Standing before the large doors to the Viceroy's office, Ciaran gave his uniform a last minute pat down, checking for anything wrong. Under his left arm, was a small stack of papers given to him by Euphemia for her sister to sign.
"I know it's a bit much to ask," the pink princess had said apologetically, "But I need to sort these forms out. Could you run these up to my sister? Please?"
The look that Euphemia gave him could have made a statue melt it was so cute. So he had no choice but to agree to the request. Thankfully, he'd spent enough time going to the head office to know where it was.
Reaching up, he gave the door before him three knocks before taking a step back. In less than a second, the door opened, revealing the ever-present Guilford.
"It's lieutenant Forsyth, your highness." Guilford said, looking into the room, answering an unheard question. The use of his new rank made Ciaran raise an eyebrow though.
"Well, send him in, Guilford." The princess called out, Guilford taking a step back as he opened the door wider.
Walking inside, even with the familiar sight of Cornelia sitting behind her desk, Ciaran's eyes fell upon the person sitting in front of the desk. He was tall and lean, older than either Ciaran or the princess, with sandy-brown hair tied into a pony-tail, but with a large... 'crest' was probably the only word to describe what it was on the front. He wore a black waistcoat and trousers with a dark red shirt underneath.
"Am I interrupting something, your highness?" Ciaran asked, looking at the princess, "I can always come back later."
"No, it's fine," Cornelia said, waving a hand dismissively, "Actually, it's a good thing you're here. Lieutenant Forsyth, this is Mr Diethard Ried, the head reporter of Hi-TV and prince Clovis' former head of media. Mr Ried, this is lieutenant Forsyth, one of the newest members of my royal guard."
Standing up, Diethard offered his hand which Ciaran took after placing the papers onto the desk.
"A pleasure, Mr Ried."
"Likewise, lieutenant," the reporter said amicably, "I hope you don't mind, but you're a bit young for a lieutenant, aren't you?"
"He's proven himself as a capable officer and aide," Cornelia answered, fixing the older man with a look that simply said 'don't question me', "That's more than enough for me."
"As you say, your highness." Diethard acquiesced, "Although is it all right to continue this conversation in front of a junior officer?"
"As I was saying before," The princess said, ignoring Diethard's comment, "I want the start of the operation to be broadcast at midday in two days time, with the announcement to be given two hours before the operation begins. I assume this can easily be arranged?"
"It can, your highness. But I'm not sure whether it would be such a good idea to give this-" Diethard said, before Cornelia cut him off.
"Mr Ried. You're job in this is simple. Now I will ask one more time: can this be arranged?"
Diethard stayed silent for a brief moment before bowing. "Of course, you're majesty."
"Good. You are dismissed, Mr Ried." The princess said, reaching over and pulling Ciaran's papers closer, as the reporter exited the room.
"Umm... operation, your highness?" Ciaran asked, rightly confused.
"Hmm," Cornelia said, looking up from the papers, before the realization hit her. "Oh, so Darlton hasn't told you yet?"
The young man shook his head. "No."
"Well, I guess you should know. We will be launching an operation against the forces of the terrorist group known as the Yamato Alliance in the Saitama ghetto. It will be an attempt to draw out Zero."
Ciaran nodded in understanding. "Two birds with one stone, then?"
"Indeed." Cornelia replied, giving the junior officer a small smile, before looking through the stack of paper
"Well, I shall leave you to finalizing the plan then. I think your younger sister might need me." Ciaran said, bowing slightly as he prepared to leave. Halfway down the room, he stopped and turned to face the princess.
"Your highness?" Cornelia raised her head. "Did you mean it before? That you considered me a 'capable officer and aide'?"
The princess nodded. "My sister seems to think so, so I won't argue with her."
At that, Ciaran smiled and continued out of the room.
The large G-1 base rumbled slowly down the raised avenue, the purple base's movement making the very earth shake as it advanced slowly. Inside it however, Ciaran was still in awe at the large vehicle, even though outwardly he didn't show it.
"Did you never have anything like this in your world?" Darlton asked quietly, leaning down to get closer to the young man.
"No, sir," Ciaran replied. "We could never figure out a way to work out the power to weight to fuel ratio. The Germans tried it in the nineteen-forties, but it didn't work out well."
