July 30, 1639

Washington D.C.

 

President Lee sipped his coffee as he walked through the halls of the White House. He nodded at a few passing workers, too tired to return their greetings. As he walked toward the Oval Office, he noticed a tall, gray haired man leaning against the wall. He was tapping on a tablet, eyes seemingly glued to it, yet noticed President Lee’s arrival. “Morning, Mister President.”

 

“Director Klein,” Lee yawned. “What brings you here?” He asked as he opened the door to his office, gesturing for Klein to come in.

 

“Well sir, I’ve got good news and bad news.”

 

President Lee sat on a couch. “So that’s how it is, huh? It can’t just be ‘good news’?”

 

“At least it ain’t just bad news, sir,” Klein chuckled. 

 

Lee sighed. “Guess you’ve got a point there. Let’s go with… good news.”

 

“We’ve got a good idea of the sentiment among the Lourian elite, excluding the king. A lot of the nobles are now wary of us, especially after seeing the fleet pass through their coastlines unchallenged.”

 

“Unchallenged? What, don’t tell me they put all their ships into that one fleet?” Lee smiled in disbelief. 

 

“Actually…”

 

“Haha, no way.”

 

“Yeah. Over 90% of their ships were in that one fleet. The rest stayed behind for anti-piracy and whatnot. A few tried to intercept the fleet right by one of their port cities. According to my agents, that sealed the deal for most of the Lourian upper class. Most of their armies are being recalled to their lords’ hometowns. With the threat of a naval invasion, Jin Hark can’t afford to send out its troops to restore order among the lords and nobles.”

 

“Incredible. Things are going rather well, eh? What’s the bad news?”

 

“Well, we tried to get the Lourian leaders to come to their senses. We managed to get their top generals and advisors scared, but the king is a bit… stubborn. My assets have also identified several targets of interest: people who we should take down during, or hell, even before we storm the castle.”

 

“I see. Local counter-espionage?”

 

Klein shrugged. “If they can even be called that,” he said with a laugh. “Still, there’s no telling if they’ve got enchanted armor, invisibility cloaks, or pocket spells ready to go. It seems so far that they’ve gotta recite some long chants, but hey, you never know.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. That’s true. Oh, you read the memo from a couple days ago, right?”

 

Klein nodded. “My assets are ready when you are. Sir, if we’re gonna be doing this more often, we’re gonna need more gas masks. And preferably ones that aren’t as bulky.”

 

“Yeah, already working on that.”

 

“Sir, no nerve agents, right?”

 

In a meeting with the military chiefs several days prior, he lifted bans imposed by the Geneva Convention, authorizing the usage of any stockpiled weapons, but only if deemed absolutely necessary. Research into non-lethal chemical agents was expanded, while destruction of old stockpiles of the deadlier toxins and chemicals was halted. Tear gas was scheduled to be mass-produced due to its comparatively minor effects. President Lee thought back to the orders he gave to DEVGRU. “Right. Don’t want to show too many cards just yet.”

 

——

 

U.S. Navy Seventh Fleet

USS Gerald R. Ford

 

The newest supercarrier in the United States Navy cut through the tides like a behemoth as it sailed alongside the USS Ronald Reagan. Boasting the latest generation of hardware and software, the vessel represented a mighty addition to the Seventh Fleet. Surrounded by dozens of cruisers and destroyers, the two supercarriers reigned like a king and queen, marching toward victory. Aircraft launched from both carriers; they neared the shores of Jin-Hark and were ready to strike the foolish king and shatter his dreams of conquest and extermination.

 

Admiral Hawthorne looked at the digital map on his table. Radar data was constantly fed into the device, providing real-time strategic information. Most of the Seventh Fleet participated in this exercise, titled Operation Awe; some of their units stayed behind to guard Qua Toyne and Quila in case of any unexpected surprises. 30 miles away, the desperate Lourians were fortifying their port, arranging their wooden ships in a line to form a barricade. Hawthorne thought the image on the radar was laughable; tiny dots trying to form a wall against a tsunami. If necessary, they could even ram through with their sheer tonnage. 

