November 12
Everwinter Island Air Force Base, Jarilo
08:45 Hours
Jarilo was in a state of frozen limbo.
From August through October, the Free Jarilo rebel forces had pushed relentlessly, sweeping across the mainland like a storm of steel and fire. City by city, base by base, they seized territory until the last vestiges of central government control were extinguished from the heartland.
Even San-Goethe, the proud seaside metropolis, had fallen. Its skyline now bore the black banners of the rebellion.
The mainland was lost. All of it.
Only Everwinter Island remained under the Supreme Leader's rule—a lone fortress blanketed in perpetual snowfall, bracing for whatever came next.
But today, the sky was clear.
The wind was calm. The skies above the island were a crisp shade of blue, free from contrails, free from missiles. For now.
Snowplows groaned as they pushed heavy layers of frost off the tarmac and taxiways. Maintenance crews in orange jackets moved like ants below, clearing the sole runway with industrial precision. For the first time in nearly three months, hangar doors yawned open across the flightline, revealing the silhouettes of grounded fighters—some dusted with snow, others showing battle scars from their retreat.
Reinforcements had finally arrived.
Thanks to the binding terms of the Teyvat-Jarilo Collaboration Treaty, the Republic of Teyvat had committed military support. Now, that promise was taking shape in cold steel and roaring engines.
Of the ten aircraft that had barely made it to Everwinter in August, twenty more had followed in the weeks since.
The reorganized aerial order of battle was shaping up:
5 Rafale C multirole fighters
5 Eurofighter Typhoons
15 F-15E Strike Eagles
5 F/A-18E/F Super Hornets
A battered air force, but an air force nonetheless.
On the upper balcony of the Everwinter Air Traffic Control Tower, four figures stood outside the glass control room, gathered by the snow-dusted railing. Their eyes scanned the expanse of frozen terrain beyond the base's perimeter.
Captain Bronya Rand , the Lead Flight and commander of Silvermane Squadron, leaned forward against the railing. Beside her was Seele, her flight partner and co-leader. Flanking them were Captain Pela Sergeyevna, the cold-eyed intelligence officer, and Lieutenant Luka, the rookie turned full-fledged combat pilot.
Snow blanketed the airbase in silence. Patches of exposed tarmac, gravel, and dormant grass peeked through the white.
For now, it was peaceful.
Too peaceful.
Bronya exhaled slowly, her breath visible in the morning chill. "It's been two and a half months…"
Seele took a long drag from her cigarette, the ember glowing like a dying flare. "We're stuck in fucking limbo."
She turned to Bronya with a look of restrained frustration. "Wasn't the Teyvat Strategic Strike Group supposed to back us up? Where the hell are they?"
Bronya nodded solemnly. "They're coming."
Seele gestured out toward the taxiway, motioning at the static rows of aircraft. "All I see are remnants. Scraps. This is all we've got left, Bronya. It's not enough."
Bronya's gaze didn't waver. "We just have to hold out a little longer. They'll come. They have to."
Pela nodded beside her. "They signed the Nation-in-Arms Treaty. If they break it, Teyvat loses all credibility. They won't risk that."
Luka turned, leaning back against the railing, arms folded tight across his flight jacket. "We can't sit on our asses forever. We've got to do something."
Bronya gave him a firm but calm look. "Relax, Luka. Our time's coming. We'll sortie soon. This is our nation. And I'll be damned if we let some insurgents take it from us."
Pela smirked slightly, turning her attention to Luka. "By the way, how does it feel to get bumped up to an F-15E Strike Eagle?"
Luka cracked a grin. "Looking forward to flying it, ma'am."
Pela laughed. "Drop the formalities, Luka. We're all just trying to survive here—rank doesn't mean much if we're six feet under."
Just then, a sharp knock echoed on the tower's observation glass behind them.
The controller gestured for their attention from inside the room.
The four pilots exchanged glances and stepped back through the threshold, the heavy door hissing shut behind them.
Bronya took the lead. "What's going on?"
The controller's eyes were locked on the radar screen, his fingers already dancing across toggles and frequency dials.
"Twenty-five new signatures just popped up on scope. High-speed, tight formation."
Bronya's brow furrowed. "Twenty-five? Are they identifying themselves?"
The controller shook his head. "Negative. No transponder signals, no IFF pings. I'm hailing them now."
He adjusted his headset, switching over to the open air frequency and transmitting.
"This is Everwinter Control to unidentified aircraft group. You are entering controlled airspace. Identify yourselves immediately."
Static.
