Welcome back, dear readers.

First, or second now that I've welcomed you back to the fireside, is a little explanation. A description of what you are about to read, what it is, what it isn't.

This, is not the new crossover. That will be after this. A little warming up is needed, and since I didn't do what I did in Foxxo Orario, warming up and integrating the GATE story into the actual plot of the third book... Well, I'm doing it now.

Kinda.

The next few chapters that follow, will be 'single chapter stories' of some of the things that happened in the last six months after the JSDF got booted from Falmart, and their return to Japan. Someplace in there will be the 'reveal' of the Hime's and Aisha's child. There will also be some stuff 'outside' of Orario, be it back in Falmart or Earth.

So, lets call this mini-series...

4.5, Tails between the Trees.

The Pink Rose.

Kaede snapped out of her wild, flailing assault and looked back, then up. The tinder-dry bushes had caught fire, and the rope that had been run between pillars, likely oil soaked, had a flame racing across it.

In desperation, she drew her katana and threw it at the rope. She missed, but had nothing to make a second attempt on hand. So she jumped into the water, leaving the Mongrel behind, laughing as the world around him became orange with flame.

Then black with oblivion.

The blade, it's vibrant pink edge managing to glitter in the near darkness, flipped end over end, past the rope, past the shadow of the bridge, then with a splash that was lost to the sounds overhead, it slipped into the water.

The instant the blade had vanished, the barrels of black powder detonated, shattering the bridge's foundations, making the entire structure buck upwards like a wild bull, then collapse into the water like crushed chalk.

Beast-kin like the ogres, land dragon and horse cavalry, foot soldiers, stone, all these things plunged into the rushing waters below. Some were dead before they hit the water, the upwards push of shattered stone catching them in its grip before gravity pulled body and brick both downwards. Some died as they hit the water, the distance and panic mocking any skill at diving they might have had. Others died in the sudden press of bodies, living or dead, slamming together with crushing force. Most... most died by drowning, armour and the fall crushing air from the lungs, then making them too weak or clear headed to pull off their armour before its weight made it as useful as a stone around the neck for swimming.

But one... One soldier did not die from uplifted rocks, crushing bodies, poor diving form, heavy armour or flooded lungs.

No, one soldier managed, by sheer luck, to throw his spear and helm away, adopt a reasonable 'straight up and down' posture before hitting the water, then, because he jumped from the bridge 'up stream', was missed by all the falling bodies and stone. His armour still pulled him down, but he fought down the panic, and stripped it away even as the sounds of bodies and stone slamed through the water, threatening to burst his eardrums

His booted feet braced as best they could against the current so he could pull his heavy iron and leather armour off, and just as his lungs were starting to burn, it came free and with a heave, it was up and over his head to roll away with the current to join the mess of dead and drowning bodies just down stream of him.

Then his luck ran out.

As his father had taught him, he sunk down just a little more, bent his knees, then tried to push upwards with all his might. But as he knelt in preparation to jump upwards, a sharp pain lanced through his chest. Through waters muddied by the sudden demolition of the bridge, he caught sight of something pink. He tried to take hold of it, but his fingers couldn't seem to grip the pink sliver, or rather, attempting to grip the object sheared off his poor numbing digits.

And so, the nameless soldier drown, his lungs filling with blood, then water, before his body relented to the current like the rest of Zorzal's doomed army.

The people of Rondel were the most educated in the world. That wisdom meant they preferred to distance themselves from 'politics'. They stayed out of the Empires way, but also out of its wars. They didn't shun the various religions, but they politely declined to follow their doctrines.

That didn't mean they wouldn't help people in need. And through the last night of the civil war, a lot of people, living and dead, washed up on the shores of the Row Stream. While they understood that 'extra food' was good for the fish, some (mostly those who studied fish) knew that too much food would go uneaten, and pollute the water the city relied on. So, a concentrated effort was made to pull bodies, living, dead, animal, human, beast-folk, from the river.

With the number of dead, there was no real hope of proper funerary rites. Different Gods dealt with their dead in different ways. Fire was popular of course. The God of the Sun, asked that the ashes of the dead be spread onto the soil, not the water. The God of the Forge asked that the ashes of the dead be mixed with wood or coal in a forge.

Burial was also popular. Be it in a grave yard, or under a tree, or interred into a crypt.

Another God asked that bodies be butchered and left in the wild for the animals, so next year's hunt would be more bountiful.

And of course, the burial at sea. But the ocean was far too distant for that.

Sadly, with the amount of dead beaching themselves on the shore, and the fact that Rondel had more than a few Fire Mages, the pyre was where the dead ended up.

But again, Rondel avoided politics, but wasn't insensitive to them, and many professional notaries and archivists took personal effects from the bodies, and with the help of the living, and solemn promises not to run off with those effects, the attempt was made to contact the families of the deceased after the mess had been cleaned up.

