December 28, 1897.
Tokyo, Japan – The Imperial Palace.
The grand chamber of the Imperial Palace was filled with tension so thick it could have been cut with a blade. The Japanese Imperial Court, led by Emperor Yoshihito's closest advisors, had gathered alongside Arathian diplomats and military officers. Lord Nakamura, still weak from his captivity but stabilized after dical treatnt, sat in a heavily guarded section of the room.
At the center of the dispute stood Matthew Hesh and Japanese Minister of Justice Hiroshi Takamura, locked in a heated debate over who had the authority to interrogate the captives taken from the smuggler ship.
"The attack happened on our soil," Takamura said firmly, his voice carrying across the hall. "Under Japanese law, we have jurisdiction. These n were captured in our waters, near Kyushu. Their cris are an affront to the Imperial Throne, and thus, they must be judged under our laws."
Matthew's gaze remained sharp, his expression unreadable. He had anticipated this argunt, but that didn't an he would accept it.
"Minister Takamura," he began, his voice asured, "these captives aren't just criminals. They're co-conspirators in an attack against an international gathering of world leaders. That ans this isn't just Japan's problem. This is a global crisis. The world deserves answers."
Takamura narrowed his eyes. "With all due respect, President Hesh, Japan is fully capable of handling this matter. We do not need foreign interference in our judicial process."
Matthew leaned forward, his fingers pressed together. "No one is questioning Japan's sovereignty," he said. "But let's not pretend that this attack was just about Japan. The Russians—" he let the word linger "—supplied these people with weapons. They kidnapped and tortured a mber of your own governnt. They attempted to destabilize your leadership. They orchestrated an attack ant to destabilize the world. If we let politics get in the way, they'll win."
A low murmur spread through the room. So of the Japanese ministers exchanged glances, while others maintained their stoic expressions.
Takamura exhaled sharply. "We will interrogate the captives and share our findings with the Arathian governnt."
Matthew's jaw tightened. "That's not good enough."
Takamura's eyes flashed with irritation. "You do not dictate how Japan handles its affairs, Mr. President. We are not one of your colonies."
The insult was clear, and the room went dead silent.
Collins, who had been standing behind Matthew, took a step forward, his posture tense. Admiral Parker folded his arms, clearly restraining himself.
Matthew, however, remained calm. He had been in too many diplomatic battles to let an insult shake him.
"Minister Takamura," he said evenly, "you misunderstand . I have no intention of treating Japan as anything less than an equal partner. But let be clear—if these n are part of sothing larger, we cannot afford to let them disappear into a closed investigation. I won't allow it."
The weight of the statent hung between them.
Takamura's lips thinned. "Are you threatening Japan, Mr. President?"
Matthew slowly stood. The room stiffened.
"I don't make threats," he said, his voice calm but firm. "I state realities. And the reality is that the world is watching. If Japan tries to bury this investigation, it will be seen as a cover-up. And that, Minister, would make it seem as though Japan has sothing to hide."
The accusation was subtle but deadly.
The ministers shifted uncomfortably. Even Emperor Yoshihito, who had been silent, looked at Takamura with a questioning gaze.
Takamura clenched his fists but knew he had been cornered. If Japan refused to cooperate, they would face political backlash from every foreign nation present at the attack.
Emperor Yoshihito finally spoke, his voice calm yet authoritative.
"A joint interrogation," he said. "Conducted by both Japanese and Arathian authorities."
Takamura's head snapped toward the Emperor, his expression stunned.
"Your Majesty, I must—"
Yoshihito raised a hand, silencing him. "I have decided."
Takamura bowed stiffly, but his clenched jaw made it clear he was furious.
Matthew didn't allow himself to show satisfaction, though inside, he knew they had won this battle.
"Thank you, Your Majesty," he said, bowing respectfully. "This is the right decision."
Yoshihito nodded. "Then let the interrogation begin imdiately."
The Imperial Detention Hall was dimly lit, the sll of burning incense lingering in the air. The captured conspirators, restrained in heavy iron shackles, were lined up in separate cells. So remained silent, their expressions defiant. Others looked shaken, knowing what awaited them.
Matthew stood beside Takeda, the lead Japanese investigator, while Collins and Whitaker remained nearby. Minister Takamura was absent, having begrudgingly left the process in their hands.
"We start with him," Takeda said, pointing to a middle-aged man with a scar across his cheek.
Two guards dragged the prisoner into the interrogation room and chained him to the chair. He wore tattered clothes, his lips dry and cracked from dehydration.
Matthew took a seat across from him.
"Na?"
The man remained silent.
Takeda nodded at the guards. A swift punch struck the prisoner's gut, forcing him to gasp for air.
"Na," Takeda repeated.
After a few deep breaths, the man finally muttered, "Dmitri Orlov."
Matthew's eyes narrowed. "Russian?"
Orlov glared at him but didn't speak.
"You were carrying Russian weapons," Collins interjected. "Smuggled into Japan. Who gave them to you?"
Orlov chuckled bitterly. "You think I'll just tell you?"
Matthew leaned forward, his voice low and cold. "You have two choices, Dmitri. You can tell us what we need to know, or you can spend the rest of your miserable days buried beneath this palace, forgotten."
Orlov's jaw clenched.
Takeda signaled to the guards. One of them unceremoniously snapped a finger on Orlov's hand. He let out a sharp cry, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
"You don't understand what you're dealing with," Orlov hissed.
Matthew studied him carefully. "Then educate ."
Orlov's eyes flickered toward the ceiling. "You think we are so remnant faction? So minor rebellion?" He gave a humorless laugh. "You're already too late."
Matthew's stomach tightened.
"Too late for what?"
Orlov smirked, blood dripping from his lip. "To stop it."
A long silence followed.
Takeda scowled. "Stop what?"
Orlov's expression remained defiant, but Matthew saw sothing beneath it—not arrogance, but certainty.
This wasn't just about Japan.
This was bigger.
Collins' voice was grim. "He's not afraid to die."
Matthew exhaled sharply. "Because he knows sothing we don't."
For the first ti, a chill ran down Matthew's spine.
Sothing else was coming.
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