Saint HeleneBoard

Jazaar was on a dimly lit platform in the center of a dark room. The walls appeared metallic in nature, but seemingly moving? He looked around, until his eyes landed on a chair faced away from him.

The chair turned toward him… and it was…

His father?

“Hello, Jazaar.” he said.

“Father?... How? Wha-” Jazaar trailed off, confused beyond belief. “Am I dreaming?”

“In a sense, yes. I am a manifestation of your memories.” Lakesh continued.

“What the hell…” Jazaar said. “What do you want from me?”

“You see Sumoriant around you, yes?” Lakesh said, casting his arm up, revealing Haijja. “This country is weak. We have stagnated! I implore you… heed my words: if you do not seize the reins of our nation, it will di-”

“No. I will not become a dictator. Do not pollute my mind and heart with your poison!” Jazaar exclaimed. “I will not repeat the atrocities of Sharaf el-Nazir!”

“You fail to realize something, then.” Lakesh said. “You are Sharaf el-Nazir, and you are Jazaar al-Hafez.”

“What the hell are you saying?!” Jazaar shouted.

“You hold the last monarchical claim to Sumoriant. As it would happen….you are a distant relative to the El-Nazir Family.” Lakesh said.

“Wha… that's not… how…”

“It is true, son. You can reject it all you want, but… our true family is more akin to something of the… Hafez-Nazir family.” Lakesh said.

“No… I… no…” Jazaf said.

“Accept your true power, Jazaar!” Lakesh exclaimed. “You are an El-Nazir!”

“No!” Jaraf shouted. “NO!”

“IT IS YOUR FUTURE! LEAD OUR NATION TO GREATNESS!” Lakesh shouted.

“NO! I WILL NOT STOOP TO THE LEVEL OF THE EL-NAZIR FAMILY!” Sharaf-Jazaar said.

Jazaar jolted from his sleep.

“Good lord… what the hell…” Jazaar said.

Jazaar walked to the kitchen and brewed a cup of coffee, trying to process all that had happened in his dream.

His decision on the dream would determine the future of Sumoriant…

350 units were ready march, the joint build program had seen The Austro-Germanic Union components sneak in, in more then a few places. The more nationalistic elements of parliament were already grumbling at this but it was needed. What wasn’t on the report was how the British had been able to get that number of air frames out in just over 3 months. The lack of spares produced would not have a too significant affect on training and adoption for now. Yet if a war broke out today the kingdoms air fleet of Paladin class jet fighters would be grounded by the end of week 2. However this flaw was merely temporary, with the current rate of production really starting to ramp up it was expected the remaining 450 units would be done by the end of April, with by the end of may when the rate production would begin to plateau they would be able to have most if not all needed spares produced.

On the topics of tanks an 80 million OSD upgrade package had been approved for the whole fleet. With lessons learned from the Flettland and Second Yemetian Mysorean conflict the kingdom intended to improve a few abilities it had found “lacking”. Starting with optics, in the past 15 years advancements in optics allowed for small improvements yet with recent combat happening at longer ranges then planned the British tankers were starting to feel the age of their optics. May Company would win the contract for the new optics, these were nothing new by military complex standards, with them being already half a decade old but these had been well tested by Mercenary groups and found that despite the increase price tag were more then worth the cost. The next was less of a lesson learned but something that was feared. Jenovahian power armor and drones. Though both Yemet and the Kingdoms had used drones extensively in their conflicts the kingdoms had early on in the first war used an infantry carried system as their main anti drone system. The combat in Listovia had shown it to be quite effective yet the Northern Threat and Yemetian doctrine were different to say the least. Ignoring the AI, Jenovahians had shown an good amount of top down, centralized command with a big focus on Artillery. This differ greatly to the Yemetian more independent command style and mixed fire support doctrine. It was that massed artillery that worried the kingdom the most. This would force kingdoms to rely on it mobility to avoid drowning in a tide of high explosive death. Yet this had many disadvantages, from making logistics far more complex, making any defense far more complex to mange, it would also inevitable leave gaps air defense for the mobile units. To remedy partly the latter problem the kingdoms would equip all tanks with an unmanned 20 mm chain gun, with the correct explosive rounds this would allow the tankers to deal with drones while on the move. For the gaps in AA to deal with aircraft or at the very least helicopters the crusader tank already had the solution. Attached to the left side of the turret was a missile module. It has proven useful already in previous conflicts and nothing said it wouldn’t be useful now. Their was even a push to have all kingdoms tanks fitted with such a module, yet their was something else in mind. Vickers company had been working on a way to increase the protection of a tank without adding more armor, though smoke was already used with it doing little about ambushes or fighting in a stiff wind, they had worked on something else. An active protection system designed to intercept incoming projectiles, working off an AI that would recognize incoming projectiles it would be far faster then the human crew reactions. The system was not full proof, nothing rarely is but it would help. In the end Patron and Harrison would agree to add these systems to the Matilda and Churchill’s tanks while the Crusaders would keep their AA module. Including the optics, active protection system and chain gun would cost 200 million for the whole fleet of tanks, a steal at that price... Yet though new models would of course come with these upgrades then older models would need months to be out fitted.

