A/N:

Bezerker928: With units staggered on either side of the road, HEAT or HE misses would explode and affect the friendly units on the opposite side, whereas an APFSDS round would not detonate and just keep on going. HEAT rounds and even some HE rounds will not detonate on impact with bodies, bodies tend to be too squishy to trigger them. Even if they did detonate, collateral damage would again harm UN forces as this is a narrow road they are ambushing along. Any form of explosives would cause widespread injuries if not directed properly. With AP solid projectiles, as long as units fired within their assigned angles, they would have those shots pass through an empty gap between two friendly units in the opposite treeline without a chance of high explosive collateral damage. When you imagine the road, think of Germanian forests back in the Roman era, a single path cutting through thick forests.

Andre Barbosa:

1. Nato isn't going article 5 for an African nation, maybe read up on that.

2. Shooting moving flying targets with a large animal in the way is rather difficult, maybe read up on that.

3. AWACS aircraft are rather large and the conditions to get one in the air are rather expensive. Radar stations have a range radius of how far they can detect objects, also expensive. Drones tend to look down than up, maybe you should read up on that.

Gate fanfics seem to always get some comments about not sending further forces into the special region and why aren't we sending the highest tech in to curb stomp savages.

Just because we know how the Gate will stay open from watching the anime and reading the manga doesn't mean that the governments and characters know that the magic of portals won't close on them and strand battalions and divisions of men, equipment, and technology in a world with no logistics to fend for themselves. It's the same for the nations that can project forces elsewhere. Not every nation is willing or able to, essentially, sacrifice a battalion or division's worth of men or material to send through the Gate with no guarantee of recovering property or gaining resources. Hell, even my story is unrealistic in those regards, but for my story and any of these types of stories to work, this continues. Maybe you should do some reading…maybe I should get a drink. I should really stop these rants. This shit just ain't worth the effort to type. Bloody stupud waste of time.

AyeJimmy123: Noice

Thanks to all for your reviews!

My apologies for the amount of time between chapters, I have plans for events so far in the future that events that are happening now are a bit of a slog for me. Storyboarding is great and having ideas is great, until you start writing the story up to the big events and trying to build a world, only for it to crash and burn when placed into words. Hence my constant heckling for reviews from you guys to give me ideas to focus my thoughts on the story at hand and not the one uselessly far away in the future.

So please forgive me as I push ever onward on this badly organized crusade, marching through the dry arid deserts of ill-conceived thoughts in my mind, and attempt horribly to bring you a world based on another to life.

Chapter 20: Interlude II

Road to UNFA, Falmart

1527 Hrs

" STOP GRABBING AT MY PISTOL!"

The offensive of dainty fingers continued as they pried at Itami's iron grasp on his service pistol, his right hand holding the P220 inside the holster and his left attempting to pull Rory's hand away from it.

" Come on, let me feel what's poking my thigh," Rory whined back, giggling as Itami's index finger was pushed off of the grip by an inhuman strength that greatly dwarfed his own.

Itami jolted upwards, breaking her contact with his leg, the apostle sliding forward onto the edge of his knees. She instantly flipped herself over, using the inertia of sliding forward to fold herself into the extremely cramped space in between Itami's legs. Now the man was stuck semi-standing in his seat, his helmeted head banging up against the roof of the vehicle along the bumps in the road, his knees jammed straight as Rory's body wedged itself between the walls of the Toyota and his kneecaps. The stunted apostle took full advantage of this, her right arm reaching out under his leg to the bottom of the holster, her left hugging over his thigh and pushing at the holstered weapon. Itami was almost using his full strength at this point, both hands fighting to keep his weapon in its place, the so-called " Oracle" seemed to not even put any effort as once more his fingers were pried away.

" PLEASE, STOP!"

The radio sounded out as the road entered a swath of trees, greenage filling the windows, " convoy halt, halt."