 

Although a fan of dramatic entrances, Hawthorne dismissed the idea, opting instead for pure efficiency. “All vessels,” he announced, “After years of extended conflicts with little to gain, fighting enemies of our own design, we now have the opportunity to follow in the footsteps of our forefathers and those before them. The people of Qua Toyne and Quila face extinction and slavery, with those in Gim having already suffered these horrors at the hands of the Lourians. Today, we will end this threat once and for all. Sailors of the Seventh Fleet, we shall now commence Operation Awe, and may God have mercy on these cavemen, cause we sure as hell won’t.”

 

——

 

Jin Hark Royal Castle

 

Bells rang as explosions permeated the atmosphere, filling terrified Lourians’ eardrums with distant thunder. Even inside the sturdy castle walls, King Hark Louria could hear the detonations along the port. Curious, he stood up to view the northern base; since his castle was situated upon a hill, sights were abundant. His female attendants followed him, doing their best to calm him down.

 

He pulled the drapes aside and looked outside. The port was already engulfed in a raging fire and the prominent eyesore of the region, Lourian Naval HQ, had vanished. Where the proud building once stood, only a crater remained. The few ships he had left over after the Great Fleet’s crushing defeat were swept away like ants; not one of his last couple hundred ships survived. In their place, giant metal behemoths crammed into the small ports, unleashing swarms of smaller landing craft due to the sheer size of the mother vessels compared to the shallowness of the primitive port. 

 

King Hark Louria closed the drapes and turned away as iron dragons annihilated a group of wyvern knights. “Hayla, get me dressed.”

 

One of the girls bowed. “Yes, Your Highness.”

 

After King Louria donned his ceremonial royal armor, he made his way toward the war room. His generals and advisors bustled like a busy beehive, except for one group — his inner circle. Patagene, Miminel, Yamirei, and Maus stood over a map sprawled out on a table, pointing and discussing softly. They noticed his approach and ceased their discussion. 

 

Yamirei walked forward with a heavy heart, his eyes poorly hiding fear. “My King,” he bowed. 

 

“These Americans… how could we have underestimated them this severely?” King Louria’s tone was freakishly calm, sending shivers down the spines of his subordinates. 

 

Yamirei opened his mouth, as if he wanted to mention something, but then decided against it. Instead, he allowed Patagene to explain. “Your Highness, based on our analyses of their tactics and weapons, we believe we are fighting a nation on the same level as — or perhaps even more advanced than — Mu.”

 

“Mu, you say?”

 

“Yes; the Second Civilized Region’s dominant superpower, who can crush even the Parpaldian Empire without breaking much of a sweat. We never stood a chance.”

 

“Oh, and you only say this now? What were you doing when we lost the Great Fleet? When the Eastern forces were annihilated?”

 

Patagene wanted to protest, since they did bring up the Americans’ power several times in the past, but were always cut off by His Majesty. Not wishing to incur his wrath, they remained silent. Despite their loyalties to King Louria, they saw themselves more aligned with the nation itself, not the ignorant ruler in front of them. Recalling their conversation after Chef Wileman’s comment, they wondered how they could potentially save their beloved country from destruction. 

 

While King Louria continued to berate them and unleash his anger upon several unfortunate sets of furniture, several explosions shook the castle. Bits of the ceiling fell as the entire building was hit by the pressure waves from the bombs. They quickly rushed to a window, carefully navigating around the broken glass strewn about the floor. Wyvern HQ was taken out, along with the barracks beside it. 

 

What astonished the Lourians was how tightly the destruction was confined. The commercial blocks around Wyvern HQ were spared, only having broken windows. However, they were not safe from the occasional shower of blood and gore. Overhead, a group of iron dragons soared past them, emitting a shrill howl as they cut through the air. They released several light arrows, resulting in a bloody display of fireworks above a residential district. The unfortunate group of wyvern knights were instantly misted save for one, whose wyvern panicked and crash landed in the streets below.

 

King Louria’s royal guard rushed into the room to help maintain their ruler’s safety. “Your Highness, we must retreat to the throne room; it is the safest there.”

