July 14th, 1011 (雨晴40年 7 月 14 日)
Sundew, Gossamer Woods Province, Vermilion Realm of Kiria

The whistle of the steam locomotive carried on the wind from the southern railroad, piercing through the serenity of the ancestral shrine. Previously, he had listened to the quiet motion of the waves on the beach, not far from his home. The eternal back and forth of the tide had been present with him all of his life, and all of his life had been here in Sundew. He exhaled, the intruding noise of the still distant machinery acting as a reminder of what he was planning to do. Was he second guessing himself? Perhaps, but however much his fears leaked into his mind, he came to the same conclusion again. He had to go forwards with this, or else risk knowing in his heart he was a deceitful coward.

Virtuous Blaze looked up at the wooden tablets around him, breathing out hard as he tried to center his thoughts, focusing on the characters engraved on their face. Before him, a raised dais with three plates sat between him and the rows of wooden tablets standing on the alter. One had a cluster of fruit he had picked himself, another several buns stacked pyramidally, while the third had seasoned steamed rice. As was tradition, he had fixed the food himself, bringing it into the ancestral shrine to place before his ancestors and light the two candles on it and pray. Before Concord and those of his family lineage, he laid his soul bare, silently whispering the litanies and hoping he would receive some sign that what he was about to do was correct.

But sadly he just kept getting interrupted. At first it was by evening songbirds, even though early winter was settling on the southern hemisphere. This brought back memories of celebrating the Mid-Autumn Festival with his friends and family, and distracted his thoughts. So he had closed the window shutters, attempting to block them out. Then it was the food as his mother and sister prepared dinner, and he was already so hungry after preparing the offering he brought to appease Concord and the spirits. He knew exactly what his mother was making, as well. Hot stew, and from what he could detect he knew the stock had fish, a collection of vegetables and he even hoped some tofu was added in. He loved his mother’s fish stew, it was his favorite dish. But he had persevered, determined to get some answer through all the things grabbing his attention. Concord was testing his resolve, he was certain of it. But after the stew, it was the sound of the sea in the near distance, and now the train and-

It was all too much!

“I give up,” he grunted, shaking his head as he rose from the prayer mat. “I’m sorry, but I just can’t.”

He looked up at his grandfather’s name, etched on one of the tablets. Would that he could only focus and give Righteous Spirit the diligence and respect he was due, not to mention the dishonor he was doing Concord weighed on his soul. In his time of doubt, he had sought an answer to possibly the greatest question of his life, and now he could not even focus his mind enough to watch for a sign.

“Am I making the right choice?” he questioned aloud.

“Blaze!” called his mother’s voice abruptly from the other room. “Dinner!”

Sighing, he brushed himself off, glancing once more up at the tablet a final time before he bowed in the traditional manner. Once for the spirits of his ancestors, once to honor the goddess Concord. But as he rose, he could have sworn his eye had caught the briefest glimpse of a kirin, wizened and weathered by endless days in the elements, dressed in battle armor dented, pockmarked and damaged by battle. But when Virtuous Blaze snapped his eyes fully on the sight, the figure was gone. No trace of its presence to be found.

But to Virtuous Blaze, he had received his sign. He knew what to do.

* * * * *

Dinner was just like any other night. Virtuous Blaze sat at the table with his father, mother and sister, all of them gladly tucking in to their hot dinner with vigor, scooping the stew out of the pot in the center for their own bowls, inside of which they had rice to pour the sumptuous mixture onto. And it was just as delicious as Virtuous Blaze had thought it would be, melting his taste buds as he gladly stuffed fish, rice, leeks, peppers, rice, tofu, all of it into his muzzle. The tea was made of Iron Concord leaves, a luxury in most of the Realm but an easy commodity due to Sundew's close proximity to the tea farms in Hyacinth, made even closer by the railroad. The meal was just perfect.

His mother, Linblaze Pearl, had learned most of her recipes from her own grandmother and sought to carry them on down the family line. Already his older sister Tempest Glade was learning the secrets being passed down through the family line, even though her job as a typist in town left her coming home late most nights. His father, Mighty Spirit, had worked on the railroad ever since the Great Gallop Forward had brought the trains to Sundew, leaving the fields to Linblaze Pearl and Virtuous Blaze. In all honesty, it made far more than what they could pull out of the ground, and the farm had been left to feed the family only instead of being their form of income. Between the two working members of the family, they pulled in more taels than Virtuous Blaze could have ever dreamed of seeing, though his parents had assured the sixteen year old that it still wasn’t much.

