Grubnessul said:
Well, I`v got one AAR to finish, and it would be months to get to 1950s
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Well, I`v got one AAR to finish, and it would be months to get to 1950s
Hehe , it'll be a while till I finish my set of AARs as well since I'll be doing a Victoria then HOI2DD 'continuation' of the Timelines universe but hopefully thrashing mad and I can continue cooperation with snippets along the way it was fun !
Chapter XXVIII: Voyage to China
July 6, 1582
Hui Zhang raked his broom against the dusty steps of his small hotel hoping to beat the particles off before the next puff of wind settled more offending dirt towards the entrance of his newly rebuilt hotel. Trade was booming there in Hong Kong and merchants from all over the Middle Kingdom as well as from overseas came and went like capricious rainstorms feeding the budding commercial empire with their precipitation of goods.
Already, his hotel which had just opened the day before yesterday began swarming with temporary sellers and buyers many times housed next door to each other with their usual accompaniment of servants and porters. The restaurant—which he annexed from a neighboring family to work in his building—steamed delicious Cantonese cuisine all hours of the day and late into the night.
The smell of that delicious food was enough to attract a cosmopolitan dining room every evening. Naturally, Hui enjoyed his Chinese customers most of all since the rising merchant class now enjoyed food once reserved only for the mandarins. The Muslims from the southern islands, on the other hand, refused to eat his spicy pork and every Friday the Spaniards from the Philippines and Osaka refused to eat any meat at all; something about remembering the sacrifice of their deity or something like that.
Nonetheless, business was bringing in money and Hui and his wife were all too pleased with the strength and stability of their home. For them, there were few worries except for the occasional cleaning of the front steps—Hui should have really listened to that Feng Shui advisor about the proper direction of the hotel.
Well, he did remember one small problem. About a year or so, while he still had the Old Hotel, some strange Europeans had rented the best room in his humble place paying him not in any form of currency but in bars of gold. The excessive amount he was paid and their tenure even after the renovation made them almost a permanent fixture of his hotel, but still he was a bit wary of what it was they were doing.
Especially now, he thought. Although for the most part they had kept quiet, the past few months there have been quite a few quarrels in the spacious suite and sometimes at night he could hear the men on the other side of the wall talking in their strange tongue.
Now, as he swept some more along the bottom steps, he could hear them again from the top window. He shook his head almost ruefully, but he knew that one of the men recently returned from an overseas trip the other day so he was not surprised that another quarrel came out of it.
“Both operations failed?!” Hui might have understood one of them saying if he spoke that foreign language.
“Well you did only send me to California, Gerhard, you sent most of the others to Mecca, I can hardly be blamed! I barely snuck off the ferry alive before they detected me. Luckily I hid my affairs in a compartment on the ship so when they inspected us as we got off, they could find nothing.”
“I don’t want excuses!”
Gerhard snapped his gloved palm against the tabletop with such force that all the papers neatly organized atop the bureau seemed to momentarily float in the air. Despite his angry outburst, the others present in the room gave no snap to attention but merely looked downward in communal frustration. Being so far at home made them less formal with only Gerhard to keep them all in line.
“I apologize, Oberst,” the reporting man said emphasizing the title as if apologetic for his more familiar address just a few seconds earlier.”
Colonel Gerhard watched the half dozen officers gathered in that dimly lit room from across his desk with a scrutinizing anxiety. The window which dominated his right flank seemed to temper his burning gaze with gentle wafts of Pacific flavoured wind. He focused his eyes on the officer closest to him.
“We’ve known each other for quite a while now, Meier,” the colonel began while taking a sip from a wineglass off his table which somehow survived his palm slam earlier.
The reporting officer nodded carefully facing his commander respectfully.
“And it’s good that you’ve been chosen to follow along on this expedition of ours,” the colonel continued as he swiveled his chair to look out towards the opening sea coast from that window’s vantage point
The warm temperature of the room seemed to ease as the noon-like gaze of their commander faced out to sea. The officers eased themselves in the shaded room but listened intently to further instructions.
“Thank you, Gerhard,” Meier said quietly allowing himself to follow the colonel’s view to the window scene. “But what do we do now?”
All eyes slowly focused on the sitting officer and followed him as he stood up and walked to the windowsill.
“When you all signed up for this trip you all knew that it was a one way journey. Our main objectives have not been met, but we have to spend the rest of our lives here in service of that goal which we first set out without arousing suspicion.”
Many of the officers straightened up at those words as if in anticipation of what their colonel would ask them to do next.
