---

Gusts of cold air blew throughout the city, as if the world wanted to emphasize that it was winter for the northern hemisphere. The cherry trees which lined the streets lay dormant, performing their duty of decorating the city just fine... if quite a bit less poetically than had been intended. Indeed, the poets of Akitsukuni would likely be completely at a loss when it came to new material. Not that their poems weren't any good, but one often had to wonder just how many of them weren't about the cherry trees blossoming. There we so many of them that the Emperor himself was said to regret making the cherry blossom the national symbol.

In the middle of the city without blossoms, life went on just as it always did. Factory workers marched in lines to their workplaces, soot-covered children carrying chimney brushes made their way from one house to the next, and puffs of smoke arose from trains as they crisscrossed the nation in their rush to deliver the products made in the factories the day before. In the midst of the onslaught of modern life that the nation had imported from Edoniras, then given a new paint job, a remnant of what Akitsukuni once was shouted out into a silent courtyard far from the black skies the factories created.

The shout came in the form of the clashing sound of wood against wood, originating in the courtyard's garden which had been turned into an impromptu battleground by two women. Both were wearing Army uniforms, which were essentially stolen Lancian uniforms which used a light shade of green instead of grey or black and replaced the flag with their own.

Traditionally, they would never use such uniforms in order to allow for better mobility on the battlefield. However, on the modern battlefield, everyone wore their country's uniform. If they did not, then every battle would be little more than a brawl. Most of the time combat training for women still didn't involve the uniforms. Most of the time, however, combat training for women didn't impart skills that were actually meant to be used on the battlefield.

A clack sounded as their weapons were struck against each other, prompting the shorter of the two to jump backwards to avoid the strike at her torso that came immediately afterward. Predicting what would come next, she raised her pole-like naginata directly forward as the other woman came rushing at her. Instead of stopping, the other woman used her own weapon-a wooden reproduction of a Great Han sword-to sweep the naginata away from her. Just as she brought her sword down for a final blow to the head, however, the shorter of the two stepped to the side and used the longer naginata to throw the sword towards the ground. The woman's balance interrupted, the shorter one was able to sweep her naginata at her knees and knock her over. The final blow was a tap on the downed woman's back, signaling her "death" at the hands of her pupil.

"Impressive display, Your Imperial Highness." Said the taller of the two, her wise-sounding voice fitting perfectly with the deep grooves of age that crisscrossed her face. "I'm glad to see you took my suggestion to heart. It will do you good if you ever find yourself facing an enemy soldier armed with a sword, but you must stay mindful of your own stance. Had there been someone else to interfere during that sidestep, you could have been knocked to the ground."

"Well, I could have also been shot in the head." Said the princess, resting her naginata's blade on the ground. "Thank you for all you have done, I doubt one could ask for a better teacher."

"That is true. There is no way to train someone to be invincible, not even someone as quick thinking as you. Even I cannot come close to that."

The princess opened her mouth to respond, but the conversation was interrupted by the voice of an old man.

"Ah, good to see that you're practicing in military dress. How has the training gone so far, Miss Fujioka?"

"The Imperial Princess has done well today, Your Imperial Majesty. She is improving her skilled with a naginata, and her aikido is quite good as well. Still, I would say that she is better with a rifle than anything else. I'd suggest that you take her hunting at some point. It isn't becoming of a lady, but the head of state should be able to fight in any war we find ourselves in. Even if the head of state is a woman."

"That would be why I am here, actually. Part of it, at least. Admiral Yamamori has been petitioning the Diet for quite some time, requesting an expedition to that new continent to the east. I was considering bringing Hanako along."

The woman-Miss Fujioka-looked absolutely horrified by the comment. She was more than willing to follow the orders of her Emperor, but she had to at least draw a dotted line as a suggestion when it came to bringing a girl along into savage-filled lands far from the only home she had ever known.

"With all the respect in my heart, Your Imperial Majesty, an expedition is no place for a princess. There is no need to take her Imperial Highness to uncharted lands when you could simply take her hunting on the outskirts of the city."

"It would do her good to be involved in a military operation. She could become more accustomed to military discipline and protocol. If she is to be Empress, then the military is something she must know how to control, lest it think to turn against her. It would be better to bring her along on a campaign as a camp assistant, but we cannot throw away lives for the sake of her training."

"The expedition is better than a campaign!" She exclaimed, quickly bowing in a subtle apology and lowering her voice after realizing it had been raised. "Apologies, I meant no disrespect."

"There was none taken. It was not common for you to speak with your betters until now, I cannot rightfully punish a person for something they have no control over. Please, go on."

"Thank you, Your Imperial Majesty." If there was one good thing about Emperor Kichirou, it was his kindness. It was not often that Akitsukuni found itself under the rule of a man who would forgive a transgression, and there was likely not a single man in the Diet whom had not taken advantage of that quality at least once. His daughter often wondered whether or not he knew his personality was being exploited. "As I was saying before that unfortunate interjection, neither a campaign nor an expedition is any place for a lady. Especially not the Imperial Princess."

"Women have been taken along on military campaigns for centuries, one was even a Daimyo for quite some time. Her husband was killed in battle, and she led the clan's army for many years before marrying."

"I was unaware. Still, that was well before the restoration of your power, and the power we have now makes such practices obsolete. In the modern age, women no longer need to know how to protect themselves. My skills are but a remnant of the age before we harnessed the power of coal."

Her words were said with great conviction, but beneath then, there was a slight hint of sorrow. It wasn't an aggressive sorrow, quite the opposite, in fact. The words conveyed nothing but reluctant submission. Were a clipper ship to speak of the ironclads and battleships that had replaced it, it would do so in much the same way.

"The reins with which we harnessed coal were made in Edoniras, Miss Fujioka. To surrender our old way of life to the power of technology is to surrender our nation to those of the west. Artists do not need to paint, poets do not need to write. But they do, because that is their way. When an artist paints, it does not matter whether or not their brush is from Akitsukuni or Lancia, for their mind is still theirs. When the Lancian brush is finer, however, one should seek to use that advantage... I suppose we must fight the urge to paint like a Lancian, yet at the same time use their brush."

"I understand, Your Imperial Majesty. Though it was always your decision, no man nor woman in the Empire has any right to give you an order."

Tell that to the Imperial Diet. Thought Hanako, whom was trying to hold her arms as close to her body as possible without messing up her posture. The uniform was designed for sweltering summer heat in the southernmost parts of the Empire, and winter had struck hard and without warning that year. The Army itself hadn't managed to get all of its men in winter dress yet, and the princess and her tutor weren't high on the list.

"That is true, but the Emperor is not all-knowing. Remember that. It shall do our nation well in the future."

A tiny spark of hope flew throughout Fujioka's synapses, before finally being stomped out by the Emperor's final comment.

"That does not mean I have been persuaded otherwise." He said. "The fleet shall be leaving for the Eastern Continent with us two in tow the day after tomorrow. Five airships. One carrier, a couple heavy dirigibles, and two escorts."

"You are going as well? Is that truly wise, to bring the entire royal family on an expedition?"

"There are no diseases there that we do not already have defenses against, thanks to the Edonirans. I doubt the bow-toting natives could do anything to the best vessels our Empire has to offer, anyways."