He hadn’t paid much attention when the scholars had been teaching about markets in school, but from what he had heard the tael was worth less than it had been years ago. That didn’t make much sense to him. If they were still poor, why did his sister drive to work in an automobile? Why did they have electric lights in the house, and one could walk to Sundew and pay for the use of a miraculous device known as a telephone? The local theater, which had done plays for as long as Virtuous Blaze could remember, now showed motion pictures from a projector, which ran a series of photographs on a screen so rapidly, the scene may as well be playing in real time. If they were poor, how could they afford so many new things?

Yes, a lot had changed in since 1007. The fabled 3 ½ Year Plan had brought so much to the Realm, many feared the country would collapse under the weight of it all. Surely Concord would not condemn her beloved children to such a fate? Would the kirin be subject to constant strife and hardship in the endless race to keep up with the western powers? These things weighed on Virtuous Blaze’s mind, even as he outwardly participated in the meal with his family.

His ears tried to keep him connected to the conversation, but the distraction in his mind was too great, pondering at how to specifically word his announcement, when to say it, the anticipation of what everyrin would say. What if his father was angry? What if his mother broke down in tears? What if they forbade it? He had to do as his family wished, after all. He wouldn’t want to dishonor them, and he certainly did not wish to go against their word and cause them to lose what little face they had. Finally, however, his mother seemed to realize something was wrong indeed.

“Blaze, is everything alright?” asked Linblaze carefully. He looked up, startled. She had set her chopsticks down, ending the kinetic magic she and everyrin used to pick them up (though some preferred to do so physically, like his father). She tilted her head to the side, watching him carefully as she sat on her mat, glancing at his bowl and tea cup. “Is something wrong with the tea?”

“No, Mother. I’m sorry, dinner is wonderful.” Virtuous Blaze shifted uneasily, trying to clear his thoughts so he could respond without looking as awkward as he felt. “I apologize. I have something on my mind.”

“No better time to get it out than at the table,” said Mighty Spirit around a mouthful of fish stew. “Go on, spit it out.”

“Spirit!” Blaze’s mother chided her husband before turning back to her son, expression softening again. “If it's something we can help with, you know you only have to ask.”

The next words came in a rush, something he had no control over as his thoughts vomited forth with no rhyme, reason or order.

"I've decided to enlist," Virtuous Blaze finally blurted out. "I'm going to town tomorrow with Furious Gale and Red Flower to join the Banner. I'm going to follow Grandfather's legacy."

Stunned silence. His mother and father nervously glanced at one another, clearly unsure of what to say. His sister, however, immediately knew how to cut her younger brother down.

"Grandfather wasn't Bannerkin," she pointed out as she popped a piece of tofu into her mouth and chewed. "He was a levy, and you're an idiot."

"Tempest!" Linblaze snapped, whirling her eyes over to fix on her daughter.

"What? It's the truth," Tempest Glade shrugged. "Grandfather was conscripted, there's no military legacy to follow. If there was, we wouldn't need to rely on the Plenum to give us better jobs. Or, well, promise to and then sell us out to foreign businessrin."

"Don't start with that Rising Fire spewage," Mighty Spirit growled, smacking his chopsticks down on the table sharply. "I'll have none of that heresy here in my house."

But Tempest Glade was not dissuaded.

"They're on the Plenum, Dad, and the Morning Secretariat. A little hard to call them heretics when they're in government."

Virtuous Spirit deflated, his thunder stolen. All day long, he had agonized over how he would tell his parents about his monumental decision, and it had been snapped away the moment it was out of his mouth.

But surprisingly, the endless debate about politics between his father (far more tradition minded and a fervent follower of the classic teachings of the Way of Fire) and his sister (who had hinted several times at her support for the Rising Fire) ceased in a flash, and all of his family turned to Virtuous Blaze again.

"Son, you know you don't have to do this," Mighty Spirit began. "Your grandfather was levied to fight bandits. He had no choice. He was called to the Banner by Concord and the Matriarch. If this is about your friends enlisting-”

“It’s not,” Virtuous Blaze interrupted his father, pausing in embarrassment as he realized his mistake, but pressed on regardless. “I mean, we talked about it with one another. Made the decision together. But I never felt like I had to because of them. Look, Kiria is better than ever before. The world’s changing, and so is the Realm. I feel like now is the time to become part of something greater than myself, and this could be my only chance. I know I could get work with the railroad like you or in town. But when am I going to get the chance to be there when our country is in possibly the greatest age since the First Realm? It’s a time of heroes. Kiria is calling, and I want to answer.”

