The safehouse inside the castle deeply contrasted with the devastation outside. Designed for royalty, it featured luxury and security, featuring polished wooden floors, ornate chandeliers, and small slit windows from stone, over a metre thick. Through them, Sollan Bay was visible, shrouded in smoke and flickering with embers. The muffled echoes of fires, sirens, explosions, and roaring engines penetrated the heavy walls.
The room was alive with panicked chatter, voices overlapping in a chaotic tone of fear and uncertainty. Nobles in finely tailored garments clutched at one another, their faces pale as they whispered frantically. Military officers stood in tense clusters, discussing what actions to take. Servants huddled near the walls, their hands twisting aprons, their gazes darting between the nobles and the officers, awaiting orders.
Ambassador 'Johnson' Jaeger exhaled sharply near the chamber's centre, rubbing his temple. "Fucking hell," he muttered, shaking his head. "They look like B-17s to me." He spoke to the Japanese ambassador next to him, Ambassador Tenjo.
Tenjo remained still momentarily, his gaze fixed on the smoke rising beyond the windows. The distant rumble of explosions punctuated the air. He inhaled slowly before speaking, his tone measured but laced with anger beneath the surface.
"There is no mistaking it," he said. "Jylon has long been on par with late-war America in both technology and culture. If those truly are B-17s..." He paused briefly, his jaw tightening. "Then this attack could have only come from them."
Johnson frowned but said nothing. The Japanese ambassador adjusted his glasses, his expression darkening. "It is well documented that Jylon was an ally of the Aetesian Empire until they severed ties and withdrew their military and economic presence from Aetesian territories following the outbreak of war with our nations. Until now, they have positioned themselves as neutral." He turned from the window, his gaze sweeping the room, landing on a noblewoman clutching a crying child, her face full of silent terror. "Why, after all that, would they launch such an attack?"
His words hung heavy in the air. Johnson crossed his arms, staring toward the smoke-choked horizon. "That's the question, isn't it?"
Johnson stepped forward with Tenjo, drawn to the narrow slit of a window carved into the thick stone walls. He pressed a hand against the cool surface and peered out at the chaos below.
Sollan Bay was ablaze. Fires raged through the streets, casting an eerie orange glow against the thick plumes of black smoke that rose like funeral pyres into the overcast sky. Even from this distance, he could make out the skeletal remains of buildings reduced to charred husks, their shattered frames jutting out from the wreckage like broken ribs.
His gaze settled on the smouldering ruins of two bombers in the heart of the city. One had embedded itself into the remains of a residential block, its twisted fuselage still burning as firefighters battled the flames. The other lay sprawled across a street, scattered for blocks. Emergency responders alongside American and Japanese military police worked frantically, pulling survivors from the wreckage of buildings while others covered the bodies of those who hadn't been as fortunate, risking their own lives as bombs still fell over the city.
A distant explosion sent a tremor through the floor, and the noblewoman's child whimpered, burying his face in her silken gown. The woman's grip tightened, her knuckles white, her eyes wide with a silent fear. Johnson saw not just a noble but a mother.
Beyond the city, faint but distinct trails of white smoke arced through the sky, remnants of the Bastanian missiles that had torn through the bombers moments before. Their paths crisscrossed against the burning skyline, stark against the darkened clouds of smoke rising from below.
Johnson found himself standing there, absorbing the sight of devastation outside the castle walls. Time seemed to blur, slipping away like sand through his fingers. Whenever the castle shook from the impacts of bombs near or on the castle, he was jolted back to reality, only to be enveloped again by the thunderous sounds of Alveronian M167s, their bursts reverberating through the stone walls. The tempo continued, explosions, gunfire, a moment of quiet, and then another strike. In those moments, time felt like it had no meaning.
Eventually, the chaos began to fade. The thunderous detonations became scattered, and the tremors beneath Johnson's feet left with each passing moment. The sharp bursts of the M167s slowed, then stopped altogether, leaving only the distant echoes of retreating engines. The bombers were departing, fleeing after expending their payloads, their silhouettes disappearing into the smoke-filled sky.