Kurata applied the brakes, obeying the command, halting the vehicle quickly to avoid rear ending the TAPV in front. The HMV came to a hard stop, the bodies inside thrown forward, straining muscles and jostling bodies. Itami was jolted forward again, this time outside of his control, his lower body shoved up against the smaller body wedged under him. This time the pistol was pulled clear from its holster, the lieutenant still retaining some control over the weapon, but Rory still grasping at it as the barrel pointed at the Toyota's windshield.

Losing partial control of his loaded firearm to an essentially unknown entity, his instincts took over. Itami's left hand clung onto the passenger door latch and disengaged the latch before throwing the door open, his legs kicking against the vehicle's interior, allowing him to fall from his seat to the ground. This elaborate maneuver, however, brought along a passenger.

Now he laid, his legs stuck in the vehicle resting on the seat, arms raised with his sidearm pointed to the sky. A female child priest straddled across his body armour, her hands cuffed against his pistol wielding wrist.

Troops began leaping from the trucks, scanning the treelines as they looked over the broken bodies of a previous battle. Bodies mostly trampled with only a single monster plastered on the road and trees. The soldiers only gave long passing glances at the duo now on the ground.

A sultry female voice whispered Japanese softly into his right ear, " captain… what are you doing with the little girl?"

Itami glanced to his right, a deceptively smiling, glaring Mari bent down just inches from his face.

Thus the JGSDF lieutenant was zip tied, gagged, and placed in the back of the Komatsu as the convoy continued its way back to Alnus after a quick investigation.

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Simila Village, Falmart

Early Afternoon

Men of the veteran 1st cohort of the 1st Legion of the 1st " Minerva" Corp wore smiles on their faces as they hauled boxes of goods and luggage into civilian carts while their comrades escorted villagers from their homes. Leader of the White Rose section of the Rose Order of Knights, Panache Fure Kalgi, sat from her mount watching the soldiers work as they evicted the village. Beside her stood her Primus Pilus, liaison to the Rose Knights Order from the Imperial Army, and the village elder.

The grey bearded Primus Pilus grinning infectiously from ear to ear at the discipline of his men, men who had commited genocides in their youth, but became a non-combat honorary unit with age.

Chuckling, he nudged the female knight, " At this rate, we will finish this by the hour, where's the next village we need to help?"

His eyes lingered on their own logistic wagons as soldiers loaded extra grain the villagers could not take with them from the warehouse to the carts.

Panache merely replied with a smile, " when we finish here, we are done, collect what is not taken and we head back along the canal. We still need to regroup with the other knight sections and 1st Legion cohorts."

The village elder on the other hand, only could grimace as he followed the rest of his people into the wagons, thankful only for the fact that nothing was stolen aside from grain and no blood was spilt.

There was no looting, maiming, or killing, as the village was cleared out, the soldiers razing the buildings, and property once the civilians had boarded their carts.

As the carts began their trip to Italica, the villagers, men, women and children, watched as legionnaires with sacks sprinkled salt onto their fields and tossed bodies of monsters that formerly plagued the settlement along the river banks further upstream of the village. Wild boars were also hunted by the legionnaires for rations, roasting by the burning buildings, bones and innards thrown into the village well. The village homes and what the villagers grew up with, was systematically destroyed and the lands ruined.

Lines of refugees soon joined them on the road to Italica, their villages devastated, livelihoods dissipating with the black smoke that lifted from the ruins. The lucky ones were vacated by the Rose Order Knights, the unlucky ones were evicted by one of the many younger legions under the Imperial military complex.

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Italica, the Western Gleaming Jewel of the Saderan Empire, Falmart

Hours After Midnight

The darkness of night flashed to life as the bobbing orange orbs ignited amongst the trees. The sentries panicked as they saw the bloodthirsty faces of the wielders, bells and gongs roused the city at such an ungodly hour. The citizen's militia made of the old, the maimed, and the undrafted, rushed out their doors at their best speed, grabbing poor replications of weapons and armour. Wives and children saw them off as they deployed to their untimely ends.

Princess of the Saderan Empire, Pina Co Lada, did not wake to mere sounds though.