And on the topics of the Army, its production was also seeing a ramp up. New tanks, APCs and IFVs were rolling off the production line. Already each regiment was at a least a quarter strength in the terms of mechanical assistance. This would allow these new units to train on their own equipment, yet to augment domestic production the kingdoms would also seek out IFVs and APCs from ally’s. The Germanic market provided much with more planned but it was clear the army wouldn’t reach full strength by the middle of march, it was argued if it would reach two thirds. Yet despite set backs, delays, and fear of cost over runs it was expected by April, or middle of April at the latest that all needs equipment would have been produced. For the artillery and AA systems things had been easier, in the three months since start all of the towed to motorized conversions had been completed with production of the 105 and 152 mm cannon being quite successful with them still on track to be completed by march with currently two thirds (including conversions) in the hands of new units. Yet the more complex Rapier AA system was proving more difficult, issues with mirco chips needed for their production due to consumer electronics simply out bidding them for the most part. To avoid massive cost over runs the Imperial Corp had cut back production, Yorkshire Aerospace had partner with British Electrics Limited to keep production at a reasonable rate. Yet conversions of old models had been also completed it was expected that their be a few weeks behind schedule but not the worst news. With just under half the needed units in the hands of their regiments things were going well enough. Engineer and support vehicle production was barely even noticing a difference, they had over produced for the first Mysorean Yemetian war and the second, and due to both higher then expected production and far lower attrition rates then projected. Before march the last bits of needed equipment left the factory floor, it was a pleasant surprise for Harrison, of course production would continue to build up spares like he had order several times before. This next war was expected to be more intense then the last two put together.

Finally came the royal navy. They were a mere week away from the naming ceremony as all six new carriers finished the last bits of the work needed on the super structure. The new addition to the destroyer fleet had been much slower then hoped only 10 of the 38 had left the slipways, yet another 18 were in the final stage. The light cruisers were worse with only 2 of the 6 had the hull completed. Yet this was needed as all focus had been placed in the carriers, this had drag experienced men and material away from the other parts of the fleet construction. Yet soon it would be time for the escorts to be the only thing left to be built. Yet British shipyards was till demanding more work, with a new project with Sumoriant which would see a 4.5 billion OSD payment to build 4 heavy cruisers for the nation, it would take months for them to finish but the plan was laid out.

To whomever this may concern,

We here at the Directorate of Media and Communications have been recieving complaints from many other Canineians about a tapping noise being heard during phone calls and radio broadcasts, a sound which we have noticed as well.

We are almost sure that this sound is being produced by an old Emnarian Radar Array which may or may not have been activated.

This is an official complaint as the tapping has become rather annoying and disrupting especially in emergency calls and military communication. Thus we are asking you from a diplomatic standpoint to at the very least limit its range or turn it off completely.

We are aware of the importance of Emnarian defence and understand that this radar may be a good way to detect any potential threats but are also aware that modern more quieter radars would also suffice, especially since the Tysemny and Ceres are in states of peace and have been for a while.

Thus, we ask you to please turn off the tapping and will be grateful if you do, we thank you for taking the time to read this message.

With regards,

Saoirse Feltpath

Director of Media and Communications

Randall William McPherson, born July 29th, 1943. Known to his friends as simply “Randy”, he grew up in a small town in southern Konstaht. His father, William Daniel McPherson, had spent his whole career in the Air Corps. Will McPherson had pioneered the development of fighter aerodynamics in the 20s and mid 30s. After that, he was relegated to a desk job, organizing flight lists.

Randy had always been fascinated by aircraft. The ability for a man-made object of almost any weight to fly peaked his curiosity as a child. He would go to his father's work often, and was constantly around the cutting edge fighter jets of the 1950s.

Randall met many of the 1950s Emnarian fighter aces, he'd always ask to see inside their planes. As he grew up, he always wanted to be a fighter pilot. That was until July 19th, 1954.

On that day, flight 104 of the 11th Strategic Bombing Squadron landed at ACB Harrison. Randall was, as usual, walking around the base, practically orbiting the chow hall.

Suddenly, he noticed a roar in the distance. It was just barely noticeable, but over time it grew louder and louder, eventually masking the background noise of the highway. In the distance, he saw a small shape low in the sky, so far away he couldn't exactly tell what color it was. As it flew closer and closer, it grew bigger and bigger. The roaring noise became so loud conversation was impractical.

Eventually it was close enough that he could fully see it. Its silver shiny skin glistened in the hot summer sun. The aircraft was enormous, especially when compared to the fighter jets around Randy. The plane had 6 propeller engines, spaced across a massive wing.

The roar of its engines shook the corrugated metal walls of the mess hall. Randall watched as the plane’s 8 rear landing wheels touched down onto the tarmac. The weight of the plane bore down upon the hydraulic shocks of the landing gear. Then, the nose gear came down on the tarmac.

The engine roar now changed to a higher pitch as the propellers began to reverse thrust. The large rubber tires screeched along the airstrip, emitting a white smoke. The massive plane gradually slows to a stop. Randy watches from the front doorway of the chow hall, as the plane taxis off the airstrip. It parks on an empty spot in the middle of the concrete apron.

As soon as he could, Randall ran over to the plane. The 6 engines had just shut down as he got there. He watched as a door in the side of the fuselage opened. The crew emerged from the aircraft, descending the steep steps.

Randall ran up to the first man to leave the plane, “Hey mister! What is that!?”