There it was. All of it laid out for them. Now he held his breath, waiting to see what they would say. If his parents refused, he could still run away and enlist regardless. But he would never be able to hold his head high and know he was standing for his family's honor, rendering part of his effort meaningless.

His father and mother glanced to one another, clearly unsure of what to say. His sister, for once in her life, was silent as well. All she could do was stare at him, gobsmacked…and seemingly a little sad. That took him by surprise for a moment, but he ground it out with irritation. So what if she thought she knew better than him? If she understood what he was talking about, she wouldn’t look at him with such pity.

Finally, Linblaze turned back to her son.

“We just don’t want you to get hurt. There’s a lot of war and problems in the world. I heard on the radio that Equestria was invaded by one of their neighbors a few days ago. Who knows what will happen.”

“Well when it happens, I want to be there to see it, and to make my mark on history.” Blaze softened his tone, seeing the apprehension and concern on his parents face’s. The last thing he wanted was to get them so worked up they snapped into the nirik state. “Look, the most that will happen in Kiria is that I’ll fight bandits or pirates or Zeblu raiders. We’ve got the Hindians to the north, the colonizers to the southwest and Zaikiria to the south. I just want to do my part.”

“I’m just concerned you’re getting in over your head,” his father continued, idly playing with his chopsticks in his cloven hoof, poking at his bowl. “This isn’t like making a bad pot of tea. If you join and regret it, you won’t get the chance to come back until you’re done with your term.”

At this, Virtuous Blaze grinned eagerly.

“Trust me, there’s no way I’m going to regret this.”

And with that, he lifted his tea cup and took a big gulp. For some reason, the taste was rather more bitter than he had thought it was.

February 8th, 1012 ((雨晴41年 2 月 8 日)
2nd Cānlǐng, Banner of the Amaranth Pavilion
14 km southwest of Frangipani, Monsoon Fields Province, Militarchy-Occupied Sen Kinh

Rain fell. Thunder, in the distance, rolled and echoed through the air. Rivers, overflowing with water, swamped their banks. The foliage was constantly hammered by the sheets that descended with the summer showers. The tropical storm had struck, and was raging with the fury of a descending god.

And kirin died.

Artillery shrieked overhead as the line of kirin advanced, moving through the forest gully as the water and mud threatened to drown them as surely as if they were underwater. While they wore tan fatigues, puttees and newly issued steel helmets that were all caked under a layer of gray and black filth, weapons magically hovering over their heads as the bannerkin did their best to keep them from getting even filthier. With the exception of their squad leaders and dedicated assault soldiers, they all carried Rhapsody Arsenal Flare rifles. Private First Class Virtuous Blaze remembered when he was in training he had been given an old Equestrian Lillia rifle to use. From the stories he had been told, some units had been forced to make do with lever-action Spark rifles, and many Militia Levies still bore century old Arquebus weapons. A Flare rifle was still a good weapon, and it had kept him safe on many occasions. He only prayed to Concord that it would continue to keep him so.

When it had been announced two months ago that the Realm was marching into Zaikiria to liberate it from the nirik menace, he and his bannerkin comrades had cheered and celebrated. After the news of the Lan-Kir menace invading Sen Kinh and Khamrin last November, a call had gone up to go in and end the violence. The entire Zaikirian region had once been a close part of the Vermilion Realm after all, and even now fellow kirin were slaughtering each other in droves right over the border. But the Banners had remained, training and preparing. But then, on the eve of the New Year, the announcement had gone out; prepare for military action.

Oh, how joyous they’d been in their barracks, crowing and crying and celebrating while they prepared to load up onto the ships in Hyacinth harbor. Enough hunting for bandits in the countryside and managing rioting crowds. An army of fanatics and their rampant nirik shock troopers was a real threat to Kiria and her cousins, to everything the Way of Fire and the Great Gallop had built for the nation. At last, here was the reason Blaze had signed up. A chances to be heroes.

While one army force of Banners and Vanguards crossed the border from the south, his Banner would follow the Seafarers in from the coastline. Between the two thrusts, they would catch the enemy in a vise and end him once and for all.