Darlton nodded in understanding, pulling himself back up to his full height. The interior of the bridge of the G-1 showed a large map of the Saitama ghetto, ringed with a red circle and small blue icons showing the various forces engaged in the operation moving towards their positions
"How long until we reach our destination?" Princess Cornelia asked, sitting in the command chair at the back of the control bridge, Guilford's ever-present form standing beside her.
"ETA fifteen minutes, your highness." Answered a member of her royal guard. Ciaran couldn't but fidget with his collar. Even though he had been told the outline of the plan, he hadn't been included on the actual details of the plan proper. So it made sense for him to be nervous.
"This is your first time in combat, Ciaran," Darlton said softly, keeping his voice low so that only the young man could hear him. "It's all right to feel nervous." The general gave the man a small smile which the young man returned.
A few tense minutes passed as the mobile base reached it's destination, although it felt like hours to the young man, as he watched the splendour and cleanliness of the Tokyo Settlement being replaced by the grime and desolation of the Saitama Ghetto. Ciaran couldn't help but suck in air through his teeth at what he saw: once proud skyscrapers stood like carcasses of dead animals. Some stood tall and proud, while others were splintered. The broken buildings rested against others, seeming to be ready to collapse at any moment.
In the following moments, Ciaran watched as the Britannian forces deployed on the map display, the small blue icons spreading out to form a solid ring around the ghetto.
Soon, the bridge became a hive of activity as the officers of Cornelia's royal guard began giving orders, both to each other and over radios to troops on the ground. General Darlton's voice was clear over the hubbub, but Ciaran admittedly paid it little mind as he focused all of his attention on the display screens.
Cornelia's voice drew him back to the real world.
"What will be the effect on production?"
"Primary sector output should decrease by zero-point-two percent."
"Within expectations, you mean. All right." Cornelia then focused her attention on three men dressed in grey uniforms of Clovis' military officer corps, the princess asking them whether the situation was similar to what occurred at Shinjuku.
At the word that it was from one of the officers, a smile came to the princess' face that admittedly sent a chill of fear down Ciaran's spine. He had heard about Shinjuku from Euphemia. About it being nothing more than a unilateral massacre of the Japanese inhabitants.
"Your high-" He began, but looking at the princess, his eyes connected with Guilford's, who merely shook his head. Looking over at Darlton, who was coordinating the soldiers, Ciaran saw that he was without friends in this instance. He simply turned round to focus on the view screen, none of the other officers present having noticed his actions.
After a few moments, the Britannian forces launched their attack. He couldn't see anything of the attack in the G-1 but he could hear what was going on. It wasn't anything as dramatic as the inhabitants screaming as they were killed. Not that he doubted it happened. The soldiers simply gave reports such as "Suppression of Area Four complete. Eighth and Eleventh Mechanized companies are sweeping north and south in a pincer movement."
It made Ciaran grimace. Either in anger or disgust, even he didn't know.
Soon however, the situation turned in a complete 180 degree turn. Icons representing Sutherlands began being replaced by 'Lost' icons, the pilots either ejecting as the first counter attacks from the Yamato Alliance. First it was in pairs, before becoming full squads as they were caught in ambushes and crossfires, with captured Sutherlands. The biggest shock came as the suspension bridge into the ghetto was destroyed in, Ciaran had to admit, a fairly impressive explosion.
"That's enough." Cornelia said evenly. "Order all troops to fall back. Further damage and casualties serve no point."
Ciaran had to agree, even as the grey uniformed officers began to protest. As far as counterinsurgency operations went, this one was going pretty bad. Unless...
"Shall we go then, Guilford, my knight?" The purple-haired woman asked her knight.
The bespectacled man bowed. "It is my pleasure to serve and obey you, my lady."
At that moment, something gripped Ciaran. An odd desire.
"Your highness," the young man said, surprising the other staff members and causing Guilford to stop his exit from the room. "Permission to go out into the field, my lady."
A small, nervous chuckle sounded from some of the assembled officers. "Eager to get into the field, lad?" Someone said, Ciaran paying no attention to the officer as his gaze remained on the princess.
For her part, Cornelia ignored the officers before nodding her assent. "Very well then, lieutenant. Take a suit of armour and a weapon from the armoury, then proceed at your own discretion."
"As you command, your highness." Ciaran simply replied, bowing, before striding from the room. If he had turned around, he would have noticed that both Cornelia and Darlton shared a small, worried look before continuing their work.