Ten seconds passed.
No reply.
Luka's posture stiffened. He stepped closer, eyes narrowing as he watched the radar blips close in.
"I don't like this," he muttered, voice low.
Seele's fingers twitched slightly near her belt—where her sidearm hung, cold and unused.
Neither did Bronya.
And the snow outside kept falling, quiet as death.
Then…
A voice cut through the static.
"Tower, this is the Teyvat Strategic Strike Group. We're on final approach. Twenty-five aircraft. Three squadrons."
Inside the control room, Bronya, Seele, Pela, Luka, and the air traffic controller exchanged glances. Tension and anticipation surged in the air.
Bronya smirked.
"Looks like the cavalry's here."
Then—
Another voice came over the open frequency, this one tinged with a crisp, unmistakable French accent.
"Did someone call for la cavalerie?"
Pela jumped with surprise, eyes wide.
"It's Waltz!"
Bronya's smirk evolved into a full, confident smile.
"Our allies have arrived."
The controller raised his binoculars and stepped toward the observation window, scanning the distant horizon.
"Multiple fighters inbound. F-15s and Rafales," he reported, voice growing firm.
Pela stepped up beside him, eyes narrowed with intent.
"Can you identify Captain De Fontaine's aircraft?"
The controller blinked. "Which one is it?"
Pela tapped her fingers together, mentally visualizing.
"It's a Rafale M. The livery is unique—deep blue, sky blue, white, and grey blending seamlessly across the fuselage. There's a golden crown emblem on the tail overlaid on royal blue. Below the canopy, in bold script, the words: Élégante et Efficace."
The controller swept the binoculars across the inbound formation until he froze, locking onto a particular aircraft.
"Bingo. Got her. Rafale M with a golden crown insignia on the tail. Serial number 1013 on the tail. Registration reads 1310-FF."
Pela clenched her fist and pumped it with pride.
"Yes! Yes! 1310 is the Rafale M Evolution flown by Furina. The 1013 on the tail marks her squadron—Waltz Squadron!"
The controller lowered the binoculars and turned to the group.
"The cavalry is here, folks."
He keyed his microphone and spoke clearly.
"TSSG, you are cleared to land. Your allies are waiting for you by the flight line."
Bronya, Seele, Pela, and Luka rushed out of the control room, down the tower steps, and toward the apron.
A crackle from the base's intercom system echoed across the airbase.
"Allied aircraft inbound! Everyone, straighten up and look sharp!"
The quartet gathered near Bronya's F-15E Strike Eagle, eyes scanning the sky as distant specks became discernible silhouettes. The roar of turbofans grew louder with every second.
One by one, the aircraft came in to land, each fighter spaced perfectly—barely half a minute between touchdowns.
The first to arrive: nine F-15EX Eagle II fighters. On their tails shimmered a painted insignia—a knight atop a galloping horse, lance in hand.
Primordial Squadron. The elite long-range multirole unit.
The powerful Eagle IIs touched down, tires smoking against the tarmac, before taxiing off the runway in formation.
Next came three F-15J Eagles—sleek, agile interceptors that had flown all the way from New Eridu, Inazuma. These fighters bore the markings of the Teyvat Special Operations Unit, deployed under the Teyvat Peacekeeping Union Force to support joint operations alongside the TSSG's Waltz and Primordial Squadrons.
The F-15Js descended with elegance, flaring for smooth touchdowns before rolling into line with the others.
Then came the final wave—the most elite.
Thirteen Dassault Rafale M Evolutions, apex predators of the skies.
Luka squinted as the formation grew larger in the distance.
"What a sight... But Pela, you said they're Rafale M Evolutions. They look the same to me. Hell, even the F-15EX looks like our Strike Eagles."
Pela chuckled, slipping back into analyst mode.
"The F-15EX is a next-generation Eagle—updated avionics, better flight control systems, and increased survivability in contested airspace."
She held up a finger.
"As for the Rafale M Evolutions—they're visually identical to standard Rafales. Same delta wing-canard configuration, same frame. But under the skin, it's a different beast. These Evolutions carry upgraded systems: a reworked digital fly-by-wire interface for extreme responsiveness, reinforced airframe structures, and new engine control modules."
Her voice dropped in reverence.
"And—thrust vectoring nozzles. These are some of the only aircraft outside of Snezhnaya or Khaenri'ah capable of pulling off full Pugachev Cobras, post-stall turns, even flat spins and reversals."
Luka blinked. "Holy shit… Are these the same type Furina flew 16 years ago?"