A firm knock echoed against the thick metal doors. All conversation in the room stilled as a young knight stepped one foot inside, his polished armour flecked with dust and grime from the areas of the castle that were hit. The young knight's hands trembled. Johnson knew that look, the shock of witnessing carnage, the dawning realisation of mortality. He's seen things no one his age should see, Johnson thought, the image of his first battlefield flashing in his mind.
With a respectful bow, he straightened and spoke in as much of a measured tone as he could.
"Your excellencies, we believe the attack has ceased," the knight captain announced, his calm voice edged with caution. "However, I recommend you remain in safety for a few more moments in case of any follow-up attacks."
He paused, eyes scanning the room of weary diplomats and nobles before continuing, his expression darkening. "Furthermore, the Jylonians, Ambassador Bakerine and Director Remington have been apprehended. They are being brought to the castle as we speak."
A ripple of murmurs spread through the room, a mix of fear and grim satisfaction. The captain pressed on.
"Additionally, Captain Rosemary and Ambassador Sheridan have been confirmed safe. During the attack, they were with the Bastanian merchant ship at the docks."
Johnson furrowed his brow slightly at the mention of the Bastanians but remained silent. Outside the chamber, beyond the thick doors, fortified security posts lined the castle hallways. The American and Japanese-trained special forces of Alveron, clad in modern combat gear, stood rigidly at their posts, their grips firm on American and Japanese rifles. The castle had been fortified, but the world outside had changed.
Queen Savannah stood with Princess Elizabeth by her side. Her gaze fixed on the knight, her voice was calm but firm. "I shall return to the throne room to await the Jylonians," she declared, her tone leaving no room for debate. "The nobles are free to stay here or return to their families and estates, as they see fit."
The knight captain hesitated, clearly uneasy, before offering his counsel. "Your Majesty, it could still be dangerous. We do not know if there will be another wave of attacks. I strongly advise against leaving thi–"
Queen Savannah cut him off, her voice resolute. "It is an order," she stated, her eyes hardening. "I will go to the throne room. You will follow my command, as always."
She turned slightly to address the room. "Ambassador Johnson and Tenjo," she began, her gaze falling on the two ambassadors, "I request that you accompany me."
With a final glance toward the knight captain, who bowed in reluctant submission, she motioned for them to follow. The air in the room thickened with anticipation as the queen and her party made their way out.
Ambassador Tenjo offered a respectful bow, the lines of stress still etched into his face, but his composure returning with every passing second. "As Her Majesty commands," he said with formality, adjusting the hem of his coat. "We would be honoured to accompany you."
As the group exited the secure chamber, the cool air of the castle's lower halls met them. There were sandbags piled between upturned tables, shelves, and dismantled benches. Wooden barricades lined both ends of the corridor, manned by the Alveronian Royal Guards.
The walls were thick, reinforced stone, unadorned and practical, built for defence rather than beauty. Narrow slits in the stone served as windows, letting in only thin shafts of grey light, casting sharp lines across the flagstone floor. The heavy footfalls of soldiers echoed along the corridor as they escorted the party.
As they ascended the main stairwell, the air seemed to change. The cold stone gave way to polished marble and refined ornamentation. Gold trim traced the edges of white columns, and red-and-blue tapestries bearing the royal crest of Alveron fluttered slightly in the breeze that had made its way through the damaged structure. The smell of smoke still clung faintly to the air.
They reached a wide corridor, an intersection of the royal palace's main wings. Down the hall, nearly fifty metres away, part of the ceiling had collapsed; sunlight poured through a jagged hole in the roof, casting beams across the dust-choked air. Rubble was strewn across the floor: shattered wood, marble chunks, and parts of a once-decorative arch now broken under its weight.
