"The bandit army was completely routed within less than an hour, they were prevented from getting to the heart of Italica, and there were no casualties at all amongst our forces. All in all, I'd say it was another successful operation." General Hazima leaned back in his chair, the smile on his face a mixture of satisfaction and relief. It was a unique feeling one got from sending men and women you cared about into danger and knowing that they all managed to pull through to the other side, something very few commanders in active combat zones ever had the opportunity to feel. Colonel Jackson felt a little envious of him in that regard, a man who had nothing but resounding victories under his record without having to look through the names of those whose families would need to be given the terrible news imaginable.
They were back in Hazima's office after spending a good portion of the night and most of the morning in the Tactical Operations Center keeping track of the ongoing situation in Italica. The General had been a ball of nerves, unable to sit still ever since the request from Third Recon had been made and the situation in the city known. He hadn't hesitated to accept the request, after all it seemed like a no-brainer even in terms of the overly cautious way the JSDF had thus far conducted themselves. A force of brigands who belonged to no nation laid siege to a town where an important individual, a princess no less, was directly asking for aid? A genie's wish couldn't have granted them a more golden opportunity. But carrying it out was another matter, as even the Air Assault option that Hazima had quickly opted for would be cutting things close on the timeline, and there was no way to know exactly what would happen once the Japanese got engaged with the chaotic nature of battle. General Hazima was a brilliant organizer and imaginative planner, but he still was largely inexperienced when it came to overseeing combat Operations. He worried to the point of being physically anxious about the Fourth Combat Team, about Third Recon that was already within the walls of Italica, and for the people of Italica itself if things went sideways.
Colonel Jackson had tried to alleviate some of that tension by offering what assistance he could, suggesting that he could put his own troops on alert as a Quick Reaction Force in case the enemy managed to penetrate deep into the city. The Americans were more experienced in urban combat environments, and he had thought this would be a good way to help without undermining the JSDF from taking the lead. The General apparently didn't see things that way as he had politely but firmly declined the offer, saying that he had already designated the First Combat Team as QRF if such an event should come to pass and that the Marines would not be needed this time. That was just about the only thing he HAD said to Jackson for hours, absorbed in his own world as Hazima had stood almost like a statue with a deep glower on his face from almost the exact moment the choppers had lifted off, listening to every single progress report and radio callout like it was going to be on a test that he had staked his life on passing. Well, at least that was better than trying to micromanage everything, a phenomenon that Jackson had seen too many times by green officers who felt that they had something to prove to both their subordinates and themselves. But it had gone off more or less without a hitch, with the Attack Helicopters smashing the enemy's offensive capabilities and morale before dropping ground troops both within the city to shore up its defenses and outside it to hit the renegade's flank. A textbook operation in every sense of the word. Well, except for the type of hostiles they had been fighting, but that was less important in this instance.
Now with that victory secured, the General seemed to be more relaxed, something that Jackson wasn't really sure he should be feeling. He'd long ago learned the hard way that winning a battle was often the easy part of warfare, especially when soldiers were forced to also wear the hats of diplomats and peacekeepers. It could all too easy come crumbling down no matter how flashy the victory… No, he shouldn't think like that. That was old wounds from fighting seemingly endless, unwinnable wars. Wars that were quite literally a world away. They had another chance in the Special Region, one that they absolutely could not afford to fuck up. Now that he had Hazima's attention, it was time to make sure they were steering the right course in that regard.
"Have we figured out how to proceed from here with Italica?" Jackson asked. The 'we' in his sentence was doing some heavy lifting, since the Americans didn't seem to have a damn say in the matter. "It's still quite a mess out there, and it doesn't sound like the princess realizes what she signed up for in asking for our help."
"The damage to Italica was fortunately minimal, contained to the areas just around the gates. But there are a lot of wounded left over from the fighting on both sides." Hazima said. "The Fourth Combat Team is going to remain in the area for a few days, assist with humanitarian aid and see if they can't hunt down the remaining outlaws in the area that managed to get away in the fighting. If we can completely squash them in one fell swoop, then it should go a long way in helping stabilize the region."
It was sound enough logic. They almost certainly wouldn't be able to nail down ALL those who had gotten away, the estimated number was over a thousand, but making sure that none of them formed together into a bigger mass again would give the locals a fighting chance.
"As for the Princess, I've given Colonel Colonel Kengun authority to negotiate a temporary arrangement between us, with the mage Leilei acting as a translator for both sides."
"What kind of arrangement? I doubt that a princess alone would have the authority to declare a ceasefire or anything like that."