And the Edonirans have colonies there. Thought Hanako, finishing the sentence that had no intention of continuing. She wouldn't dare say such a thing out loud, but that didn't stop her from saying it in her head. As if this isn't an attempt to warm up relations with them. If we establish colonies there, then we look more important. If the Emperor and Imperial Princess themselves come along as diplomats, then we look more respectful. They wouldn't dare have us speak with any other than their own nobles and royals, and if we speak with their nobles and royals, we get allies. The more allies we have... the easier it will be to put down the rebellion.

Her well-practiced neutral expression just underneath her long, straight bangs twisted itself in a frown for a split second as she thought about the situation. She was perhaps the most well-versed princess-or woman, for that matter-in Akitsukuni history when it came to politics. Even the Emperor knew that she would have to immediately face an attempted coup and countless assassins hired by people she would have to drink with at parties. Of course, every sip would in itself be an assassination attempt. Every cup would be full of poison and every security guard would have a split allegiance. All the while, half the military would be out to get her in order to restore a "True Emperor". Which, of course, would just so happen to be whatever General saw the chance first.

So it was probably a good thing she was going to be taught how to handle moving targets.

Heijing, Northwest-Hei Province, Da Nanguo

Young Ji sat atop the foreman's office's balcony, peering downward though twisted iron railings, at thousands of filthy peasants toiling away below, dying slowly in the endless fields of coal and shattered rock. It was early in the afternoon, yet the sky was already dark. Flakes of soot and ash pirouetted downward, landing softly in the emperor's hair. He shook them away without ceremony, and gazed further at his labouring subjects.

Lifting a hand from his silk-laden lap, he reached for a cotton kerchief. Raising it to his face, he forcefully blew his nose. He didn't feel ill, but the scent of this city had become an unbearable offense to his nostrils. He tried as best he could to eject the smell, to no avail. Placing the soiled cloth on his lap, he drew a bottle of vinegar from the floor. He doused the kerchief in the pungent concoction, and again held it to his face. Foul as it was, it was an escape, a distraction, from the thick deluge of impurity that flowed all around him. Several stories below, the hacking and wheezing of the miners and factory workers echoed their way up to Ji. He scowled through the doused rag, still resting against his face. It was break time, and the coughing would soon be drowned out by the chiming of a thousand pickaxes harvesting the lifeblood of the nation.

That was Ji's motivation for spending so much time in this wretched city. He gained no satisfaction from seeing his subjects die of Hei Fei Disease, but he knew this great pit, this festering wound, was Da Nanguo's only hope. Ji remembered reading of the Hanish emperors of old, who grew fat, lounging about in their rice-paper mansions, while barbarians raided the countryside. They paid no heed to their receding borders, or the grim future of their people. They were plump and happy, and that was all that mattered to them. This wasn't the legacy of the Qing. It was the bloodline's insatiable determination, a lust that could never be placated, that allowed the Qing to seize power. Ji learned well, that the destiny of Great Han was endless expansion. Any expressed doubt for this doctrine was met with a vicious beating from the Prosperity Emperor himself, Ji's father.

Ji let out a mournful sigh, before wearily rising to his feet, and giving an authoritative nod to the foreman below. The foreman, who had been waiting attentively for the emperor's signal, began shouting to the workers. Break time was at an end. As the workers scrambled to their feet, Ji slumped back into his chair. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, halfheartedly attempting to stave off an oncoming headache. Below, the sounds of whips and whimpers rang aloud.

"Chun Lin", Ji called.

"Yes your majesty?", responded a lanky, sickly-looking adviser.

"How steady is this mine's export of coal?"

"Your holiness, this mine is one of your largest, within all of the Celestial Empire."

"Yes Chun Lin, I know thi-."

"A thousand pardons, your greatness", the groveling official pleaded.

Ji emitted another sigh, this time born from deep exasperation. "What I mean, Chun Lin, is how does the mine's production, this month, compare to its production last month, and the month before that?"

"S-sir, as much as it saddens me to say, it has been steadily declining. Through no fault of the workers or managers, I should add. The pits are simply running dry, and we're running out of locations to mine."

The emperor furrowed his brow at the concept. "What about that mountain, over there", he commented, pointing toward the next mountain over. "If we found so much coal here, it seems likely to me that we'll find more there as well."

"Your economic brilliance knows no limits, great one", the adviser commented without the slightest air of irony, "however, oh mighty one, that mountain houses the Mengren tribe. The area is sacred, and was gifted to them by Second Prosperity himself, when he mercifully recognized the various native tribes of our glorious empire, and granted them their own land."

"Chun Lin", Ji grunted, "There is only one tribe in Da Nanguo. That tribe is called the Da Nanguoren, and the Da Nanguoren have need of that mountain. Send the Heijing city guard to clear any tribals from the mountain, and begin mining at once."

"As you command", Chun Lin uttered fearfully, scurrying off.

"It's what he would have wanted. It's what he would have wanted. It's what he would have wanted", Ji silently chanted to himself, in a distinctly neurotic fashion. "It's definitely what he would have wanted... Guard!"

"Yes sir!", responded a young, armour-clad man, emerging from beyond the balcony entrance.

"Fetch my carriage driver! I have factories to inspect!", Ji commanded.

"At once, sir!", bellowed the enthusiastic guard, rushing back inside the metallic tower, and clamouring down the stairs.

"It's what he would have wanted. It's what he would have wanted. It's what he would have wanted.", the emperor whispered, rocking back and forth slightly, in rhythm with the words. "It's what he w-"

Ji broke into a fit of coughs. The air was getting to him. It had to be the air. Emperors, with things required of them, didn't have time for sickness. As such, sickness knew to respect the crown by staying far away during times of war. This unshakable truth was passed down from the first Qing emperor, and Ji knew better than to question it. Clasping his throat in discomfort, he continued the ritual.

"It's what he would have wanted. It's what he would have wanted..."

Yantai City, Shandong Province, The Akitsukuni Mainland


Sunset was swiftly approaching, over the coastal city. The air was mildly warm, but clear. A constant ocean breeze preserved the air's quality, blowing all the factory smog inland, toward Wodejing. The smell of salt water and spicy food (from all the street vendors) lingered in the nostrils of every citizen. As the sun began burrowing behind the distant eastern mountains, a low, distant chime rang through the air. The streets quickly began to empty, as everyone responded to the curfew. With tensions rising between Da Nanguo and Akitsukuni, local officials were afraid of a rebellion forming. In such an ancient city as this, they were right to be.

*Rat*, *Tat*, *Click*.

Through a shuttered, second-story window, a shaggy young man readied his bolt-action rifle. Fast and accurate, it was most advanced weapon a sharpshooter could hope to get his hands on, in this part of the world. He was almost frightened, by how much more effective this device was against the, still commonly used, old-style flintlock. Peering through the plain wooden shutters, to the street below, he saw two imperial officers strolling by, ensuring that everyone was obeying the curfew. Turning away from the window, he closed his eyes and collected himself. Through his nostrils, he took a deep breath of musky apartment air, before turning back to the window. With his eyes locked firmly on the back of the officials' heads, and a tight grip on his rifle, he waited.