Princess Elizabeth paused at the sight, her eyes lingering on the destruction. Her hands were folded tightly in front of her, and she let out a quiet, weary sigh. Then, without a word, she straightened herself and continued beside her mother, head high, pace steady.
The towering doors of the throne room groaned open with a deep, echoing weight as the group entered. Ambassador Tenjo and Johnson walked just behind Queen Savannah and Princess Elizabeth. The princess's gaze was fixed forward with composure, though a hint of fatigue clung to her features. Flanking them were several high-ranking nobles, chosen for their loyalty and level-headedness, and behind them followed the ever-watchful Royal Knights. Interspersed among them were a handful of American military police, stern-faced and alert, their rifles slung across their chests, eyes scanning every corner of the grand hall.
Behind the rest of the group, ambassadors and diplomats of a few select nations followed through, such as the Hindoe Kingdom.
Maids and attendants moved quickly and silently as the Queen approached her throne, brushing dust from her sleeves, smoothing the hem of her gown, and offering a fresh sash. But she waved them off gently, her attention already drifting. She stepped past the dais and made her way to the tall, arched windows overlooking the capital. The sky was still thick with smoke. Fires burnt far below, and sirens could be heard in the distance. Her palm pressed softly against the glass, her reflection mirrored against the chaos.
For several minutes, the room remained silent, save for the hushed murmurs of aides and the shifting of boots on marble.
Then, with a second deep groan, the throne room doors opened once more.
Two figures were escorted inside under the watchful eyes of the knights. Diplomat Bakerine walked with her head held high, but the tightness around her eyes betrayed the stress etched into her face. Director Remington followed beside her, less composed. His shoulders slumped slightly, his eyes avoiding those in the room. He looked downward at the floor, at nothing, his mind racing, trapped somewhere between fear and disbelief.
Two more figures entered behind the Jylonian, Ambassador Sheridan and Captain Rosemary, her uniform bearing the scuffs and dust of action. Sheridan moved with restrained urgency, her diplomatic attire slightly dishevelled, while Rosemary's stride was brisk. The silence in the hall was oppressive as the doors closed behind them.
The room was quiet, save for the faint crackle of distant fires and the heavy breathing of those present. Queen Savannah stood by the tall stained-glass windows, her hand pressed gently to the pane as she gazed out over the wounded city. Beside her, Princess Elizabeth stood still, eyes lowered, her face unreadable.
Ambassador Johnson stepped forward, the echo of his polished shoes slicing through the silence. He turned his sharp gaze on Bakerine.
"Ambassador Bakerine", he began, his tone clipped with fury, "you will explain immediately why Jylon saw fit to unleash hell upon this city. Why did your people violate their neutrality and carry out this act of betrayal against Alveron and its allies?"
Behind him, Ambassador Tenjo of Japan stood silent but stern, his arms folded neatly behind his back. His expression was grave, but his eyes betrayed the same burning question.
Bakerine let out a quiet huff through her nose, more weary than defiant, before raising her eyes to meet Johnson's.
"I swear to you", she began, voice low but steady, "we do not believe our nation was behind this." She paused, glancing briefly at Remington, who remained silent, eyes cast down, as if searching for confirmation she knew she wouldn't get.
"There is no reason for us to launch such an attack," she continued, her hands subtly trembling despite her composed stance. "We have nothing to gain from striking Alveron. We respect this nation, as we do the United States and Japan. All three have treated Jylon with a measure of fairness we have never taken lightly."
Her gaze swept briefly toward Queen Savannah, then to the floor, before returning to Johnson. "I do not know any order, any directive, any intention to launch this... this atrocity. If this was our doing, then it was done without the sanction of our government." She shook her head slightly, jaw tightening. "And I need to know why just as much as you do."
Her voice held steady, but behind her eyes was a flicker of fear, fear that even she didn't know what was happening in her homeland.
The throne room doors creaked open once more as the Earl Constable strode in, his uniform scuffed, and a faint streak of soot across his cheek. He stopped at the base of the dais, bowing quickly before speaking.