“For now, we must hide away in the backwaters of history and await a chance to strike back.”
The colonel’s voice seemed to trail off as he spoke those words, but they still had the punctuation of a resolved declaration of defiance against the vastness of the Pacific blowing itself into his window. He turned around to see his officers neatly standing in attention and he gave himself a satisfied smile. Walking back to his desk, he replaced his cap onto his head. The skull adorning the front of his cap seemed to glimmer with a grey gloom with a hint of a shining menace.
---
July 20, 1582
Underneath the towering curved roofs of the Imperial Palace, the ‘Son of Heaven’ held court with the autocratic prowess that would have humbled even the loftiest of princes. His huge personal home in the middle of Beijing being the largest single housing in the known world was but merely a glimmering jewel in the vastness of real estate which he owned—outsiders would call this personal property “The Empire of the Great Ming.”
Long ago had these Emperors descended from Heaven expertly pushed the feuding warlords into subservience through military and economic pressure. Now, in this vast empire which stretched from the plains of Siberia to the Gulf of Siam, the feudal lords paid rent to his Holy and Imperial Majesty in Beijing just as humbly as any minor serf.
The kaleidoscope colouration of the interior adorned every towering pillar with a rainbow ribbon studded with jade and other precious stones. The paper like walls and screens hosted an opera of shadows from the thousands of servants scurrying behind the scenes all on cue to the drumbeat of the imperial feet walking through the carpeted halls.
Through these corridors which squared each building in a box like labyrinth, the Emperor passed only to be followed by dozens of servants and attendants all with their heads almost as low as their hips. Each colour of light that graced the eyes of the walking sovereign emblazoned the thought of the plurality of peoples under the strong and benevolent iron grip of this divinely mandated man.
Naturally, for such an important personage, the quibbles and workings of his administration were relegated to lesser yet competent individuals. It was for this reason that Her Imperial Majesty the Empress attended the meeting with the Imperial Council in her husband’s stead.
“Your Imperial Majesty, we have successfully stopped the Korean rebels along the Peninsula and we have made significant progress in our relations with the Japanese.”
The man reporting to Her Imperial Majesty was a mandarin of distinct stature. Being head of the Imperial Council he spoke for the entirety of the Room. For generations his family has held these responsibilities of governance while the Emperor continued to maintain total stability with his personification of divine authority. Coming from noble Ming blood himself, this large mandarin had recently returned from visiting his Japanese counterpart abroad.
“Excellent work,” the Empress replied.
The Empress herself was not lacking in Imperial regalia. On the contrary, her impressive dress seemed to flow through an entire quarter of the room shimmering with the most expensive of gold. The likewise enameled extension on her pinky finger seemed to accentuate every sip of her tea with an elegant sharpness.
Crowning these accessories, a massive plume of pins and decorative attachments were embedded into her hair like an emanating fan of golden figures and leaves giving her a saint like halo. Her aging face was expertly hidden behind a pastiche of white, red, and black colouration which projected the shrewdness of her mind onto the canvas of her face.
As the sun crept below the shield of the afternoon blinds, a figure appeared from one of the openings in the Room. His miniscule figure at first approached on what seemed like a crawl towards the Mandarin who dominated the administrative side of the chamber and handed that distinguished man a small piece of paper.
The Master of the Ming Administration’s long beard seemed to stiffen as he brought his chin closer to his chest. His now squinting eyes read the paper again.
“What is the problem?” the Empress asked casually.
Handing the parchment back to the page who slinked away the way he came, the man looked back to his superior with an almost tired expression.
“We have not received any reports from Guangdong for five days now,” that minister replied.
The Empress raised her eyebrow signaling her curiosity as to its interpretation. The minister kindly obliged.
“A communications disruption can only mean one thing—invasion.”
---
“Duke Jimenez, we have crossed the Neutral Zone and still no sign of the Imperial Navy.”
With half of the full strength of the Armada, the flotilla led by Duke Jimenez was still a force to be reckoned with: Thirty five galleons, ten frigates, and twenty five flytes holding around twenty four thousand troops organized in battalions of tercios and squadrons of knights.
“Any news on how Jakob is doing in Guangdong?” Antonio called out to his assistant who immediately snapped to attention.
“The last report we received was that the fleet unloaded successfully and took most of the ground forces by surprise. We’ve secured all points up to Hong Kong and are moving forward into the interior.”
Antonio nodded and looked back towards the front of the flagship San Miguel at the quickly approaching beach ahead of them. Over one thousand two hundred kilometers north of Jakob’s position (as the crow flies), Antonio was leading the other half of the long awaited Chinese expedition to their second target—the glorious port center of Shanghai.
