As the fallout from the Lourian capitulation becomes the focal point of discussion in Japan and the hot topic for the powers present in the East, the majority of the world is largely unaware of it, as it has only been a few days. At around the same time, far off to the West, there are much subtler developments that would soon shake the status quo in the region. Appearing to the west of the Mu continent not long after the Central Calendar turned its counter to the year 1638, the Gra Valkas Empire has since become a mysterious giant to the countries of the Mu continent and the Central Continent. Having established relations with Mu first, the Gra Valkans are more than content to keep to their own, only venturing outside to buy resources in exchange for top-notch manufactured goods and to establish limited diplomatic relations. Despite having largely amicable relations with everyone, especially Mu, the lack of openness has left a lot of nations scratching their heads as to what they truly are. As the sun set in the East on a very troublesome day, an event in the West has just peaked a little higher.

Cent. Calendar 08/06/1639, a villa in Hochgarten, Gra Valkas Empire, 6:45

A relatively dense fog set in across much of the country flatlands that make up the majority of the Regierungsbezirk of Hochgarten to the northeast of the Gra Valkas Empire. The early morning sun still hasn’t had enough time to cast away the blanket of clouds clinging to the land, but there are multiple features that stood out from the thick fog. One of these features was a hill, where a massive villa complex was built. Inside the main villa, the sound of news reports blaring out from a television filled the otherwise silent early morning scene. Accompanying the handsome, deep voice of the newscaster reading out the news were the sounds of ceramic hitting ceramic, and then later the rhythmic clinging of something metallic. A tall, caucasian man wearing bathrobes, stirring a spoon to mix hot water and a dark, aromatic powder hummed the theme to his favorite soap opera as he ignored the voice of the newscaster.

“Tudu... Tudu... Tudutudutudu...”

Picking the mug up, he continued stirring as he walked away from the counter and onto the greater space that contained the television that blared out the reports. Achieving his desired mixture, he let go of the spoon and focused his blue irises onto the screen of the television, which depicted the newscaster in color.

“...as of this moment, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs has mentioned that they’re cooperating with the Navy in negotiating the release of the ten diplomats unlawfully incarcerated by the Kingdom of Paganda. According to their spokesperson, they will take care not to do anything that will result in harm to the diplomats...”

The camera then focused on a woman newscaster.

“...This is breaking news! The Imperial Council has issued a joint statement denouncing the Kingdom of Paganda and advocated for a quote-on-quote “immediate” resolution to the situation.”

The camera then went back to the other newscaster, who then engaged in a conversation with his co-anchor.

“As expected from one of the Nobles in the Council. You know, Gisela, I’m pretty sure they’re more than happy to push us back to war again, don’t you think?”

“Indeed. The sentiment among the Diet is mostly peaceful in contrast to the upper Council, thanks to the majority in the Diet that the Centrists enjoy, but there have been a lot of tabloids lately claiming that there’s a higher conspiracy going on, involving Kain, the military, and maybe even the royal family! I won’t be surprised if...”

Drinking from his mug, the man stopped listening to the report. Letting out a satisfying sigh from the bitterness and aroma of the drink, the man commented.

“Those Muish spießige not only give the best intelligence, but also the best beans. Damn, if only our mainstream media could offer better coverage and material than cheap, gossip level scheiße.”

Reflecting on what the newscasters said, the man managed to chuckle as he scratched his head.

“Heh... If only they knew. Not that they’d matter anyway.”

Reaching for the remote control, he placed the mug on the glass table in between the long couch and the television before using the remote control to turn off the television. He then went to a wooden table next to the wall that had multiple vinyl records stacked on top of one another. Instantly picking out one of them, comfortably packed inside a neon red cover, he took it out and gently placed it on a turntable. Turning it on, he gently placed the needle on it, producing a split-second whirring sound before the soothing, harmonic sound of a classical symphony played and filled the villa with rhythmic tunes of string, wind, and other instruments. Waving his hands around as if he were the conductor, the man danced around the room, humming and laughing as he avoided the furniture.