"Nothing so broad." Hazima shook his head. "Rather, I just would like to come to an arrangement with those directly under Princess Piña's command to avoid any more immediate hostilities. In addition, I think it's worth leveraging our recent success to get some concessions in terms of the future use of Italica."
"Ah, leveraging that show of force to get local political gains." Jackson nodded approvingly. "What terms was Kengun instructed to try and get?"
"Take a look for yourself." The General passed him a yellow legal pad, one that he had been scribbling on since the fighting had more or less come to an end. Jackson had thought that he had been taking notes of things he wanted to debrief his troops on when they returned, but obviously it looked like he had been putting clear thought into how his diplomatic approach would go, with several lines crossed out and others underlined. The Colonel's Japanese wasn't perfect, but it was good enough to follow along with what was important.
"Free passage of envoys, tax exempt trade status, the right to handle female POWs…." He read aloud quietly. It was all reasonable enough, but it was also quite short. There was nothing about the right of the allied troops to have patrols through the area, no agreement for stationing troops or permanent representatives within the city, nothing that really would have capitalized on the JSDF's position. "It's certainly…. generous."
"You don't approve?" Hazima raised a brow, watching the American's face and body language closely. He'd have to choose his words carefully.
"It's not what I would have asked for." Jackson admitted. "But that doesn't necessarily make it wrong. The question is what exactly we hope to gain from taking such a delicate touch, and how that can benefit our overall goals in the Special Region."
"I understand your concerns." The General steepled his fingers. "In truth, this is a a deliberate choice to step lightly, because we simply don't know enough about the political system of this Empire to start making drastic moves like overtly occupying a large population center without knowing how its people or government will react. This agreement opens the flow of information even wider, especially if Princess Piña is able to get us in contact with the ruling party of the nation and open up real peace negotiations. We gain enough intelligence for us to act, and for the Diet to have a better idea of what we're dealing with."
It was a patient approach, almost painfully slow in Jackson's opinion. But given the state of the Special Region and those who they had thus far encountered, it was a strategy that seemed to have a good chance of succeeding in the long run. He still would have preferred taking more initiative that could place them in a better situation if things didn't go according to plan, but it had been the JSDF that had both initiated and carried out the fight in Italica. They were the ones who got to dictate the terms that came afterward.
"If the princess does get us in contact with some ruling body that exists, I recommend that we reach out to Tokyo and see about having them send out a proper ambassador or the like." The Colonel suggested. "I know we've been given fairly broad authority here, but we'll want someone who actually can speak for the government so there's no one who will cry foul over it if a permanent agreement is reached."
"I was thinking the same thing, and will be sending a request along with the overall report of the battle later today." He glanced behind him at the Japanese Flag that flanked his desk. "One other thing, the Diet has launched an investigation into the reports of civilian casualties in the Special Region."
"Civilian casualties?" Jackson echoed. It wasn't an idea he was unfamiliar with, as the question of non-combatant deaths came up constantly in Iraq and Afghanistan, but those were most often associated with airstrikes or other fire support that was being used in counter insurgency operations. It seemed completely out of place here.
"Specifically, regarding the villagers who died in the Flame Dragon incident." Hazima explained. "I think someone saw in the report that there were more than a hundred killed, and they decided to start asking questions as to how that could have happened with a JSDF unit in the area."
"I see." Leave it to a pencil pusher who has never set foot outside of a comfortable city to question ongoing military operations like they knew best. "How widespread is this going to get?"
"We're not sure yet, but they've already requested that the members of Third Recon and several of the refugees who were there to be available to answer questions in a public forum before the Diet. So far that hasn't extended to any of your troops, but to be honest, calling upon several Americans could be seen as a power move that they'll jump on sooner or later."
"If it comes to that General, I'll make sure my Marines are spit-shine clean and ready." Even if that meant sitting down and personally coaching each of the jarheads to make sure they didn't cause an international incident by fucking up. But there was no need to say that out loud.
"I don't doubt it." Hazima chuckled. "I knew it was just a matter of time before politics started getting involved in all this, I was just hoping it wouldn't be this soon."
"Well sir, Sun Tzu said that the art of war is of vital importance to the State." Jackson said. "And unfortunately, they don't just read that book in military academies anymore."
...
It had been a long time since the Duron Family Keep had known this amount of joy and hope. It had seemed like a plague of gloom and depression had embedded itself within the walls ever since news had arrived about the deaths of Gallus and Edmund Duron and the complete loss of their army beyond the Gate, with everyone from Hexen to the lowliest of servants unable to escape the choking grasp of dark thoughts that permeated much quieter and somehow emptier estate.