The man looks down at Randall, smirks, and gets down on a knee. Removing his gold tinted aviators, he says to Randall, “That's a bomber kiddo. You spend a lot of time here? Where's your pa?”

Randall pointed over to a group of small buildings in the distance, “My dad lets me run around here while he works. Just ask Jimmy!”

A man in an olive drab green flight suit walks up behind Randall, “Yeah don't worry about the boy. He hangs around here all the time, his dad is supply officer on base.”

The bomber crewman stands up, “I'm Airman Second Class Larry Whitaker, and you might be?”

“Jimmy”, he responds, “Pilot First Class Jimmy Larsz. How was the flight?”

Larry puts his aviators back on, “Not bad, pretty sunny most of the time.”

Jimmy gives an assuring nod, “Yeah no kidding, it's been really bright lately. How long did it take ya to get here?”

“About 15 hours or so.”

Jimmy offers him a beer, “Well come join us in the chow hall, we got beer and burgers.”

“No thanks,” Larry says, “I'm probably gonna go take a nap. I haven't slept in a day.”

Jimmy retracts the beer and cracks it open, “Understandable. You mind if the kid climbs around your bomber there? I'll make sure he don't mess with anything. We don't get many big planes here so if it's alright with you I figured he'd want to explore it.”

“Yeah no problem, I'm gonna go and get some shuteye.”

Randall looks up at Jimmy. Jimmy looks down at him, “Alright, alright! Go ahead!”

Randy runs off.

Jimmy shouts to him just before Randall climbs in the bomber, “Don't touch anything! You don't want to have to fix that thing!”

One of the other bomber crew members walks over to Jimmy, “Hey, how's it going?”

“Not bad, not bad. So uh, I'm not sure if ya saw the kid there?”

The crewman nods, “Yeah, I did.”

Jimmy continues, “Well anyway I just came over here to watch him, but I'm kinda curious. What plane is this? This thing is huge!”

The crewman smiles, “It's an SIBM-46. This one's the new ‘B’ model that entered service a few months ago.”

Jimmy stares at it with a slight sparkle in his eyes, “Amazing. I've heard of them but never seen one up close. It's crazy how big it is! And it's got props?”

“Yeah. They're pretty noisy.”

Jimmy hears someone from the chow hall shout his name. He looks over at the building to see a man standing just outside the front door. Turning back to the crew member, he says to him, “Well I oughta go, my buddies are waiting for me. That's a nice bird though. Will I see you at the bar tonight?”

“Yeah, you sure will.”

Jimmy smiles, “Alrighty then!”

The crewman turns around and jogs over to the rest of the crew, who were standing there waiting for him.

...

Randall McPherson became fascinated by that plane. Although he had grown up around fighter planes, he instantly wanted to know everything about this new bomber plane he'd discovered. He spent the rest of his childhood dreaming of becoming a bomber pilot.

When McPherson turned 17, he enlisted in the Imperial Air Corps. Just like he had always wanted to, he went through the long process of becoming a bomber pilot. He succeeded in his goal, and flew SIBM-46C and D bombers for 8 years. He got promoted to Colonel in March of 1968. Over his career as a pilot, he flew many sorties over Melagne, participating in strategic bombing missions. When he got promoted to Colonel, he was given charge of the Air Corps Aerial Bombardment Ordnance Office (ACABOO). The ACABOO was a sub-command of the venerable ISAC (Imperial Strategic Air Command), the central planning hub and war room for all major air actions in the Air Corps. In the 60s, the ISAC saw the height of its operations, the 19th Emnari-Melagnean War saw an incredible amount of strategic bombing. Luckily for Randall, he would be in the perfect position for his reputation, and rank, to skyrocket. As Director of the ACABOO, he was in charge of all ordnance loaded on strategic bombers. He would serve in this position until 1969, when he got promoted once again. This time, he was promoted to a staff position in the Operational Theatres Office of the ISAC.

He was put in charge of strategic bomber sortie planning in Sector November Moon One, also known as Northern Melagne.

His job was extremely stressful, managing the entire strategic bombing effort of the Emnarian war machine in Nothern Melagne. McPherson entered this job at a time when supersonic interceptors were posing an immense threat to strategic bombing. The capability of aircraft to easily and quickly intercept bombers before they even had a chance to fly into enemy airspace.

Randy McPherson had to try and find a solution. Although he was only in charge of his sector, he was responsible for doing his best job to keep those crews alive. However, he still has to bomb targets, he couldn't just ground the whole fleet until the end of the war. McPherson spent weeks dedicating his attention to this problem. In August of 1970, he came up with a new operational doctrine.

He called this doctrine, “Aerial Battlegroup”. As the name implies, the aerial battlegroup concept involves a fleet of multiple squadrons coordinating actions to present a lethal force in the air.

Every squadron of SIBM-46H bombers that flew a sortie, would be accompanied by 2 squadrons of fighter aircraft, one electronic warfare squadron, and one squadron of tactical aerial refueling aircraft.

This doctrine, allowing for fighters to continually accompany bombers, and with protection from most field radar systems, allowed these battlegroups or “air fleets” (a term still used by the IEAC) to safely operate in enemy airspace. It was proven highly effective during the 19th Emnari-Melagnean War, especially when air fleets were coordinated simultaneously with AWACS aircraft.