It had been a long logistical masterstroke in the making. Fifty thousand troops taken from the various outposts of the Empire ferried on two different flotillas across thousands of miles to rest and reinforce at Osaka and the Philippines before hovering off the coast of China. Coordinated between the two, they were to storm the beaches of two of the riches provinces of the Empire of the Ming and take their trading cities. It was the Far East strategy’s culminating move.
“We’re within range of the shore to begin unloading, Don Antonio,” one of the ensigns alerted him.
At that signal, Antonio leapt to the top of the flagship’s bridge and faced the massive wings of the fleet. Raising his sword and flashing it in the sun, he alerted the other captains. Simultaneously, in that breeze of the edge of the Yellow Sea, the battle ensign on the flagship rose to the top of the main mast accompanied by other smaller signals.
It was however, not greeted by a cheer and discharge of weaponry or a battle cry from the tremendous gathering. Instead, a sudden clang of metal counter pointed the swish of water against hull. All twenty four thousand troops knelt down in full armour and the only ones remaining standing were the chaplains aboard each ship. This battle would begin with a prayer.
---
The Arquebusiers wearing the colours of the Ming filed in a glorious array of plumes lined along the field. Their scale like armour glimmered and clamoured with a haughty clink with every movement of their feet. Their commander, upon a horse, raised his curved blade into the air and motioned the men to their firing stance.
The sudden clap of smoke and powder corrugated the sound of the air into a staccato of thuds and rumbles. Their initial volley was greeted with a rising murmur from across the smoke covered field. As they reloaded and aimed their weapons, a European sword found its way onto the throat of one of those in that line.
The crash of horse against armour was as terrible as an explosion from a cannon and the screams of disarrayed Han soldiers filled the field’s afternoon air. The mounted knights—the specialized wing called “Raiders”—under the direct command of General Schenkhuizen chased down this last regiment of the Guangdong Home Guard to the last man before turning back to rejoin the main corps.
Of the fifteen thousand Chinese defenders native to the area, only five thousand managed to escape the onslaught from the twenty four thousand Spanish Imperial troopers which landed along the beaches of that southern province.
Along the siege lines around the city of Guangzhou, Jakob watched patiently as most of the commanders reported in from their operations around the province to the tent he now inhabited. General Grubby was the last to report in.
“The last arquebus regiment has been dispatched along the Xi Jiang, that should be all the active divisions in the area,” Grubby reported.
“Excellent, we can now wait for the city to fall while Don Antonio takes up operations in the north,” one of the staff generals enjoined, “He also sent us word to expect the Ming reinforcements to begin attacking us soon.”
“How many should we be ready to receive?” Jakob asked the group.
For a while, the generals looked at each other in that well lit tent. Only General Grubby was bending his Dutch lips into a welcoming grin.
“Half a million.”
Interlude
The spray of bullets had been Captain DeWitt’s last resort hoping to take the group peacefully, but when you have four grenades lobbed at your teams followed by two pair of desert eagles, it was a bit difficult to maintain non-lethal combat.
Taking intermittent refuge along the marble pillars, three of the columns had already collapsed in the deafening explosions and a false winter fall of dust and marble descended from the ceiling. Controlling his men through pre-determined battle maneuvers, the Captain was already in control of half of the room by the time a second set of grenades rolled past the columns near him with their pins unhinged.
Rolling diagonally, he found a new refuge as the second set of explosions sent shivers up the foundations of the building before he turned from his pillar to return fire with his K8 “Avenger” Assault Rifle. His favourite weapon, this particularly powerful rifle had a larger clip than its predecessor.
Landing two shots on the column where Rudo hid, his teams on the right and left were beginning to flank the two mercenaries on that far side of the room; a third round of grenades once again pushed them back. At this rate, the entire building would fall down on top of them before he could capture these two.
Signaling quickly into his helmet, grenades were countered by his men but instead of erupting in glorious crimson flame, light flooded the room with the intensity of a million candles. Protected behind their visors, the Lions moved in.
Although the mercenary from Reno was down from the blinding light, the sun glasses sporting Rudo raised his pistol to the Captain’s direction. The bullet racing from that barrel nicked Captain DeWitt’s shoulder as he leaped forward and twisted himself to the left managing to fire two shots from his rolling flight; one for each hand that held a weapon.
As the Captain came to a thud on the floor, the other Lions were now in position for the final blow.