“After a year of languidness and sloth... the drums of war will finally roar to life again...”

The man cheerfully sang.

There was a reason behind his glee. The martial culture of the Gra Valkas Empire played a key role in its survival and superiority in Yggdra, their homeworld. Despite the setbacks brought on them by their long, exhausting, and brutal war with the Kain Divine Kingdom, their transference to Asherah brought them wonderful breathing space to recuperate and reconsolidate. However, the war with Kain brought so much suffering to the people of Gra Valkas and the effects were much deeper than anyone assumed, pushing much of the Gra Valkans to drop their martial culture and pursue means of peaceful coexistence. To this end, a small, yet powerful force of people, those that have gained a lot or lost little with the conflict with Kain, concluded that the prevalence of the sickness of “pacifism” or “sloth” was afflicting the Gra Valkan mentality too much and for too long, and decided that it was about time to end it.

As the man danced, a man in uniform entered the room and called him out.

“Um, Herr Schmidt?”

Gracefully ceasing his performance, Allen Schmidt, the man in bathrobes, Director of the Geheimdienst (GD), the Gra Valkan intelligence organ, bowed in front of the man in uniform as the last, powerful, notes to the symphony were struck. Staying in his pose anticipating something, Schmidt grew impatient after several seconds of silence.

“Do you not appreciate the arts, Peters?”

Schmidt asked, still bowing.

“Uhh, Herr Schmidt, I don’t think now’s the ti-”

Before Peters could finish, he saw Schmidt look up at him with a weak smile. However, a dark aura emanated from Schmidt’s expression which Peters picked up as passive hostility, betraying any impressions his weak smile gave off. Wishing to avoid his superior’s wrath, Peters revised his statement.

“Ah! Uh... Excellent performance, Director, bravo!”

Peters awkwardly clapped as sweat poured down from his forehead. Seemingly satisfied, Schmidt finally liberated himself from his bowing pose, returning to his upright position and looking Peters straight in the eye.

“Something important?”

Getting to the point, Schmidt caught Peters off guard, who scrambled to reassemble his initial train of thought before he was interrupted.

“Ah, yes! The Navy has contacted us. The negotiator is arriving on the scene.”

Schmidt’s eyes lit up. Finally, he thought, as he looked up to the right, staring off into the early morning sky.

“They got her to do it, correct?”

“Affirmative.”

“That man, Gesta...”

Schmidt shook his head, thinking that it was a typical move from a misogynist like him. However, getting her to go be the negotiator was a good move, as one of the diplomats detained by the Pagandans was her subordinate. The Geheimdienst put forward the suggestion to their allies in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in hopes of distressing her and aggravating the situation for the worst-case scenario.

“Gut gemacht! Keep me updated, I will be right here, enjoying my day off.”

Bowing in affirmative, Peters left Schmidt to his own devices as he returned to his post in the villa.

The waters off the Kingdom of Paganda, 7:25

Far from the foggy morning in Hochgarten, the waters off the Kingdom of Paganda were humid and damp, yet the conditions were clear enough that they could see the horizon. In between the massive island that was the Kingdom of Paganda and a lone Imperial Gra Valkan Navy (IGVN) destroyer was a launch, travelling at high speeds coming from the destroyer towards the direction of the port of the Pagandan capital. On the launch were several IGVN personnel armed with MKb 4 assault rifles and clad in dark blue fatigues. Nestled in the middle was a shorter woman with a coat, which mostly masked the uniform she had tirelessly earned by becoming an esteemed diplomat of the Gra Valkas Empire. Her shining, blonde hair fluttered in the wind, kept only by her bun and her cap, which she held in place using her left hand. Adjusting her spectacles, she laid her blank yet determinant stare on the mass of people gathered at the port, particularly the men in uniform that stood out from the rest as the officials of the Pagandan government. As they got closer to the port, thoughts began racing in the woman’s mind, wondering why things had devolved to this point.

