”

  The chorus was picking up, but Lumies’s tempo was faster than usual.

  “Lumies, time–”

  “Semira just shields him for me! I get it; he’s our father, but he’s not immune to mistakes!”

  “Lumies–”

  “Why can’t you take my side for once, dammit?!”

  Lumies played the chorus’s last note, ending it with frustration and an irritated look on her face. There was supposed to be a bridge afterward, but her hands froze, refusing to swing the bow.

  “I don’t feel like I belong here anymore, and with the impending disaster, I just... don’t wanna be here anymore, too!”

  Lumies closed her eyes. Her cheeks were red with both embarrassment and vexation. Mr. Russell had always been the man to hear her out, more so than her own sisters and father. These feelings would have warranted some sort of criminal response by her father, but Mr. Russell, even if he didn’t necessarily agree with her explicitly, was always there to listen. If there was someone she could comfortably confide her deepest feelings to, it would be him.

  Russell, meanwhile, understood the precarious position he was in. He disagreed with King Taara’s foreign policy as a foreigner, but since His Majesty was his benefactor, he had zero room to complain. To satiate his troubled conscience, he’d cover for Lumies, lying to Taara that she hadn’t told him anything in that regard.

  But while he was always willing to lend an ear to her or her sisters, this particular outburst came at a terrible time. He viewed the ceasefire as fortuitous, but it was also just as Lumies put it—a bluff. Knowing the King, he had another plan up his sleeve, and once he puts it into action, Altaras will likely see its final moments as an independent kingdom. There was no telling what would happen to a foreigner like him, and without the royal family, he’d be out of a job. While Lumies’s outburst was more emotional than a real desire, Russell did have a solution.

  However, doing so would mean a proactive effort from him to go against the King. Nevertheless...

  “I... have pilot certifications.”

  Russell stated openly, earning a blank stare from Lumies.

  “L-L-Like, aircraft pilot certifications?”

  Lumies stammered. She certainly seemed overjoyed, but she was cautious in playing her optimism.

  “Yes,” Russell replied. “Especially the Ravler your family owns.”

  Lumies jumped from her seat and dropped the instrument and bow. The Ravler was the family plane of Muish make, capable of flying as far away as Sios or Louria. She approached Russell with sparkling eyes.

  “You do understand what that entails, yes?!”

  “A girl as smart as you don’t need me to point it out,” Russell replied curtly, still trying to play it safe by not being the one to suggest the idea.

  “Let’s keep this a secret between the two of us!”

  Plans of the escape from Altaras began to formulate in her head, but Russell was quick to rain on that parade.

  “And your sisters?”

  In the span of a single second, Lumies’s sparkling eyes lost their luster and they turned dark. Her mind went into shock as her lips twitched, unable to come up with an answer. Deciding to leave the topic for another day, Russell urged her to return to her seat and continue with the piece. Soon, music returned to the theater as if nothing of note had been discussed.

  Cent. Calendar 20/03/1640, Royal Palace, Le Brias, 17:00

  A week has passed since the negotiations in Sios yielded a Parpaldia-Altaras ceasefire. The version the Japanese pushed was largely kept intact, and a joint Mirishial-Muish observer force had been deployed to oversee the ceasefire. Negotiations for eventual peace continue, but King Taara’s chief negotiator has yet to return to the table. Aid workers have flooded into Altaras, and in an unexpected twist, most of these were Parpaldian Lamp personnel. In the intervening time, the ceasefire kept its effect, causing an eerie yet calming silence to fall upon the battlefields of Altaras. Birds and other wildlife return to the ravaged countryside and patches of forests, replacing the once-endless cacophony of gunfire with the songs of nature.

  But the post-ceasefire battlefield wasn’t without tension: despite the terms of the ceasefire dictating both Altaran and Parpaldian forces to withdraw an initial amount of troops, neither side has fulfilled that obligation. In the Altaran case, it was the opposite; troops and supplies continued to pile at designated staging grounds. However, this information was only known to secret Japanese patrol flights; the Mirishial-Muish observer force had been actively blocked by Taara’s own Royal Guards from accessing the sites.

  All signs pointed to the possibility of continued violence on the island, but none of the actors involved wanted to point that out. Misgivings surrounding the ceasefire wafted among the personnel on the ground, particularly Altaras’s military high command. A month earlier, they finished drafting a counterattack that was poised to break the Parpaldian advance, and preparations were made. For formality’s sake, they brought the plan to King Taara, but contrary to expectations, he withheld his explicit approval, keeping the counterattack in limbo. Then, out of nowhere, King Taara approaches the Holy Mirishial Empire, Mu, and Japan for a ceasefire with Parpaldia.

  The ceasefire was floated without the military’s input, much less their knowledge. The news sent Taara’s military commanders into a rage, which devolved further when news came of Parpaldia’s agreement. In their last meeting with him, Taara refused to entertain their concerns and clarifications, leaving them with only one order: “Be on standby.” Consequently, the commanders started to fear that the King was meaning to break the ceasefire, but the idea proved too outlandish that the high command was split in opinion.

  As of the present, the military is frozen in place. The ceasefire agreement clearly dictates obligations for drawing down, but Taara’s orders were for them to “be on standby.” Preparations for the counterattack continued as if the ceasefire wasn’t in place, and high command had multiple disagreements over whether to stop and reverse them. In the end, Taara’s orders were upheld.

  This didn’t sit well with some commanders, particularly the Army’s Deputy Chief of Staff. His boss, the Army Chief of Staff, General Kainarka, shared his doubts about the situation, but he didn’t believe that King Taara was brazen enough to order the counterattack to push through.

  “He’s not that mad, surely!” Kainarka chuckled in a conversation with him the other day.

  The deputy sighed, murmuring to himself, “You were out sick for most of the war. Of course, you wouldn’t think that!”

  For tonight, he was present at the command room beneath the Royal Castle. Despite the ceasefire, their jobs—thus, their routines—have largely been the same. Kainarka had gone home for the night, so he was now in charge as his proxy. One of the other commanders heard him murmuring and shared his grumblings.

  “The General’s a bit more trusting of His Majesty, but yeah I agree... He wasn’t here to see some of the... questionable decisions he’s made.”

  “Maybe I shouldn’t have held back in my reports. I probably made His Majesty look too sane.”

  The other commander immediately shushed him.

  “Yeah, that’s enough talk for now,” he said as he looked around, wary of the wrong people being privy to their talk.

  “Back to work,” the deputy whispered.

  As they went back to perusing through documents, a signals officer rushed toward him.

  “Sir! We got a message from the 3rd Infantry Division! They claim that one of their bases is under bombardment!”

  The 3rd Infantry Division was deployed at the frontline facing the Parpaldian Army’s Group West.

  Sweat started to trickle down the deputy’s forehead. It was hot inside the command room, but it was usually bearable. No, this wasn’t the heat; it was something else.

  “Tell them to give us more information! Contact General Kainarka and ask him to come back; we have an emergency!”

  The deputy started giving orders as the atmosphere in the command room turned tense. But things didn’t stop there.

  “Sir! I’m getting multiple reports of explosions at several staging grounds!”

  Silence fell upon the command room. The situation was rapidly deteriorating, but doubts regarding the attackers, the veracity of the incoming information, and their biases regarding the ceasefire hampered their response. In any case, the night ahead of them now seemed like a very long one.