---
When the shooting had started, Tom was too disoriented to know where Rodrigo was leading him. Having his collar grabbed and nearly choked by Rodrigo as he dragged him to the far end of that small chamber that contained the puzzle box, Tom only noticed the brief touch of similarly grasping hands behind him before being pulled behind a hidden stone doorway.
Sprinting upward, Tom ascended a hidden stairwell behind Rodrigo moving only on pure instinct. If the initial spray of bullets and the occasional shiver of grenades exploding did not deafen him, he might have heard two pair of running footsteps chasing at their heels.
Groping in that dark ascent, he was finally relieved to see a beam of light ahead and Rodrigo bursting through a paper wall and interrupting the crowd of guests on that side of the huge dance chamber. These fools, Rodrigo thought, they surely have felt the ground shaking but they kept dancing.
Just as expected, a small squad of Lions awaited their outburst. Thrusting Tom to the lieutenant, that Lion grabbed hold of Tom and immediately rushed through the dancing crowd away from the impending confrontation. Rodrigo then turned around to the staircase. Any minute now, Marcus would finally be his.
Any… minute…
Rodrigo’s eyes shimmered for a second as a light erupted from the staircase and a gush of air attempted to pull him in. With his reflexes, he jumped back as far as he could as a fireball emerged from the staircase. The Lions as well stepped backwards from the inferno and the guests shrieked at the sight.
In the confusion a figure covered in a strange black costumes stealthed their way out of the burning corridor and away from the crowds before disappearing through the front door. Although Marcus’s clever escape had caught Rodrigo's eye, he was more concerned now of the second figure which slinked out of the shadows.
As the party guests began to file out of the room and the Lions and Rodrigo got back to their feet, the figure in front of them seemed to grin wildly. Captain DeWitt was right to be wary of the hiding place of that final member of the quartet; Elena had come out of the shadows to play.
Chapter XXIX: War! (coming soon)
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Well now, things don't really seem to be improving for Tom. Not yet anyway. One almost feels sorry for the Ming Empress.
well, it seems like a very premature Wehrmacht is trying to get its hands on the Timepiece! (they ain't SS, as Oberst isn't an SS rank )
as for Reno, Rudo, etc...is that an FF7 reference?
)as for Reno, Rudo, etc...is that an FF7 reference?
stnylan: Haha , poor Tom gets caught in a firefight of semi-epic proportions yes ; i'm trying my best to keep him as innocent as possible so that he can continue to act as a surrogate for the audience when I need to explain things that might not be too discernable in the beginning . As for the Empress , she's as pretty as a peacock !
Myth: Actually , you're right , I had wanted to use Standartenführer for the Colonel rank but I'm kind of afraid of direct allusions to the SS (i'm only mentioning it now since you mentioned it) since I know , for example , that their insignia can get you banned on the forums and so I didn't want to get into trouble =( . And yes , Rudo , Reno , Tseng , and Elena . I thought the "Radical Turks" would have been a dead giveaway XD
Myth: Actually , you're right , I had wanted to use Standartenführer for the Colonel rank but I'm kind of afraid of direct allusions to the SS (i'm only mentioning it now since you mentioned it) since I know , for example , that their insignia can get you banned on the forums and so I didn't want to get into trouble =( . And yes , Rudo , Reno , Tseng , and Elena . I thought the "Radical Turks" would have been a dead giveaway XD
You allmost think Rodrigo played with Tom's life to secure the timepieces and capture Markus, rather than him working for the bad guys.
He is a Jimenez, afterall...
He is a Jimenez, afterall...
Grubnessul: Thanks for reading ! Yes , Rodrigo's got more going on in there than we first would have thought , hm ?
Avernite: haha , yes , he is a Jimenez , and he is definitely a Janus =)
Avernite: haha , yes , he is a Jimenez , and he is definitely a Janus =)
Okay, got the two updates completed. I am patting myself on the back for one upping Myth on the Nazi's. Take that. Tom just can't seem to catch a break. Looking foward to the next update..."War"...how could one not.
Take that. Tom just can't seem to catch a break. Looking foward to the next update..."War"...how could one not.
grayghost said:Okay, got the two updates completed. I am patting myself on the back for one upping Myth on the Nazi's.
Now now , Warlords , let's not defile my pristine Spanish Halls with your regional squabbles !! Oh Tom's on a rollercoaster and the louder he screams , the more painful it'll be XD . Haven't had a War-like Chapter in a while so I thought we'd take a nice breather from the intrigue !
canonized said:
I just thought up something, dunno if anyone else said so ages ago:
Doesn't him being called Janus mean he's two-faced, and may be doing something entirely different then it appears to be?