Land dragons, those that were dead at least (since trained living ones were unwilling and more useful alive) were skinned, and the scales and hide put into a common pool to later raise money to provide for what was going to be a very bad winter for the living.

Rory the Reaper, at some point, wandered the beaches to fulfill her role as Apostle of Emroy. She did not stay long, and it was rumoured that it would be her LAST official duty, since just before she left the funeral pyres for the day, she tossed her divine weapon far out into the Row Stream.

But, nearly a week later, after almost all the bodies had stopped drifting ashore, a somewhat water logged body slid onto the beach. Bloated slightly by water, with more than a few little fishes flopping out of pockets trying to get back into the water, the soldier was impaled not by a spear, or axe, but a long slightly curved sword with an amazingly pink edge.

It was not the first body who'd washed ashore with a blade in them, but the man who had found the body was quite surprised. Even after a week in the water, there wasn't a mark of rust anywhere on the black metal behind the pink edge. The hilt wrapping was still tight, and when the blade was removed from the body, the soldier's blood and innards didn't cling or mark the blade either. The other thing of note, past the somewhat bloated look of surprise on the soldier's dead face, was the weight of the blade. Heavier than it looked, it was still manageable, yet it was too fine, too unique, to be anything but an Apostle's weapon.

The pink edged sword, like most other items of unique make, was taken in, catalogued, and set aside. That was, until one of the soldiers, a survivor who figured working at corpse recovery was well worth the two meals a day and a dry place to sleep, saw it.

He knew that weapon. It was the same weapon that had sheared through the side of the transport boat he had been on. The same weapon that slipped through four of his fellow soldiers without slowing down. The very same blade that went through the other side of the ship as the Warrior Bunny who was holding it, jumped away from the incapacitated vessel and the dead she'd left behind.

The former soldier and the blade, left Rondel late that night. Lack of guards, scholars who valued what little sleep they got, and far too much trust in their fellow sapient, made it an easy item to steal.

Now, with a couple of small loaves of bread, boots from someone who didn't need them anymore, and a traveller's cloak made of a bit of cloth that had been stained by blood while in the water, he fled the Scholar's city.

He made his way west, following the common path that led around the tip of the mountain next to Rondel and the Row Stream, and it was only when he saw the sun coming up that he started to relax a little, thinking he had gotten away from all his problems. The war was done, he no longer had to follow Zorzal, he had clothes, some food, a prize to sell, and if he was lucky...

Well, he wasn't lucky.

The town that was supposed to be there, near the tip of the mountains, had been reduced to rubble. In its glory days, if you could call a mining town that, it sat on either side of a river that had branched off the Row Stream a little bit back towards Rondel where he had just come. Now, it was just burned out houses, partially collapsed defensive walls and a few spots that were still smoking.

Wait... no, not 'still'. Those were... Those were his last thoughts as a hunting arrow went through his ear.

Three men and a woman, dressed in 'hunter' clothing, entered Italica a week later. On their cart, pulled by a somewhat grumpy looking horse, were piled furs, salvaged weapons, armour (including a nice pair of boots), and a few trinkets that they had salvaged at the shattered town west of Rondel and Italica.

They, like many who had come to Italica after the JSDF had left, were there to trade. To gather what they could before the start of winter. Pelts would be popular, since the winters could be quite cold, especially if you lived someplace with few trees to burn for warmth.

The four of them did indeed sell much of their goods. But no one seemed to want the leftover weapons and armour (except the boots, those sold easily enough). Even the most notable item in their wagon, a strange curved blade with an unnaturally pink edge was passed on by the merchants of Italica. Though, considering its strange properties, most merchants thought it was bad luck, or an Apostle's weapon. And the shape, unheard of! Any soldier in the Empire, before and after the civil war, used straight bladed swords.

Of course, even now, as always, the strange item was made note of by someone other than the merchants. Something so unique was bound to catch the eyes of someone...

Mamina, Warrior Bunny, Maid of the Fromel Clan, loyal servant and guard of Myui Fromel, Lady of Italica, had caught wind of something unique being shown off at the markets. Dutifully, she spotted, noted, and reported this item to Kaine. Being familiar with the JSDF and the trade goods they had 'bought' many of the nobility with, including weapons, they knew what the item was. A 'kitanna'.

The description of it though, the colour especially, had them all (except Kaine) scratching their heads. The weapons they'd seen from the JSDF had been works of art, but that was a little too... loud for what they knew.

But, that just made it more noteworthy. And with a nod, two other maids were sent out to inquire about it.

The four of them lay dead in the alleyway. They had made the mistake of thinking the Fromel Clan maids were just pretty faces. It had started simply enough, honestly enough. An offer was made for the blade by the two maids. It was refused. Barter for it began...

Then one of the four got greedy. Surely the offered coin for the weapon would make a nice addition to their pockets!

Except now, the four of them were dead, the two maids pulling throwing knives out of them as the city guard arrived. With perfect bows, they informed the guards of what happened, told them that all but one of the items on them would be donated to the city's emergency coffers, and to have a nice day.