The imitated whistle of a songbird pierced the air. It was time.

He carefully opened the window's shutters, and mounted his rifle on the windowsill. He lowered his head, lining up with the gun's sights, and prepared to take the shot. From the corner of his eye, he saw the glint of his comrade's barrel, protruding from a window across the street. Following his target, the young man trigger finger grew tight.

*BANG*

The two rifles went off nearly simultaneously, their noise echoing through the city, like a clap of thunder. As the two officials slumped forward, onto the stone street, crimson blood painted the ground around them. The two snipers exchanged excited looks. There was no turning back now. The rebels had made themselves known, and it was all-or-nothing from this point onward. Quickly, they reloaded their guns, keeping a frantic lookout for approaching soldiers, who would have heard the blast.

Sure enough, the thumping of footsteps grew, as nearby city guards rushed through nearby alleys, arriving on the scene. There were three of them at first, before a second round of gunfire sent two more tumbling to the ground. Seeing his allies fall around him, the third guard span about-face, and began sprinting down the street. The young sniper rushed to load the next round into his rifle's chamber. Taking up aim again, and following the swiftly escaping target, he held his breath.

*BANG*

He missed! The guard made a sharp turn around the corner, out of sight.

"Wo tsao"(literally 'I fuck'), the youth swore to himself.

He slumped back, away from the window, and caught his breath. Lowering his weapon, he gazed across the street at his fellow gunner, who was sneering quite ferociously at him.

"Ni tsao"(literally 'you fuck'), the gunner teased.

They both readied their guns again, and checked them once-over. Moments later, uniformed officials began popping their heads out from around various corners, soon followed by the ends of their rifles and pistols.

*BANG*, *CRACK*, *BANG*.

The snipers ducked, as wood splinters fell over them. If this turned into a long shootout, the imperials were bound to win. They had the ammunition advantage.

"Eyyy! Dajia! Gei women kaoshan!", the neighbouring gunner bellowed from behind his window's ledge.

Just then, half a dozen shop windows swung open along the way, revealing additional armed rebels. With a thundering crackle, a fray of bullets flew toward the peeking imperials. A couple fell, but more arrived to take their place. Another series of rounds from the imperial side saw three rebels collapse, bullets in their heads. The young sniper hopped up to take another shot at one of the encamped soldiers, when a bullet flew through his left ear. The loud whiz startled him, and he shot wide, hitting nothing. Ducking down to reload, the sharp sting of the injury hit him. Hope of victory was fading fast. He had no idea how many guards were being dispatched as the standoff continued.

"Ahhh", he moaned to himself. "Ta ma de!"

Shots continued to echo through the air, and the thick smell of gunpowder began to surround him. Sinking into a state of panic, the young man gripped his rifle, and began edging away from the window. Lead pellets swarmed through the open window, and struck the ceiling above him. Dust and wood chips rained down on his head. That was it. He decided to make a run for it.

Still keeping his head low, he bolted toward the room's door. Slamming into it, and swinging it open, he stumbled out in the hall. Residents peered at him from partially-opened doors, fearfully wondering what was going on. He clamoured down the stairs, and out of the building's back door. Sprinting down the alley, the hope of escape, of life, filled his mind. The sound of gunfire grew more and more distant. He reached the end of the alleyway, reached the next street over, continued running with all his might when-

*THUMP*

"Argh!"

A city guard, on his way to the scene, saw the young man round the corner. Reflexively, he raised the butt of his rifle and slammed it into the kid's head. The fearful rebel flipped backward, and landed flat on the hard ground. The guard, towering above him, took aim.

"Who are you!", the guard shouted.

"F-Fei Ma L-Long", the sniper groaned.

"Fei Ma Long, you're under arrest, for terrorism!"

---

Black smoke billowed up into the sky from the pedrail's smokestack as it made its way through the streets. It didn't need to announce its presence to force the locals out of they way, they knew better than to stand in the path of an Akitsukuni pedrail. Especially one with a Nariakira gun on top and clad in the lime green of the army. They made space for it on the crowded road, no exceptions. Mothers rushed across the road to leave their children on the other side and fishermen let freshly-caught carp drop beneath the vehicle's pedrail tracks, all in order to get out of the way in time. If you made an army pedrail stop for you, you would have worse problems than a little lost profit.

The noisy contraption came to a stop within the gate of Fort Shandong, the center of all Akitsukuni military and police activities in the province-as its name would imply. An ancient castle had been brought down using dynamite in order to allow the construction of the military complex in the middle of such a large city. One of the two guards walked up to it, and the driver-whom was encased in the most heavily-armored compartment of the vehicle-handed him a sheet of paper stamped with the imperial seal. The guard nodded and, without a word, the vehicle continued on through the checkpoint.

It was an interesting design to the locals, though the novelty of steam-powered vehicles combing the streets had faded away over the years. The front of it had much more conventional, rounded wheels in order to allow for easier turns. It was propelled, however, by the pedrail tracks situated in the back. A common design for Imperial light vehicles, and one rather useful for traversing a battlefield. It's armor, of course, also made it ideal for transporting dangerous individuals. Such as the man contained within its passenger compartment at that very moment.

At last, it made its final stop in front of the fort's prison. It wasn't a true prison, really. The pre-existing ones and blue coal mines were perfectly fine for petty thieves and the like. This building was meant only for the most dangerous. Those who rebelled against the Empire. More suited for a captured enemy soldier than a man picked up off the streets. Of course, that was what terrorists like the man being brought there were. Enemy soldiers.

"Disembark!"

The Sergeant's order was followed instantly by the men aboard the pedrail, one of whom opened the steel ramp at the back and let it crash onto the ground. He ran down it, and the rest followed. Two men were holding a native man, who was restrained in handcuffs as they dragged him towards the building. It wasn't a long journey, just a few steps and they were already inside. The guards stationed inside took over from there, bringing the man over to an interrogation room.

"Hiretsu-na inu!" Said one of them as he spat on the man, before unceremoniously shoving him into the room and slamming the door.

To be perfectly honest, it wasn't a sturdy door. It was simply made of wood, and the only thing preventing it from being opened was a single lock. After all, it wasn't meant to hold anyone for long. The interrogator arrived shortly afterwards.

He was surrounded by guards-four of them-each holding a rifle. Batons hanging from their belts made it clear what would happen if they didn't have to kill someone. The interrogator himself wasn't that much of an imposing man. His build was average for someone in the army, and his uniform wasn't covered with medals like that of a general's. His only armament was a revolver hanging from his belt in lieu of a baton. In any other situation, the man wouldn't have been afraid of him. When four other people are pointing their rifles at you and you're in prison, however, things that normally wouldn't phase you have a way of being far more intimidating.

"Fei Ma Long." Began the interrogator, pausing for a moment afterwards as if waiting for an answer. The man gave none, apparently the right choice, as the interrogator chose to continue. "You opened fire on Imperial officials, and resisted forces sent to restrain you with deadly force. As far as you must be considered, you are personally at war with the Greater Akitsukuni Empire."