That all had been banished tonight, however. The victorious army had arrived to ruckus cheering, both from the Keep inhabitants and the soldiers themselves as they made their way inside. Food was already being prepared, and barrels of wine being opened as the celebrations got underway even before the sun had set. It was a gathering like none that had been seen in centuries, with knights and noblemen singing songs with rangers and peasants and making toasts to their joint victory and to each other's health. There wasn't much that could stir the kindle of hope in Hexen's heart anymore, but seeing all this certainly lit such a flame.
He was looking down at it all from the balcony of the manor. They were making use of the grand hall, of course, but there was enough celebrating that it had been spread around the entire keep. The glow of the various torches and bonfire felt warm against his skin even though he was too far away to feel the rise in temperature, a steady smile on his face as he watched everyone making merry. It was a scene he had envisioned since he was a child, of him leading a triumphant army back home where he would be showered with praise and glory.
Now that the moment had actually come though, Hexen didn't feel particularly glorious, only happy and relieved that the trial by fire was finally over.
"I don't think you can do much celebrating from up here, my Lord." Myron's voice came from behind him. "Trying to reach the wine would be more than a little challenging on its own."
Hexen turned a smile towards his longtime friend and mentor, seeing him standing in the darkened room that opened out onto the balcony, a large and familiar chalice in hand.
"Just needed a moment to myself, is all." He replied. "I'm not a seasoned festival warrior like yourself."
That succeeded in drawing a laugh from the old knight, stepping over to lean himself against the balcony on the side where no arm needed to be moved out of the way.
"A good leader needs to know when to unwind as well, let his soldiers see him make merry and celebrate their successes. Makes them view you in an even grander light." He nodded towards the large bonfire where many had gathered. "Though I don't believe loyalty will be a question on the minds of any of them. Even the Rangers seem to be singing your praises."
"Not sure I deserve all that. We only fought one major battle, after all."
"Nonsense, you led the combined army through a complete campaign. The smaller skirmishes like that we partook in at Joyce Hamlet were just as important as the final struggle, never forget that the strongest structures- "
"Rely upon the strongest foundations." Hexen finished the saying, the words having been drilled into him since he'd begun his instruction in military leadership as a boy. "Your point is well taken…"
"Is there something troubling you, Hexen?" Myron's jovial attitude faded for a moment. "Your mind seems to be somewhere else."
"It's not really something troubling me." He shook his head. "More…something I don't understand. Do you remember when Edmund returned from his first campaign? The celebration father threw for him?"
Myron didn't answer, frowning for a moment before opting to take a long drink from his cup instead.
"It was a different kind of gathering, of course." Hexen continued, looking out across the courtyard like he was looking through time. "It had been carried out mostly by the Imperial Army under the Prince's banner with only a few of our knights participating, and none being lost. Still, even though father hated the fact Edmund had been serving as a General for Zorzal, he still showered him with praise and honorifics upon his homecoming. And Edmund…I'd never seen him feast and drink to that level before. He was always gregarious, but he must have been the happiest he'd ever been to reach such a level of self congratulation if it took a week to recover. But I don't feel like that at all at this moment, it feels like good fortune alone and the actions of others is the reason we ever got this far. I'm thankful that we defeated the orcs, but I don't think a lot of wine would sit well in my stomach. Even after everything, it seems I still don't quite understand things…"
"You assume you understood your brother's mindset." Myron said quietly. "I assure you that self-congratulation was not the only thing on his mind."
"What do you mean?" Hexen asked, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Did something else happen that I don't know about?"
"My lord, this is hardly the time to be discussing topics like this. Take this moment to not worry so much about-"
"Myron, please. My brother doesn't need you to protect him anymore, but I need to understand how they viewed the world and their actions. You're the only one I can rely upon for that valuable wisdom now."
His advisor looked very unhappy, sighing in both defeat and resignation.
"You already know the story of how Edmund played a critical role in securing Prince Zorzal's victory over the Voglia Tribes." He continued. "But what he didn't tell you, in fact what is largely unknown across the entire Empire, was that he was also the one who convinced the Warrior Bunnies to finally surrender."
"...I'm afraid I don't understand." Hexen said, feeling even more puzzled. "Of course, he was the one who forced them to surrender, it was his strategy that had defeated them right?"
