Kikyo nodded respectfully, "The pleasure is mine," she would continue with a grin before being lead aside. "You look well," Beatrice said to Nettie as they were taken to their seats, "I must admit I do miss our evening chats from our time together in the Imperial Government, discussing matters of import, you were perhaps my favourite Premier to work with. All said, it's so good to see you're doing well," she continued with a smile as they were seated, before glancing over to their neighbours. Beatrice looked to Lucinda with an eyeroll, "Seriously?" she mouthed, to which Lucinda responded silently "behave yourself Bea, kill her with kindness." Understanding the assignment Beatrice waved to Ketevan with the brightest smile she could muster before returning her attention to Lucinda. "Will that suffice?" she asked, to which Lucinda shook her head offering a smirk.

Asuna, meanwhile, having taken notice of the conversation between the two looked over and motioned for them to cease with a firm gaze and a single motion of her right hand.

"And the least surprising surprise of the year goes to," Sophia said with a chuckle.

"It was a fun time," Kikyo replied, "still proud of what we accomplished there too. Once our generation takes hold I'm confident that things will go so much more smoothly, especially knowing what Asuna has in mind."

---

"It is, thank you," Akasha said with a smile. "I hope we'll have a chance after the festivities to conduct some business here in the Holy Empire as we're entering another cycle of procurement, and I'm certain there's areas where your producers can fill the needs we're looking to address."

“The Intelligence Coup of the Decade”

---

Situation Room, Imperial Palace, Shinkyo
December 7, 2024
5:28 AM

   Early morning briefings were, in Eijiro’s opinion, the worst of all, especially if, like recently, he had been getting very little sleep as a result. It couldn’t be helped; in the days leading up to the war back in 2017, he hardly slept a wink, other than mayhaps that one time he fell asleep in the briefing room aboard Jun’yo, and likewise, after the shootdown of Akawashi 304 back in early 2023, he didn’t sleep much either, to say the least of last year’s attack in Awara. These last few days were no different, and for not too dissimilar a reason, either. He was worried, worried for the people he had served with, for those who were certainly caught in the crossfire, and most of all, for those back home who might lose someone they cared so deeply for. But in a way, he was also just fixated on the battle, so much so that he had, at least from his vague recollection of a few hours before, fallen asleep watching coverage of the fighting on TV Shinkyo and TBS—the Fusanese broadcaster, as opposed to the arguably more well known Tytorian Broadcasting Service—though he wasn’t too sure. What he was sure about, however, was his annoyance at Natsuki Uematsu, who had come to fetch him for this meeting.

   “Was it really necessary to drag me out of bed this early, Natsuki?” Eijiro complained as they walked along the subterranean corridor towards the situation room. “You know I haven’t been sleeping well these past few days.”

   Natsuki, for his part, was patient with the Emperor, having likewise been woken up for this, though in his case, he didn’t have the luxury of living on site for it. “Sorry, but you know how it is.” He said. “If the NSC wants to convene a meeting, they’re gonna do it, even if it means calling us in at two in the morning like you-know-when.” He continued, referencing the war with Rokkenjima over some islands in the Azukishima sea.

   “The less I have to think about that, the better.” Eijiro said as they reached the doorway, which was soon opened by two members of the Imperial Guard before he and Natsuki entered. Once they entered, everyone present who was sitting, including both Prime Minister Konishi and Okimoto Esashi, the Minister of War, stood up. “Keep your seats.”

   “Good morning, Your Majesty.” Sadazane spoke up as Eijiro and Natsuki took their seats at the table.

   “I certainly hope it is if you’ve got us coming down here so early.” Eijiro replied with a smile before turning to the war minister. “So, what do you have for us?”

   “Quite possibly something that will win us this war, Your Majesty.” Esashi replied as an aide passed out a handful of files to everyone sitting at the table. Each folder was marked with the emblem of the War Ministry and the word ”KIMITSU”—classified, in Fusanese—and appeared to be rather thick, as per usual. “Yesterday, at approximately 11:56 AM local time—12:56 PM here—a squad belonging to RCT-1 operating in Falam took control of an apartment complex in the city’s Bang Sue district. What they did not know, as we discovered shortly thereafter, was that the building was being used as a headquarters for the PAFK.” He said, looking around the table as he spoke. “Inside, they found that while some effort had been made to tear down this district HQ, they had been unsuccessful in destroying everything, including what I must say is some rather vital intel for our war effort.”