Stepping out of a doorway in the G-1's side, Ciaran stood in the late afternoon sun. Over his maroon uniform, he wore the standard grey ballistic armour of the Britannian army, an M15 slung over his right shoulder as he fixed a grey field-cap to his head. He had refused the helmet, saying that he was far enough from the front to not need it.
Making his way towards the front of the mobile base, a large thunk drew his attention as he saw Guilford's knightmare, a deep purple Gloucester with a cape, landed on the road in front of the G-1 before speeding off, followed by several other Gloucesters. Ciaran raised his fist in salute, either unsure or not caring if Cornelia's knight saw the gesture as he and his unit sped down the road.
Humming a tune to himself, Ciaran made his way down the avenue before the G-1, managing to weave through the throngs of soldiers and Sutherlands that stood milling around, unsure of what to do. Hell, even Ciaran didn't know what to do. Spying a nearby group of four soldiers sitting on crates and sharing a smoke, he decided to give his new rank some exercise.
"Hey, you four!" He barked, pointing at the group, who quickly stood up to attention. "If you've got nothing better to do, then go and see if the engineers or medics need any assistance. Move it!"
The group responded with a sharp salute and a "Yes sir!" before taking off at speed. Ciaran couldn't help but smile at what he did before continuing down his unplanned route.
Before long, Guilford's Gloucester and his fellow knights returned. Then, at an unheard signal, the Sutherlands present began arranging themselves in straight ranks, two columns either side of the road. Ciaran managed to avoid getting ran over as he moved to stand near a nearby APC sitting in the shadow of a ruined building. Soon Cornelia's booming voice came over an external loudspeaker.
"To all knightmare pilots, open your hatches and let me see your faces."
At her command, the hatches of the present Sutherlands began opening one by one, their pilots stepping into the open air. Ciaran watched as Guilford's Gloucester began moving down the line, the 'head' of the mech looking at each unit and it's pilot as it made it's way down the line.
Soon, the purple machine stopped before one Sutherland that hadn't opened it's hatch. Ciaran cursed the fact that his radio couldn't get a signal of the conversation that was going on between the two pilots, but the fact that several soldiers began forming a cordon around the machine made Ciaran suspicious as he unlimbered his own rifle.
"Zero has been sighted!"
The call snapped everyone out of what they were doing, soldiers milling around in confusion at the call, unsure of where the terrorist had been sighted.
"Lieutenant! Behind you!" A soldier in front of Ciaran called out, pointing to the ruin behind him. Spinning around, bringing his rifle up at the same time, Ciaran's eyes widened in shock at the sight before him. Standing on top of the crumbling wall, with nary a care in the world, stood Zero himself. He was wearing a deep purple suit, with an elaborate black cloak that fluttered in the wind. Obscuring his face was a featureless mask with a deep-blue tinted plate that covered the whole of his face.
Many of the soldiers present stood in stunned silence. Suddenly, the nearest soldiers begun firing their rifles, Ciaran adding his own fire into the mix. Instead of ducking from the fire, Zero simply spread his arms wide then, to everyone's surprise, fell backwards off the building.
"No you don't!" Ciaran called out, running forward to the ruin, ignoring the calls of the soldiers behind him. Running up a short slope, Ciaran aimed his gun through the remains of a wall into a dark hole. Scanning the darkness, he lowered his rifle.
"He's gone!" He called back, as a trio of soldiers climbed up the slope to stand near him before he made his way down the slope. The commotion energized the soldiers as they began scanning the area for the terrorist.
Deciding that there was little else he could to do help, Ciaran made his way back to the G-1, taking off his hat to run his hands through his hair, before replacing the hat on his head as he climbed into the mobile base.
Later that night, Euphemia lay awake in her bed. After her sister returned from the Saitama ghetto, Cornelia had made lieutenant Forsyth assist her in some paper work after she had made the young man fill out an after action report.
She thought it would be good to have the man with her again. She and him had been having pleasant conversations over the last few weeks. But now... now she was worried. Ciaran's pleasant manner was now more subdued. When she tried to talk to her, he took his time answering and it always came in short, simple statements. Her attempts at goading an answer out of him were met with further silence.
Even dinner was a frosty affair. The group of five sat down for dinner again, in the same manner they did they first time they ate as a group with Ciaran present. But this time, conversation was non-existent, each person simply eating their meal in silence. When his dinner was finished, Ciaran excused himself, citing a need to lie down. Euphemia had not seen her friend since.
