Cent. Calendar 01/07/1639, Royal Castle, Le Brias, Altaras, 14:20
Escorted by a squad of the elite Altaras Guard Corps, the Japanese delegation, led by diplomat Fujinuma, arrived at the throne room of the Altaran royal castle. Walking on the lavishly decorated, shining marble floor, the Japanese suits made their way down the long hall, lined on both sides with towering glass windows from which the blistering afternoon sunlight flooded in. Looking up, they found the hall’s ceiling painted in pitch black, which was then dotted all over by shining gemstones of elegant purples and flashing greens. The awestruck diplomats could only stare with obvious admiration, resisting the urge to pull out their smartphones to take pictures, to at least maintain their professional outlook.
At the helm of the delegation, Fujinuma walked in front, following the backs of the green uniformed guardsmen marching in frighteningly sharp discipline. Beyond the towering headgear of the palace guards, she caught sight of the scene at the end of the throne room. There, beneath a massive hanging banner of the Altaran coat of arms, were two massive thrones of glittering gold. The one to the right was empty, but the one to the left was occupied by a man dressed in a silver-white uniform underneath a cloak of flashy red. The proud expression he wore on his face juxtaposed with his graying hair and beard, his wrinkly fingers decorated with rings of what looked to be solid gold.
Arriving at the foot of the steps that led up to the thrones, the guards parted their formation, coming to a stop at both flanks of the hall and letting the Japanese diplomats move forward. Making eye contact with the old man sitting on the throne, Fujinuma then bowed deeply, followed by the others.
“Our sincerest thanks for hosting us, your highness.”
The man’s lips slightly curved upwards, reflecting his impression of the diplomats’ respect to him, for he was none other than King Taara XIV, the ruling monarch of the kingdom of Altaras.
Taara raised his hands in acceptance of the diplomats’ gratitude.
“Naturally, for I and the kingdom only want what’s best for all! My heart is touched by your kind response to our hospitality. Now, to whom am I speaking to?”
Rising from her bow, Fujinuma promptly introduced herself.
“I am Fujinuma, your highness. We came here to represent the nation of Japan.”
Taara’s eyes widened at her statement, which piqued his interest. Leaning in forward, the king gave his maximum attention to the diplomats.
“Japan?! My, my. You are the nation I’ve been dying to meet!”
The king’s slightly wrinkled face brightened up with a smile as he clapped his hands.
“You have been the talk of the merchants, who’ve been telling tales of either mighty grandeur, economic revolution, or regional instability when mentioning your country! Such controversial topics are only but warranted from those that wiped out the Lourian dynasty in a flash!”
Fujinuma and the diplomats started sweating, their eyes darting from place to place as they swallowed their saliva. They all had varying opinions on Operation Zanzibar, but they were unanimous in dreading the effects their operation had on the region. For the Altaran king to be aware of this, they feared that his perception and impression of Japan had already been warped beyond salvation. Fujinuma opened her mouth to attempt to correct the king, but...
“Brilliant! Hahaha! I was about to put your nation on our list of enemies for stealing away the trade we enjoyed from our Rodenian and Philadean partners. Mind you, we lost warehouse’s worth of coins from them, reducing the traffic that comes here! But now, I’m willing to forget that!”
Standing up from his throne, Taara clapped fervently for the Japanese diplomats, his smile as genuine as the authenticity of the gold rings on his fingers.
“You folks blew away Parpaldian designs on cross-strait hegemony back decades, and now I feel like we could breathe again!”
The Japanese diplomats tried their best to uphold beaming faces of their own, but deep down they lamented their government’s prior decisions. They still fear that the strike in Jin-Hark has set unrealistic expectations from other nations, which Japan, a nation of peace, now has to struggle to maintain in order to safeguard its interests. Fujinuma looked back at the king, maintaining her fabricated smile.
“We are... humbled by your praises, your highness! But as the visitors to your magnificent domain, I think it is only right that we are the ones to offer something instead!”
Nodding to her companions, they swiftly unpacked the diplomatic gifts they had brought. After realizing what Fujinuma meant, Taara turned to his guards and ordered a table to be brought. After they carried in a table from another room, they placed it in front of the Japanese delegation. The king then turned to his right, where three girls in innocent cyan dresses stood.
“Semira, Alila, Lumies!”
Hearing their individual names being called, the three Altaran princesses then set out to join their father at the bottom of the steps to receive the diplomatic gifts.