Looking back, she remembered how the Imperial Council, with support from the Emperor, unanimously decided to make contact with the Kingdom of Paganda. Hearing the news, she immediately went to her superior, Gesta, and protested the decision, arguing that it was unnecessary. After meeting representatives from Mu following the contact with one of their “communications” ships far from the coast of Leifor, they were introduced to a Mu-centric view of Asherah, which included advice of refraining from contacting the countries inside the bloc of the Holy Mirishial Empire, another power in Asherah. While they didn’t follow Mu’s persistent advice and still went on to establish relations with Holy Mirishial Empire and making limited contact with Leifor, a former key ally of the Imperials in the Mu continent, they soon learned that Paganda and Irnetia, protectorates of Leifor, were not worth contacting at all. Reinforced by Muish officials warning that the Pagandans and Irnetians will treat them like barbarians, the Gra Valkans opted to stay away and ignore the island nations. The reversal of this policy not long after they signed a nonaggression pact with Mu set off alarm bells inside Cielia’s head, leading her to begin questioning the rationale behind such a 180-degree move. Still, despite her protests, Gesta turned her down, forcing her to watch helplessly as they sent ten diplomats to Paganda to establish relations, only for them to be incarcerated unlawfully. With Gesta choosing her to be the negotiator for the release of the diplomats, she could only sigh deeply at how events disappointingly played out against her established normal.

“Frau Oudwin? Are you alright? Are you perhaps seasick?”

One of the security personnel, noticing the woman, Cielia Oudwin, looking pale, asked with concern. Realizing she’s been unconsciously showing her disappointment, Cielia immediately fixed her posture and expression and addressed him.

“I’m fine. Just sleepy.”

Despite her efforts in applying makeup, her eye bags were still noticeable, if not obvious. Her dedication to her work, coupled with harassment from the rest of the ministry staff since she was the only woman in her department, put a heavy burden over her. However, she needed to forget and cast it all away for now, since her actions and words carried the weight of the fate of two nations and ten diplomats.

At the port, 7:35

The launch slowed down as it approached the docks where hundreds had gathered. Standing on the dock that stretched out the farthest were men in uniform, the officials of the Pagandan government, accompanied by their guards armed with Leiforian-made rifles. The other people on the docks were commoners: fishermen, merchants, city workers, prostitutes, children, and so on. Another thing that caught the Gra Valkans’ attention as they neared the dock was the presence of a warship that flew the Leiforian flag moored not far from where they were destined to go. Analyzing it, the IGVN personnel, as well as Cielia, who has some background in the sciences, concluded it to be on the level of an armored cruiser, not surprising given what they knew of Leifor. As they finally got within earshot of one another, the Pagandans were the first to speak.

“HALT! Come no closer!”

A man with a comical-looking mustache shouted, backed by the Pagandan guards readying their rifles. The IGVN personnel on the launch reacted promptly, readying their assault rifles and turning off the engine. Moments later, they came to a stop, as they were already slow enough and the waters at the port were calm. Cielia, remembering her Asheran common, stood taller, trying to make herself seen from among the IGVN personnel.

“Greetings! I am Cielia Oudwin, and I represent the Gra Valkas Empire. We have come here to negotiate the release of our people!”

The Pagandans, both the onlookers and the officials, burst into laughter, ridiculing what Cielia said. Only the guards maintained their stances. The mustached man, recuperating first, offered his impressions.

“‘Negotiate?’ HAH! What is there to negotiate, whore?”

Ignoring the insult that was just hurled at her, Cielia maintained her cool.

“Wasn’t our request clear? We have come to negotiate the release of our countrymen, who have been arbitrarily and unlawfully detained by your government!”

While the rest of the crowd recovered from their laughter, the officials, especially the mustached man, were riled up by Cielia’s statement.