Or did Myth already figure that out before I ever heard of this AAR?
Avernite said:I just thought up something, dunno if anyone else said so ages ago:
Doesn't him being called Janus mean he's two-faced, and may be doing something entirely different then it appears to be?
Or did Myth already figure that out before I ever heard of this AAR?
I believe you're the first one to point that out ! Extra kudos to you !
canonized said:
Actually, I went back a reread Anon's opening. Voting goes to the 30th, and he may extend the deadline.
grayghost said:
Oh that's excellent ! More time to get out the vote , Support your Local Warlord , And explore the wonders of Democracy !
Speaking of Supporting Your Local Warlord , I have just been accepted to have the great prestige of being an Honourary Member of The Warlord Club !
This is a wonderful honour ! You can check out the induction speech by grayghost here and my reply here .
This is a wonderful honour ! You can check out the induction speech by grayghost here and my reply here .
Just caught up with the rest of the story since Easter and I'm literally lost for words!
Excellent updates!
The story with Akanishi's suspect actions had me totally glued to the screen as I really liked him and also felt deeply for him, for all the misfortunes that he and his family have gone through, and I couldn't believe that you were going to taint this character in your story. I'm glad to see that you didn't! I don't think that I would have been able to contain my heart-break otherwise...!
Keep up the good work and thank you (as always)!
Excellent updates!
The story with Akanishi's suspect actions had me totally glued to the screen as I really liked him and also felt deeply for him, for all the misfortunes that he and his family have gone through, and I couldn't believe that you were going to taint this character in your story. I'm glad to see that you didn't! I don't think that I would have been able to contain my heart-break otherwise...!
Keep up the good work and thank you (as always)!
Petros said:Just caught up with the rest of the story since Easter and I'm literally lost for words!
Excellent updates!
The story with Akanishi's suspect actions had me totally glued to the screen as I really liked him and also felt deeply for him, for all the misfortunes that he and his family have gone through, and I couldn't believe that you were going to taint this character in your story. I'm glad to see that you didn't! I don't think that I would have been able to contain my heart-break otherwise...!
Keep up the good work and thank you (as always)!
Glad you caught up and I hope you had a great Easter ! I'm so glad for your kind words about the updates and I'm very happy you enjoyed the Akanishi portion of the story ! Thank you very much Petros for your continuing patronage ! It's for fans like you that I keep writing !
Edit: p.s. Update will be coming later tonight/early morning , i'm on cleanup mode in the house and I've got a tennis appointment ! See you all with the new chapter soon !
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Chapter XXIX: War!
August 30, 1582
From the military installation set up along the outskirts of Shanghai, Antonio pored over the various documents presented to him on the table. Interrupted only by the intermittent whistle and crash of discharged cannon, Antonio traced his ungloved finger across the smudged lines of a well used field map.
“We’ve moved ten divisions onto our side of the Yangtze, five around what remains of the garrison here at the city proper and ten more on the other flanks,” a lieutenant briskly reported.
The small cottage which they had converted into a field headquarters for that campaign was a simple affair that housed the commanders within. Although it was made from the fine woods common to the retreats of the rising affluent merchant class, the walls were still thin enough to shiver ruefully at the rumbling explosions of cannonballs leaving their nests.
The quaint decorations of the inside of that home jingled every time such a blast permeated the countryside surrounding the great trade city of Shanghai. It was in between these tintinnabulations that Antonio spoke to his subordinates.
“And the fleet?” he asked them.
“Already in rotation, my Duke,” another lieutenant responded, “We expect reinforcements in about three months while still maintaining the blockade here along the river and city.”
It had only been a month since their landing and, after scattering the surprised field armies present in the area, they had begun making preparations for defensive combat while encircling the besieged port city. Of the million men or more army that the Ming possessed, the reports Antonio received gave a grim description of the battles ahead. Already in formation around their lines was a preliminary force to contest their movement: Thirty thousand men across the Yangtze in the north, and ten thousand men each to his west and south.
“Word from General Schenkhuizen?” Antonio asked just as another ball of metal hit the city walls somewhere in the distance.
“All is well on the southern beachhead; Jakob and the General have successfully secured the Pearl River.”
Antonio nodded at the good news and once again looked down at his desk. The others in attendance gave him a respectful silence as they stood at the periphery of the chamber; only the pages would approach Don Antonio but only to hand off a note before scurrying away again.