During the mid 1970s, after the end of the war, the doctrine was revised. This time, air fleets would be accompanied by a system of strategic refueling aircraft, which would be in the air 24/7 and provide strategic bombers with off-coast refueling whenever necessary. Also, as the IFM-71B model was introduced, fighter squadrons were reduced to 1 per air fleet, as to reserve more fighter squadrons for other operations.

McPherson became highly popular for his innovative doctrine. He was promoted to commander of the ISAC in June of 1977. As commander, he streamlined operations, strengthening the concept of around the clock readiness, and long range operations.

In May of 1979, he introduced a new policy. This policy, known as “Big Stick”, involved having at least 3, nuclear armed intercontinental strategic bombers flying around the borders of Emnaria at all times. As defined in the briefing document for the introduction of the Big Stick Doctrine, “Not for a single minute, shall there be less than 3 SIBM-46T (or successor aircraft) on sortie at a time. They shall also be equipped with live nuclear bombs, in case of an emergency situation requiring a nuclear strike. No singular aircraft shall be required to fly for more than 18 hours, unless a military operation requires it. If an operation requires more than 18 hours of flying for a single aircraft, 2 crews shall be onboard the aircraft, taking shifts of 8 hours each.”

McPherson remained as head of the ISAC until retiring in 1998. Randall, although a very business focused man, would always spend his free nights in the closest bar. When he retired, he built a house in rural southern Emnaria, and lived the rest of his life raising horses. He died on July 19th, 2004, 50 years after meeting the plane he would fall in love with. He dedicated his life to that airframe, and it remains in service today, although upgraded much beyond the capabilities it had when he was introduced to it. McPherson's “Aerial Battlegroup”, and “Big Stick” doctrines remain in service to this day. Randall McPherson is among one of the most famous Air Corps members in Emnarian history, and has inspired the newest generation of leadership to constantly innovate.

To whom it may concern,

The Emnarian Foreign Affairs Office, on behalf of Emperor Wilhelm Von Saksen I, wishes to establish formal diplomatic relations with the Fylkirate of Svipjoth. The Emnarian government believes that establishing such relations could improve regional stability, and possibly lead to future trade deals, and other accords which may be beneficial to our nations. The office wishes to exchange embassies between our nations.

A large red tent the size of a two-story family home was seen pitched in the middle of a market square. White flags with golden crests on them flapped in the midday spring breeze, as wooden signs inscribed with captivating text lured potential customers through its open entrance. Once inside, the customers are greeted by rows of cages—Some filled with people, others with animals. These people were members of all three races native to Uskania, and came in all shapes, sizes, and varying conditions. Some were strong, meant to be laborers and warriors, while others were small and dainty, meant to be mere objects of pleasure for those willing to hand over enough coin to purchase them. It is within this tent, that a brunette Foxsu woman, with bright blue eyes, and black circular glasses is found.

“If you’ll just sign here, we can get this contract finalized for you right away!” The woman stated to a man, putting on a cheerful smile, despite being aware of the latter’s lustful eyes being glued to her midsection, which was completely exposed given the very revealing servant uniform she was forced to wear while working inside the tent. The woman’s dark brown fox-like tail swished side-to-side in anticipation, as she watched the man quickly glance at the paper laid out on the table before them, before lifting up a quill and signing it. She used this time to adjust the white headband that adorned the top of her head, as well as straighten out the black ribbon bow that was tied around her neck.

“Great! Now as soon as you hand over the agreed-upon payment of 50 gold coins, this fine young woman is all yours!” The woman continued with a cheerful demeanor, staring at the young girl who cowered behind the man, a terrified look was the only thing visible on her face. The man glanced at the young girl he had just purchased, before reaching into his pocket with his right hand, and pulling out a handful of coins. He hesitated, seemingly counting them, before suddenly rearing his arm back, and throwing them at the woman with all his might. Sharp pains were felt on her face, and arms, as the heavy coins hit her upper-body, before clanking to the floor. In the process of throwing up her hands to shield her head, the woman lost balance, and fell backwards, her glasses falling off her head. With her vision being heavily blurred without the help of her glasses, she felt around on the floor for them, before adorning them once more, and noticing that the man and the girl had disappeared from her sight.

“THIEF! THIEF! GUARDS, STOP THAT MAN!” She shouted, before a shorter man with a body shape more akin to a barrel than a human, slowly stepped out of the office behind him.

“Shizuku, what happened to cause all that ruckus…?” The large man asked, his tone slightly nasally, and shrewd.

A look of fear flashed over the woman’s face, before she quickly got into a kneeling position in front of the man, bowing her head before him.

“M-My apologies, Master Shinzo…” Her voice and face slowly normalized into an overall more neutral demeanor as she spoke sincerely.

“When I asked the customer for payment for the product, he threw a handful of coins at me, which caused me to fall over and lose sight of them…”

“The agreed-upon price was 50 gold coins, but he did not pay the full amount with the handful of silver and copper coins he threw at me.”

Shizuku looked up at the man, who wore a distant expression for a moment, before it twisted into one of anger. He lifted up his right arm, and brought it down upon the woman’s lower face with a force hard enough to knock her to the ground once more.