A month ago, he had stepped off the ship into Frangipani after the Sycee trained marines had seized it, finding scorched buildings, rubbled choked streets and grateful if exhausted looking kirin civilians. The long march through the ruined city had quieted some of the cānlǐng, four hundred bannerkin, levies and volunteers seeing what actual war was like for the first time. The thanks and praises of the newly liberated kirin around them had bolstered their spirits, and they pushed on with quiet, determined purpose once more.

But now, Virtuous Blaze was beginning to understand just what the difference was between shooting at starving, desperate bandits and zealous, fanatical warriors who were determined to slaughter him where he stood. After weeks of fighting, they were barely progressing into the heavily forested hills, despite the numbers and firepower they brought with them. And a grim reality and truth had settled in for PFC Virtuous Blaze.

The infantry squad had only just spotted the end of the gully, their pointmare turning to alert the rest of them, when the treeline erupted in fire. The pointmare died first, her chest riddled with bullets, likely not even realizing what had happened as she collapsed into the mud, nearly buried in the first few seconds. The rest clumsily attempted to fire back, grabbing up their Flare rifles with muddy hooves and firing back up at the treeline. But whatever was up there seemed to be a belt-fed weapon, as it simply kept chattering on and on and on. Two more died where they stood, trapped in this gully with nowhere else to go.

“Up the sides!” cried Sergeant Frost Blossom, her hooves scrabbling as she pushed up and out over the muddy slope. Her uniform was spattered in mud that looked almost black in the light-choked storm, but through it all Blaze swore he could spot the red rank patches on her lapels, with twin gold triangles and a single indigo stripe, even though the rain obscured his vision and the flashing of machine guns and rifles blinded and deafened him.

Then Blossom reached the crest, and was perforated by a flurry of rounds. Her corpse lurched back, tumbling down into the gully and landing on another soldier, Firecracker submachine gun disappearing into the muck.

“Grenades!” hollered Corporal Astral Dasher, throwing himself flat on his back in the gully next to the corpses of his comrades. In the next moment, six stick grenades were telekinetically chucked by kirin magic over the lip of the gully to explode in the treeline. The machine gun fire stopped, only to be replaced by pained screaming.

“Up! Up and have at them!” Dasher cried, and six muddy forms clambered from the muck, pulling free of its suctioning grasp as they surged in both fear and adrenaline towards the position formerly inhabited by their foes. Blaze was the first to reach the machine gun nest, only to pause and wretch. The grenades had done their work alright, leaving not much behind but tattered meat, shreds of uniform and the machine gun itself, limp and harmless on its tripod. A Griffonian model, he’d been told. Apparently the Lan Kir Militarchy had bought most of their equipment from the colonials across the border who had in turn received it from their Imperial masters. The result of this was, sadly, that the nirik were often using more modern firearms than the Vermilion Banners.

One of the forms Blaze had thought was dead twitched, and he automatically brought up his weapon, fumbling to get his cloven hoof in the trigger guard. The soldier wore green fatigues and kepi cap which blended in well with the surrounding forest. His umber coat was rent by wounds, and both it and his uniform were spattered in blood. Blaze hesitated, unsure of what to do. Sure, this trooper had been attempting to kill them mere seconds ago, but he was clearly no threat now, right? The wounded kirin coughed, spitting up more blood onto his muzzle as his horn glowed weakly, groaning loud enough to be heard over the constantly hammering rain. Thunder pealed distantly, and the rolling rumble of artillery came after it.

Then Corporal Astral Dasher moved into the position after him, his own Flare rifle raised and scanning the downed soldiers. When he spotted the wounded Lan Kiran, his eyes went wide.

“He’s still alive!”

Before Blaze could reply, a flash of heat suddenly swept over him, momentarily creating a pocket of dry air as the rain was knocked away by the pressure, staggering the kirin backwards. Blaze and Dasher looked up, their heat resistant scales managing to dissipate the worst of the flareup (though the edges of their uniforms briefly smoldered before being drenched again by the rain) only to find that where there had once been a badly wounded kirin trooper on the verge of death, there now was the purple and black, blazing form of a nirik, uniform curling away as the cloth burned off, rising from where he had been laid out.

“FOR THE SUPREME COMMANDER!” the nirik screamed.

