The aroma of freshly brewed Lonjin tea filled the quiet teahouse, its soft, golden-green hue swirling in the porcelain cups. It was a nice teahouse, or rather, a mansion. Situated in the heart of Timok Mountain Range (天目山) west of Zitaon, the private teahouse serves as the summer residence of Lok Yunthau (陸 運濤), Lok Pintsue’s elder brother. Most people, even an advisor of the Vuyo government, may not even have the access to this sanctuary shielded from the bustling cities outside.
Pintsue cradled his cup, watching the steam rise, a faint smile on his lips as he listened to his elder brother, Yunthau, recounting a memory from their childhood.
“Do you remember when Father caught you sneaking into the granary at night?” Yunthau chuckled. “You thought you’d found some treasure, but it was just sacks of rice.”
Pintsue smirked. “I was seven. It was the greatest heist of my life.”
The two shared a rare moment of laughter. For a brief moment, they weren’t officers of two rival intelligence agencies—they were just brothers.
But Pintsue knew why they were really here.
He set his cup down carefully. “Brother Yunthau, tell me honestly—do you truly believe that the incident in Tsuruga was a Liao operation?”
The warmth in Yunthau’s expression faded slightly, his fingers tightening around his own teacup: “We cannot dismiss the possibility. Liao has been expanding its intelligence reach, and their operatives have been increasing presence in Yamato, our ally. If this was their doing, we must be prepared.”
Pintsue exhaled through his nose. “That’s the thing, Brother Yunthau—you’re thinking only of Liao and Chu.”
His elder brother raised an eyebrow. “And who else should I be thinking of?”
Pintsue leaned forward, voice lower. “You’re fighting the last war, brother. The world has changed. There are other players now—France, Britain, the Americans. They are not just ‘outside’ powers anymore. They are inside the game.”
Yunthau scoffed. “Foreign actors? You think this was some European ploy?”
Pintsue’s gaze hardened. “I think you are underestimating them. That is a dangerous mistake.”
Yunthau sighed, rubbing his temple. “You sound like your Director Zau. This is exactly why your NIS is too reckless—you chase ghosts while the real threats build armies.”
“And this is why MIS is too blind,” Pintsue shot back. “You see Liao and Chu because they are what you’ve always seen. But our enemies have evolved. If we don’t, we will be the ones left behind.”
Yunthau shook his head, finishing his tea in one measured sip: “You were always the idealist, Pintsue. That’s why you joined NIS.”
Pintsue smirked. “And you were always the soldier. That’s why you stayed in MIS.”
The two sat in silence, the tension between them as thick as the tea’s lingering bitterness.
Finally, Yunthau sighed. “Regardless of who was behind it, war is coming, Pintsue. And when it does, it won’t be won with theories or suspicion. It will be won with preparation.”
Pintsue’s fingers tapped against his cup. “And when war comes, will we even know who we’re fighting?”
Yunthau didn’t answer.
Pintsue knew he wouldn’t.
A leaf landed onto the pound of the tea house, bringing up ripples.
Pintsue swirled his tea absentmindedly, watching the ripples in his cup. The conversation had already grown tense, but there was one more thing he needed his brother to understand.
He met Yunthau’s gaze, his voice calm but firm.
“The next war won’t just be fought on battlefields.”
Yunthau arched an eyebrow. “Where else would it be fought?”
Pintsue exhaled, tapping a finger against the table. “Everywhere. In factories. In laboratories. In newsrooms. In the halls of government. It won’t just be soldiers carrying rifles—it will be scientists, spies, industrialists, and assassins.”
His brother scoffed. “Spies and assassins have existed since war itself. What’s so different now?”
Pintsue leaned forward. “Because the battlefield is expanding. Because technology is changing. And because, for the first time in history, wars may be fought without ever needing to set foot on enemy soil.”
Yunthau’s expression darkened slightly. “You mean those so-called ‘long-distance bombers’?”
Pintseu nodded. “So far, no one has refined the concept into a functional weapon. But tell me, Brother Yuntao —when was the last time a new technology failed to be turned into a weapon?”
Yunthau was silent.
Pintsue continued. “The moment someone finds a way to send destruction across the sky, unchallenged, war will change forever. The side that controls the skies will control the war.”