"Your Majesty," he began, his voice crisp but hoarse from shouting over explosions for the last hour. "We've completed our initial assessments."
He glanced at the gathered dignitaries before continuing. "Our M167 emplacements downed six of the bombers before they broke off. The Bastanians," he gave a respectful nod to Johnson, knowing the American position, "report shooting down nine. The remainder have fled the area. We're confirming their flight paths, but it appears the assault has ended for now."
The air in the chamber grew heavier. All foreign ambassadors turned slowly to face Bakerine and Director Remington, their gazes sharp and heavy with silent accusation.
Remington, for all his bombastic pride and nationalist confidence, blinked slowly as if unable to process the reality. The very idea that the Kingdom of Alveron would be struck during peace negotiations was unthinkable to him. He remained quiet, brow furrowed in disbelief, lips parted but offering no words.
Bakerine, on the other hand, stared at the floor for a heartbeat before closing her eyes, letting out another breath through her nose. "Of course, it must have been him," she thought. "Prince Gourmet. That arrogant war hawk would've seen the ceasefire as weakness. If he truly believed Jylon had betrayed the Aetesian Empire. If he somehow got hold of Jylonian bombers, he'd launch an attack like this, not just to punish Alveron but to drag Jylon in alongside him. By force, if necessary."
She opened her eyes again, her voice low but firm. "If this was Aetesian in origin, then they've either stolen our aircraft, or they're trying to frame us to spark a war."
Ambassador Sheridan's brows furrowed deeply, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she stood just behind Johnson and Tenjo. Her jaw was clenched, the tension in her posture betraying barely contained frustration. She took a single step forward, eyes fixed coldly on Bakerine.
"My sister and I", she began, her voice sharp, "could've been killed at the bay."
Her words cut through the room like a blade.
"We lost millions in military equipment, new systems just delivered from the United States and Japan," she continued, voice rising slightly, every word laced with anger. "Our defence grid was hit before it could even be fully integrated. Civilians were targeted too; hospitals and districts levelled..."
"We're looking at thousands dead or wounded. And you stand here saying you don't know? That someone stole your aircraft? That it might have been Aetesian?" Her tone dripped with disbelief. "Tell me, Bakerine, how the hell does an entire wing of bombers go missing without anyone in your high command noticing?"
Just as Bakerine was about to stand her ground, a Jylonian signal corpsman, clearly distressed, entered the room unarmed, escorted by several Royal Knights. The signal corpsman carried an olive-green military radio transceiver on his back, with a larger rectangular box behind the padding and a long antenna coming out from the top.
As he made his way toward the group, the sound of his boots echoed against the marble floors before he quickly bowed to the queen before turning to Bakerine and Remington; his words rushed out in a breathless manner.
"Ambassador", the signal corpsman gasped, his voice trembling, "the bombers stationed at the Imperial Wings airbase. Our B5 Penguins... they've been stolen. The forces in the capital have surrendered to the Aetesians. We've lost control of much of our equipment. The remaining personnel are retreating to the embassy... Alexander Rustler reports most of our forces have lost control of their armaments, and much of it is now in the hands of the Aetesians."
The room fell deathly quiet. All eyes immediately shifted to Bakerine. She stood rigid, her hands clasped in front of her, betraying no sign of panic. Her thoughts raced behind her calm façade. The FOBs had fallen so quickly? How had they lost control of their forces without a fight? The enormity of the situation was starting to settle in.
Remington, ever the nationalist and proud of his country's military strength, looked utterly bewildered. He hadn't expected the Jylonian forces to surrender so quickly, so easily. Yet here they were, the Jylonian army surrendering without resistance. This wasn't how it was supposed to go.
The idea that their equipment, their advanced systems, would now be used against them by the very forces they had fought alongside was an unbearable blow to his pride. The reality of the situation seemed impossible to reconcile with the Jylonian military's reputation.