   “Oh? How so?” Sadazane asked, bemused. If it was what everyone hoped it was, then, he figured, it would certainly propel him forwards, politically speaking.

   “I’m getting to that, sir.” Okimoto said. “Now, as I was saying, vital intel for the war effort. While a full translation is still in progress, what we have now—including what is in those folders of yours—has all but confirmed something that we in the War Ministry had long hoped. A firm location for Thaksin Prateung within the last three days.”

   The room suddenly seemed very quiet, as though one could hear a pin hit the floor if dropped. If that were true, then… Well, it would be everything those assembled here had wanted and more. It would be the intelligence coup of the decade if so. Take out the linchpin and the whole rotten organization would come crumbling down, torn apart by internal conflicts that would enable coalition forces to defeat in detail the organization at large. At least, that was the idea. As General Haruyoshi Nishiōji wrote in his account of the Fusanese Civil War, no plan survives contact with the enemy intact, which is to say, once faced with a real-world issue, any plans that there may be would need to be adjusted to account for factors outside of one’s control. For all they knew, the power struggle they hoped for might not emerge, and suddenly, they’d be fighting for another decade. Regardless, though, eventually Eijiro would speak up, breaking the silence that had fallen over the room.

   “And where is he, exactly? I’m assuming he isn’t in Falam?”

   “Correct, sir.” Esashi answered. “Ever heard of a town called Tamu?”

   That name was one which Eijiro didn’t like to think about, but he knew about it. The grimace he wore upon his face upon hearing told as much to everyone else in the room. After all, it was near Tamu that, back in 2017, he had been shot down. It was a standard Iron Hand flight to take out a hostile air defense site, one which they were successful in completing, but they came under attack by enemy aircraft on the way home. He didn’t make it home that day, but he was the lucky one in his aircraft, given his RIO died of his injuries on the ground. To say the very least, he didn’t like thinking about it, though he had to admit, there was some poetry in it given that the war might end where he nearly died seven years ago.

   With a nod, Okimoto said “Small town just a couple dozen kilometers northeast of Falam, up in the hills. Very hard to get to on the ground—” as Eijiro nodded along; he could personally attest to that fact—”which makes an assault into it a challenge as we learned back in the early 70s. It’s part of why the region was a trouble-spot for us, even back then. At the same time, however, it’s equally difficult to get out of, especially for the leader of a militant group like the PAFK.”

   “That’s all well and good, Marshal Esashi, but how do we even know which building, if any, he’s holed up in?” Natsuki asked, tapping his finger on the table as he spoke.

   “That’s where I can be of assistance.” Katsutaro Abe, the Chairman of the Joint Intelligence Council, interjected. “As you’re no doubt aware, we’ve been monitoring communications between Prateung and his subordinates since well before the war as part of our assistance to the Union State in dealing with these insurgents.” He clarified; he did not, however, mention the failure of the JIC in learning about the attack, other than a vague idea that something was coming, until it actually happened under his predecessor’s watch. “While naturally, anything direct is hard to come by, given that he relies on a vast network of runners and other intermediaries to pass on his orders, CIRA has had its own ‘lucky break’ recently.”
   As Katsutaro spoke, an officer handed out copies of a photograph to everyone seated around the table. The photograph showed a Kalasinese male, middle-aged and with a full head of dark brown hair, and with a scar on his lower lip. He seemed rather ordinary to Eijiro, though given what the PAFK was, that was likely to their advantage.

   “Meet Prawat Solikham, aged 37. A native of Bok Ten, his family moved to Tamu when he was eight.” Katsutaro explained. “Enlisted in the NPRA in 2006 before retiring following its initial dissolution in 2017 with the fall of the People’s Republic. Notably, he served under Colonel Thaksin Prateung in the last few years of the state’s existence and now, he’s one of the PAFK’s top commanders.” He continued before pausing for a moment. “It may interest you to know that we have been closely monitoring him for some time now, both through indirect and more direct means, and he appears to frequent a compound on the outskirts of the town, one which is detailed in the file Marshal Esashi has provided you all.” Katsutaro noted. “That, with the addition of the intel found yesterday in Falam has, short of directly seeing him there, confirmed for us that Prateung is in that compound in Tamu.”