"Yes, but their surrender did not come from a final climactic battle, it occurred in negotiations. Once the Voglia Queen realized that she no longer had a hope of victory with her territory all but lost and armies routed, she chose to travel personally to the Imperial Camp under the banner of truce to discuss terms. Edmund, who was commanding the forces at the spearhead, agreed to speak with her."
Hexen's eyes went wide. Edmund had been the one to personally accept the Warrior Bunny surrender? He'd never heard anything about that.
"Given the overwhelming military advantage that the Imperial Forces had, there was no hope of anything but harsh terms for the tribeswomen. Edmund wanted and had earned a total victory, and had made it clear that complete annexation of their territory was nonnegotiable. But Queen Tyuule was under no illusions of keeping her throne, instead she was solely concerned with the safety of her people, offering herself personally to become a slave to him if Edmund would only promise that he would show compassion to those who remained. Your brother was moved by this plea and agreed to this, swearing on his honor that no Voglia who hadn't been captured already as a prisoner in the war would be forced into bondage."
"But that's not what happened." A knot formed in his stomach, already knowing this next part in the story. "That doesn't make any sense, Edmund wouldn't have gone back on his word."
"It was not your brother who did so." Myron shook his head. "Prince Zorzal had been away from the frontlines taking inventory of the plunder his army had taken thus far when he heard that the terms of surrender had been agreed upon, and rode at full speed for Edmund's forces as they were entering the final villages of the Warrior Bunnies as part of the agreement. He was pleased at first, until learning that Edmund's terms had been far more generous than he was willing to even consider. When he found out, Zorzal ordered that the soldiers ransack the remaining villages and take all who could be found captive."
"How could he do that? Edmund had already negotiated an end to the fighting."
"Your brother was not the leader of the campaign, only one of its generals. The Prince claimed that he had struck the bargain contrary to his own wishes, and therefore declared it null and void. He even took Queen Tyuule as his own personal prize, claiming that she had pledged herself to the leader of the Imperial Army, which was him and not Edmund."
"So, he wasn't celebrating when he came home…" The pieces came together in Hexen's mind, forming a truly grim picture. "He was trying to forget what had happened."
"Not entirely, at least not in the way you are imagining." Myron corrected gently. "Zorzal had made his desires for the Volgia very clear from the outset, as Edmund must have known when he was negotiating the surrender. I believe he hoped that bringing the war to a decisive end alone would have been sufficient in the eyes of Zorzal, that way they could all bask in the glory of adding another swath of territory to the Empire. The Prince did not betray Edmund when he countermanded the arrangement, and he was lucky that Zorzal only decided to take the Queen and allow him to share in the glory of victory instead of shaming him publicly for acting on his own authority."
Hexen absorbed the words, anger on behalf of his brother bubbling deep within him.
"How do you know all this? You weren't with him on the campaign."
"No, I was not. And all the Knights who did travel with Edmund were sworn to secrecy." He emptied the rest of his drink. "But I swore no such thing after he confided in me the night of the feast thrown in his honor. It was the dead of night, yet even so he was drunken, belligerent, and hostile. He felt that Queen Tyuule had given her his trust, and he had effectively cast it in a fire, doing nothing to stop what happened once the Prince discarded his objections and privately threatened him over his actions. It was the only time I'd ever seen him such a state of self-pity."
"I had no idea…He seemed to me to be as happy as ever when everything was said and done." Hexen said quietly.
"I never heard him speak about it again, and Edmund did indeed seem to go on like nothing had changed. But I think it always sat with him, gnawing away at his soul. Especially whenever he would see any of the Warrior Bunnies in Imperial Slavery."
"After all that, I don't think I ever could have ever stomach laying eyes on one again." Voglia had since become some of the most valuable slaves in the Empire, with those few outside of bondage having been scattered to the wind with no place else to gather. Some took pity on them, as Hexen could remember once seeing a warrior bunny who was a free and well-paid servant to the ruling family of Italica, but those were the exceptions. "I'm starting to see why father despised Zorzal so much."
"An assessment I cannot disagree with." Myron shrugged. "But he is still part of the Imperial Family. And we will likely need to be willing to make use of your brother's friendship with him to help gain more support from the crown once things settle down."
"What, is MY friendship with Princess Piña worth less than that?" Hexen retorted with a small smile.
"To put it bluntly, yes." Myron's face took on that infuriatingly innocent mask he liked to wear when he wanted to get a rise out of his former ward. "Especially since we're going to use that leverage to arrange your marriage to her."
"I wonder if this balcony is high enough to kill if I throw you over it."