He walked over to a small table in the center of the room, and pulled its only chair out for the man. After a brief pause, the odd invitation was accepted. Fei Ma Long expected to be beaten for "taking the place of his better" or some other stupid excuse to make the interrogator feel more powerful, but such a thing never came. It was almost like there was no catch-the interrogator simply circled around the table. When he opened his mouth, however, it became clear that his circling was that of a vulture.

"You know why I wanted you to sit right?"

One didn't even need to understand the insinuation behind the statement. All that a person could possibly need to know was in the man's voice-that sickening, spiteful voice. He might have pulled out a chair for a man his government considered below him, but there wasn't an ounce of respect meant in that gesture.

"It's because you can't fight when you're sitting at a table." He continued, not allowing any time for a response to be formulated. "There's not enough time for you to react between when I give the order and when these soldiers pull their triggers. As long as you're sitting at this table, you are completely at my mercy."

He remained silent for a few moments, and drew a spiral in the dust upon the table. Before speaking against, he brought his head down close to the table and blew away the rest us of the dust surrounding his little spiral.

"Fitting, isn't it? It really illustrated the situation you're in. Deep down, you know my people are more powerful, more clever than yours. You know you can't win. And yet, you still fired those shots, because the truth of your inferiority was hidden to you. You couldn't see it with your eyes, feel it in your heart's beating. Now you do, don't you? Now that I've spelled it all out for you and given you a handy visual aid, I think that even someone as stupid as one of you monkeys could get it. You lost before you learned how to fire a gun. You lost before you were born, before your father was born, before your father's father was born and ten thousand years before that!"

Finally, he put an end to his circling and brought his hands down onto the table. His face leaned ever closer to the captive's as the eternal silence continued on, only to be broken by more of his monologue.

"It's funny that you tried to resist, honestly. Did you forget who it was that the wind itself rushed to defend twice? It certainly wasn't you. So tell me, unless you think that the wind will switch sides, where did you get that gun? Did our troops somehow fail to confiscate it, or did you get it from outside?"

Only someone incapable of understanding any human language would miss the fact that he clearly suspected the latter.

"Perhaps your people would like to try their luck once more?"

Ma Long sat quaking, in the cold, hard wooden chair. He looked up at his sinister interrogator, trying desperately to hide the terror in his eyes. He was dead if he didn't tell them. But, for all he knew, they'd kill him either way. His entire life, he had been told that the imperials were masters of deception, who's greatest joy was stabbing their allies in the back. Were they really superior? At killing their neighbours, perhaps. At stealing food out of the mouths of children, yes. At abusing the local women, absolutely. But they knew nothing of art, culture, free industry, the favour and blessings of God's messenger in the flesh.

With renewed hate in his eyes, Ma Long sucked his tongue, preparing to spit at the despicable creature standing over him. But before the act could be done, the interrogator saw his tightening lips, and swiftly clamped one firm hand around the rebel's throat. Ma Long gasped, and began choking on his own saliva. The interrogator continued, lifting Ma Long up by the neck. The kid's eyes bulged, still aware that any reaction on his part would cause the guards to open fire.

"I asked you a question, rat", the interrogator hissed. "Where", he paused, reading the fearful eyes of his subject, "did you get that gun".

Hearing a muffled scream in response, the interrogator released his grip, returning Ma Long to his chair with a thud. He stared at the pitiful creature expectantly.

"W-wo de....", the prisoner stuttered, scouring his brain for the translation. The interrogator was speaking the empire's official northern language, and with an Akitsukuni accent. Ma Long's dialect was rural southern, and he could only understand a portion of what was being said to him. "I... I g-get gun... f-from m-m-man in... Da Nanguo a-army. He s-say great Ji c-command us. Pro-... protec' us."

"What man? Who is he?", the interrogator persisted.

"Eh-ehh...", Ma Long struggled, unable to think of the word. "Ehh... he call' JiangLing."

"JiangLing...", the interrogator pondered, his eyes darting around for a moment. He had heard that word before. Ma Long let out a breath of relief, as his captor's cold eyes diverted away from him.

"JiangLing... General", the interrogator recalled, "Was he a general?"

Ma Long, struck with shame, hesitated, provoking a threatening twitch from the interrogator's hand.

"Du-y-yes!" he blubbered.

The interrogator gave his pet a devilish grin. This was useful information, to be sure.

"Wh-what happen now?", Fei inquired. "I g-go?"

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________





The Emperor's royal steam-powered carriage trudged forward, through the crowds of onlooking peasants. Behind it followed a line of seventeen other military vehicles. Only a couple were still horse-drawn. In the days of old, Emperors were accompanied by a long procession of gold-lined carriages and thrones, either pulled by horses or carried by servants. These fixtures would house various dignitaries and advisers. This tradition died at Ji's coronation. His accompaniment consisted of a series of cold, grey, iron-plated wagons, each carrying six armed guards. Wealth and bright colours didn't stop the invasion, the assassinations, the sanctions. The people of Da Nanguo needed strength, not elegance.

Ji reflected, attempting to channel the spirits of the warlords of old, who's bloodlust and mercilessness united countless kingdoms into the world's greatest empire. He was knocked out of this state by a sudden thump, as the carriage lurched to a halt. He opened, and peered through, one of the carriage's peep-holes, to see what the matter was. As he suspected, they'd run over another peasant, and the guards had to drag the body off the road. The damned fool, running across the street in front of the emperor's procession. No matter, a moment later the convoy began moving again. Onward, to the capital. The Emperor had to address his subjects.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________





Ambassador Zhang stood at the centre of the throne room, watching hundreds of servants scurry about in preparation for the Emperor's arrival. Each servant was clad in a uniquely coloured silk robe, that swayed and fluttered as it trailed behind them. It was a beautiful sight to behold, not unlike observing one of the schools of exotic fish in the Emperor's aquatic garden.

Tables and chairs were set for the scribes and dignitaries. Candles and incense were lit in every corner. Golden ornaments were polished and hung with care. Just outside, Zhang could hear the splashing, scrubbing, and rattling of dozens of concubines washing and decorating themselves. Each hoped to be the one to accompany the Emperor on his first night back. Past them was the reception for low-level dignitaries, where the rustling and murmuring of a dozen officials could be heard, all waiting to present their daughters as potential brides to the Emperor.

The ruckus continued, until it was interrupted by the bellow of a trumpet. The royal convoy had arrived. Zhang quickly flipped through his documents, ensuring they were all there. Admiral Long was hoping to claim a few more southern islands, and set up additional naval bases. General Bao wanted permission to conscript the men of various northern villages. And a large, spice trading ship had returned from the West, with all kinds of exotic gifts and trade declarations. The Emperor had a busy day ahead of him.

Primus, Lancia
Erich sat in a chair on the balcony of the Royal Palace. A cool air blew over threw the evening as Erich’s dirty blonde hair fluttered a bit. He himself wore the Royal Regalia that he had been given as the Crown Prince, a light grey outfit trimmed with silver, with the Iron Cross sewn into it. His face was clean shaven, with light blue eyes that glew in the falling light of the evening.