“…kah…” The brunette fox winced in pain, beginning to cough violently, as her vision was dizzy and blurred from the impact. Slowly, she regained her ability to see clearly, noticing that one of the lenses on her glasses were cracked all the way through in several places. She then continued to cough, noticing specks of blood on the ground where she was coughing over. She attempted to slowly push herself back up to her knees, but was swiftly kicked in the ribs by the man’s large, black leather boots, leaving her to only use her forearms as leverage from completely laying on the ground. Shizuku let out a yelp in pain, before continuing to cough, this time with sharp pains coursing throughout her torso. She began to gag, as snot began to drip out of her nose, and red-tinged saliva out of her mouth. The woman felt dizzy, as if she was being tumbled in a butter churn over and over and over again.

“KAH—!” The brunette fox felt the heavy boot of her owner strike her in the same place as before. A sudden, debilitating pain radiated from that position, as she felt something inside her seemingly snap. Shizuku couldn’t keep it in any longer, as tears began to well up in her eyes, before falling onto her glasses, then dripping into the floor, mixing with all the other bodily fluids that were currently exiting her body. Each breath she took, a sharp pain coursed through her chest from the place the man had kicked her. The spinning in her head became too much, as she began to dry-heave a few times, before eventually vomiting what little food she had for breakfast earlier in the day. She began gasping for air, as the world around her slowly stabilized. She was still in immense pain, but merely bit her lower lip to push through it without completely breaking down into hysterics.

Suddenly, screams were heard from outside the tent, followed by the almost deafening sound of several large bells ringing simultaneously. The man who was previously abusing her, stopped, and frantically looked around, as a few guards approached him and spoke.

“Boss! The city’s under attack, we’ve gotta get out of here! There’s a carriage waiting for you in the back, let’s go!” One of them yelled with urgency.

“Sh*t!” The man exclaimed in frustration.

“I need a few minutes to gather my things, keep the carriage from being stolen while I—” The man’s orders were suddenly interrupted by a powerful punch landing upon his blubbery cheek, as the man stumbled backwards, falling on his butt. He stared up in disbelief, as he saw the extremely disheveled Shizuku standing above him, swaying slightly, with visible wounds to both her own cheek, and to her ribcage. She clenched her fists, breathing heavily, with the stains of tears on her face, as well as the stains of blood around her lips. She did not speak, but only spit a red-coloured liquid on the man’s crisp, white dress shirt, before turning around and running away from the scene as fast as she could, stumbling slightly as she went. She could hear the distant shouting of the man who owned her, but she did not care. She felt the hand she used to strike her master begin to pulse in pain, but she smiled, as it only distracted her mind from the sharp pains that emanated throughout her body whenever she took a breath. Shizuku bolted out of the entrance to the tent, being greeted by the warm embrace of the bright sun, in contrast to the cold, and dark setting of the tent. She stopped for a moment to shield her eyes from the rays of the sun. Her vision was already clouded by her previous tears, and her glasses being damaged and dirty from the abuse, but she still had enough ability to see vaguely where she was going. Before she even realized it, her body was once again sprinting down a large cobblestone road along with other panicked citizens. Her steps were wobbly and unsure, but something inside her commanded her body to keep moving, as she saw the gates to outside the city in her path. Each breath brought upon a sharp, almost unbearable pain in her chest and ribcage, but she kept moving closer and closer towards freedom. She reached up, and tossed away the white frilled headband that adorned her head, before unraveling the black ribbon tied around her neck, letting it float away in the breeze. Despite feeling more free, her body became heavier, her pace beginning to slow. Finally, she crossed through the gates, her pace slowing down dramatically to no more than a stumbling walk. Her feet began to ache due to the uncomfortable dress shoes she was forced to wear, before her legs suddenly gave out from underneath her, causing her body to fall forwards onto the dirt road. The world around her once again began to spin, before an immense pain emanating from every source of pain before, enveloped her body. She curled up into a ball, wanting to disappear from this world, as tears once again began to stream from her eyes.

Shizuku’s vision was extremely blurry, and spinning a bit, as her consciousness began to fade away from her, before she suddenly heard muffled voices coming from a direction that she could not make out, due to the immense pain she was in. The brunette fox felt a presence on her shoulders and legs, before she felt herself being picked up by an unknown figure. No matter how hard she tried, her vision wouldn’t focus, only allowing her to see a vague outline of the mysterious person’s pale face, silver hair and ears, as well as the fact that they had red eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Zoltan Palace, Grand River Tribe.
September 3rd, calendar year 1524.

Quickly sitting up in a bed adorned with dark blue linens, Shizuku suddenly awoke, breathing heavily, and sweating profusely.

“…Guh…” She uttered in discomfort, her voice hoarse and a bit husky from her mouth being dry. An intense pain suddenly radiated from her head, as she grasped it with her hands.

“…F*ck…”

“…Where are my pills…”

The brunette fox looks to her right, her vision blurred heavily without the use of her glasses, as she fumbles her right hand around on a nightstand for a few moments. Finally grasping her glasses after knocking a few things off of the small wooden nightstand, she adorns them as her vision quickly sharpens, and she can see once again. With the pain in her head persisting, she fumbles through multiple empty and mostly empty small glass bottles of whisky and liquor, before finding one that contained small grey beads. Opening the cork, she poured a few into her hands, before popping them into her mouth, and closing the bottle before setting it back onto the nightstand. She then grabs one of the liquor bottles with a small bit of light brown liquid in it, before bringing it to her mouth, and finishing off the last two gulps left in the bottle. Still breathing heavily, she used the sleeve of her nightgown to wipe the sweat from her face, before staring off into space for a few moments.

