Caleomens (Month 6) 18, 1617 Central Calendar
The details of the ambitious Operation WHEELHOUSE, which marked the Holy Milishial Empire's first-ever intervention in the mysterious Southern World, were promptly transmitted to the seven leaders of the Order of the Ancients. Using footage from the units engaged in the skirmish at a remote Annonrial airbase in the southern Illemese Continent, along with other intelligence, they observed their LEGION-outfitted false flag operations mobile suits (as they perceived them) carry out the mission with success, leaving a burning military installation behind as they vanished mid-dogfight with the intercepting Annonrial air force.
In this teleconference, they watched as the "Righteous Salvation Army's" technology was utilized to ensure the mission's success without a single casualty on either side, an unthinkable feat in war. Naturally, beneath their expressionless masks, each of them wore a look of stunned reverence, as if in disbelief that it was their side that just did this.
"Zero casualties, not even among the enemy. To think that I would see such a thing in a military operation. Mission success and no bloodshed are almost guaranteed to be mutually exclusive."
Magister Tephras shook his head slightly as he spoke. Even if his voice was modulated, it still carried hints of a measured tone of quiet astonishment. The others let out a murmur of agreement that rippled through the teleconference session.
"This is either madness or brilliance," Magister Enepsigos remarked.
"It's remarkable how often those two traits coincide," said Magister Eblis in reply.
In truth, the White Lotus Leader, the mastermind behind this operation, was promised "prompt and utter destruction" by the First Horseman of the Apocalypse should even one enemy life was lost during the operation, forcing the man without means to combat the entity to just fight with one hand tied behind his back. Fortunately, the circumstances provided a convenient justification, and now, after witnessing the Holy Milishial Empire's technological prowess achieve what seemed impossible, the "Annonrial defectors" hold nothing but respect for their new allies. Their loyalty has only deepened, having seen magic used in its truest, most awe-inspiring form—though it was in the shape of a weird show of power.
To put it simply, the operation's rule of minimizing casualties was tactically bullshit, but politically an absolute victory to win over the allies' trust, at least for the Emperor. What the Emperor didn't anticipate was that it would succeed so hard with absolutely no losses on either side (the Holy Empire used drones, so it was a given, but the enemies were flesh and blood sapient creatures).
Despite the handicap, it earned Meteos Roguerider victorious points if only Legiel wasn't so smug about it, having patting himself in the back for ensuring his Little Brother maintained a "moral high ground."
On his seat at the round table, the Grand Magister remained silent for a moment, then his holographic projection turned slightly toward the shadows behind his seat. There, two figures without masks stood—guests, observers from a faction whose presence here was as calculated as the operation itself.
"And you?" the Grand Magister inquired pointedly. "We 'kept casualties to a minimum,' just as you requested. Are you satisfied with this outcome?"
One of the guests, a Winged Man named Stendhal, clenched his fists as his eyes glistened with unshed tears. He bowed his head deeply and spoke with a voice trembling with emotion.
"Thank you, Magnificent Grand Magister... Thank you for sparing our fellow Nephilim. Even if they serve the Messiah now, they are still our people. This mercy... we will not forget it."
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