His jaw tightened, frustration evident in the tightness of his posture. "How could this happen?" he muttered under his breath, not expecting an answer. It was unthinkable. "We should've been able to put up more of a fight. To lose all our equipment, to have it stolen..."
"Are you certain of this?" Bakerine asked, her voice steady, though there was an edge of anxiety beneath it. This wasn't just a tactical failure; it was a collapse that could threaten the very future of Jylon's role, influence, and position in the entire world.
The signal corpsman nodded. "Yes, Ambassador. Our forces... we didn't have a choice. The Aetesians struck harder than expected, and they took control of the capital's force units with overwhelming force. There was no way to resist once they gained the upper hand."
Remington clenched his fists, frustration evident on his face. "Surrender? You're telling me that our forces just gave up? Without even a fight?"
The signal corpsman looked down, uncomfortable with the question. "It wasn't a choice... they were outnumbered and outmanoeuvred. The equipment... it was lost before we could mount a proper defence."
Ambassador Tenjo, who had remained silent until now, couldn't contain his irritation any longer. His expression darkened as he shot a look at Bakerine. "This is absurd. Absurd. How could you let this happen?" he demanded, his voice rising. "Your country should have been preparing for the worst, not... not just handing over everything you've built. You have failed to act responsibly, and now your actions are jeopardising all of us." His frustration was large, his usually calm demeanour shaken.
Bakerine took a steadying breath before responding, her voice controlled despite the rising tension. "Our actions were made to make peace, Ambassador Tenjo. We thought... we thought we could find a way to avoid further escalation."
Tenjo wasn't satisfied with her answer. His arms crossed tightly over his chest, his posture stiff and defensive. "Peace could have waited. Now, we're all left picking up the pieces of your rash decisions. There's no time to backtrack."
Bakerine's eyes narrowed, a hint of defensiveness within. "You think I didn't consider that?" she spat, her voice sharp. "You think I wanted this? But this wasn't just about avoiding a fight; it was about avoiding another war. We couldn't let it escalate any further."
Johnson, who had been quietly observing the exchange, flickered his gaze between Bakerine and Tenjo. It was clear that peace was becoming an ever more elusive goal in this room, and the growing tension could no longer be ignored. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Ambassador Tenjo's voice cut through.
"Perhaps you should have thought about that before you made the decisions that led us here." He didn't give Bakerine a chance to respond. "Now, we all must deal with the consequences of your actions."
"Ambassador", Johnson began, "even if what you claim is true, the United States and the world will still see Jylon and the Aetesians as allies, unless you can provide tangible proof of your allegations. Until then, your country will be perceived as complicit in the eyes of the international community."
Bakerine's jaw clenched, and her hand subtly curled into a fist. She had anticipated this. The world wouldn't simply take her word for it; she understood that. It was a harsh reality, but one she had to face. And yet, even as she felt the pressure mounting, she knew that whatever happened next, the truth would have to come to light.
Before she could respond, Queen Savannah's voice echoed through the room, cutting through the tension like a blade. "Enough," she declared. All eyes turned toward her as she stood from her throne. "I will give you the benefit of the doubt for now, Bakerine. However, the situation has escalated beyond the point of diplomacy. Both Ambassador Bakerine and Director Remington will be held as political prisoners until further notice."
A murmur rippled through the room, a mix of surprise and disbelief from the gathered diplomats and nobles. Bakerine's gaze shot to Queen Savannah, her chest tightening. Political prisoners. The very idea was a blow to her, but she held her ground, unwilling to show weakness.
The Queen continued, her tone unyielding. "They will be held in the Lansdowne Estate on the outskirts of the capital, where they will remain until this conflict is resolved. No one will leave without authorisation, and they will be monitored."
Bakerine's heart raced, the weight of the Queen's decree sinking in. It was a humiliation she had not anticipated, especially after her intentions to avert war had been misunderstood so harshly.