“…Ugh…”

“…Why do I keep having that same damn nightmare…”

“Are you not satisfied with me, brain?”

“I already serve the one that saved me…”

She looks over to her nightstand covered in empty and mostly empty liquor bottles, before grabbing a small brass bell, and ringing it a few times before setting it back down again.

“…Looks like I need to go get more…” Her voice trailed off, before a soft knock was heard on her door, before it opened.

“What do you require of me, Secretary Avalon?” A woman’s voice inquired, as a maid stepped into the room and closed the door behind her.

“…Draw a warm bath for me, please,” Shizuku replied, her voice strained with discomfort as she continued to hold her pounding head in her hands.

“As you wish…” The maid bowed, before walking leaving her room. As soon as the door closed behind the maid, the brunette fox sighed.

“…Haaaaaaah…”

“…Maybe I should…lay off the drinking for a bit…”

“…Ahh…”

“…This is…worse…than usual…”

“…F*ck…”

“…If only there was another way for me to…calm my mind down enough to sleep at the end of the day…”

“…I don’t know what’s worse…Not being able to sleep, or waking up with my head feeling like it’s being repeatedly pounded in by a hammer…”

“It also doesn’t help that I keep having that damn nightmare again and again, making me wake up in a panicked and stressed state like this…”

“…That memory was from two years ago, why can’t you let go of it, brain…”

“Ugh…”

The woman sat there in silence for a few minutes, calming both her breathing and somewhat lessening the pain coming from her head. A soft knock once again roused her from her thoughts, as the same maid from before entered her room, pushing a small cart full of buckets of warm water. She pushed the cart into her bathroom, and filled up her wooden circular tub with water, before bowing, and leaving her room with the cart.

“…Haaaaaaaaah…” Shizuku sighed, before tossing the covers off of herself, and slowly getting off of her bed, and onto her feet. Her head continued to hurt a bit, as she slowly made her way to her bathroom. It was small, but had all the amenities she needed from a bathroom, so she was content with it. Using the vanity to support herself, she slowly rid herself of both her undergarments, and her light blue nightgown, dropping them to the floor. Her short and slender 150cm figure was revealed to the now damp air of her bathroom, as she grabbed a white towel off of a shelf next to her, and set it down onto the vanity, doing the same with her glasses, before stepping onto a small white rug in front of her bathtub. She lifted up her leg over the wooden side of the tub, before dipping it into the water, leaning over and grabbing the sides of the tub for balance, before doing the same with her other leg, and lowering her small and pale body into the water. The warm water went up to her shoulders, as she began to wash herself.

After deeming her body sufficiently clean, Shizuku stepped out of the bath, and onto the white rug, using the matching towel to dry herself, as well as her hair. She then adorned her glasses, before grabbing a large hairbrush, and beginning to style her still-damp dark brown hair and fox-like tail. While she was idly doing this, her blue eyes began to stair at her own figure in the large mirror in front of her. She was on the shorter side for even a woman, and her thin body looked like it would break even under a tight embrace of a loved one. After deeming her hair and tail to be the best that they could be, she then stepped into her bedroom, where she gathered and put on a set of semi-formal attire for the day. She stepped back into her bathroom to give her outfit a once-over in the mirror, fixing some wrinkles and folds in her knee-high dark green dress with white accents, as well as straightening out her thick black leggings which covered the entirety of her waist and legs in a shroud of soft satin. The fox simply nodded to herself, before walking back into her room, slipping on some black dress shoes with a wide heel only a few centimeters tall, and walking out of her room with an air of confidence seemingly unnatural to her. Turning on her heels to the right, she headed down a large hallway, whose smooth stone walls were painted in a very light grey—almost white colour—with darker grey and gold accents. There was also the occasional painting hung on both sides of the hallway, in between doorways, and intersections with other hallways. As she turned the corner to head down one of these adjoining hallways, she comes across an older Woltsu woman walking towards her with long orangey-red hair, perfectly tied up in an opulent braided bun on the back of her head. Her human, and wolf ears were both adorned with shiny jewelry, as well as her chest and wrists. Her right hand held a paper fan, which she had opened up in front of her mouth, covering it as she was conversing with a male servant. Shizuku stopped in her tracks, and moved to the side of the hallway, putting on a polite expression as she gracefully curtsied at the luxuriously dressed woman, and her butler. In response, the woman did not stop walking, nor did she stop her conversation with her butler, only acknowledging Shizuku’s presence by staring sharply at the brunette fox, until the pair had passed by her.

Shizuku remained in her curtsied position until the woman was a few steps past her, before straightening her posture, and continuing towards her destination with a slightly annoyed scowl ebbing away at her wall of politeness she forced upon her demeanor. Her mind began to wander as she navigated the seemingly endless amount of doors on the seemingly endless amount of hallways within the large palace.

“Tsk…”

“She didn’t even respond to my respectful greeting, let alone even remove her fan from her face when she saw me.”

“At first I was gazed at with disgustingly wanderous eyes of men for being a small and young-looking woman, but now I’m not even being acknowledged as one by the pompous women here.”

“…I mean at least I’m not being forcefully starved, or physically abused anymore?”