"Too late, My Lord. I'm too heavy for you now that I've consumed so much drink."
"Maybe I'll throw MYSELF over it then." Hexen laughed and shook his head, reminded of better times when talks of his romantic life seemed like the most painful thing to endure. "I think you're right, Myron. I'd like to rejoin the festivities, leave all this gloom for later."
"That's the spirit!" The old knight smiled broadly. "Come then, I'm sure the Keep hasn't been drank dry just yet."
Hexen followed in his wake as they made their way back down the stairs to the main hall and outside. In truth, his mind was still swirling around the things that Myron had told him. He always knew that there were things that he didn't know about his father and brother, but having it laid out before him was more painful than he would have expected. Still, there was also a quiet comfort in the idea that they didn't always have everything under control, that their own feelings and struggles were not far away from what Hexen was currently feeling. There was almost certainly a lesson to be learned from the tale of Edmund and the Voglia Tribes, but his thoughts were still too fresh and wild to try to nail down such a thing yet. He would follow Myron's advice and enjoy himself for the evening, push those thoughts aside and allow the brief moment of joy they would all share. There would be plenty to do by the morning's light, and hopefully this would allow him to face such tasks more refreshed than he would have been otherwise.
"I must admit to being surprised, Myron. I expected to see you and Joakim at either side of the bonfire, sitting on barrels of ale and competing to see who can tell the best story of the good old days."
"Is my Lord implying that we are both old men with nothing better to do but try to one up each other?"
"Well that's how you seem to act sometimes." He snorted. "Old men you may be, but you squabble like children whenever you're in the same room. And what better time to revisit past glories than after a recent one."
"I feel I should be insulted," Myron snickered. "If you weren't halfway right. The damn ranger already had over a dozen men enraptured in some ancient myth of the forest by the time I finished my food."
"And you let him outdo you?"
"I'm letting him have a temporary victory, I'll be sure to have half the Keep hanging on my every word by the time the night is done."
As they made their way out into the Courtyard, Hexen's eyes cast upon an unexpected sight. The two Soldiers in Green were sitting off in a corner with Kat, sniffing at an offered cup while wrinkling their noses.
"I didn't see the three of you enter." He greeted them. "Enjoying yourselves so far?"
"Yes. We are less used to crowds, but gathering is nice." Joker nodded.
"Not a fan of the wine, though?" Myron asked.
"We not drink." Reaper answered. "But seems good."
"Does drinking go against your beliefs or something?"
"Against our…magic." Joker said, struggling to find the words. "Makes us less strong."
It was hard to argue with that, too many formerly strong men had been brought low by their love of strong drink after all. Their order of mages was probably wise to forbid its members to partake in it, even if that seemed like a more dull life to live.
"On the matter of your payment, I know we haven't settled on an exact price." Hexen continued. "But I'm certain the two of you have been considering what you were hoping to be given in return for your efforts."
Allowing mercenaries an "open door" to claim their own price after the fact was generally unwise, but Hexen was feeling generous towards the two men who had proven to be well more than their weight in gold.
"We don't want coin." Joker shook his head in an overly expressive fashion. "Want something can. Can we speak private later about it?"
"Oh, well, I don't see why not." Hexen answered, hiding his surprise. He'd assumed that even mages would eventually desire gold, since they would eventually need to buy food and other supplies needed to survive. What else could they desire? And why want to request it in private? "Permit me to meet and greet with the others for a little while, then we'll be able to speak. What about you Kat? Enjoying yourself?"
"Are you kidding? This is the best wine I've ever had!" The half elf laughed. "I always heard the Duron Family kept stocks of the good stuff, but this is something else!"
"Glad to meet your expectations. Should I make sure there's a comfortable place on the ground for when you overindulge?"
"Don't worry about me, I'm pacing myself." She assured him. "Besides, who else will keep an eye on these two if I get drunk?"
Joker and Reaper gave her a dirty look, making Kat laugh even harder. It was enough to make Hexen laugh as well, until he heard his name being called for through the sounds of celebration.
"Lord Duron! Lord Duron!"
A man at arms adorned with the family colors came running up to the group, one of the guards that he had left posted at the gates to the Keep. The look in his eye was one of near panic.
"Steady man." Hexen said, trying to calm his nerves. "Tell me what's wrong."
"Men…men at the gates!" He gasped.
"Who?" Myron frowned. "We weren't expecting any more guests."
"Not guests!" The guard shook his head. "It's your cousin, Sir Edwin! And he's at the head of an army!"