He sighed as he continued to sip from a small round glass, full of what appeared to be some kind of liquor. Erich had lately after his father finally made him retire from military taken to a life of politics and international diplomacy. It was of course what he had been originally trained for, having had government has a part of education growing up, but it tired him. It was the life however he would have to accept, as one day he would ascend to the throne of Kaiser.

Erich looked out over Primus. It was vastly beautiful city, being one of the examples of Lancia’s continued growing industrial might. Powered electric lights were strung throughout the entire city, as vast airships left and entered dock. It was quite an amazing sight, thought Erich to himself, and he remembered he had been here some years ago looking at that same sight and that is why he decided to join the military.

A creaking noise could be heard as the door-way to the balcony opened, revealing a female royal guard. Flowing blond hair had been tied into a ponytail behind her, and baby blue’s eyes looked at Erich. A rifle rested on her back and a purely ceremonial sword at her hip. Erich stood up, taking a brief moment to look at her before embracing her, placing a kiss upon her lips.

“Hello my love, Alena.” said Erich, a loving caress in his voice. Erich released Alena from his grasp as she spoke.

“It has been to long love. Your father seems to have been sending you on a lot more diplomatic missions to Eisenkreis lately.” spoke Alena.

Erich paused for a minute, before responding.

“True...but it is not because our relationship with them is not stable. There is a noble there he wishes me to marry. He believes it will solidify the relationship between Lancia and Eisenkreis and open up the path to creating a Greater Lancian Union with Eisenkreis.”

“Eisenkreis is our brothers, but would they even agree to such a Union?” asked Alena, taking a seat along with Erich.

“It is very unlikely. I have seen the political and cultural situation in Eisenkreis and while they are still similar the differences grow each year. A union could cause instability issues as well as some friction between the government of our nation and Eisenkreis. It is that such, it will be unlikely for Eisenkreis to agree to such a Union.” responded Erich, taking another sip of his liquor.
Alena paused for a minute, merely listening to the ambient sounds of the balcony. She then turned to Erich.

“Have you spoken to your father about us?” quietly asked Alena. Her tone indicated she seemed to be worried.

“Alena, you are the finest royal guard we have, both my father and I entrust you with our life. However, even if he did give me a choice as who I could marry, he would not let me marry someone of common birth. If only I could try to get you into the field so you could earn the Iron Cross, then I could safely speak to my father about our relationship.” sighed Erich.

Both sat silently for the rest of the evening, enjoying each other's company. They seemed to have veered off their previous discussions and only talked about positive topics.

Trying to instill drill in these disorganized savages was becoming a tiresome morning chore.

It had only been 3 weeks since Sáirsint Complachta Ciar Ó Dubhshláine had been assigned to train the new recruits. He was beginning to find, however, that these rowdy bunch of tribesmen were no better than a pack of wild animals in this early of a stage. They had been raised fighting each other in traditional ways; stick fighting, brawling, wrestling, and ganging up in clannish assaults.

That disorganized rabble would only get them a permanent place in a grave when time came for a real war. The world was changing, and the old ways of fighting had no place on the modern battlefield. Taioseach Bhioctoria knew that, wisdom that would keep Cruhanvor from becoming just another victim of some larger nation's war hunger. But if the country was to be safe, these men and women would need to be straightened out, turned from a pack of wild dogs into a well oiled machine.

The Sáirsint could think of no better place than in the mountain valley where Fort Cnoc Dubh had been constructed. The Highlands of Alba were known for forging warriors, making some of the greatest of Galian warriors. The natural land provided sheer cliffs for the recruits to climb and jog on. The fertile yet rocky land was perfect for teaching them to forage and hunt. And the danger of the land made desertion nigh impossible.

Lately, the Sáirsint had been having problems with a recruit, a man of Cymrian origin; one Mervyn mab Ofydd, from a village called Caerwyf. His apathy towards his training was begging to annoy Sáirsint Ó Dubhshláine. Just now, the man was standing limply in line, just returning from a hike in the mountains. He was not limp with exhaustion, however, but simply disinterested in his position.

“Recruit Mab Ofydd,” The Sáirsint sternly called out to the apathetic young man, who in turn responded by lazily swinging his head to face the Sáirsint’s.

“Yes, sir?”

“I cannot help but notice that you seem rather impassive in regards to your training.” Sáirsint Ó Dubhshláine, “Perhaps, there is a reason for this?”

The Cymrian responded as was to be expected, with little respect, “Indeed, I do. I see no reason for us to waste our time learning to march in step, to turn to the left and right, to learn how to hold a gun. These are all things we’ve been doing since we were kids; we already know how to fight”

The sound of murmuring began to emanate from the other recruits, some seeming to agree while others seemed to mumble in annoyance. The Sáirsint smiled as he began to recount a common tale that he liked to tell to new recruits.

“Are you aware, Recruit Mab Ofydd, that I was stationed in Ildathach when I was just an Earcach (recruit)?” The Cymrian looked in confusion but did not say anything as the Sáirsint continued his story. “We were sent there to keep peace, and protect Gaillimh Nua. There isn’t much out in the area where we were stationed, just rainforest, hot humid, soul crushing temperatures. Your body needs to be strong out there, because the sun, and the heat are unlike anything you will face in Cruithan.” The Sáirsint then turned to the recruits once more, “But, the worst thing in Ildathach, are the natives. The team I was assigned to, we were out dealing with complaints that the farmers were giving about something destroying their equipment out in the deeper parts of the forests they were taking down. A group of 5 of us, we went out, only to be ambushed by a group of 12 Tupis. Now, if we had followed our drill training, we could have easily routed these natives, but we were fools and decided to fight like we had as kids. The numbers of the tupis alone were able to overpower us, as we were to focused on our own personal brawls to watch out for each other. I was barely able to make out out alive, but 3 of our squad members, they were not so lucky. The Tupis took them out, and ate them, like they do to all prisoners they take. So, Recruit Mab Ofydd, you can follow my drill, and keep yourself alive, or you can fight like a savage, and end up getting eaten alive by a New Worlder, or perhaps you’ll find yourself being skewered by one of that Mad Man Napoleon’s men, when he finally decides he wants to destroy the Republic for his own gain.”

The recruits looked horrifed at the idea of being eaten alive by Tupis in Ildathach, though the Sáirsint was embellishing the story a bit. He had no idea what the fate of those soldiers was, though being cannibalized was certainly a real possibility. Though, what was a little fear to keep them in line. It would do them some good to be on guard while they were training, put some motivation in them.




The sugar crop had been very plentiful this year.

The switch to mechanization across the colony had been a great boon to everyone, increasing output, decreasing the reliance of slave labor, meaning more money for the common farmer all across the nation.

Ilathach had been described as paradise, but it was a paradise that needed to be fought for, a paradise to be conquered.

And the first step of taming the wild beast that is the Many Colored Land was to start moving out the dense rainforests standing in the way of crop-laying. However, when it came to that, problems always arose with the damn natives. They were incessant, always destroying machines, killing farmers, stealing animals, and destroying crops. Everyone knew they were trying to drive out the settlers, but all it lead to was a growing hatred between them. It was, an awkward situation. When the colony was first settled, many of the Galians and Cymrians took wives and husbands among the natives, producing resident natives in the settlements, and children of mixed descent, creating even more animosity within the colony itself.