Nor did the shaking of her body or the screams of Page Hamilton pull her from her slumber.

Yet four gallons of fresh river water broke the deafening walls of her slumber.

Pina awoke, drenched, cold, and bewildered, clutching at soaked covers as she eyed confusingly at the head maid who held a wooden bucket in one hand and a cup in the other. The 11 year old countess Myui Formal, adorned in light battle dress fully equipped with a dagger at her hip and a lamellar vest, stood hands on hip determinately behind her. Hamilton laid beside her, hands grasped at her covers, fear drawn upon her face.

" W-what happened?" Pina heard herself say, her mouth acting on its own as her brain attempted to process why it was awake.

" Your grace, brigands have attacked the West gate," the monotone head maid replied, handing her the cup of water in her hand, she spat out the next sentence with vile, " it would seem that your emperor's plans have backfired."

" Your grace," the countess spoke up next, her tone surprising ice for one at her age, " my CITIZENS are fighting and dying holding the gate, you PROMISED protection for Italica. Deploy your troops!"

The princess merely blew off the child, waving the young countess off with her backhand as she dressed, her page helping with the knights armour.

Clinking of steel armour echoed through the alleyway as Pina raced to her post, a 3 floor building near the Western wall. Her page panted behind, running in vain, unable to catch up to her charge. Cries of pain and sounds of war resounded throughout the city, spurring the princess on. Soon she reached the doorway she was looking for, quickly scaling the stairway and reaching the roof. What met her was the glow from a sea of fire outside the walls, cohorts stood in their squares in the treeline side by side, men holding torches above their heads. These troops flew no banners, using Saderan equipment and tactics. Two veins of flames stretched to the gate, legionnaires between the veins blacked out with scutums held over their heads.

As she looked back to the Western gate, to her confusion, she saw a testudo line that had already breached the main gate, marching and cutting through a ragtag group of militiamen. The sturdy wooden, iron reinforced doors were smashed to splinters, littering the floor as the Imperial forces continued their advance. She watched on as the sons, brothers, and fathers of Italica were felled and marched on by the trained soldiers, the legionnaires stabbing and beating down the Italicans. But as they gave their lives, the dead and dying civilian guard bought enough time for reinforcements to arrive.

The red squat-cone capped, black uniformed Italica's magistrate guard as well as her very own small contingent of Rose-Order Knights threw themselves into the fray. The large single-edged broadswords of the magistrate guards gleamed as they fell, crashing down upon shield or armour, largely deflected by the legionnaires. But they soon inflicted casualties among the invaders, while taking heavy casualties as their light armour and cloth uniforms barely held against gladii strikes. The heavy infantry that made up the Knights of the Rose Order had a much deadlier effect upon enemy numbers, the mainly female knights already knowledgeable in the fighting techniques of the legions, sliced into the mass of former Imperial forces. More militiamen joined in from the other gates as the previous laid defense plan came into effect. Young men and elderly fighters manned rooftops and walls, firing crossbow bolts into the depleting overstretched cohort.

Armoured footsteps clinked their way up the stairwell behind Pina, a glance behind her showed Grey Co Aldo dragging her exhausted page of the stairs, closely followed by her child communications runners.

" Your dreams of combat and fighting have come true, your grace," Grey chuckled jovially, hauling Hamilton to her feet, " let's see if this old veteran has taught you anything worthwhile."

Pina Co Lada could only glare in his direction as she took in the grim defense action before her, her forces repelling the "bandit" forces, trading lives for ground.

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Alnus Hill, Falmart

Early Morning

Duran awoke to a high pitch horn as the sun reflected its beams through the barred windows, another day of his stay in the custody of the otherworlders. He rose from the bed, stretching his eldery muscles and cracking the kinks in his joints. Strolling to the glaring window, the familiar sights of multiple colourful billowing flags greeted him as he looked out at the courtyard. Men and women could be seen, light clothing fluttering in the breeze as they jogged around the open square. This was a daily ritual these otherworlder soldiers had every morning, some groups running in long lines, some in neat squares. They would then disperse before returning, forming massive squares of different colours and uniforms, all ramrod and disciplined to a fault. It still surprised the Elban king after seeing this scene since he had arrived. This happened day after day, the same procedure, and Duran continued to watch the seemingly empty ceremony.