His brother sighed. “And yet, you sit in an intelligence office rather than an airship factory.”
Pintsue smirked. “Because the war won’t just be fought with machines. Technology is important, but in the end, war is always about information.”
He tapped the table again. “You don’t win a war by just having the best weapons. You win by knowing when to use them, where to use them, and how to break your enemy before they ever get the chance to fight.”
Yunthau sighed, while looking at the pound in the distance for a second: “You sound like one of those Western theorists—‘unconventional warfare’ this, ‘total war’ that.”
Pintsue chuckled. “I don’t need to sound like them when I can see it happening with my own eyes. Tell me, ge—who won the battle in Tsuruga?”
Yunthau frowned. “There was no battle in Tsuruga. A man was killed.”
Pintsue nodded. “Exactly. And yet, it changed everything.” He took a sip of his tea before continuing. “War is no longer just about armies. It’s about influence. About shaping the world before a single bullet is fired. And if Vuyo doesn’t understand this now, we will wake up one day to find ourselves already defeated—without even knowing we were at war.”
Yunthau studied his younger brother for a long moment.
Finally, he sighed. “You always thought too much, Pintsue.”
Pintsue smirked. “And you never thought enough, Brother Yunthau.”
The tea had long gone cold.
Yunthau set his cup down, his expression unreadable. “In the end, Vuyo must prepare for war. It is coming, whether you see it or not.”
Pintsue gaze remained steady: “I see it, brother. I just don’t think you see the whole picture.”
Yunthau sighed and stood, adjusting his uniform. “Let’s hope, then, that your picture is wrong.”
Pintsue watched as his brother strode out of the teahouse, the weight of the conversation settling deep in his chest.
He had no illusions—Yunthau wasn’t going to change his mind.
But that didn’t mean Pintsue was wrong.
Pintsue leaned back in his seat, swirling what remained of his tea. The conversation had already touched on the future of warfare, Wuyue’s intelligence failures, and the dangers of outdated military thinking. But there was still one more issue he needed to address.
“Speaking of underestimating threats,” Pintsue began, “Jibei’s team just submitted an updated intelligence report on Chu.”
Yunthau remained silent, his face unreadable.
Pintsue continued, voice steady. “Something is off. The instability there—it’s too coordinated, too perfectly timed. We’re no strangers to internal unrest in Chu, but this… this feels different.”
Yunthau exhaled slowly, setting his cup down. “And what exactly do you mean by ‘different’?”
Pintsue studied his brother carefully. “We believe outside actors are involved. There are elements at play that neither Chu nor Wuyue fully understand yet.”
“And the bombing in Tsuruga?” Pintsue added, voice lowering. “Is MIS any closer to confirming the culprit?”
Yunthau’s jaw tightened slightly. “It is still under investigation.”
A polite, calculated answer. The kind that meant MIS wasn’t willing to share any more details than necessary.
Pintsue exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “We both know this isn’t a simple matter of internal instability. Someone is pulling the strings. And if we don’t get ahead of it, Vuyo will be caught off guard—again.”
Yunthau met his younger brother’s gaze. “You’re suggesting foreign involvement in Chu’s crisis. That’s a bold claim.”
Pintsue smirked. “Not bold—just obvious. We’ve seen foreign actors play these games before. Destabilization, targeted assassinations, disruption of internal governance—it’s classic interference. We may not have the full picture yet, but we know the brushstrokes.”
Yunthau was quiet for a moment, then finally spoke. “MIS is handling the investigation.”
Pintsue smirk faded. His voice turned firm.
“And so will NIS.”
Yunthau blinked. “You’re overstepping.”
Pintsue shook his head. “No. We’re doing our job. NIS has far more experience handling overseas intelligence than MIS ever has. This isn’t a battlefield operation. This is about espionage, alliances, and information warfare—and that’s our domain.”
He leaned forward, his tone measured but pointed.
“We will continue our own investigation. And I trust that MIS will not—” he let the words hang for a moment, then finished, ”—sabotage our efforts.”
Yunthau’s expression remained unreadable. But his silence spoke volumes.
After a long pause, he sighed, finally breaking eye contact. “Do what you must.”
Pinstue nodded.
He wasn’t asking for permission.