But, that was to be dealt with later. The Sugar was keeping the colony strong for now, Cruhanvoir had reason to keep funding the colony, and aid in getting rid of the natives. The sugar was making good money for the nation, as were the fruits and new woods found among the rainforest.

The afternoon was bright, with rays of sunlight trickling through breaks in the clouds. Assembled in the royal courtyard, of the Palace of Heaven, stood thousands of soldiers, servants, dignitaries, and reputable land-owners. As the Emperor stepped forward through the main gate, they all fell to their knees, with their heads resting on the cool ground. The Emperor stepped calmly, down a path through the middle of the subservient crowd, his massive golden robe flowing in the soft breeze. Behind him marched a line of one hundred armed guards. Each held a bayoneted musket to their chest, with the tip pointing to the sky. Slowly, the Emperor made his way to the royal staircase at the other end of the courtyard, where he began his climb. Once at the top, he spun around to face his subjects. A mighty drum sounded, alerting the crowd that it was time to turn around. They all rose, turned about on the spot, and took a new kneeling position, facing the Emperor.

Gazing down, at the endless sea of colours, Ji paused. A salty breeze drifted in from the ocean, and he took a moment to savour it. He then slid one manicured hand into his robe, extracting a tightly rolled piece of parchment. He handed it to his royal orator, a man known as "the Voice of Prosperity". This tall, imposing figure unraveled the document, and examined it. In a great, booming voice, he began to read it aloud.

"Loyal subjects of the Emperor, his holiness, slayer of evil, spirit of the brave, protector of our nation, highest of high, greatest of great, strongest and wisest of all! Today is to be a day of victorious celebration! Your Emperor has returned from the Province of Prosperity, with tidings of hope! Our nation, wealthy and powerful, will soon receive wealth beyond imagination! Your Emperor has blessed the mines, blessed the factories, and blessed the farmers. He has declared that this shall be a year of prosperity, as was often seen before the Island Devils stole our capital! He has granted a blessing to mothers, that children born this year will be strong. Soon, the Emperor proclaims, in his infinite wisdom and foresight, we will observe the Islands of Evil, home of the thieving and murderous Island Devils, as it sinks into the sea!"

At this, the crowd cheered with a great ferocity. Satisfied that his speech was having the desire effect, Ji raised a single hand, demanding the immediate silence of his subjects. When they immediately obeyed, he granted them a single nod of acknowledgement. They listened for more, readying their bodies and minds for the blessings and predictions of the Emperor.

"Your Emperor, descendant of the immortal line of Jin, blessed by Heaven, has seen the future. Soon, the ancient kingdom of Han will be restored, greater than ever before. Your Emperor sees your hard labour, your devoutness, and he promises a paradise on Earth, for the subjects of Da Nanguo, for the subjects of Great Han. When the Island Devils drown, the dark energy they release into the world will die with them. Crops will grow better than ever before! The air will be fresh, as it has not been in generations! No longer, will the workers of this nation know hunger! No longer will we know pain! When the Devils no longer steal our money, steal our food, steal our spiritual energy, our bowls will overflow!"

The speaker again paused, and the Emperor gave a mild gesture to his audience, giving them permission to cheer once again. Again, after a moment of roaring applause, he silenced them.

"So says the Emperor himself, endless glory ringing through his name, that today is the day of work. Today is the day of toil. Today is the day of unrest! Today is the day we serve our nation, with all our body and spirit, so that tomorrow we may relax, and live in endless luxury. When you work, when you write, when you fight, do so with every strand of your being! Do so with the entirety of your spirit! Do so, because the harder you work now, the greater will be your reward, when the Emperor reclaims the stolen wealth of the Island Devils! Now go, and earn the Emperors blessing! Show your neighbours, show your friends, show your family that you will be the one to receive the greatest blessing!"

One final time, the crowd cheered. On and on it went, till the sound rang in Ji's ears. Eventually, the cheering died down, and the people were dismissed. Ji made his way into the palace, up the steps to his throne, and slumped down for a rest.

No such luck, however, he was greeted by dignitary after dignitary. Some wanted money for an invention or a real estate development. Some wanted a ship for an exploratory voyage. Some came with their daughters, dolled up in excessive layers of makeup, hoping to become the Emperor's father-in-law. Some wanted a blessing for their village. Those were Ji's favourite, because it was quick, easy, and inspired a great deal of thanks and praise from the dignitary. It made him happy, to know the crown was still loved by so many of the people.

Time passed, and the sun began to set. All visitors were dismissed, and the Emperor's servants assembled to bathe him and change his clothes. As they began scrubbing and dousing him with warm water, his mind wandered. Surely, if Da Nanguo was to reach its fullest potential, it wouldn't be enough to overthrow the Islanders. What about their neighbour to the north? Bordering world powers never have healthy relationships. Besides, it would be a fine excuse to profit from the technological advancement of Lancia, the grandfather nation of blue-coal technology. That was it.

"Scribe!", he summoned.

The great vessel's propeller blades cut through the air, moving the behemoth of an airship forward through the alien skies of the New World. It had been almost a week since the expedition had left, with the Imperial Princess in tow. The Emperor had been persuaded to stay behind to govern the country by a member of the House of Representatives. Nobody knew just what a commoner had said to convince the Emperor to stay, but there were rumors that it had to do with the House of Peers and their scheming. Such rumors were silenced quickly, of course. The Emperor couldn't appear weak.

In the fleet's journey from the Akitsukuni homeland, it had encountered countless wonders and surprises. All of which were recorded by the cartographers it had taken with it. A small island kingdom was discovered in the middle of the ocean. They were primitive, carrying spears and wearing loincloths, and without any knowledge of even the sail. Still, the airships had moored off the coast to trade for whatever goods the locals carried. They had left stocked with fresh food and knowledge of the New World. Apparently, the northern continent was a desert wasteland covered in mountains, while the southern continent had coastal mountains that concealed a lush forest. At least, that was what it had looked like on the map. As such, they lifted off and set a course for the south.

Luckily, they had been correct in their assumption that green meant plants and upward-pointing arrowheads meant mountains. The fleet passed over an incredible expanse of forest soon afterwards, at which they once again moored (this time onto a tree instead of with an anchor) and investigated the locale. There weren't any natives, at least, none that showed themselves. Some sort of large, black creature resembling a dragon was found with a spear stuck into its amazingly well-armored hide, having been left behind by a hunter. The fleet left in a hurry after one crewman reported seeing "An animal the size and shape of a horse that strayed into the river consumed in minutes by a swarm of fish that left nothing but the bare bones behind."

Now, the fleet had been traversing a vast grassland and more traditionally forested areas (as in, ones free from tiny, demonic fish) for many hours. Things were starting to look more hopeful. Tracks from what had to have been vehicles could be seen in the ground below, almost certainly from Edoniran vehicles. Though the expedition was officially nothing more than an excursion to study the biology and topography of the New World, it was an open secret that the whole point of it was to set up more official relations with Edoniran nations. Though much of the earlier Imperial fleet had been bought from such countries, there had never been any official alliance set up with any of them. To make matters worse, the country they had bought most of their ships from had been conquered shortly afterwards. As such, they were left with no diplomatic foothold in Edoniras. They would have sent an airship over land, but they weren't exactly on the best of terms with most of the countries on the way. A naval expedition would have taken too long, so instead they had chosen to send an expedition blindly out to the New World as if they had never even contacted the outside world.