With care, the Warrior Bunny, the stronger of the two maids, carried the sword back to Myui's keep. Their orders were to retrieve the blade, and so they did.

As was proper, Kaine did not enter her Lady's presence with weapons drawn. Instead, the blade now rested, a little poorly, in a nice red velvet pillow inside a long box of fragrant wood. The elder (not elderly!) maid didn't know who's weapon it was, but knew it was special. It was indeed a 'kitanna', but was not the shiny silver of steel the JSDF had shown them. Now that they were gone, and had been told by those in the former 'Italica Forward' base that anything they left behind was for Lady Myui or whomever she thought might use it best...

Of course, the blade resting in the nice box was quite fine. But far too heavy for young Myui, who was not past the wooden practice blades for her training. This left the Lady of Italica with a little conundrum. Such a weapon would look nice upon a wall, certainly, but it would languish there. Young as she was, even she could feel it was a warrior's weapon, not a showpiece.

"We will make it a gift." She declared with a smile.

Emperor Augustus, seeing that his time was done, that his land was at peace, that his people were moving into a new era, stepped down, officially, from his throne.

The people (hand wave towards the city) were thrilled. Not because he was stepping down, but because he was stepping down with grace. It wasn't often, anywhere in Falmart, that nobility stepped down 'alive'. Most of the time, they were replaced, not succeeded. He was retiring.

His sons had been killed in war, but to be fair, one was a half wit who tried to kill the Emperor and doomed the North to a year of vacancy due to what would be the worst potential famine in remembered history. And the other, an egocentric twit who was only barely adequate to be a go-between for the Empire and Alnus, and later killed by a Chinese spy who had had enough of his pitiful attempts at being relevant before the Gate had even closed the first time.

The nobility were... less thrilled. But they were used to having a man on the throne. But, past the gender norms for Falmart, the Woman who was to be crowned Empress was someone everyone could rally behind.

Pina Co Lada. Daughter of Molt Sol Augustus. She was brave, driven, had a head for politics, fought as well as any man, wasn't afraid to work like a peasant, and had the loyalty of almost every noble family. She was also very pretty, but had proven she was not just another pretty face. She had turned everything anyone had ever laughed at her for, into something no one would dare to laugh at now.

Of course, such an occasion as this, required a feast! A party! A gathering of important people! However, again proving she wasn't just a pretty face, Pina had told the nobility that they would not be feasting while the people were about to go into a hard winter. Instead, every guest would be urged to buy, or hunt, their own offerings of food. She didn't know it, but it would be the 'invention' of the 'pot luck' dinner.

After the ceremony, with her father removing his crown, placing it upon her head, then kneeling before her as she herself stood, newly crowned, there were gifts.

Art, fine horses, tapestries, carpets, gold and silver, bottles of aged wine, books... All of these were given to the new Empress. Of course, most of it was for 'favour'. The price of the gift (hopefully) translating to a future favour in return. Some of it was practical, like the horses or wine.

But one gift stood above them all. Usually, it was rather gauche to gift a weapon. The Emperor(or Empress) shouldn't need such things! Their people should love them, and their enemies should fear the might of their armies. But like her father before he sat down on the throne, Pina was a warrior as much as diplomat.

Myui, with the help of Kaine, had fixed up the strange 'kitanna' a little. Now the weapon had a shiny black lacquered sheath to match the wrapping on the handle and the metal of the blade's spine. Great care had been used to further etch a vine along the sheath, with bright pink flowers running along it.

And yes, the nice box now nested the blade properly on the red velvet inside.

Myui knelt and presented the box, and carefully, Pina had opened it. With equal care, for she knew the respect the JSDF treated these blades with, she took out the sheathed blade.

"Forgive me, Lady Pina." Myui said, her voice echoing slightly in the ballroom as the nobility saw the strange gift of a weapon and went silent. "There is only a small stamp on above the crosspiece. We have no name for the blade."

Her father, now sitting in the 'prince's chair' next to the grand throne (and finding it far more comfortable than the throne) spoke up, "A fine blade like that, needs a name."

Carefully, Pina pulled the blade from the scabbard. The black steel of the spine soaked up the light, while the bright pink of the edge almost sparkled. And for a moment, Pina considered the entire work. The wrapping, the copper coloured pommel, the vibrant edge and void coloured body of the blade, and said, "I name this weapon, the Pink Rose." It was obvious the name was to honour her personal Knight Order of noblewomen, the Rose Knights. "I will wear it proudly, but like a rose, I will be mindful of when it should be drawn. Let our past be a lesson! And while I hope to never draw this blade for war, I will should the need arise! For the land, for the people, for the Empire!"

Notes!

Well, now we know what happened to Kaede's blade. As I said, the next couple of updates will be shorter, but still part of 'the story'.

Thank you for reading! And if you want to see any full colour art, join the discord!

aKAQg4bnYu for the discord!

And my actual book, Were Too? is on Inkitt.