Bronya shook her head slowly.
"No. Her original bird—Rafale 1013-FF—was the prototype for the Evolution series. It had everything except the thrust vectoring. Still pulled Cobras like a maniac, though. That plane's in a museum now, in Charybdis."
Pela looked at Bronya, surprised. "How do you know that?"
Bronya chuckled, scratching her cheek.
"Let's just say... I've done my fair bit of research."
Then, in synchronized harmony, the Rafale M Evolutions of Waltz Squadron began touching down. Tire smoke puffed up with each landing, forming brief halos under their sleek airframes.
Bringing up the rear—
The queen herself.
1310-FF.
Furina de Fontaine.
The Regina of the Skies.
Waltz One.
The most distinctive Rafale in all of Teyvat thundered across the runway before slowing and joining the others.
As the squadron taxied past, Bronya, Seele, Pela, and Luka stood tall. Furina's aircraft was last to roll by. She turned her head toward them, lifted her visor, and offered a wink followed by a confident thumbs-up.
Pela instinctively waved back, eyes sparkling.
The Rafales continued on, joining the allied squadrons stationed on the northern edge of the airfield.
Bronya turned to the others.
"What do you say? Let's go meet our allies properly."
Pela hesitated, flustered. "S-Seriously?!"
Bronya laughed and planted a hand on her hip.
"You were just waving at Furina, weren't you? Come on, stand tall. You're about to meet an ace."
Pela straightened her back, determined. "R-Right!"
Seele chuckled and patted Pela on the shoulder.
"Relax a little, kid. Don't go stiff on us."
Together, the four began walking down the flight line, flanked by the quiet remains of the Jarilo Air Force. Their F-15E Strike Eagles, Eurofighters, F/A-18 Super Hornets, and Rafale Cs still stood tall—but they were just shadows of the powerful fleet they once were.
Reinforcements had arrived.
Just ahead of them,
The entire strike group had gathered around Furina's Dassault Rafale M, its sleek blue-and-white form glinting under the pale arctic sunlight. The team chatted casually, essentials in hand—flight helmets, duffels, radios, and sidearms clipped securely to their belts. Though the tension of war still lingered in the air, there was an air of familiarity among these battle-hardened pilots and officers.
Furina stood beside the twin-engine jet, engaged in a calm conversation with Jean, the Acting Prime Minister of Mondstadt and a respected veteran of the Teyvat Strategic Strike Group.
The youngest member of the team, Mika, glanced up from checking his equipment—and caught sight of four approaching figures clad in the navy-gray flight jackets of Belobog Air Force officers.
"Uh… Looks like we've got company?" he muttered, standing a little straighter.
Furina and Jean turned simultaneously. Sure enough, walking toward them with steady purpose were Bronya Rand, Seele, Pela, and Luka.
Furina smiled, placing a hand casually on her hip.
"Looks like our allies finally stopped hiding."
The team chuckled, and with a mix of curiosity and recognition, began walking toward the incoming group.
They met halfway.
Bronya nodded firmly. "Thank you all so much for coming. We're truly grateful for Teyvat's support."
Jean responded with a professional nod. "Thank you. Teyvat always stands with its allied nations. We're glad to join the fight."
Furina followed up, her tone warm but edged with purpose. "You have our full backing until this war is over. We've been given a preliminary intel briefing, but we'll need a complete operational rundown of the current situation."
Bronya nodded. "Of course, Miss Furina. I'll make sure you and your squadrons are brought fully up to speed."
As Furina nodded in acknowledgment, her eyes slid toward Pela—who stood frozen like a statue, jaw slightly agape, clearly stunned to be in such close proximity to her idol.
Furina chuckled lightly. "And who's this cutie?"
Pela nearly jumped out of her boots. "C-Cutie?!"
Furina stepped forward and extended a hand. "I'm Furina. From your expression, I'm guessing you're a fan?"
Pela nodded rapidly, her cheeks burning. "Yes, of course! I—I'm Pela! It's an honor to meet an ace like you!"
Furina smiled and gave her a light pat on the shoulder. "Nice to meet you too, Pela. And hey—ease up a little. No need for the formalities, we're all allies here."
One by one, the rest of the squad came forward. Most of the veterans of the TSSG—Jean, Amber, Mavuika, Ningguang, Ei, Collei, Eula, Clorinde, Wriothesley, Lyney, Lynette, Freminet, and Furina—were familiar faces to the Belobog team. They exchanged brief, respectful greetings.
Then came the newer faces—the reinforcements, and the special operations unit.