Looking at her bedside clock, she read the time for probably the sixth time that night.
11:50pm
Sitting up in her bed, Euphemia reached over and switch the bedside lamp on. Climbing out of her bed, she took her bed-robe off a chair and exited her room. She didn't do it often, but she enjoyed walking around barefooted around the palace. The carpets put down by Clovis always felt so nice against the soles of her feet.
Admittedly, she wasn't really sure what to do. She knew she couldn't just go to Ciaran's room. It wouldn't be right, even if she wasn't seen. A passing maid curtsied as she walked past the princess.
"Have you seen lieutenant Forsyth?" The princess asked quickly. When the maid gave a confused look, she began describing the young man, hoping that would help her memory. Luckily, that jogged the maid's memory, as she said that she saw a man fitting that description enter into the palace's gym some time three hours ago.
Thanking the maid, Euphemia walked down the corridor to the gym, picking up her speed when she knew she couldn't be seen by anyone.
The maid was correct, as small beams of light emanated from the door to the gym. Making her way closer, she could hear certain sounds mixed together: the sounds of heavy impacts, grunts of exertion and the sound of music, fast paced and loud.
….so close near enough to fight
When a Russian gets me in his sights
He pulls the trigger and I feel the blow
A burst of rounds take my horse below.
Opening the door, Euphemia couldn't help but pause and stare at the sight before her. Ciaran was stripped to his waist save for a t-shirt, his legs still wearing trousers of his uniform, his arms bare and his hands wrapped in bandages. Sweat dripped off his body as lay blow after blow into a punching bag, which swung perilously from it's chain.
She watched as the man dodged imaginary blows before responding with his own, each hit connecting solidly with the bag before, with an almost feral roar, he suddenly turned and walked away from the equipment. Striding to a nearby bench, he picked up a towel and water bottle, taking a swig from the container. A small stereo system was sitting on the bench, his music player connected in to the machine. Turning around, he paused as his gaze settled on the pink girl. His frame became more relaxed and subdued at the sight of the young princess.
"Euphemia," he said simply, his eyes refusing to meet hers. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled a small remote from his pocket and turned off the music, bathing the room in silence, save for his ragged breathing and the gentle creaking of the chains of the punching bag.
"Are you all right, Ciaran?" Euphemia asked, her voice carrying her concern clearly.
Using the towel to wipe away the built up sweat on his neck, the young man sat down on the bench. "No. No, I don't think I am."
Euphemia walked towards the man, taking a seat next to him.
"It's just... what happened in Saitama today," Ciaran continued unprompted, "There were people in that ghetto. Human beings. And they were just slaughtered like cattle. I... I just can't accept that." He ran his bandaged hands through his hair, slicking it back before letting his hand hang limp between his legs.
Euphemia didn't say anything. She just rested her head on her friend's shoulder as he slumped forward, interlocking one of her hands with his.
"You're tired," She said soothingly. "Go to bed. You'll feel better tomorrow."
Ciaran didn't say anything, just giving a nod in agreement. Reaching down, he unlinked his hand from Euphemia's and begun unbinding his hands, letting the gauze fall to the floor in a heap. Reaching over, Euphemia unplugged the music player from the stereo system. Reading the small screen, she couldn't help but frown at the words on the display.
The Trooper – Iron Maiden
Euphemia didn't say anything as she handed the device to Ciaran who was now standing, the towel draped over his neck and the bottle held in his hand. Pocketing the device, he then offered his hand to the seated princess. Placing her hand in his, she lifted herself from the bench.
Exiting the room, with Ciaran closing the door behind the pair. Running his hand through his hair again, now a little more subdued than before. This made Euphemia giggle, before taking his hand again.
"Have a good night, Ciaran." She said before hugging the young man.
Wrapping an arm around the girls shoulder, Ciaran gently pressed his lips to her forehead, before rubbing his cheek against his head. "You too, Euphemia."
The two walked the same corridor before splitting to go to their own rooms. Closing the door for the night, Ciaran stripped out of his uniform and climbed into his bed.
Sleep took him easily.
AN: Aaaand he is revealed! Our protag meets the infamous terrorist. And... not much happens. *shrug* What can I say? We're also introduced to Diethard Ried, a character who I freely admit to having zero like for.
This was also an attempt at writing something a bit more serious for the story. I think I did fairly well to be honest with myself.