“You say ‘unlawful’ when we, civilized people, have every right to detain barbarians that have not an inch of respect for us!”

Cielia sighed. She knew deep in her heart who it was that likely set off this diplomatic shitshow. Before she could reply, the Pagandan officials stepped aside as some guards brought forward a man in chains. The IGVN personnel and Cielia, recognizing Dallas and his uniform, were both in shock and anger at his decrepit state. At the orders of the officials, the guards threw him down on the hard, wet docks, producing a loud thump and metallic clinking as he and his chains hit the stone. Despite his appearance, Dallas groaned and rolled, signifying that he was still alive, putting some relief into the hearts of the Gra Valkans on the launch. Visibly revolting from the stench that Dallas gave off, the mustached man turned back to Cielia.

“Consider yourself thankful we agreed to your request of ‘showing signs of life from the diplomats’ and brought this man here.”

The mustached man then raised his leg and stepped on the back of the wailing Dallas, putting his entire weight on the weakened man.

“This is what happens to unruly lowlives that have no respect for their superiors. He, along with the other nine, but especially him, insisted that we are on the same level! How dare you drag us to your level! Furthermore, this filth insisted that His Highness was nothing more than an ordinary citizen and he should abdicate!”

The mustached man then spat on Dallas’s head.

Cielia sighed. She knew that Dallas was someone who liked to openly speak his liberal ideas, getting into fights with leftists and right-wing supporters alike, which usually escalated into scuffs with the police. When she learned that the ministry chose Dallas to lead the diplomatic mission to Paganda, her eyes almost bawled out from their sockets in surprise. However, such simple reasons were not ample grounds for detaining and then torturing Gra Valkan citizens, thought Cielia. With this resolve, she faced the Pagandan officials again.

“That man, Dallas, may not be the most delicate, but he still upholds a high standard of respect worthy of a diplomat of the empire.”

Shock.

The Pagandan officials couldn’t believe their ears. For a few seconds, they looked at one another, confirming with visual cues if the others had heard the same. Once they realized that the woman diplomat did indeed say those words, the mustached man turned back to her with animosity.

“So you unilaterally absolve him of his crimes?! Are you saying that the decision of the Pagandan government is wrong?!”

She made no such statement, thought the IGVN personnel. While the Gra Valkans were aware that the Pagandan was jumping to conclusions, the crowd of Pagandan commoners and the other officials didn’t and so they started booing and hurling objects and insults at the Gra Valkans.

“How dare you insult our king!”

“Heinous barbarians! Know your place!”

“His word is final and just! Who are you to say otherwise?!”

As the statements from the Pagandans became even less and less logical, Cielia’s hopes for a de-escalation plummeted. Mustering whatever hope she had left, Cielia was about to say something when the mustache man spoke ahead of her.

“Apologize at once for your insults and commit to the demands of monthly reparations and exclusive rights for Pagandan citizens on Gra Valkan soil!”

Cielia inwardly sighed as they were now forced into an irreversible position. Directly rejecting all of the demands, the official stance of the Gra Valkas Empire, would just seal the fate of both nations. Acquiescing to the demands was never an option, as it virtually meant submitting to Paganda. Changing the topic wasn’t either, as the Pagandans were dead set on hearing the answer. Upset that it had come to this point but forlornly resigning to it, Cielia looked back up and answered.

“We refuse to honor all of your demands. This is and has been the stance of the Gra Valkas Empire.”

The crowd became furious. Not long after, stones and obscene words were hurled in the dozens at the Gra Valkans. While the objects did not reach them as they were far away from the crowd, their words flawlessly made their way to them.

“INGRATES!”

“OFF WITH THEIR HEADS AND PUT THEM ON PIKES!”

“ONWARD, PAGANDA! ONWARD, PAGANDA!”

“ONWARD, PAGANDA!”

“ONWARD, PAGANDA!”