The first to approach was a bright-eyed woman with short blonde hair and a confident gait.
"Hey there, partner!" she said with a grin, extending a hand toward Bronya. "Navia Caspar, Waltz Squadron Number Six."
Bronya chuckled, shaking her hand firmly. "Bronya Rand. Good to meet you, Navia."
Next came a woman with sleek blue hair and a knowing smirk. "Yelan. Looking forward to flying with you, Miss Rand."
Bronya nodded. "Likewise, Yelan."
One after another, the rest followed.
Dehya: "Pleased to work with you."
Beidou: "Beidou of Liyue—don't worry, we'll get along just fine, buddies!"
Shenhe: "Happy to assist. Let's end this war together."
Then came the Primordial Squadron:
Noelle: "I-It's nice to meet you!"
Xingqiu: "Xingqiu of Liyue. May our coordination be precise."
Sethos: "We'll support you however we can."
Finally, the elite from the Teyvat Special Operations Unit—Gulliver Squadron—stepped forward.
First was a tall woman with flowing pink hair and a composed aura.
"Pleasure to meet you, Miss Rand. I'm Tsukishiro Yanagi, Deputy Chief of the Teyvat Special Operations Unit."
Bronya shook her hand. "The pleasure's mine, Miss Yanagi."
Yanagi gave a soft nod and gestured to the quiet woman beside her. "Apologies if our Chief repeats what I say. This is our commanding officer—Hoshimi Miyabi."
Miyabi stepped forward and, with an unblinking stare, echoed Yanagi's earlier words verbatim. "Chief. Hoshimi Miyabi. Pleasure to meet you."
Yanagi rubbed the back of her head sheepishly. "Apologies. She… does that sometimes."
Bronya chuckled. "Oh, it's no trouble at all."
A moment later, a calm, athletic-looking man stepped up beside them.
"And this," Yanagi added, "is Asaba Harumasa—third member of our team."
Harumasa gave a polite nod. "Pleasure to meet you all."
Seele: "Likewise."
Pela: "Of course!"
Luka: "Pleasure's all ours, sir."
With introductions complete, the larger team began making their way toward the command center—a concrete structure overlooking the icy sea, marked by the Teyvat and Belobog flags flapping in the strong winds.
Furina, Jean, and Yanagi walked alongside Bronya as they approached.
Jean glanced toward Bronya. "So what's the situation with the nation right now?"
Bronya let out a tired sigh. "The mainland's fallen. Every major city. What remains of our ground and air forces has pulled back here—to Everwinter Island. During the early invasion, we fielded about thirty aircraft."
She paused, her voice hardening.
"Then those massive flying carriers showed up. Launched fighters and fired a barrage of burst missiles. After the capital fell, we were down to ten combat-capable planes. My squadron and a few auxiliaries are all that's left."
Furina's brow rose. "Flying carriers?"
Pela nodded. "Yeah. Biplane configuration. But they're massive. Like, aircraft-deck massive. Fighters land and launch from them midair. Not sure about engine count, but they're definitely carrier-grade platforms. In the sky."
Furina tapped her chin, processing the implications. "I'll have to call Emilie in for this..."
Bronya blinked. "Emilie?"
Pela elbowed Bronya's side excitedly. "You mean Emilie—like, related to Raven? The Ace of Emberhowl?"
Furina chuckled. "Not related to Raven. She is Raven."
Pela's jaw dropped. "She's… wait—what!? She's Raven!?"
Jean nodded with a smile. "Emilie's our weapons analyst—aircraft, munitions, the works. Part-time, anyway. Her main gig's in Fontaine's perfume industry."
Pela's eyes widened. "She's… a perfumist!?"
Furina grinned. "One of the best. But that's beside the point—I'll let her know about those aerial carriers and get some intel digging started."
As the group reached the main entrance, a sudden loud "Welcome!" rang out in unison.
Startled, the team jumped slightly as they were greeted by a row of saluting pilots and base staff lined along the lobby.
Jean blinked. "Wow… uh. That's… some welcome."
Bronya laughed. "A tradition for welcoming allied reinforcements, I guess."
From among the saluting crew, a tall officer stepped forward.
"Welcome!" he declared again. "I'm Barrie, Commander of Everwinter Island Air Base. We're honored to host the Teyvat United Peacekeeping Force."
Yanagi nodded respectfully. "Thank you, Commander. We appreciate the warm reception."
Barrie returned the nod. "Of course. You're free to settle into the available quarters. Bronya will brief your squadron leaders on the current status and mission details."