   “How soon?” Eijiro asked. “How soon can we hit them?”

   “Once you approve the strike?” Marshal Esashi asked. “Three days, tops.”

   That news surprised Eijiro for a moment, given what he understood of the kind of training that would be necessary for such a raid. “That’s… quick.” He said. “Are you sure whoever’s going to… neutralize him won’t need more training?”

   “Yes. SFOD-Iroha has been training for this mission since the compound came up on our radar, so for about twelve days now.”

   “And what of our allies?” Eijiro inquired. “What do they know about this?”

   With a sigh, Okimoto said “Exactly what they need to know.” before clarifying “That we are investigating a lead into a national security threat and that we are taking the appropriate measures to mitigate-”

   “I’m sorry, Marshal Esashi, but that’s not good enough.” Eijiro said, annoyed. “Much as I understand the need for secrecy regarding matters such as this, especially if we’re gonna try and get him alive, I can’t just call after the raid and say ‘Surprise, we got Prateung. Oh, by the way, we completely violated the Dunwich charter and a couple intelligence-sharing agreements because Marshal Esashi decided to keep you all in the dark.’”

   “You’re wrong, sir.” Esashi said.

   “Pardon?”

   “I said you are wrong, sir.” Esashi repeated himself. “Sure, we’ll say that our goal was to bring him in alive for appearance’s sake, but you and I both know this is a kill-or-capture mission.” He explained. “If he throws up his hands and surrenders, then of course we'll capture him, but…”

   “But Iroha will have full authority to kill him otherwise.” Katsutaro interjected.

   “The Achkaerinese aren’t gonna be pleased about that.” Sadazane sighed.

   “Better than having attacks every month in an attempt to force us to release him, I say.” Natsuki opined. “Don’t want the PAFK to be able to say ’release him or we keep killing Fusanese.’” He added; of course, they’d still do that either way, but taking him alive would likely just pour fuel on the fire, so to speak.

   “And that’s before considering him making a spectacle of his trial.” Tadakatsu Haruno, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, pointed out. “It’s already gonna be a nightmare, putting the others on trial starting next year. Just imagine what he’d try.”

   “That may be so,” Yudai Sasabe, the Minister of Justice, said. “But what right do we have to deny the families of his victims their day in court? To deny the world the opportunity to rebuke Prateung’s ideology of total subservience to the state, of a ‘permanent revolution’? If the opportunity had arisen to put Stalin on trial, would we have killed him instead because it might be inconvenient to us?”

   With a sigh, Eijiro spoke up, saying “In an ideal world, Yudai, I would like to see him put on trial for his crimes, but Natsuki is right on this one, as is Mr. Haruno.” as he looked at Yudai. “Ignoring the possibility of an international tribunal in, say, Valtheim or Northfort, something which I suspect our friends over in Pyrettania would reject just as quickly as many in this room would, we’ll have to bend over backwards to even give the illusion of a fair trial for him, let alone one that is genuinely fair. Obviously, it can’t be in Awara or Pyrettania, since any jury would be prejudiced against him by default, and we’d be hard-pressed to find anywhere else that wouldn’t face the same issue. It’s not like we can put him on trial in the middle of nowhere up in Hokuriku. And what about the kind of defense he will offer?” He paused. “He might decide to serve as a sacrificial lamb, seeking to justify his crimes, or he might simply refuse to acknowledge the legitimacy of the trial, making it a sham in the process. For all we know, he might even try to deny everything, delve into every conspiracy under the sun as part of an effort to provide any sort of doubt as to his guilt.

   “And like Natsuki said, we’ll certainly see attacks and kidnappings every week demanding his release. Hope is a dangerous tool when given to our enemy. If they think, even though we all know that it won’t work, that by escalating kidnappings and the sort, they can get what they want, then what reason will they have to do anything but try harder? And what are we to say if they take over a school here? What will we say to the parents whose children would be butchered on Fusanese soil? Is there anything we could say? And just for the sake of argument, let’s look forwards a bit. Prateung will be found guilty, almost certainly sentenced to death if we’re lucky, which means we will essentially be stuck with THE living martyr for months if not years. I’m sorry, Yudai” he said before pulling out a cigarette and lighting it before taking a drag off it “but there is absolutely zero chance we can let him leave that compound alive. Too many people would die as a result of it.”

   “So do we have permission to take him out, sir?” Esashi asked.