At some point in their flight, a scout from the carrier sent a report of a settlement a ways to the southeast, causing a second course change for the fleet. The air wing of the carrier was launched in its entirety, all of them sent to search for the settlement and report back. After a few more minutes of travel, the fleet once again moored. The carrier landed (it's flat bottom allowed for such things) and a small team disembarked. Nothing significant, simply a few halftrack transports and a single mech. More than enough to defend them from any native attack, but certainly not enough to fight another industrialized army.

Shortly after they left, they came across a grave that was most likely left during the early days of a colony. As it turned out, the grave was extremely helpful with diplomacy. It was clearly a Chriostaiocht symbol, meaning that the colonists almost certainly spoke Galian, a language from an island nation to the north of the western coastline. It had retained its ancient tribal society, yet had still managed to industrialize. It was that, in fact, that drove much of the resistance to the Kichirou Restoration. After all, if they had managed to do it while keeping their society mostly intact, why couldn't Akitsukuni? Unfortunately for that resistance, however, rifles spoke much louder than words.

Obviously, the recon team had brought translators with them, including one that knew Galian. Unfortunately, the language hadn't been a popular one to study thanks to the nation doing significantly more business with the more heavily industrialized Heland. Of course, studies of their language quickly became irrelevant when it was stomped under the boot of an emperor named Napoleon. By that time they had learned how to build their own modern warships, and as a result, they never opened up relations with the similarly-skilled Galian people. Now, of course, friendly nations within Edoniras were extremely important to secure the power of the girl that would soon become Empress.

Now knowing whom they were dealing with, the translator that happened to know Galian drafted a simple letter for one of the halftrack teams to deliver to the colony ahead.





"It is not our way to just let terrorists go." Said the interrogator, looking down at the pitiful man. "The Emperor would never permit such a thing."

He paused for a moment to pull out a small notepad and pen, and set it down on the table. Leaning over, he began to write a few short sentences on it. He didn't seem to care that there was a man sitting before him, and didn't even bother to cover up the writing that he could easily read if he happened to be literate (He probably wasn't, in any case. The Empire didn't teach such things, and the backwards nation they had taken the land from was too primitive for common literacy). So complete was his ignorance, in fact, that it seemed as though there wasn't a person there.

Of course, there wasn't one to him. Only a rat beneath his boot.

"But I am more merciful than the Emperor." He said, sliding the notepad into his pocket and flashing a soft smile. A genuine soft smile. "I will let you go, you have served the Empire well today. I will see to it that we never bother you again."

He walked over to the door, and moved his hand to open it for the man. Just before his fingers reached the handle, he pulled them back and snapped them instead. The soldiers in the room pulled their triggers, and a volley of bullets hit the man. Blood spattered upon the floor as he fell off of the chair, landing on the cold floor. In the last few moments of his life, his eyes were pointed in just the right direction to see the smile of the man that had ordered his death. It wasn't the smile of a psychopath, it was a normal smile. Like he'd just heard that his child had been born safely.

Somehow, that was worse.

"Perhaps you shall be born Akitsukuni in a later life."

Ríon Méabh, Queen of Tuath Delbhna Nuadat; rested her head, fighting of the urge to doze off, lulled to sleep by talk of sugar exports, with a bit of excitement peppered in with talks of natives being seen nearby. Méabh, her hand blocking off view of her mouth, was parotting everything the economic adivisor was telling her. The same words he said every day.

"Sugar is well as always, what of Tobbacco?" Méabh interjected, curious as to how the tastes in old world were progressing

"Tobacco consumption has actually fallen," the advisor replied, sifting through records

Méabh gave a mild look of displeasure, before asking what had been on her mind all morning, "Has the Dail responded to my request for machines to be sent to clear new pasture land?"

"My lady," The economic advistor said, a glum tone on his lips. "The Taioseach himself has denied your request"

Méabh stormed up, standing tall, fury in her eyes, "He What?"

"The Taoiseach belives that with the climate of potential war with the ever growing militarism of Edoniras, Cruhanvor cannot risk to divert valuable industry to producing deforesting machinery, that will likely just be destroyed by the indigenous people anyways."

Before the advisor could continue, a loud crash rang out, as a silver bowl made contact with the wooden floor, flung by the Petty Queen herself.

The advisor stammered to get her attention before she could continue in her anger, "...But, My Lady. The Taoiseach has approved for Gaillimh Nua to begin widescale machine production, in response to the growing population, and the more recent influx in native insurgency."

Méabh's face did not untwist, but the Queen did cease her imposing stance, slowly sitting back down to listen to the rest of what had to be said. "Very well, I want you to inform the people to begin expanding further east, and I want someone to get in a request for more Cattle to be sent here."

"Yes, ma'am" the economic advistor said, as Méabh's head moved to gaze upon the other members of her tribal court.

"Do we have other matters to attend to?"

"Actually, yes, we do."

A voice echoed out from across the Tribal Chamber, with the foreign advisor, Aonghus Ó Chonall. "I was contacted today, by Rí Seán Mac Mathúna of Tír Naomh Breandán, and Rí Roibéard Mac Fearchar of Cósta ó Dheas. Apparently one of the Fiann living in Rí Roibéard's lands was approched by a group carrying a message. Rí Roibéard sent back a message of his own, and is, as High King of Ilathach, as appointed by the Taoiseach and the Dail, mandating that you come to Naomh Seán, along with all the other Ríthe, to engage in diplomacy."

Méabh, still taking in the information, responded rather stalely, "And who are these people?"

"They are, so they claim, from the Empire of Akitsukuni"

"When will I leave"

"We will depart for Naomh Seán immediately"

All the while, a message in return to the Akitsukuni was finding its way, carried by one of the Galian Fiann patrols.

The evening sky was deep grey, and a light fog remained suspended in the air. Shang sprinted through the thick treeline, panting heavily. His ears and nostrils stung from the cold air, and the strain of his journey.

"Where was it... from here", he wheezed to himself, his eyes darting about.

Shang was looking for a break in the trees, something man-made. He knew he was close. For the sake of crown and country, he had to be close. Onward he ran, stumbling over the thick roots and overgrown bushes.

THERE! Through the trees, just a few yards away. A glimpse of red. That was the outpost. With all the energy he had left, he sprinted for the clearing. Bursting through the leaves, he collapsed in front of two startled guards, each carrying a feathered spear. They glanced down at him.

"Who the hell are you?" said one. "This is government land."

"My name... is Shang", the intruder gasped, looking up at the two men. "I bring news for General Gao. One-five-one-ten."

Hearing the dialectical code, the guards furrowed their brows.

"Alright, come inside. He's been waiting."

