"Major Red Flu outbreaks strike the capitals of Hebei, Asanai, and the Confederation of Larissa! Case fatality rates continue to rise, with some areas reporting fatality rates of up to thirty percent. Currently, governments are mandating more and more strict health guidelines to keep the spread of the disease in check. Unfortunately, with the war ongoing, global response remains in gridlock, with reports that the CFN is attempting to sabotage vaccine development in MN member states."

- Geopol Press

+++

West Orland

Duchy of Rimwurz

November Palace

April 22, 2026

The vaccine.

That was, as of now, the main national priority for Amelie. For the past few weeks, even with rising cases, she braved trying her best to direct her government to focus on this specific task.

The Bioweapon Control Agency certainly put up hard work on that task. Each day, their scientists studied the disease diligently, and she was receiving papers after papers almost every four hours at her desk about their progress.

Needless to say, the more Amelie learned about their findings, the more her resolve to treat this virus at all costs hardened. It was not only a dangerous bioweapon that spread through aerosols, or something with a high death rate, no, there was a great amount of genetic instability in it too.

It seemed like it was designed to truly cause heavy damage to any population it was introduced into. She couldn't even fathom what it could have caused if this war weren't ongoing. Just imagining the entire world, still in business as usual with so many individuals capable of spreading it freely traveling around the world, was sickening.

The fact that there were people who gleefully designed these bioweapons for defeating their enemies also bothered her. Their creations not only harmed other people, their enemies so to speak, but her people. That, and her allies as well.

Each time she received a call from Empress Xue, Anastasia, or Princess Yumi Kawasaki broke her heart. Even Queen Louise, whom she wasn't fond of due to her leanings back then with Queen Clericia, managed to garner Amelie's great pity.

Their people were suffering not from a disease created by revolutionaries, but by the Orlish Kingdom. Sure, they weren't the ones who willingly released it to the world since Amelie took over, but like with every crime her Kingdom committed, she felt personally responsible for it.

Thank god for this news…

Amelie almost felt her eyes moistening as she read the file on her table. William and Nia stood at the side with neutral faces, while she excitedly flipped through the pages. The report from the Bioweapon Control Agency this time wasn't doom and gloom anymore.

No, it was progress. Last week, they tried the third iteration of the vaccine they were developing on volunteers. While they're still monitoring the efficacy, it seems that it was working, and the volunteers were exhibiting high production rates of antibodies specifically against the Red Flu virus.

This was important because just recently, they managed to figure out that while yes, the virus was deadly, it also seemed like it was easily defeatable once the body's adaptive immune system fully kicked in. Once antibodies clipped the virus, especially when it's only been introduced, it would be soundly defeated.

That news was big, that it even caused a minor scandal when a bunch of noblewomen who got infected, and were having the finest magical treatment possible, were prioritized to receive antibody infusions in their blood from people who survived the virus.

Their survival rates practically shot up to 99%, and the people, already terrified by the war and the Red Flu disease, never looked at the improved survival rates.

Instead, they all looked at who received the treatment.

After that, Jacqueline had to step in and crack down on these unfair dealings of post-exposure prophylaxis to wealthy and powerful individuals, with Amelie directing her government to instead prioritize giving out whichever antibodies they had to critical personnel, like medical workers and their support staff.

"You should also check the volunteer rates for those donating their antibodies," William smiled as he said that, and Amelie went for the next folder. "It seems that your speech last week also encouraged them to help."

"I…at least a thousand survivors have already volunteered?" Amelie couldn't believe what was in front of her.

"Yes. I think you should propose to Allison that she create a compulsory program for those receiving good treatment so that they can volunteer to donate their antibodies. It's a civic duty anyway."

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

"I suppose that's not a bad idea," Amelie mumbled, as she continued flipping through the papers. "If it doesn't cause much backlash, of course. Isn't it kinda risky for newly recovered patients to donate anything in general?"

"Well, obviously, doctors in the field will only take your donated antibodies if your body can tolerate it."

"Still…"

"I have an idea!" Nia said, smiling. "So that things are fair, how about this? People can sign up for automatic donation so that they'd be more likely to be given antibodies in the event of infection. If they want to opt out, then they get bumped down in the priority list."

"...Hmm, that doesn't sound like a bad idea," William placed a hand underneath his chin. "It should certainly help in the critical window while we're figuring out the vaccine and mass producing it."

Amelie placed the paper on her desk.

