Conducting The Secret Mission

The destroyer that had detached from the 10th Fleet sailed for a full day before it reached an island. Barely known by name, the island was blanketed in primordial jungle, brimming with ancient mystery.

Prior surveys indicated a population of fewer than two hundred, with the only village tucked along a single stretch of coast. Having no reason to approach the village, they skirted the island and came ashore on a deserted beach.

The island was fairly large—only slightly smaller than Pero Island, the biggest in the Marin Archipelago. Unlike Pero, where over a hundred thousand lived, this place had few inhabitants because fresh water sources were scarce and scattered.

The jungle was so dense it looked punishing to enter. Two boats lowered from the destroyer idled toward the shoreline and grounded on the sand, and people climbed out.

Forty men and women disembarked—twenty from each boat—and began unloading their gear. Among them, a figure whose looks did not seem to fit the setting stepped down: Princess Adrina.

Dressed like a classic explorer—long trousers and a hat—she nodded in thanks to the hand that steadied her, set her feet on the sand, and looked around.

Waves crashed along the strand. A brisk wind tossed her tied-back platinum hair. After taking in the scene, she watched the team unloading equipment.

‘His Majesty Ian said these people would keep me safe if I stayed near them, didn’t he?’

There were about forty in all; ten of them stood slightly apart and gave off an uncanny air—faces blank, emotions smoothed away. The rest showed normal expressions.

“Are you uncomfortable in any way?”

“I’m fine.”

“Ah, please don’t use honorifics with me—or with any of us here. I’m just an agent, and so are they.”

The man, who introduced himself as Hans, said he belonged to the secret police. She had been told most here were from that organization.

‘So, the equivalent of the Longsword—Magnia’s intelligence bureau?’

“Are you sure that’s all right?”

“Of course. More importantly, His Majesty ordered us to bring Your Highness back safely even at the cost of our lives. We don’t know what dangers are on this island, so please stay with us at all times.”

“Very well. I will.”

By then, the cargo had been fully unloaded. They dragged the boats up onto the sand and camouflaged them with cut foliage. The destroyer would not linger off the beach; to avoid being spotted, it would wait well out to sea and return at the designated time.

“Move out.”

At Hans’s command, the column set off. In their hands were weapons that looked unlike Polia’s standard Kodia rifle—unique designs that did not exist anywhere else in the world. Because this was a covert mission, they could not carry regular-issue Kodia single-shot rifles; even so, the weapons used the same 8.1 mm round. Sidearms rode on their belts as secondary arms.

They entered the jungle. From here on it was a race against time. His Majesty Ian could not remain in the archipelago indefinitely; they had to locate the ancient site as quickly as possible.

The forty-man team pushed into the trees. Machete men chopped a path in front; Princess Adrina moved in the middle of the formation.

‘There should be a pile of stones somewhere on this island.’

She recalled her brother Jedic mentioning a “pile of stones.” In a jungle like this, such a thing would be out of place—and therefore easy to spot, she thought. Perhaps she underestimated the jungle.

Even a cairn could be swallowed by vines and growth. And forcing a way through jungle was far slower than she had imagined. Insects swarmed, and the sticky heat drained strength.

‘So hot…’

After only an hour she was drenched with sweat. Fortunately, she wore a small magical artifact at her neck that repelled insects—a costly trinket.

She dabbed her face as she walked. The others seemed unfazed, their stamina impressive. The ten expressionless men, especially, were built like stone. Noticing her glance, Hans spoke.

“Curious about them?”

“They’re different from you?”

“In a way. I can hold my own—but compared to them, I’m lacking.”

“Who are they?”

“I can’t share details—classified—but I can say this: when it comes to your protection, they are invaluable.”

“I see.”

Roots twisted everywhere; picking each step was tiring. After half a day, she was spent.

Hans approached, concerned.

“Your Highness, we should rest.”

“All right.”

Her handkerchief was soaked. She drank from her canteen and sat on a thick root while ten of the men kept silent watch.