Jean nodded and turned to the others. "Alright, everyone—get settled in. Bond with our Belobog allies if you can. We'll need that camaraderie in the battles ahead."
With that, the team began to disperse—veterans and newcomers alike—readying themselves for the long fight to reclaim Jarilo from the grip of war.
Jean, Furina, Yanagi, and Miyabi followed Barrie into the heart of the command center. Seele, Pela, and Bronya were already there, standing around the large digital tactical table at the center of the room. The war map glowed an ominous red across most of the mainland, casting harsh shadows on the tense expressions of everyone in the room.
As the door shut behind them with a hiss, the atmosphere turned serious.
Barrie tapped the edge of the screen and zoomed in on the central continent, where red swathes devoured once-secure regions.
"This," he said gravely, tapping a large red zone labeled Belobog Metropolitan Region, "is the mainland. The red indicates territory under control of hostile forces—Free Jarilo."
Jean stepped closer, brows knit.
"Right... what's the situation? Give us the scope."
Bronya leaned forward, her gloved finger tracing a blue sliver on the map—Everwinter Island, the final bastion.
"It started back in August. Unmarked aircraft breached Belobog's airspace without warning. No transponders, no radio contact. At first, we thought it was a rogue incursion, maybe a smuggling op. Then more followed. Within hours, they were swarming our skies. We scrambled every operational jet—Silvermane Squadron, auxiliary wings, even trainers with hardpoints just to get something up there."
Barrie picked up the thread.
"Simultaneously, Free Jarilo insurgents began coordinated ground offensives in major cities. Silvermane Guards—our elite urban defense forces—engaged them in the streets. Heavy fighting broke out around the capital district. It was then they revealed their name and intentions."
Miyabi blinked back into the discussion, the momentary fog in her expression fading.
"...What's their goal?" she asked quietly, voice now steady.
Yanagi smirked gently at her return.
"Good to have you back, Chief."
Seele answered, arms crossed.
"The Free Jarilo movement claims to want to 'liberate' the nation from authoritarian rule and dissolve our current Architect governance system. They talk about installing a democratic republic... but here's the kicker—there was a comprehensive citizen survey three years ago. Over 92% supported maintaining the current administration. This rebellion doesn't have the people's backing."
Bronya's voice grew personal, quieter but firmer.
"And I know it better than anyone. Our Supreme Leader, Cocolia Rand... she's my mother. It's more than politics for me. This is a betrayal. But she's alive. And I swear, we will take back Belobog."
Yanagi gave her a solemn nod.
"We're with you. All the way."
Furina, arms folded, stepped closer to the screen and pointed toward the southeastern quadrant of Everwinter Island, where terrain ridges and snow-covered peaks surrounded a flagged location.
"Our strategy should begin here. We launch a counter-offensive from the southeast. Retake forward airbases and fortresses—establish a logistics chain, secure the skies, and then push to the mainland."
Bronya nodded, tapping a point on the terrain overlay.
"Polokov Fortress. It's heavily fortified and partially built into a mountain. A dual-purpose installation—garrison and airbase. If we retake it, we gain a forward operating base, SAM coverage, and hardened hangars."
"After that," she continued, shifting her finger, "we proceed to Rivet Town. It's another key airbase. Astral Squadron's grounded there—cut off since the enemy captured it. If we liberate that, we double our air power."
Pela added, pulling up a satellite feed.
"North of the mainland's southeastern beachhead is another airbase—designation 'HFN-02'. Before any major air operations, our ground troops will conduct an amphibious landing here. Once we secure a beachhead and that airfield, we can begin mainland operations with reliable supply drops and CAP coverage."
Jean nodded thoughtfully.
"So, it's a hopscotch operation. Reclaim each airbase step-by-step to maintain air superiority, refueling points, and repair stations. One breach at a time."
Barrie confirmed.
"Exactly. We maintain momentum and don't overextend. Command's greenlit the strategy pending unit readiness."
Jean turned to the others.
"Well... what do we say?"
Furina offered a confident smirk.
"Sounds good to me. Anything for our allies. Besides..." she tapped the deck lightly with her boot. "A little snow and enemy fire never stopped Teyvat before."
Yanagi nodded firmly.
"Fine by me. Gulliver Squadron's ready."
Miyabi gave a small salute.
"Let's bring them hell."
Bronya gave a tight smile.
"Then it's settled. We wait for the green light—and when it comes, we strike hard, fast, and with everything we've got."
Everyone in the room looked down at the map one more time.
The war for Jarilo had only just begun.