With no male heir, the succession to Taara XIV lay with the eldest of the sisters, the 27-year old Semira. However, fearing a Parpaldian invasion in their lifetimes, it is tradition for those in the line of succession to undergo education in economics and politics, as well as to receive military training, learning how to command and fight. Due to that, the younger princesses, Alila and Lumies, are also capable of statesmanship and military command. While this tradition isn’t free of faults, with the numerous occurrences of conflicts, with and without arms, between royal siblings in the past, it has nonetheless produced ruthless kings and queens that kept the Parpaldian expansionist menace at bay for generations.
“Now, let us see what the up and coming power of the region has to offer to us!”
Taara rubbed his hands in excitement.
At Fujinuma’s hand cue, the diplomats laid on the table the gifts they brought.
“Hmm.”
Taara and his daughters examined the first one, which was laid closest to Fujinuma. It was a diamond necklace wrapped around a black bust, which exemplified the shine and beauty of the jewelry. The lace itself seems to be made out of small diamonds, the precision of cuts and the minuscule size of which wowed Taara and his daughters. However, their ogling was limited, for as part of the ruling family of the region’s richest and most powerful countries, a diamond necklace was but a common sight.
Moving to the right, the Altaran royals laid their eyes on a peculiar knick-knack.
“What’s this?”
It looked like a glass sphere mounted on a glass pedestal, but the mystifying aspect was not its materials but what the glass sphere seemed to contain.
“Is that... a world?!”
The glass sphere contained the greens and blues of what looked like a mini Asherah, but none of the continents and oceans matched any of the maps Taara and his daughters had seen. Looking closely, they realized that the mini world was moving, the landmasses shifting towards the right. Mesmerized by this phenomenon, Taara picked up the glass sphere.
“How is it moving?!”
He examined the pedestal, but it contained neither machinery nor mana circuit. Before he could even be surprised by this, he saw that the mini world inside the glass sphere continued to rotate, even in his hands.
“What sorcery!”
However, before he could question Fujinuma and the others about the mind-boggling phenomenon, his eyes caught sight of something far more interesting.
“Oh? What’s this?!”
Gently putting the glass sphere back on the pedestal, the king moved to the next item to the right. Unlike the glass sphere, it was something he knew all too well; but unlike the diamond necklace, it was something that pulled on his curiosity and desires.
“Is this what I think it is?”
“Yes, your highness. It’s not loaded, so you may examine it as much as you wish.”
It was a bolt action rifle, a Howa 1500 to be exact.
Having already trained with rifles, Taara knew where to put his hands and fingers. Taking it from its case, the first thing that astonished him was its weight. Despite its size, the gun was lighter than he had anticipated, leading him to question the gray-colored materials with which it was made out of. Holding it up, he pushed the stock against his shoulder and looked through the cylindrical object mounted on where the iron sights were supposed to be.
“A telescopic sight?! And it has crosshairs inside?!”
Aiming at one of the gilded pillars next to one of the hall’s towering windows, Taara found himself giddy at the magnified spectacle of the relief details. Holding the gun at arm's length away, he engrossed himself in its details, taking note at the metallic finishes and quality of the hard yet lightweight material that made up a significant portion of the stock. He compared it with the standard-issue guns they bought from Mu and the Holy Mirishial Empire, and while it was similar in design, it was clearly better than those examples. Oh, if only he could fire it.
Developing an affinity for the rifle, Taara couldn’t bring himself to put it back in its case. Looking back at Fujinuma, he asked a question, the answers to which he could not wait to hear.
“I’m guessing that these rifles are for sale?”
The diplomat looked back at him with a pleasant smile, nodding respectfully at the king.
“That can be arranged, your highness, but only if we establish diplomatic relations and agree on trade.”
“Ah, of course! Where are my manners!”
Finally putting the rifle back in its case, he clapped his hands in victory.
“Let’s go and discuss terms! I am telling you now; you will not want for more with us, for the kingdom does not disappoint!”
Cent. Calendar 02/07/1639, near the city of Sanders, Gra Valkas-occupied Leifor, 7:50
As the sun loomed just above the tall hills to the east, a slight fog engulfed the flatlands of the great Leiforian plain. Visibility was only partly good, and low-hanging clouds occasionally obscured the light coming from the mid-morning sun. Still, no amount of iffy weather was going to stop the rampage of the Gra Valkan war machine.
Atop a lone hill that jutted out from the flatlands were a series of trenches dug along the circumference of the summit, covered from direct observation by the greens and browns of camouflage nets and tents. Soldiers of the Imperial Gra Valkan Army (IGVA) ran along the trenches, MKb4 assault rifles in hand and olive drab helmets on their heads. Coursing through the drab uniforms was a modestly tall man in a trench coat with a notebook in one hand and a pair of binoculars in the other. Walking through the meter deep trench, he occasionally glanced outwards to look at the sight developing in the plains far from the hill.