   “Yes.” Eijiro answered. “I’ll make the calls to our allies, only tell them what is absolutely necessary to fulfill our treaty obligations, but not enough to make… those scenarios we discussed happen.” He continued before standing up, which was followed by everyone else who was sitting doing the same. “Gentlemen,” he said as he extinguished his cigarette. “Start your clocks. In three days’ time, we will either make history by putting down a rabid dog who has run amok in Kalasin for seven years too many, or for authorizing what the the history books will deem one of the worst planned raids in modern military history, despite all of the hard work that has gone into it. Let’s make our country proud and do the former, alright? Dismissed.”

Bang Sue, Falam, Kalasin
December 6, 2024
11:26 AM

   It had been about three days since Fusanese and Kalasinese forces had pushed into the city of Falam, and already, the fighting had gotten tough. While insurgent forces—those of the PAFK as well as the far smaller NPRA, CPK-RG, and ARA—had sustained far higher casualties, thanks in no small part to a lack of adequate training and a greater degree of technological inferiority even compared to the ARK, it couldn’t be said that the Fusanese had been spared any of the bloodshed. Within just ten minutes of the battle beginning, they had already seen their first KIA soldier, a marine attached to the 4th Battalion, 3rd Marine Regiment which had been part of the push into Pak Chom, a district in the city’s northwest. Within these last three days, that tally had steadily risen to eleven killed and 37 wounded, some of whom would be drummed out of the service due to their wounds. Such were the times like these that an almost fatalistic attitude had developed among those fighting in the city, an idea that whatever happened was fated to happen, and thus that there was no point in trying to change that fate.

   And yet, here Sergeant Irokwa and his men were, trying to do just that. They had received reports about a firefight that had broken out in a nearby building, that injured marines were stuck inside, and that they were in desperate need of assistance from whoever was available. That was them. As bullets tore through the air, the sound of gunfire turning deafening inside the cramped conditions of the inner-city apartment block, the twenty-six year old Fusanese sergeant did everything in his power to render first aid to those in need, all while his subordinates focused on clearing the building of the remaining enemy fighters. Everything seemed to be going well, or at least it seemed that they had taken a turn for the better when Haruo heard something he had been dreading, something nobody in any position of command would want to hear.

   “Jira’s been hit!”

   Some say that there’s a way to prepare yourself for a situation like that, mentally. That you can just accept the idea that someone you know, someone you care for would get hurt, maybe even get killed on your watch. At that moment, Haruo knew that there was nothing of the sort. In an instant, the sense of invulnerability that he, like so many others fighting in Falam, had felt was shattered like a mirror. And that made him angry. As soon as he finished with the man he was treating, he practically leaped onto his fallen brother and quite literally began tearing off Jira’s equipment, checking for wounds before placing a tourniquet around his left leg, all while his position was being peppered with gunfire as well, gunfire which ultimately wound up damaging his rifle, which was, in and of itself, a rather inopportune thing as he saw an insurgent, one whom had been presumed dead, reach for his own weapon. Without missing a beat, he rather calmly pulled out his bayonet and, as the records would say—if there were any to be made, anyways—”quickly and cleanly dispatched” him. He would later say that while it was quick, it was anything but clean. Soon enough, the small apartment block would largely be cleared, and with more assistance coming in by the minute, the main body of their work was complete. Or at least, that’s what Sergeant Irokawa thought at that time.

   “Hey sarge, you gotta come and see this!” Private Nakamura called out from the basement, catching Haruo’s attention just as he was about to exit alongside the last stretcher carrying Jira.

   “Just a moment.” Haruo said to PFC Kasem before heading downstairs to find Joji and Private Ichiro Abe, the fourth and final member of their squad. Before him, behind what had been, until now, a hidden entrance of some sort, was a series of maps, flags, radios, and… It looked like they had stumbled across a-

   “PAFK command post, looks like it was abandoned in a hurry, too.” Private Abe said, smoking a cigarette he’d found in one of the many, many buildings they’d cleared earlier in the day. “What do you think?”

   “I think…” Haruo answered. “I think there’s some folks who will be quite pleased to see this. Very pleased.” He added before patting Joji on the back. “Well done.” He said before calling it in. Though none of them knew it, this chance discovery would have profound effects on the course of the war against the PAFK, the kind that could, perhaps, even put it to an end.