“Man do they love to make my job as difficult as possible like it’s their favorite activity of the day, but in the end I can always get it done, which is only what matters anyways…”

“…Good results are the only things I wish to show to Chieftess Matoimaru, as that’s the only way I can ever pay her back for saving my life back then…”

“…I wonder if she even knows I’m the one she saved…”

“…Eh, whatever. Doesn’t really matter if she does or not, as long as I am able to pay her back by doing the best work that I can for her.”

She sighed, before turning to her right and noticing a familiar large, dark wooden door with more intricate carvings in it than the rest.

“Speaking of which, time to start my day!”

Shizuku put on a polite smile, before softly knocking on the door.

“Come in…” A muffled husky feminine voice called out from within the room.

The brunette fox opened the door, and stepped inside, closing it behind her. She scanned the room around her, noticing a pile of papers on her desk, as well as a few more on the desk of the room’s inhabitant, who sat behind it, her attention solely focused on a paper she was holding.

“Good morning, Mas—ahem Chieftess Matoimaru,” Shizuku greeted cheerfully with a polite curtsy, before quickly returning to her normal standing position. Her interlocutor did not immediately respond to her greeting, rather only looking up at her for a moment, before returning her bright red gaze to the paper in her hand.

“…Thank you, Secretary Avalon…” The silver-haired Pureblood eventually replied in a rather monotone voice, without looking up at the fox that stood before her.

“There should be two stacks of papers on your desk. The one on the right is to be looked over, before being sent to the mailroom to be sorted, then delivered to the people whose names are listed at the top of the paper.”

Shizuku walked over to her desk, but her gaze became somewhat puzzled as she saw only one stack of papers here.

“Umm…I do not wish to be rude, Chieftess, but there is only one stack of papers on my desk…” Her voice was laced with a bit of timidness, as her tail swished back and forth swiftly, displaying her apparent anxiety.

Matoimaru took her gaze off of the paper she was holding, and looked around her desk at the various stacks of papers there. Her eyes landed on one at the other end, and she picked it up, before extending her arm out towards her secretary.

“Apologies, this one must have forgotten to move it to your desk,” the wolf’s voice displayed little emotion, as if her mind was completely elsewhere in focus. Shizuku gently took the papers from her hand, before watching the Chieftess shift her attention completely back to the paper in her other hand.

“…I shall take care of this right away,” the brunette fox curtsied slightly, before swiftly leaving the room. Once the door is closed, a younger-looking male soldier steps out from behind an obscuring shadow cast on the wall next to the door. Matoimaru’s ears twitched as her full attention was given to this mysterious Katsu, who knelt before her, his short black hair shining in the light shone in by the window to the silver-haired wolf’s back.

“…Trail her…” The Pureblood commanded.

“This one finds suspicion in how overzealously that woman works for her, seemingly with no reason to do so…”

“That secretary could be a spy from a Foxsu tribe trying a bit too hard to blend in so as to not get caught, so make sure you don’t get noticed by her as well. This one wants you to report on everything she does, every person she meets, when and how much she eats for meals, when she goes to bed—Everything. Nothing is off the table as to a possible reason of why she acts like her life itself depends on how much she works for this one.”

The soldier silently nodded, before he stood and departed from the room, leaving the Chieftess alone with her thoughts.

“…Something about that fox strikes this one as odd…”

“This one feels like she knows her from somewhere…but, where?”

“This one doesn’t believe she has met Ms. Avalon before she was assigned as this one’s secretary two weeks ago.”

“…An absolute enigma, that woman is…”

“…This one does not even give her a warm greeting, and quite frankly overworks her, and yet…She’s enthusiastic about completing more work for this one?”

“The work that woman does is not bad, either. She clearly knows what she’s doing, and is very intelligent…Which makes this one all the more concerned that the fox is a spy.”

“…Mmmm…”

“There is no use worrying about that right now, as this one shall soon hear a detailed response from the assassin she sent to trail her after this one’s coronation ceremony in two days time…”

“…Haaaaaah…” The Pureblood sighed, rubbing her temples.

“This one hates social gatherings like that…”

“Why cannot they just bestow her the title of Chieftess in private. This one does not wish to be at the center of attention for something as big as this…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Zoltan Palace, Grand River Tribe.
September 4th, calendar year 1524.

Shizuku sat at a small desk within her room, looking over a mess of papers that nearly completely covers the dark wooden top of the desk. Stress and fatigue are very evident on her face, as her handwriting begins to resemble that of a child half her age. Moving to dip her quill into a small pot of ink near the corner of her desk, she knocks her hand into it, nearly tipping it over and spilling it everywhere. This near-disaster seemingly snaps her out of the work-induced trance she was in, as she blinked a few times, before turning her head and looking out the window right next to her.

“…Sh*t, is it already that late?” Her eyes widened in surprise, suddenly setting down her quill, and standing up.

“I should go to sleep soon…” She walked over to her nightstand, seemingly looking for something.

“…F*ck, I forgot to buy more liquor today…”

“…Haaaaaaaah…” Shizuku sighed, before picking up a small bell, and ringing it.

“…I hate to do this, but I can’t fall asleep without it…”

The door to her room opened, and a maid stepped inside, before closing the door behind her.

“What do you wish for, Secretary Avalon?” The maid asked with a bow.