However, today, an anomaly occurred. A knock at the door rang out, shaking him from this staring stupor. The door swung freely open, before a familiar face greeted him. Count Colt Formal stepped into the room, lamellar armour pieces glaring from the morning beams and the cloth accents immaculate. The daily meal catering, an Italican looking fellow in the dark checkered green uniform of one of the many otherworldly nations, wheeled in the meal cart closely behind the feudal lord. The door was sealed softly behind the server by the guard outside.

Dipping his flat top cap in a slight bow before anyone could speak, the soldier began laying out breakfast on the built-in table of Duran's bed as he would everyday, this time setting two sets instead of the usual one. The two men were somewhat mesmerized by the man's grace as he set down the plates and cups, the china never once making a sound as the precise movements of wiping and placing down the food performed in front of them. Even though the king saw this three times a day for days now, it hadn't yet ceased to stun him of the professionalism this " Yanagida Akira '' showed for such a meaningless action. It did not matter that sounds from the china wouldn't have been a bother nor the fact that the white cloth draped over his right forearm came off absolutely clean after every single wipe, but the man did it anyway with utmost care.

Finally, Yanagida pulled back to the door as he finished, the Falmarti men awaking from their daze.

With a face saving throat clearing, Duran greeted his old friend with open arms, nodding a quick thanks to the Japanese man at the door.

" I thought you died, Formal. What happened to you?" The Lion of Elbe started, grinning infectiously.

The two men began eating their breakfasts, reaching to their sets of plates and picking up foodstuff.

Chewing on a sausage, Formal replied somewhat seriously, his face forming into a smirk," I threw off the yoke of the Empire, my friend."

Climbing eyebrows answered him.

" Really now? After two centuries of being muzzled?" Duran's grin seemed to grow ever larger, " what would your father say to such drastic actions?"

Colt merely shrugged, " you would as well if you had the otherworlder's protection."

The grin dissipated, " that I would, that I would."

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Television and mobile screens in Japan soon lit up with images of a tarmac at the Narita International airport as a Kawasaki C-2 came to a halt after its taxi. The recording then shrunk to the top right half of the screen as a male Japanese news anchor with a monotone voice spoke about the reason behind this military aircraft's landing in a civilian airport, as soldiers in JGSDF dress uniforms marched on then off the ramps of the aircraft, teams of 5 soldiers carried off large boxes draped with the Hinomaru. A line of troops, standing at attention to the side, saluted the coffins as they were carried one by one and loaded onto hearses. As the 5 coffins were unloaded, a burnt and blackened Type 73 truck was towed out of the fuselage, tarpaulin taped and tied down in various places to hold dangling parts in place.

The images then cut to the front of the National Diet Building, protestors waving signs and shouting at a thin line of "Kidō-tai", the dark blue and navy blue of the Tokyo Metropolitan riot police unit keeping the civilians outside the government building. Audio soon joined the video, chants for the Prime Minister to answer for the first ever combat deaths of the JSDF, to withdraw their troops, and to adhere to the previously passed PKO Five Principles*. Signs with these words and photos of the prime minister sporting a crudely drawn toothbrush mustache populated the hands of the Japanese people.

The main headline scrolled in large white letters across a red banner, emboldened underneath the news anchor's desk on screen, " Where is our promised resignation, Prime Minister Shinzo Motoi?"

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Ideas, ideas, so many ideas, but so little brainpower.

* In my research, I found a college paper relating to JSDF combat deaths or lack thereof. I found it a very good read, short and to the point, with sources included. If any of you are interested, look up "JSDF combat deaths", FFN isn't letting me post the link. 安富 淳, you wrote a very nice paper, mate.