Everything seemed to be working accordingly. The skirmishes that were to follow would be hard, but his calculations put his troops at suffering few enough casualties that by the time they were about to be overrun, more reinforcements would arrive from Spain.
“Once we’re finished here at Shanghai, we move to the regional capital of Nanjing, gentlemen.”
The rest gave an emboldened acknowledgement. Antonio straightened himself up from his bent forward position and looked around at his generals and colleagues. The struggle was now in their capable hands.
---
The advent of invasion did not seem to dampen the majesty of the Imperial Palace in Beijing. Perhaps it was especially now more than ever that the Emperor needed to be seen as resolute and indifferent to the mosquitoes that dared attack the glorious Empire of the Ming. Although these mosquitoes had already bitten in two of the most tender and blood soaked spots of his realm.
For those making the pilgrimage to prostrate themselves at his feet, they would only see the stern resolute face of a plump monarch clothed in the radiance of precious stones and gold. Sitting on his throne as he received individuals, he would place them far down the chamber depending on their relative favour in his eyes. All a distant governor paying his debts might see of that man was a monolith of silk and gold. What they did not see was the raised seat underneath to bolster the image of his height and the gentle rush of herb infused steam rising from around this sovereign for the sake of his fragile health.
Every day the avenues of the palace and of the capital were streamed and paraded by guardsmen of all types. Flying emblems of the most beautiful calligraphy, they marched through the streets instilling security and stability in the Middle Kingdom while many of their colleagues were cut down to pieces by Spanish Tercios further to the south.
After the initial shock of communication, reports began pouring throughout the empire of the unstoppable Europeans. Formed into their squares, they attacked like the symbol of celestial order enclosing a hemisphere; forcing heavenly law over earthly law.
But to counterbalance this panic, the provinces saw the Imperial armies move forward. The clang of armour would dominate whole towns for miles as thousands of Imperial troops filled the entire view of common peasants and city dwellers alike. Horses thundered with their riders posing like honourable paladins. Striking forward into the invaded provinces with the beat of an incensed beehive, the sight fueled the resilience of the Chinese people.
However, those at the palace knew better. Already their initial attack against the southern front had failed. Nearly forty five thousand troopers—almost twice as large as the Spanish force—attacked from the west and were decimated. Similarly, thirty six thousand were currently closing in on the invaders surrounding Shanghai with reserves along the flanks but the results were already looking grim.
The cabinet in that secluded room of the Imperial Palace knew that their strength lied in numbers. Unfortunately, with Spain as masters of the sea, it would be impossible to completely surround the enemy. Indeed, while the Emperor sat on his throne receiving guests, the Empress once again sat in session with the top advisors of the realm including the Senior Grand Secretary. It was in this room where no whisper would creep away and deep in the recesses of the Imperial household did the movers of the Empire plot a way to push these foreigners from the land.
Once again, the Empress clasped her tea cup with a kind of embrace as her golden finger extension seemed like a supernatural plant coiling around the precious porcelain. Her maids had asked her about the extensions before—being such queer things never previously used in vogue by any of the nobles. She had told them that she would put them into fashion herself.
The liberties of the Empress did not seem to end there. As is often seen of her, the intricate leaves embedded in her hair were made of the most radiant of gold as was even parts of the embroidery of her clothing. That finger extension itself would glisten with the avaricious light. For a while, it had been forbidden for anyone except for the Emperor to assume that precious metal to wear, but this Empress wielded a sagacious power that granted her such defiance of the law.
“And the messenger has returned from our cousins on the Chrysanthemum Throne?” the Empress spoke calmly after her sip.
It was imperative for her to drink such warm liquid in an otherwise uninviting and cold chamber such as this where the Senior Grand Secretary and his associates held ‘court.’
“Yes,” the tall mandarin replied on behalf of the council, “They will be more than eager to attempt to dislodge the Spaniards from Osaka in assistance to us.”
“Excellent,” the Empress responded with satisfaction as she kept her face as tight as possible. In the presence of these men of the empire, she too must keep a stern demeanor.
“And I am quite thankful that Your Imperial Majesty has authorized the plan we have adopted for our defense of the Empire,” the mandarin added bowing his head low towards the table in front of them which contained the sketches of the current defense initiative—to continually send wave of wave of troops in groups of thirty five to fifty thousand until the enemy is defeated by attrition. “There is one more matter for Your Imperial Majesty this evening,” he continued.
With his head still bowed downward, an almost feline figure adroitly slinked into the chamber.
“I would like to present,” the Senior Grand Secretary began as he outstretched a hand to the shaded one who just entered, “our new Spy Master, Lady Nia Obidos.”