With a sigh of relief, Shang rose to his feet, and walked into the outpost with the two guards. It was an impressive facility. The large wooden walls that encircled the station were decorated at every corner with a bright red banner, bearing a traditional symbol of good fortune. Through the front gate, Shang saw a series of bunkhouses, an armory, an archery range, and the commander's office at the center. It was late in the day, and the majority of the soldiers were resting, leaving the courtyard empty. The guards escorted Shang up to, and through, the front door of the commander's office.

Once inside, Shang saw Gao, sitting at the far end of a large wooden table, accompanied by the outpost's commander, and an Akitsukuni official. They seemed to have been halfway through a conversation on border security between the two nations. The general looked up at Shang, not immediately recognizing his face. This wasn't surprising, given that Shang had been out of the country, and under cover, for a couple years.

"Yes?", the general inquired.

"Wo-gao-se-ni-yi-wo-yi-shi", Shang responded in Nanguo dialect, with as thick of a local accent as he could manage, to ensure the foreigner wouldn't immediately understand him. "Ta-men... bu-shi."

The general's eyebrow twitched in response.

"Excuse me, my good man", he said to the dignitary, rising from his chair. "This man has a letter for me. Just a moment. Ni-shuo-yi-wo-yi-shi-ma?"

"Shi-de", Shang responded, as the general made his way around the table, passing behind the Akitsukuni man.

"Hao-ba", the general commented. "I have your delivery fee here", he said, pausing to reach into his shirt. "Eighteen, right?"

"Yes sir", Shang answered.

"Good", said the general, withdrawing a knife from his shirt, reaching around the dignitary from behind, and slitting his throat.

The representative collapsed forward, gurgling blood as his head thrashed on the table. The general and commander both smirked at the sight.

"Pompous swine, comes in a one-man carriage, demanding all kinds of concessions from our border guards. I was praying for an excuse to kill the bastard. Now, we can talk without unwanted attention. What's the damage? Is the squad dead?"

"I'm afraid so, sir, but it's worse than that." Shang stated.

"Worse?" Gao growled inquisitively.

"They've captured Ma Long."

"The recruit? Are you sure?"

"Yes sir. He ran from the fight, and I saw them leading him away as I made my escape."

"Shit", the general commented, thoughtfully. "... Shit! What did he know?"

"Nothing, sir. I told him only what was necessary for the mission. But, he was at the briefing with you personally. The devils may have your name." Shang explained.

"Hmmm", Gao pondered. "Alright, we're going North. The situation is still salvageable. They can't tie this to the Emperor. Commander!"

"Yes sir?" responded the seated man.

"Congratulations, you're now second-in-command of a rogue military faction. Da Nanguo's northern guard is moving ahead with the war. We're taking the fight to the devils, and keeping the Emperor safe while we do it. Tell the men that they no longer answer to the crown, but that their general is leading the resistance. And get them mobilized! We're reclaiming the demilitarized zone!"

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________



Admiral Pan stood at the bow of fleet's crown ship. The cool breeze of the sea washed over him. The sky was clear, and an orange tint hugged the horizon. Between that edge, and the Admiral himself, lay the entire royal fleet, in all its glory. Countless ships, trimmed in gold, iron plated, each outfitted with enough firepower to bring down the side of a mountain. Reveling in this power, Pan drew a small ornate bottle from his pocket. He removed the bottle's cap, lifted it to his nose, and took a deep sniff. The foul stench overwhelmed his senses, and yet brought a sensation of peace and rejuvenation.

This strange substance, snuff they called it, was being imported in massive amounts from the West. They said it was good for the stomach and mind. Pan doubted these claims of health, but it sure made him feel relaxed. From behind him, the sound of footsteps approached.

"Admiral", a young voice cried.

"Wei?", he responded.

"A pigeon of the Emperor has arrived! He's ordering that we mobilize the fleet!"

The Admiral grinned.

"Finally.", he hissed. "Where to?"

"Just East of the Great Trade Island, out of sight of devil patrols, but ready to advance on their southern tip."

"By the will of the Emperor, may his reign be eternal!", Pan boomed, spinning around and jogging back to the ship's helm.

New Rodnia, senter of the Krodnadian empire,

"I'm so dead, I'm so dead, I'm so dead!" A young cadet muttered to himself as he ran through the palice halls, trying to stand up straight, keep his uniform clean, avoid running into any senior officers, and not spill the drink he was carrying. Suddenly, he turns right, faces the imposingly large command room doors, and take one precious second to take a deap breath before entering. Inside, the supreme leader Rek Krout sat in a lavish velvet chair, studying a globe, quietly humming a long forgotten tune. "Sir!" The cadet exclaimed "You've been sent a telegram by the northern forces sir!" Slowly, Rek gets up and begins strolling to the ever so slightly shaking cadet, before reaching down and grabbing the telegram in one hand and the drink in the other and taking a sip. Then, he half heartedly asked "you know that alcohol is meant to be drank cold rite?" "Yes sir." Suddenly Rek lunges at the cadet's throat with an ornate knife, stopping centimeters from his throat and asked "than why is mine fucking warm?" He asked, ever calm, even bored, despite the nature of the situation. "I'm sorry sir, but on the way to bring you you're ding the telegram came in and I thought you would wannt it. I'm sorry sir! I'm sorry!" The cadet whimpered. Rek backed off and set the drink on the now ghostly pail cadets tray before walking back to his chair "Fine. Go get me another one. And make shure it's cold." "Yes sir! The cadet said as he backed out of the room as quickly as he could, silently thanking the havens he still had the same number of appendages as he walked in with. Meanwhile Rek read the telegram.

"Supreme leader Rek Krout, there has been a new development on the northern front. One of our astronomers was looking at the stars and said that if we were to build a large scale port in the Akutsu-Krodnian gulf, we could easily sail from our costs to the new world. I would highly recommend that you allow me to send a scouting force to find out if there claims were true. In other news, we've maneged to reach a 60% success rating on takeoff and landing in the new heavier than air craft. We should have that up to reasonable levels in about three months.
-comander Darfor.

outpost victory, Akutsu-Krodnadian gulf

"Commander Darfor, we've gotten the go-ahead for that scouting mission!" "Good. Begin loading up the ship for the mission. It's time for a little boat ride."

[b][u] New Rodnia, center of the Krodnadian empire [/b][/u]

Two junior officers were arguing about the proper drinking temperature of different drinks wen two letters shot down the pneumatic mail tubes. "God damnit, what now?!" One shouted as the other went over to investigate. "Hold on a minute, it's straight from Krout himself!" The other replied. "Just wen you nead them the most, the mail room staff goes for a coffee break... So, should we tell them to get there fat arses back up here or what?" "Hell, we might as well deliver it ourselves. You remember what happened to the last guy who got one of Krouts' letters late?" "Good point, probably just wants his brandy. Wait no,... Oh my god. We nead the mail staff asap! 'Says hear that it's headed for Diarjing city, and this one to outpost victory!" "hmm, probably just some trade deal. I'll go get those morons back up here."


[b][u] outpost victory, Akutsu-Krodnadian gulf[/b][/u]
Commander Darfor was in an especially bad mood. His transport ship to get him to the mainland had broken down for the third time in just as many days and he didn't know if the old tub was even seaworthy. Of course that didn't last long when he read the letter he had gotten that morning. "Now that's proper boat!" He muttered to himself.