The national cheer of the kingdom, made even more symbolic by the fact that today was part of their National Day, caught on to the crowd after one voice shouted it out. Soon, the crowd was chanting it in chorus, giving the Pagandan officials goosebumps. Some, particularly the merchants, worried that the situation would escalate, ceasing trade and hurting profits. However, the Pagandans largely decided that they would not be humiliated on the day that celebrated their national pride.

The mustached man, turning back to Cielia with eyes burning with nationalistic ardor, spoke.

“One day! We will give you one day! If you don’t acquiesce by then... we will leave your fate to the people.”

Ending his statement to cheers, the mustached man then ordered the Gra Valkans to leave their port. Without any sign of confirmation, the Gra Valkans in their launch sped away back to their destroyer, leaving some worries with the Pagandan citizenry at the speed at which the boat accelerated. Dallas, having been left behind by his comrades, forced his head to turn to look at the speeding launch and the IGVN destroyer off in the distance. Then, he ominously muttered to himself.

“Die Würfel sind gefallen.”

Schmidt’s villa, Hochgarten, Gra Valkas Empire, 9:00

“No, Gerda! I am simply done with your antics!”

“But Derek! You know that you’re the one for me!”

“Why then?! Why did I find you sleeping with... with... with Hans!”

“Oh Derek!...”

Lines from a cheesy soap opera now echoed all throughout the empty villa, leaving the men of the Geheimdienst and the guards scratching their heads at their Director’s awful taste in consumption media. Unbeknownst to them, Schmidt was only watching the soap opera for two things: nostalgia and Lisbeth Berggman. Due to the development of color television, Schmidt was excited at the prospect of seeing his crush, Lisbeth Berggman, in color in one of her earlier dramas, which his mother used to watch when he was younger. As he followed the intricacies in the actions of Berggman, who played the character of Gerda, he remembered how he was able to tell that Berggman was uncomfortable in the filming for this particular soap opera, which she later said in an interview. Since then, he honed in his skills in detecting the subtleties in people’s actions and looking past their facades, enabling him to grow the necessary skills to become the Director of the Geheimdienst. Watching on, Schmidt chuckled at a thought that passed his mind.

“Would anyone believe me if I told them that Lisbeth Berggman was how I got to the top of the Geheimdienst...”

It’s a leap in logic, but it would be a good conversation starter, thought Schmidt. Leaning on his couch, Schmidt felt himself about to doze off from the general boredom he acquired from watching the soap opera when the telephone rang, kicking him back to life. Getting up then walking over to pick up the telephone, he answered it.

“Hello?”

“Herr Schmidt.”

Hearing the voice he was anticipating, Schmidt went straight to the point.

“Herr Gesta! How did our negotiations go?”

“Not as good as we planned but still on point. The Pagandans forced their demands. We naturally refused. They gave us a day to answer back.”

Thrilled that things were going smoothly, Schmidt silently celebrated. He then returned to Gesta.

“They already know, I presume?”

“Yes, we informed them. They should now be riling up the Diet and the Council as we speak.”

“Gut gemacht! With this, the GD will move as well.”

Suddenly, the soap opera that had been playing in the background was interrupted as the program changed to that of a mandatory broadcast. Anticipating this, Schmidt turned towards the television, where he saw the colored projection of the Emperor of Gra Valkas, Gralux, taking his position on a podium on the grounds of the Imperial Palace.

“The Emperor is up. I should now be readying myself.”

“Good luck, Director.”

Ending the call by putting the telephone back, Schmidt then walked out of the room and back to his study to fulfill his role.