“Shouldn’t they rest as well?”

She asked Hans, glancing at the sentries.

“Leave them be. Once an operation begins, they don’t ‘rest’ in the usual sense. Standing still like that is rest for them.”

“What kind of training makes a person like that?”

“It’s classified too, but… they’ve undergone the most extreme regimen a human can.”

She wondered how harsh training had to be to sand away expression itself, and thought she was seeing a darker facet of Polia. Turning people into emotionless guardians spoke to ruthless methods.

They rested about thirty minutes, chewing strips of jerky to recover strength, and then moved on.

Two hours later, Adrina admitted—at least to herself—that she had overestimated her endurance. Forcing a way through jungle made the body feel leaden.

‘I took this too lightly.’

Perhaps coming personally had been arrogance. She rode horses and took long walks, but this was different. She wanted to ask for another break, yet as the one leading the effort, she worried repeated stops would sap morale. She gritted her teeth and trudged on. Ten minutes later she snagged a root and stumbled—Hans caught her pack and steadied her.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

“Best to rest now.”

“I can keep going.”

“For pacing, rest now. If we continue, dusk will catch us anyway.”

He checked his pocket watch—four o’clock—and she yielded, sinking to the ground.

She sipped again; the canteen was already half gone. Hans cautioned her:

“Small sips. Water is hard to come by here. We should ration.”

“Understood.”

They did have larger water tins spread among the team, but no one knew how long they would be out; better to save what they could.

‘It hasn’t even been a day, and it already feels like I’ve used up everything.’

She steeled herself. She was here for her own future; she would not be bartered away in a dynastic match like other princesses. Thinking that, she remembered King Ian.

‘A king who himself refuses a political marriage.’

No one would imagine he thought that way. Had she not learned about the ancient site, she might never have met him.

‘What is he doing right now?’

At that moment, Ian had finished at Pero and was sailing elsewhere. Among scattered islands, aircraft began taking off. The carrier-modified Dragan fighters vaulted skyward, helped by the carrier’s own forward speed.

With their light airframes, they lifted easily. Another engine roared; the next plane thundered off the deck. Watching the smooth climb, he felt satisfied with their performance.

“They really do fly.”

Mardin said beside him.

“I told you: a floating airfield will become reality. The day when carriers are the core of naval power is not far.”

“I see the logic, but I still doubt their necessity over battleships.”

“You mean: how do planes kill a battleship?”

“Yes. Dropped bombs won’t pierce that armor.”

“Not yet. But as aircraft improve, and bombs grow heavier with greater penetration and explosive power?”

“In that case… they would be threatening.”

Ian sensed Mardin still could not feel it. People believed what they saw.

“In any case, it will be interesting to watch them train to hit targets at sea.”

“The pilots must be tense. With Your Majesty observing, they will be more nervous than usual.”

“That, too, is training. Ha!”

Hitting a target in bad conditions was part of a pilot’s skill. Another weapon crossed his mind.

“I’m curious about the performance of our air-dropped depth charges.”

“The explosive yield won’t be large,” Mardin said.

“They’re for harassment and deterrence more than killing.”

Ian had ordered their development; they had produced workable models. Because they were designed to be dropped from aircraft, they carried limited explosive filler and were not very powerful. Their role was to deter.

‘Who knows when another sea monster like the Kraken will appear? We must have tools to keep them at bay.’

He assumed a large aquatic monster might surface again and prepared accordingly. The depth charges were not meant to slay such creatures, only to scare and disrupt.

“You will see them used today.”

“I look forward to it.”

About a dozen fighters launched and began drills. With the king watching, there were a few mistakes, but many successful runs.

When he saw the air-dropped depth charges, he nodded. The blasts were not spectacular, but they sufficed as a deterrent. Then a fighter wobbled on landing and flipped.

Fire crews sprinted in, and the pilot scrambled free unharmed. Ian exhaled in relief.

‘Landing still had issues.’

He resolved to improve the landing gear without delay.