“Myrus!”
Hearing his name get called out, the man hurried to the source. Emerging out to a relatively wider section of the trench, he looked towards the only person that populated the space, who was also wearing a trench coat. He was positioned on a section of the trench wall that was purposefully higher than the rest, allowing for a greater view of the plains below.
“Come!”
The man beckoned to him with his right hand, as his left was holding a pair of binoculars.
“Is it starting?”
Myrus asked as he hurried to the other man’s side. Putting his elbows on the edge of the trench wall, he looked through his pair of binoculars.
“Not yet.”
“For goodness’s sake, Lassan, you’ve got to stop hyping things up when there’s nothing to be hyped about! I’m already getting the jitters from excitement!”
Earning another rebuke from Myrus, Lassan snickered, himself suffering from the nerves due to anticipation.
Ever since the Gra Valkans started solidifying their gains in the capital of Leiforia after Operation Donnerschlag, their allies to the east, the United Realms and Dominions of Mu, rushed to get eyes and ears into neighboring Leifor, the majority of which still remained independent and resisting. Stunned by the speed and success of the Gra Valkan attack, the Muish wanted to understand more about their military and tactics, which the Gra Valkans had always been reluctant to shed light on. It is then to their surprise and delight that the empire approved their request to observe them in action against the remaining Leiforian conventional forces.
Dubbed Doppelschlag, the operation has seen imperial diplomats strong-arming the resisting Leiforian governors of the unconquered regions while the military flew thousands of reconnaissance missions to map out Leiforian bases, supply camps, defense lines, communications nexuses, and so on. The result of the diplomatic maneuvering had some regions surrender without a fight, but there were others that remained adamant against capitulation. One of these was the region of Caden.
As Muish military officers themselves, Myrus and Lassan were sent as observers to witness the Gra Valkan assault on the Caden region. Despite having been given an ultimatum to surrender by 08:00, Caden’s governor has so far remained mum, and with the deadline fast approaching, the two Muish officers couldn’t contain their excitement in finally getting to watch the Gra Valkan army in action.
“Do you see the city?”
“Yeah, although it’s a bit foggy.”
Close to the horizon to the north sat the sprawling city of Sanders, an industrial settlement with over 100,000 inhabitants. As Myrus drew his binoculars downwards from the city, he caught sight of conspicuous trenches, concrete pillboxes, artillery pieces, and some old-fashioned trucks moving to and from these positions. Situated at a distance not far from Sanders, these military positions were part of one of Leifor’s heavily fortified defensive lines, which were originally meant to combat a Muish invasion coming from the east. Examining their strength, Myrus himself started to sweat at the sight of the numerous force multipliers being brought to bear against the incoming Gra Valkan attack.
“Oi, oi... That is some serious firepower! Considering our tactics, even our ground forces will not have a good time!”
Myrus blurted out as he examined a particular pillbox, which housed an anti-tank gun that could knock out their primary tanks in service.
“Seems like the same dated equipment to me. And as far as I’m concerned, the Gra Valkans were able to punch through Leiforia with ease. If they were able to do that, then they must have something that can beat even this defensive line.”
Myrus drew his binoculars further downwards. Closer to their hill was a dense tree line, and behind its thick foliage were the gathering IGVA forces. Examining one of the units, Myrus came across a peculiar-looking armored vehicle; the conspicuous gun and turret led him to the conclusion that it was a tank. Painted in a mottled camouflage scheme, it was modestly wide, although it wasn’t particularly tall. Its suspension was covered by skirts, and its engine deck was slightly taller than the rest of the hull towards the front. The turret was mounted off center, biased towards the front, and its gun was long and of a bigger caliber than Muish tanks.
“What a tank! I wonder what its performance is, as the gun alone seems to be capable of long-range engagements. Damn... A far-reaching gun should be a priority for our future armored vehicles, as our current tanks will certainly end up as flaming wrecks against these things!”
“Definitely... I can already smell the sweet, sweet budget pouring into the army...”
“Wait, bollocks! What time is it?!”
Pulling back the trench coat sleeve covering his wristwatch, Myrus looked at the time.
“Heavens! The ultimatum is about to expire! Some six seconds!”
Together, Lassan and Myrus counted down till the expiration.
Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Zero; it was now 8 o’clock.
“There! Ultimatum’s out of the window!”