He didn’t raise a rifle, or ready a grenade. He simply charged. Both Blaze and Dasher raised their weapons, the rifles snapping and clattering as they worked the bolts. The two of them each got a pair of shots off before the nirik struck. Lucky for them (and unluckily for their comrade) another kirin had entered the position as the rest of the squad reached them, the nirik's blazing hoof smashing down and denting the helmet. The Bannerkin dropped where he stood, likely not even realizing what had killed him.

“By Concord!” another Bannerkin shrieked, leveling her own rifle and firing in blind panic. “Kill it!”

Fortunately for them all, the nirik was indeed just as on the verge of death as he had been when he had laid there dying. Even for all their fury and power, they were not invincible. Through their rage, their ability to ignore pain did not keep them from death. The monster staggered, snarling and lashing out as he tried to land a hoof on his attackers, while the rest of the squad caught up and lent their fire. Six rifles banged away, bolts cranking as the wounded nirik thrashed even as he was perforated again and again by 8x57mm rifle rounds.

Finally, the nirik spun in a clumsy kick, smashing one of the bannerkin in the foreleg before, at last, he dropped to the mud once more, his form slowly cooling as the accursed flames that had enveloped him finally flickered away. The five survivors stood there in the rain, panting as they stared at this enemy that had so abruptly erupted from seeming defeat.

As one of the other privates leant down to check on their wounded comrade, Corporal Astral Dasher scowled, stepping over and used his magic to lift a down Lan Kir stahlhelm and smash Virtuous Blaze with it, knocking the younger kirin over.

“What were you thinking?” he snapped, looming over Blaze with rifle in hoof, the battered enemy helmet hovering over his shoulder. “Do you not understand who we’re fighting? You’re lucky this wasn’t one of their elites and he had no idea how to control his nirik state!”

Down and down again came the helmet as Dasher rained insults and admonishments on a confused, wet, miserable Virtuous Blaze. All Blaze could think about in the meantime was that, thanks to him trying to do what he had thought was the right thing, another of his comrades had died, another was injured and he had almost joined them. His eyes welled up in tears, fortunately drowned out by the rain as he weathered the pummeling and the insults.

Finally, though it likely could only have lasted a minute or two, Dasher backed off, panting as he dropped the stahlhelm to the side, sniffing as he glanced around, clearly trying to figure out what to do. Half the squad dead, and he had been left in charge of their portion. They were supposed to be the trailblazers for the rest of the cānlǐng, finding a safe route to join the rest of the Banner as they moved in a dispersed fashion westwards. According to the captain, the generals planned to use the recomposed Banner to smash the Lan Kir positions there. If they cut the Militarchy forces off from their capital and supply, the liberation of both Sen Kinh and Khamrin was, they had claimed, all but assured with the Seafarer Banners moving down the coastline.

To Blaze, the grander plan he had been told had faded insignificance. His squad had already been butchered, and they still needed to find a way forward for at least another kilometer or two until they reached the open ground spotted by the recon scouts. The storm prevented the Realm’s biplane aircraft from lending much assistance, and the 18-pounder guns were only able to fire in a general direction until accurate scouting reports could tell them where the foe was dug in. Who cared about what was supposed to be happening back on the coast, when here in the muddy, disgusting jungle they were getting carved up before they even joined the battle?

Finally, Corporal Dasher seemed to come to a decision.

“We have to press on.” He glanced down to their wounded comrade before nodding at the kirin tending him. “Take him back, if you can. Get him aide. We’ll keep blazing forwards.”

And like that, they went from ten down to four.

Blaze sighed, trying to peer up the sorry excuse for a forest path lay ahead. What else was waiting for him in the obscuring foliage? And if this was what it was like on the way to the battlefield, what would the actual fight be like?

Author's Note

Hey guys, did you know the Realm of Kiria update dropped and its awesome and massive? (joining the procession of EAW media loudly proclaiming the same thing).

Also I am fully aware of my inability to come up with a more original title.

In all seriousness, the update is good, the nation is amazing and I had loads of fun even though I only played Autumn Blaze's path. But because of that, I felt like contributing and giving you guys a peek into what's going on in the wider world, especially now with all eyes on Kiria. Though, as I have almost no knowledge on Chinese culture pre-PRC it did take me some time, effort and research to get this done.

Thanks to fellow author Anneal for their feedback on this chapter. Caught quite a few of my mistakes, and their own work is far more culturally authentic than mine. That means go read it. Go. You've finished reading this chapter, what's your excuse?

Anyway, I'll see you guys next time. War Pony, signing off!