At that same time, Imperial Palace

Having heard the news that the Pagandans were unwilling to negotiate the return of the diplomats and that the diplomats were in a horrible state due to torture, Emperor Gralux, enraged, decided to give a speech to the people and personally ordered all broadcasters to broadcast his speech on radio and television. Emerging out into a readied podium on a balcony on the main building of his palace, he was then beset by the hundreds of camera flashes as people, news crews, and Imperial Guards gathered around below the balcony. Accompanying him were some members of the royal family, including his son, Gra Cabal, some Imperial Guards, and members of the Imperial Council. Pausing for a moment to savor in the cool yet polluted air of the city and the imposing yet beautiful skyline of the imperial capital, Gralux took a deep breath before opening his speech.

“Citizens of Gra Valkas!”

Stretching out his hands towards the crowd as his voice was propelled even further by the speakers connected to the microphones on his podium, Gralux paused before resuming.

“Horrible news has ruined our peaceful, righteous morning routines as the Kingdom of Paganda unlawfully arrested and incarcerated ten diplomats, all of which are Gra Valkan citizens like you, and were subjected to inhumane acts of torture!”

The crowd was in a frenzy. While a sizable amount of Gra Valkans were either neutral or had negative thoughts regarding the Emperor and the imperial family, the thought of Gra Valkan citizens being disrespected and tortured brought back harsh and painful memories of the war with Kain. After one and a half years of peace after being mythically brought to a new world away from the fighting, the Gra Valkan citizenry had grown to forget and bury their martial past. However, this incident, sparked by fears of international humiliation, brought back once sealed feelings of rage and fury among the citizens, who were now calling for tougher action against Paganda. Majority were more moderate about their desires, calling instead for an international cooperation to isolate Paganda. However, the people central to everything, the pro-martial conspirators moving to reignite the Gra Valkan military flame, need only the bare minimum of support to safely and legitimately push the Gra Valkas Empire back into war. Those people, some of whom were up in the balcony together with the Emperor, looked back at him as he continued his speech.

“...We as a people will not cower! We will not yield and submit! We are the Gra Valkas Empire, and just like with the Kain Divine Kingdom, the actions of the Kingdom of Paganda will not go unpunished!”

Cheers filled the atmosphere from the crowd on the grounds of the imperial palace, to the storefront of television stores broadcasting the Emperor’s speech all the way to the countryside where citizens were tuning in via radio. The speech, designed to be vague enough in how it’ll deal with Paganda, still achieved its intended effect of rousing the Gra Valkan populace and putting them on the side of the government, giving wider room for the pro-martial conspirators to act out their designs.

One of the foreigners among the crowd, the Ambassador of Mu to Gra Valkas, shuddered in fear and elatement at the same time at the prospect of getting to see the Kingdom of Paganda, one of the protectorates of Leifor which is a staunch ally of the Imperials in the Central Continent, trampled on.

“Well I’ll be damned. Let’s see how the Valkies will manage this one.”

The ambassador murmured to himself as he watched the Emperor of Gra Valkas shook his arms, rousing the crowd.

???, Gra Valkas Empire, 19:30

“Gentlemen.”

A tall, caucasian man with a slight beard said in a respectable, commanding voice to a group of men in black fatigues as they huddled around a table in a room lit with only a single light hanging above them. On the table was a map of the Kingdom of Paganda and a map of its capital, both of which were provided by the GD. The man who spoke up, Stabsfeldwebel Roland Nadler, stood on the right side of another man with similar height, Oberstleutnant Dominik Hippel, commander of the Kommandokompanie (KMK), a company-sized force of Kommandos serving as the special forces unit of the Imperial Gra Valkan Army (IGVA). Roland, waiting for the go-ahead from Hippel, proceeded with the briefing after Hippel gave him a slight nod.

“Our spießig-in-chief has given the greenlight for an operation to infiltrate Paganda, extract the ten diplomats, and get them home safely.”