 

“Very well. Patagene, come see when you’ve successfully repelled the invaders.” He allowed the royal guards to escort him to safety, leaving his administrative and military leaders alone. 

 

“General, what do we do?” One of the military staff asked Patagene. 

 

Patagene looked at his comrades. “We need to save our country. Send all available men to the port; we must prevent the enemy from pushing in. Have them garrison the merchant district near the beach, and remember: refrain from charging out in the open. We must learn our lessons from Gim and Ejei.”

 

——

 

Skies above Jin Hark

 

Harrison Richthofen checked his radar; no wyverns remained. The airspace was now crowded with dozens of American jets, patrolling the area like hawks. “Damn, it’s only been what, like two, three minutes?”

 

His squadron’s comms became filled with the chatter of disappointed pilots who barely got to taste combat. The opposing wyverns really didn’t pose much of a threat and were annihilated almost in one fell swoop, since most of them were still in their stables, unable to deploy due to the destruction of Wyvern HQ’s runway. 

 

After their channel settled down, they received a command from the fleet. “All squadrons, skies are clear of bogies. Regroup at Point Alpha once your respective mission objectives are complete.”

 

“Alright,” Richthofen said. “That’s us, let’s head back to the fleet.” He looked down below, noticing a group of people form up along the castle’s balconies. “Heh, looks like they’re trying to fire arrows at us.”

 

His squadmates laughed, but the sound of their laughter was drowned out by thunder. A bolt of lightning shot out in front of him, mere feet above his canopy. He instinctively dove to avoid the bolt, which quickly disappeared. “Shit, all units maintain altitude! Don’t get close to the castle!” 

 

——

 

Jin Hark Royal Castle

 

Yamirei fell to his knees, panting. “Water,” he weakly requested.  Several attendants from the castle helped Yamirei and his magicians recuperate from their attack. Despite channeling their energies, they had only managed to graze one of the enemy aircraft. Still, seeing them retreat back toward the fleet and ascend to higher altitudes was a victory in terms of morale. The tired magicians cheered as they watched the jets fall back, but Yamirei knew better. 

 

They weren’t falling back because of their spell; they were falling back because there was nothing left to blow up. All military targets within the city’s walls were destroyed, all except for the walls themselves. They had total air superiority, leaving behind a dozen aircraft to maintain it. 

 

In the courtyard, troops were amassing, ready to March to the front lines. As Yamirei drank his cup of water, he watched General Patagene and General Miminel coordinating their forces. He immediately recognized the Lourian heavy infantry from their distinct look and heavy shields. One of them in particular stood out, with a shield of a more rounded design compared to those of his comrades. 

 

He sighed, falling back to report his recent combat engagement to King Louria. As he approached the doors to the throne room, he passed by a pair of cloaked men exiting. Their hoods turned to face him for a moment, making him feel uncomfortable. Feeling more trepidation from the report he was about to give, he disregarded them and walked into the room. 

 

King Louria seemed to be in an extremely sour mood, likely from those cloaked Parpaldian emissaries. He stood by one of the windows, radiating hatred and anger as the blood red sunset illuminated his figure. “Royal Magician, have you made any discoveries?”

 

Yamirei knelt, almost shaking from fear. “Your Highness, the enemy’s magic is unending. I gathered my magicians to cast a lightning spell, but we still were unable to destroy their aircraft.”

 

“It looks like they’re retreating. You’ve done well to make them fall back. And with General Patagene’s strategy of creating a defensive line in a merchant district… Ho, how devious! Those soft-hearted fools have already halted their assault!”

 

Yamirei looked down. He knew what Patagene was doing, and yet the stubborn King continued to hold on to his belief of superiority, like he could never lose. Yamirei mustered all the courage he had to speak. “Your Highness, the Americans have total dominance of the seas and skies. I recommend we explore alternatives before they set their sights on the castle…” 

 

“Ha, I will consider that if they ever manage to confront me here. Until then, we fight. Why not have some faith, Yamirei? We’ve managed to hold them back thus far.”

 

“But Your Highness, we don’t even have reinforcements from the lords!”

 

“I shall deal with them later once I’ve triumphed over the invaders.” He waved his hand, shooing away Yamirei. 