"I just hope it saves lives," Amelie said, slightly dismayed. "Watching all those people die is getting through to me. I certainly will donate mine if I get infected and survive it, even if whatever I have might be weak…"

"That's not really how antibodies work, Amelie," Wilhelm laughed. "There's no weak or strong version of it. There are just proteins that work on a target virus and those that don't."

"Alright, Mr. Smarty Pants I get it I'm not a genius at microbiology," Amelie whined, before relaxing in her seat. "I kinda feel tapped out now."

"You should take a rest," Nia proposed. "We'll take care of the remaining work for you."

+++

East Orland

Halian Corridor

46th Infantry Brigade

222nd Infantry Battalion

A Company

April 28, 2026

The Halian Corridor, a remnant of the failed offensive of the Federal Republic and the failed counteroffensive of the Kingdom, remained today as one of the tensest and deadliest sections of the Orlish frontlines.

For Royalist forces, it represented the only lifeline and land connection to the Free Confederation of Westlauren. On the other hand, for the Federalists, it represented their greatest failure of the war—the failed capture of the Orlish Crown Jewel, Halia City.

At this point, the place has already garnered more than enough fame and recognition. It was the place where Queen Amelie made what could have been her last stand. Here, years ago during the start of the civil war, Amelie Ludendorf chose to remain steadfast.

It was where the royalist and reformist causes were tested in a baptism of fire, and where they had been solidified.

The soldiers defending this section of the trench line knew that. They were veterans of the Battle of Halia, the same soldiers who fought while their new, naive, out-of-touch, yet overly idealistic and caring Queen stayed.

Corporal Gian Gobi could still remember that day. November 17, 2024…it was the early days. He remembered it vividly, with his brothers being lined up for an assault over the top of the trench, and him being handed a rifle by his now dead commanding officer.

He was told that he must shoot them if they ran back. Those words broke him.

Yet, out of nowhere, he remembered that young, blonde-haired girl his age appeared in that muddy place. She was someone who seemed so alien to that hell, yet she was there. Gian remembered her to be the prettiest woman he had seen, so angelic, and so…empathetic.

That speech, that little speech he gave to them, before they all climbed on top of the trench shouting "Long Live Her Majesty" for the first time, each word she told them was seared to his mind.

That was why he worked hard, even to this day. The dream she gave to them lived on, and here, he was, a nobody reminiscing about the reason he still chose to remain in this miserable hell.

The artillery shell that knocked him certainly took its toll, but he soon managed to stand, even if shaky. His ears couldn't hear things properly, but he held his rifle regardless, ready to support his brothers. They had a job here, more important than most of the other sections of the front.

They had to hold the line, all the time, no matter the cost, or all those people who died to win the Battle of Halia, would be in vain. This corridor was the corridor of life for all those up north in Westlauren, and a symbolic piece of what they were fighting for.

No, he'd fight. He went for the nearest MANPAT stash. He grabbed it and went for the parapet of the trench line. Ahead of them, explosions and gunfire dominated the darkened night. This was it. Another attack from the enemy, another attempt to break their resolve.

"Fight back, damn it!" Gian shouted to his buddy, who was cowering beside him. "Grab those MANPADs. We'll take down two of those bastards at the same time!"

"B-but," the soldier held his helmet shakily.

"No buts, private! Grab it now. I'll keep watch here, and I'll wait for you. We can do this!"

The soldier nodded and left Gian. He then looked at the horde of metal approaching them. 'Couriers', they were called. Drones with crazy mobility and firepower, enough to decimate entire squads for each one of them.

This must be the rumoured autonomous forces of the Federal Republic. They no longer needed to send warm bodies to fight. Instead, they sent only cold steel. Above them, swarms of smaller drones seemed like they could blot the sky.

The only thing holding them back was heavy flak cannons from the rear, sent by newly deployed SPAAs in anticipation of this development. So many soldiers would break in this situation, but not Gian.

He was fighting for a promise made to him by someone he only saw once, sure. But the person who made that promise wasn't what mattered the most. It was what she represented.

"All of this, it'll all just be a bad nightmare one day," Gian muttered to himself, as he took aim. Beside him, his buddy joined in, and although his hands were shaky, the man was fighting. "Yes…that's right. We just have to win, and then…all of this will end!"

"I have my target locked!" his buddy cried out.

"Open fire!"

Right then, another two ATGMs struck two courier drones, just two of the dozens more across their small sector being destroyed by other soldiers like Gian.

Another counteroffensive had begun, but—the Royalist line would fight desperately to hold.

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