Chronicles Of Two Powers

Chapter 6.2 - Emperor's Orders

Acevedo. Capital.

Aetesian Empire.

The Royal throne. Central palace.

December 1, 1773.

| 11:42 AM | 11:42:00 Hours |

The Aetesian capital of Acevedo thrummed with life, its streets bustling under the momentum of early mechanization. At the city's heart, the central palace rose proudly, encircled by the grand park where first-class nobility strolled under the sun. Stone roads now echoed with the hum of newly introduced vehicles-a luxury that only the privileged could afford. While the elite prided themselves on equality among their peers, such courtesies rarely extended beyond their class. Still, the capital exuded an open, vibrant energy. Soldiers patrolled the avenues, saluting officers and casting admiring glances at women passing by.

In the marketplace, merchants called out to customers, their stalls brimming with fresh produce and finely crafted goods. Armored vehicles rumbled steadily through the streets, a visible reminder of the Empire's growing military strength. Overhead, squadrons of medium bombers flew in tight formation, a spectacle that inspired awe and bolstered national pride. The deployment to Sakhalin Island-a region only recently discovered-filled the citizens with an intoxicating sense of purpose, heralding what many believed to be the start of a new golden age for Aetesia.

Within the fortified walls of the central palace, a storm of a different kind brewed. A magical orb, pulsing with energy, displayed the grim realities of the battlefield. Gathered around it, Aetesian generals, admirals, and representatives from the Jylon Republic watched in silence as the western front descended into chaos. The flickering images revealed frantic soldiers under siege, their cries amplified through the orb's enchantments.

"We need reinforcements! Hostiles advancing on the left flank!" a desperate voice rang out, the urgency palpable. The sound of gunfire and explosions filled the chamber, drowning out the murmurs of the assembled officials. The Aetesian generals sat frozen, pale-faced, while the Jylon representative's expression shifted to one of simmering rage as he realized the scale of the disaster.

Then came the sound-a soldier's panicked scream, cutting through the cacophony. "What the hell is that?!" Onscreen, an olive-drab war machine loomed, its turret spitting fire and destruction. The beast bore a tricoloured insignia of white, blue, and red. Inside, unseen crew members barked commands in an unfamiliar tongue. One shouted, "Сдавайся!"-a word foreign to the Aetesian s but charged with menace. Above, the thunderous roar of helicopter rotors added to the soldiers' mounting dread.

Prince Gourmet stood transfixed, his composure unraveling as he took in the devastation. His gaze snapped to Colonel Ayla McStandley, whose usually stoic demeanor now betrayed unease.

"Colonel McStandley," the prince demanded, his voice strained, "what is that vehicle? How is it capable of such destruction?"

McStandley squinted at the screen, her sharp eyes studying every detail of the machine. Its reinforced armor gleamed under the haze of battle, and the colossal gun mounted on its turret was unlike anything she'd seen, even in the most advanced arsenals of the Holy Empire or the Duisland Federation.

"I've never encountered a tank like this," she admitted. "Its design and firepower surpass anything in our current knowledge."

Prince Gourmet's frustration mounted. "This 'minor offensive' has cost us ten thousand lives and counting," he fumed, turning to his aide, Draco. "What are these Japanese capable of? First, their tanks, now their navy has sunk one of our battleships. Are we entirely unprepared?"