Looking into the far side of the room, the Empress could see that dark figure prostrate herself on the floor in obeisance. In the discerning eye of the Empress, no detail of the other person was hidden from her. Her expert eyes could detect the tight straps of blackened leather coiling and crisscrossing along the lithe tanned frame of that woman creating seductive stripes of skin and clothing.
Even from her bowed position, the Empress could deduce that she had a beautiful face and the length of her flowing black hair would have probably reached her hips if she let it grow longer.
“A foreigner?” was the blunt query.
“She is born of this city, Your Imperial Majesty,” the Senior Grand Secretary quickly answered, “her father was a Portuguese soldier who fought against the Spanish during their war. He fled here when they were defeated and married a woman of our realm.”
With pursed lips, the Empress exchanged glances briefly with the woman who looked up in anticipation of a response. Bold enough to look me in the eye, the Empress thought.
“I hope that you will be more efficient than your predecessor as leader of the Jinyi Wei, Lady Nia,” the Empress proclaimed with a royal intonation. “For not forewarning us of the Spanish invasion, he was beheaded.”
For a moment a taut silence permeated that room renowned for its lack of sound. There was no response but a grin on Nia Obidos’s face.
---
Sweet rarely left the side of his mistress, but on this occasion Antonio’s plan required his expertise alone. Sweet immediately took the fastest horse from the stable and left the city with only minimal provisions.
As Antonio watched that trusted spy fly past the siege lines and into the frontier, he turned back to the evening town where the northern army had made its headquarters. Despite the hour of the night, horses and men still bustled about making preparations and reporting movements here and there.
Antonio paced the outskirt of that settlement with a quiet satisfaction. Watching down the hill towards the siege lines, the cannonade had gone silent. During the late of night, the soldiers were spared the sound of death screeching through the air. The bombing would resume in the morning, hopefully discouraging any economy or commerce from occurring in the city when most of the inhabitants were awake.
Looking back down the well trodden road out of the town, Antonio saw that Sweet had already made himself invisible among the moving patrols of cavalry and filing and defiling columns of regulars. He let out a relieved chuckle at the efficiency of that young man. As his eyes focused on the movement along that foreign countryside, his chuckle trailed into a strangely wide smile: he would be able to spend time with Isabella alone again.
His next destination would be Isabella’s headquarters at the other end of town. Indeed, one of the local cottages was similarly turned into the spy network’s office. Strolling through the streets while officers gave him a nod and salute, he seemed to have an airy alacrity to his movement. If he didn’t know better he was on the verge of giggling.
“Excuse me, sir! Would you like to buy some flowers?”
Antonio, still with a crazy smile, stopped on the side of the road and noticed the young girl to his left offering up a basket of brightly coloured specimens.
“Oh my, little girl, you seem to know your Spanish quite well,” replied the Duke cheerfully as he crouched down to inspect the wares.
“Many Spaniards were here before you all came,” the young girl responded as if the question needed no further explanation afterwards.
There were many children like these in the streets lately, especially in the evening hours when the life of the small town did not stop with the setting of the sun. Despite the occupation, Antonio speculated that the boost to the regional economy was the biggest reason all merchants both young and old braved the streets to capitalize on the opportunity.
“Well, what do you think would be good for a beautiful lady?” Antonio asked sweetly.
The young girl almost seemed to blush and pointed to some Chrysanthemums in her tidy basket. “I like to give these to my mom when I have extra,” she shyly said and closed the deal with a smile.
How fitting, Antonio thought. With the report that Japan entered the war, these flowers would be a sign and giving her these would be a clear indication of his intentions.
---
Isabella moved her fingers along the petals in a kind of tranquil captivation. Her lips were pursed to prevent her from betraying a smile that wanted to creep from ear to ear. As hard as she tried, however, her cheeks rose upward and her face began to get slightly hot.
“For me?,” she let out almost in one exhale as those soft textures graced her fingertips. As she turned her head to one side, the blonde tresses of her hair swayed.
“Ever since I met you, I couldn’t stop thinking—” that whisper trailed off almost embarrassed by the words coming out of those masculine lips.
Isabella’s light blues looked forward and a smile finally erupted onto her blushing face. The confession coming from those familiar features mellowed her standing frame into a kind of ethereal lightness. She felt like she was floating in water.
Their hands met momentarily and she couldn’t help but feel the warmth of the other’s face as it approached hers.
The knocking on the door quickly forced their hands apart and Isabella’s gaze raced to the doorway.