Tucking his wristwatch back underneath the sleeve of his trench coat, Myrus returned to his binoculars. Lassan, too, picked his binoculars up from the trench wall.
“Alright, let’s see what these Valkies have in–”
Boom!
“!!!”
Around 30 seconds after the deadline, the shockwave from the first explosion finally reached them. Despite being accustomed to explosions as military officers, Myrus and Lassan were still rocked by the blasts.
“Already?! How in the world–”
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The sound and shockwaves of successive explosions of great power reached them. Picking up their binoculars, they pointed them towards the Leiforian defensive line. To their surprise and horror, humongous clouds of dirt and smoke have already erupted from the earth where the fortified positions used to be. Craters, fires, twisted and burnt scrap metal, and bodies littered the line. Soldiers fortunate to have survived the initial explosions either ran for cover or ran away from the lines. Myrus trained his binoculars at one particular anti-aircraft cannon, which was slowly being aimed by its crew towards the sky. Then, it was obscured by an eruption of fire and soil. After it had settled, the anti-aircraft cannon or its crew was nowhere to be found.
Taking his eyes off the binoculars, Myrus adjusted his spectacles as he looked at the wider scene.
“By the gods...”
Explosions continued sprouting up all across the line, replacing concrete structures, trenches, artillery pieces, vehicles, and soldiers with enormous craters. At first, Lassan and Myrus assumed that the Gra Valkans were firing long range artillery from somewhere else, but the accuracy and cleanliness of the strikes made them doubt this. Then, Myrus remembered the scene of the anti-aircraft cannon crew trying to point it up to the sky.
“They have planes in the air?!”
The two officers turned their heads to the cloudy sky, sticking them out of the trench to get a better view. Up above them, they saw several formations of planes flying towards the city of Sanders. Possessing no propellers, only a hot air-spewing exhaust at the rear, the planes proceeded to drop black lumps from their bellies onto the already on-fire defensive line.
“Are those... jets?!”
The sight and design of the fast-moving aircraft evoked Myrus’s memories of Mu’s future fighter programs. In contrast to their piston-engine aircraft currently in service, their prototype planes’ futuristic appearance was born out of design considerations yielded by an experimental technology: jet engines. Taking inspiration from the propeller-less aircraft in service with the Holy Mirishial Empire, the Muish were hoping to develop their own in a bid to one-up the Imperials in their arms race.
Now that Myrus and Lassan have witnessed military jet aircraft being employed in a successful action, they felt that they now had more of an impetus to hasten the development of their future air force.
“Quick, Lassan! Take some pictures! I will go and jot down notes!”
“Loud and clear! Gosh, what frightening times, these are! An advanced expansionist is setting up next door... Might as well take clues from how they fight!”
As Lassan photographed the IGVA jet bombers in action, Myrus started writing down what they witnessed.
“Muish jets... Damn you, Valkies... but my thanks, too! I will finally get to see my jets! I can already imagine the faces of the R&D boys back home!”
Imagining a Muish air force dominated by jets, Myrus couldn’t help but feel excited.
Below them, the armored columns of the Imperial Gra Valkas Army sprang into action, engaging enemies on the move and moving to secure positions, further providing Myrus and Lassan clues on the overall concept of maneuver warfare.
Cent. Calendar 03/07/1639, Kimotsuki, Kagoshima prefecture, Japan, 17:50
A quiet peninsula basks in the reds and purples of the setting sun, its trees swaying slightly in the weak wind blowing from the east. Waves of moderate height continually batter the long, white sandy beaches, perfect for surfing. This small peninsula jutting out off the southern end of the island of Kyushu was no isolated place, but it was still situated some distance away from the nearest major city.
It was sunset, and there were no clouds in sight. There was barely any wind, and the atmospheric conditions were mild. The circumstances were perfect for a rocket launch.
Standing tall on the launchpad of the Uchinoura Space Center was a 26m tall Epsilon rocket, its white body glowing red under the rays of the setting sun. The space vehicle stood firm, primed for launch into low Asherah orbit. Underneath it, extensive volumes of water are shot out of pumps, a system designed to reduce damage to the pad and the rocket from the vibrations generated by the launch.
The countdown was already nearing zero.
Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Zero.
The earth trembled and shook as great plumes of smoke and dust erupted out of the launchpad. Ever so slightly, the gigantic rocket rose from the ground in a shower of fire and gas. With the now ignited solid fuel boosters propelling it upwards, the rocket zoomed into the darkening skies.
Carrying several small imaging satellites that had been scheduled for launch when the transfer happened, the rocket grew smaller and smaller as it continued to fly upwards.
TFTC!