The Kommandos of the KMK all subtly expressed their discontent. They’ve only just learned earlier in the morning that the negotiations with the Pagandans broke down. While they were designed to be deployed at a moment’s notice, they were about to conduct an infiltration into a country that they haven’t had diplomatic relations with before. To this end, the GD would be the one handling and giving them intelligence, but none of the Kommandos, including Hippel himself, trusted the conniving Geheimdienst. Having bad blood with each other, Hippel and Schmidt had a falling out, prompting Hippel to take his expertise to the IGVA and establish the KMK. Presumably stemming from this animosity, the Kommandos could only assume that the execution of the operation was shoved to them in the IGVA and not their Unterseeischkämpfergruppe (UKG) counterparts in the IGVN, which would have been in a more prime position to deploy and execute the operation. Roland, sensing the discontent among his comrades, didn’t feel any better when he took out the intelligence the GD gave them.

“According to the intelligence gathered by those hurensohn in the Geheimdienst, all ten diplomats are being held here.”

Roland then pointed to the vicinity of a compound in the capital. To everyone’s further discontent, the compound belonged to, and was manned by the Pagandan military police. Everyone started thinking that the GD wanted them to fail the operation. Moreover...

“Important to note here is that the Pagandans are celebrating their three-day National Day event, with celebrations taking place in the streets of the capital at nighttime, and festivities going past midnight. According to the GD, we are told to expect fanfare, fireworks, and lots of drunk and AWOL soldiers.”

The Kommandos felt assured by the fact that a national day of celebration would be taking place during their operation. It provided multiple avenues for distractions and diversions, and the loud popping and booms from the fireworks are a perfect screen to operate behind. Moreover, it was likely that they’d encounter guards that are either out in the celebrations or are drunk, on top of them not expecting the KMK to strike. As the Kommandos took this in, one of them didn’t bother raising his hand before asking.

“So our target is a military police compound?”

The man, Hauptmann Garrit Scholz, asked in a tone that seemed to say that he was expecting it.

“Mmm.”

Hippel mumbly replied. Satisfied with the answer, Scholz continued his mental machinations regarding the piece of intelligence in secret. With no more questions, Roland continued. He took out an envelope and from it, a piece of paper which he put on the table for all to see.

“This is the... ‘picture’ of the military compound. Courtesy of the GD.”

Laying their eyes on the ‘picture’, everyone couldn’t contain their laughter. The ‘picture’ was in fact a crude sketch of the main building that dominated the military police compound, accompanied by perspectives from above, and from the four cardinal directions. Included in the picture were points of entry, guard posts on the grounds, the arsenal, and speculations on the patrol routes. It was obvious that the GD had taken pictures, as the detail from the sketches could only be explained by them seeing the building for themselves. Furthermore, there were no mentions regarding the confidence of these pieces of ‘intelligence,’ which were touted by Schmidt to be the “best the GD can give them.” Since the operation was meant to take place within the next few hours, there was no time to lodge a complaint or pass the baton to someone else. With the overall mood in the room went down, Roland, noticing this, decided to do something about it.

“Now that you mention it, if this was truly the “best” the GD has to offer, then they really are just scheiße as an intelligence organ, don’t you think?”

The Kommandos chuckled, lifting the mood somewhat. Nailing it in, Roland continued.

“This is the first action of the Imperial Army since the retreat from the Rabany continent back to our mainland in Yggdra. That was a moment of disgrace not only for the IGVA, but also for Gra Valkas. We, the KMK, have been given this opportunity, not only to redeem the IGVA name, but also to bring confidence back to us. Despite the GD’s “best” efforts at holding us back, we must give our people something to be proud of!”

With an encouraging speech from Roland, whom the Kommandos fondly considered their opa, meaning grandfather, they were now more determined than before in getting the job done and taking a jab at Schmidt and his Geheimdienst. Despite being a man of few words, Hippel felt Roland’s passion and drive, prompting him to give his right-hand man a reassuring smile as he looked his way. Now that everyone was in a good mood, Roland proceeded with briefing them about the operation itself.

“After careful consideration, we have decided that we will be inserting into Paganda with a high altitude, low opening jump from a Zs-635 transport plane at an altitude of...”