“Who is i—”
Before Isabella could finish her question, Antonio stepped casually into the chamber.
“It was the funniest thing, Isabella, I was at the General’s meeting today and—” Antonio’s voice suddenly ceased as his eyes looked at the two individuals in the room whereas he had only expected one.
“Don Antonio, I’d like you to meet Lord Sebastian Royce,” Isabella introduced quickly while Antonio straightened himself up. “His father recently moved the Keys to San Francisco and he was sent over here to help us.”
Antonio simply stared with a blank expression before managing a “nice to meet you.”
“Lord Sebastian, this is Don Antonio who I’m sure you know of,” Isabella finished facing the handsome young man once more.
“It’s good to finally meet you, Duke Antonio,” Sebastian said with a smile and bow. Antonio returned the gesture.
Isabella noticed that Antonio held something behind his back.
“Did you need me for something?” Isabella asked Antonio politely with her eyes still trained on where Antonio was concealing his hand.
For a moment there was an awkward pause before Antonio stepped forward and closer to the desk where a new set of flowers had been laid in front of Isabella. Taking his hand from behind his back he laid some paper he had been holding gently on the table. “Oh nothing, just some orders for you to review,” Antonio said with a smile.
“Ahh, I’ll get on those right away,” Isabella said returning the gesture.
“I’ll be heading out in a little bit to inspect the coastline,” Antonio said with his eyes pulled to look to his top right as if he was trying to remember what it was he was trying to do. “I’ll check back when you’ve finished with those. Good to meet you, Mr. Royce, I’m sure we’ll see more of each other out on the field.”
“As do I, my Duke,” Sebastian responded with a bow.
Before anything else could be said, Antonio showed himself out of the chamber.
Interlude
Landing in Hong Kong Interprovincial Airport was a bit of an ordeal for Father Francis. It was not at all because of turbulence or bad piloting. In fact, Duke Jimenes’s pilot seemed to make the transition from air to land quite smoothly. Indeed, it was simply because on approaching the airport, one only sees the water of the South China Sea underneath approaching closer and closer before, at the last moment, the tarmac comes rushing into one’s field of vision. For anyone frequently flying into Hong Kong Interprovincial, this would have been a familiar site, but for Father Francis, he nearly grabbed his rosary to pray that his soul would reach paradise after the plane torpedoed into the briny deep. Duke Jimenes had offered the good priest some spirits to calm him after they landed but Father Francis declined.
Hong Kong Interprovincial itself was a massive airport stretching over eight kilometers in length from one end to another and the main terminal being nearly one and a half kilometers long. From the air, the terminal resembled two Vs joined together at their narrow ends by an I. Boasting two stories and one of the cleanest environments—at least compared to the dilapidated LAX—it was one of the most impressive indoor facilities the priest had ever seen.
Despite both the pros and cons of this new experience, Father Francis was simply glad to be on the ground again. He’d been doing too much flying lately, he said to himself and, after getting some directions, he found his way into the public restroom. He noticed perhaps the only mars on the otherwise sterile complex—some graffiti. Already the cleaning crews were scrubbing away at the strange text only making some legible. With a passing glance, Father Francis saw strange phrases varying from “Hey baby, you wanna come to my place and see my golden hel—” to “—at kind of toilet paper are you?” He merely shook his head as he finished relieving himself.
Returning from the trip to the restroom, Father Francis found the Duke in the guest lounge on the phone. He had gotten used to his host being in constant communication with the rest of the world but this seemed like one of those times that filled his heart with consternation.
It was in that concentration of attempting to interpret his friend’s movements that he noticed the rest of the eyes in the room: all were staring at the television above the high class bar.
“This is a Noticias Zorro Alert: We go now live to Leah Brannigan in San Francisco where a firefight is being reported from the former provincial mansion of Little China.”
Father Francis involuntarily gasped a brief cut of air as he saw the image on the screen of that large mansion emitting smoke as gunshots could be heard in the distance. It was like a scene from some urban war.
“Father Xavier, we’ve got to get going,” was the sudden reminder from Duke Jimenes. His friend had finished speaking on the phone and was standing to his right.
“Is everything alright?” Father Francis asked turning to his friend still with an incredulous face.
Duke Jimenes gave him a resolute pat on his shoulder as he led him out of the lounge.
“It should be alright, Father, for now we’re due at the Memorial Building in Guangzhou.”
As they walked through the glass portals to the car waiting outside, a motorcade escort was waiting to take them to that place where thousands had valiantly died on the first beachhead into China.
Chapter XXX: Guangzhou (coming soon)
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