 

“Of course, Your Highness,” the disgruntled magician replied. He exited the throne room, wondering how a man could be so ignorant of the collapsing world around him. He led his magicians toward Patagene. He hoped Wileman’s assault has not started yet. 

 

——

 

Jin Hark Royal Castle Gardens

 

A group of dark-clothed men silently moved under the cover of the night, navigating through the maze of bushes and trees. One of them looked up toward a balcony, where he noticed a man in a chef’s outfit stretching. 

 

He pointed up, letting his comrades become aware of the signal. They nodded and began their assault. The magical torches exploded as they received impacts from precise bullets, drawing attention from several guards who walked up to inspect the torches. With their backs turned to the specters in the garden, they did not even have the chance to look death in the eye before they ceased to exist. 

 

Air strikes pummeled random sections of the walls to provide audial cover, preventing the Lourians from recognizing suppressed gunshots in their backyard. The men moved in, wearing their gas masks and awkwardly fitting them under their night vision goggles. Every time they came across a light source, they extinguished it; they kept the castle defenders in the dark, both literally and figuratively. Curiously, they didn’t run into any of the castle’s staff just yet, and there were an astonishingly low number of guards. 

 

When they entered a dining hall near the kitchen, they realized why. A man in a chef’s outfit stood over dozens of slumped individuals. “Took you guys long enough.”

 

“Jesus,” one of the special operatives said. “What the hell?”

 

“You CIA bastards are something else,” another one said, shaking his head in disapproval. 

 

“What? It’s not like I killed them or anything. Just taking a little nap,” he patted an unconscious maid on her head. 

 

“What happened to the guards?” 

 

Wileman shrugged. “Wishing they had toilets and Pepto Bismol, probably. Gave ‘em enough to make Taco Bell look like child’s play.”

 

“God damn. Alright.”

 

Wileman pointed to a hallway to the left. “Royal chambers are that way. I haven’t been able to get any of the royal guards, and they’re probably expecting you.” He put on his gas mask. “Good luck.”

 

The operatives moved into the chamber leading into the throne room. It was empty, and filled with too many lights to shoot. They took off their night vision goggles and readied their equipment, anticipating an ambush. The man in the lead put his fist in the air, signaling his men to stop moving. They scanned the perimeters, and one of them noticed a shadow behind some of the pillars. 

 

Almost immediately after he noticed the shadow, smoke dispersed throughout the room. “Gas! Gas!” The American operative in the lead suddenly found himself in a melee, blocking a strike from a sword with his rifle. The swordsman immediately pulled back into the smoke and readied another strike, but was unable to. Tear gas flooded the room as the DEVGRU operatives unleashed their arsenal of grenades. 

 

“What is this… poison?!” The swordsman yelled before he was struck down. 

 

The remaining ambush forces, disoriented and leaderless, were cleaned up easily. With gas flooding into their system, they could not scream and had little ability to properly engage in melee combat. A lucky few survived — the ones too busy coughing their lungs out, sprawled on the ground. 

 

The operatives pushed into the throne room, where they found King Louria sitting, his head resting on his hands. “So… this is how it ends?” He began laughing. “After all this work, some cheat nation shows up to beat me down?!” 

 

“Dude’s crazy…” an operative muttered. 

 

The team leader stepped forward. “King Hark Louria, you should’ve known that your evil acts of genocide angered the gods.”

 

He stopped laughing. “So, you’re my divine punishment, then? Here to make me atone for my sins?”

 

“No, that’s up to Qua Toyne and Quila. We’re here to end the war. Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way, and let me tell ya, we’re angels compared to the demons we can send you to.”

 

“And what do you propose?” King Louria asked, gritting his teeth. 

 

The leader made a gesture with his finger, beckoning one of his men to come forward. The man pulled out a manacomm from his backpack and walked up to the sitting king. “Anyone with a manacomm will be able to hear this message. You can declare your surrender. If you don’t, that’s fine. We’ll have a bit more work to do, but we won’t be too happy about it.” The leader twirled his pistol in his hand. “Either way, you’re coming with us.”

 

“Very well, Americans. I will declare my surrender.”