Remington, however, was quick to protest. His nationalist fervour flared, his voice rising with indignation. "This is unacceptable," he snapped, his eyes burning with defiance. "The Jylon Republic will not stand for this. You cannot just imprison us because of circumstantial evidence. We will not be held captive. I demand that we return to our forces, or there will be very deep consequences."
The room fell into tense silence as Remington's words reverberated through the space. His boldness, however, only seemed to heighten the Queen's resolve.
"I've made my decision," she said, her voice calm. "You will remain under our custody. And you will have no choice in the matter."
His eyes flicked back to the assembled diplomats, his gaze filled with defiance. "Do you really think the Republic will let this go?"
Ambassador Johnson's gaze turned cold as he addressed Remington, his voice firm and unyielding. "Director Remington", he said, his tone betraying no hint of sympathy, "threatening retaliation will not serve you here. Such actions will be considered an act of aggression, and any further escalation will only worsen your position. If you insist on continuing this line of thinking, I will have no choice but to have you brought back to the United States, where you will face the consequences before American judges."
His words struck the room like thunder. Remington's jaw tightened, but the fire in his eyes only flickered slightly.
Bakerine, sensing the growing tension and the inevitability of the situation, stepped forward. Her voice was low, but firm. "Director," she said, her eyes locking with his, "that's enough."
Remington opened his mouth to argue, but she raised her hand in a subtle but clear gesture to stop him. Her gaze softened. She had already weighed the situation and knew what needed to be done. "We will accept the terms, Remington," she added, her voice calm but carrying the authority of someone who had long navigated the waters of diplomacy.
With a final glance at Queen Savannah, Bakerine stepped back slightly, bowing. "We will comply. Peace talks will resume once this conflict is concluded," she stated, her voice steady, though she could feel the sting of having to yield.
As the USMC MPs entered, Bakerine and Remington surrendered, following the MPs out of the room. Their footsteps echoed softly as the soldiers escorted the two diplomats and the Jylonian signal corpsman out of the room, the doors closing behind them with a loud creak then thud.
Queen Savannah turned her attention back to the assembled diplomats, her eyes scanning the room with a steady, composed gaze. The weight of the decision was not lost on her, but the responsibility of leading her kingdom through this moment of uncertainty remained at the forefront of her mind.
"What will be our next move?" she asked.
Ambassador Johnson, still visibly tense but ever the pragmatist, stepped forward to answer. His brow furrowed as he considered the situation. "If I had to guess," he began, his tone clipped and resolute, "the 7th Fleet will be deployed to confront the Aetesians once more. The situation is untenable, and the sooner we can reassert our control over the seas and secure the region, the better."
Ambassador Tenjo, who had remained silent until now, nodded in agreement. "Indeed," he said, his voice laced with determination. "I will report to the main government about the entire ordeal. The Japanese government will be kept informed of the developments." He paused, then added, "I have already been briefed that if a situation like this happened and the Aetesians did attack. The Sahkalin forces and the Hindoe Kingdom will be permitted to assist with mainland operations. Once further talks have been made, we must focus on securing the mainland and fortifying our position."
Ambassador Shin Ogawa of the Hindoe Kingdom, who hadn't spoken once throughout the ordeal, stood with a pleased expression, his tail wagging energetically. The report he had just heard had clearly lifted his spirits. With a nod of satisfaction, he stepped forward, his voice carrying with an air of enthusiasm as he addressed the room.
"Delightful news indeed," he said, a slight grin on his face. "The troops of the 6th Hoshizawa Special Naval Landing Force (SNLF) and the Hindoe 26th Division have already been preparing to raid Airbase Eagle's Reach as a contingency plan. Our forces are ready to move swiftly against the Aetesian Empire."
"Indeed," Queen Savannah responded. "Once the talks have ended, we will solidify our next steps. We must coordinate with our allies to ensure that this operation succeeds without delay."
With a subtle motion of her hand and a gentle nod, she gave the unspoken cue: the meeting was over.
One by one, the ambassadors and officers began to turn and leave the grand throne room. The echo of boots and shoes against marble filled the space as they exited.