“Bring me some liquor—Nothing expensive, just something cheap, please,” The small brunette fox requested.

“…As you wish…” The maid quickly bowed, before leaving her room, closing the door behind her. Once the maid had taken a few steps away from the door, she was suddenly approached by a tall man with short black hair, dressed in a Grand River Tribe soldier’s uniform. The man motioned for her to stop, which she did, before he leaned in close to her, and whispered something to her. The maid’s eyes widened with shock, as a small kiss from the man was planted on her cheek, before the man seemingly disappeared into the shadows of the hallway like he was never there to begin with.

A few minutes later, the maid returned to Shizuku’s room, bearing a metal tray with a shot glass, and a luxurious bottle of light brown whiskey. She entered, displaying the tray and its contents to Shizuku, before setting it down on her bed next to the fox, who had already changed into a white nightdress.

“Umm…” Shizuku studied the awfully expensive bottle of whiskey she was presented with.

“…I believe I asked for a cheap liquor, as all of the expensive bottles should be saved for the ceremony tomorrow…”

The maid simply stared at her for a moment, as if debating what to reply with, before quickly bowing and leaving the room, much to the shock of Shizuku.

“I…” She spoke, seemingly to no one in particular.

“…You know what, whatever…”

“…This has a higher alcohol content anyways, so it should be able to put me to sleep faster…”

The brunette fox uncorked the bottle of whiskey, before pouring herself a shot, and taking it. She coughed a few times, before taking another shot, followed by three more, before finally corking the bottle, and setting both it and the shot glass on her nightstand.

“Alrighty…” Her voice trailed off, as she laid down on her bed, getting settled in under the covers.

“…Now to just stare at the ceiling for a millennia, until the alcohol hits me, and I can actually fall asleep…”

“…”

“Ugh…”

“…Tomorrow’s gonna be a pain in the *ss for me…”

“…As long as I can deal with the annoying wealthy people that treat me like sh*t, I should be fine…”

“…But I will definitely take that over anything like what I had to deal with when I lived south of the mountains…”

“…Actually, I wouldn’t really call that living, more of just existing against my own will…”

“But, whatever, sh*t changed so now I should too…”

“…I should appreciate more of what I have here, being that I was once a mere object to be used and tossed about by others not more than a year ago…”

“As long as I don’t fight against it, or bring it up, it shouldn’t cause issues for Chieftess Matoimaru, so I should simply just focus on that.”

“…Maybe I should take a shot or two before the ceremony, to mellow out my nerves, and make myself less likely to be angered by those people who are more important than me.”

“Mmmm…Actually, I probably shouldn’t be greeting those with high-standings while inebriated…”

“…” She yawned, feeling a sudden wave of tiredness and calmness wash over her mind.

“…Probably wouldn’t be a good idea…”

Shizuku slowly drifted off to sleep, as a tall figure smirks within the shadows of the hallway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Zoltan Palace, Grand River Tribe.
September 5th, calendar year 1524.

Shizuku lays in her bed, taking in labored breath after labored breath. Her face is red, and beads of sweat drip down from her forehead. Her facial expression is stressed, contorting to one of fear, as if she’s bracing herself to be hit in the face.

“…No…” The dainty fox muttered softly, still within the realm of slumber. Her voice, while very quiet, was laced with pain, and frustration.

“…St…op…” A tear rolls down her cheek, followed by another, then another.

“…I……No…”

“…Tha……hurts…”

“…Ple…ase…”

Shizuku’s eyes suddenly open wide, as she quickly sits up, hyperventilating. Her mouth hangs agape as she struggles to take in enough breath to satiate her heart’s desire to beat right out of her fragile-looking body. After a handful of seconds, her breathing eventually calms down enough to where she can control her thoughts, before bringing her legs up close to her chest, and wrapping her arms around her thighs to ensure they don’t move away from her. The fox’s expression changes to one of sorrow, as she leans her head onto her knees, tears still dripping down her red cheeks.

“…F*ck…”

“…What the f*ck do I have to do to stop having these f*cking nightmares…”

“…I don’t want to keep reliving my f*cking past…”

“…Godd*mnit…”

“…Ugh…” The fox let out a sigh of frustration, before lifting up her head, and wiping away her tears and sweat with her sleeve. She looks around her, before her eyes widened once more at the sight of the sun peaking through the upper portion of her window.

“Ohhhhh sh*t, it’s way too late!” Her demeanor suddenly grew more panicked, as she quickly put on her glasses and stood up from her bed, stumbling a bit while walking, before catching herself on her desk. As she tried to push herself back upright to continue walking, the whole world around her suddenly began to spin violently, as a splitting pain ricocheted around her skull as if someone put her head in the middle of a newton’s cradle.

“GAH—!” Shizuku yelped out in pain, collapsing to her knees.

“ARGHHHHH F*CK!” She shouted out in pure anguish, clutching her head in both of her hands as if she was trying to stop it from splitting in half. After what seemed like an eternity of seething in an unbearable amount of pain on the floor, her brain slowly freed itself from the clutches of said pain, allowing Shizuku to slowly stand up, and stagger back towards her bed. Sitting down harshly, she quickly grasped the bottle of whiskey from her nightstand, and pulled the cork out of the opening. She brought the glass bottle to her lips, and took a large gulp of it, coughing a bit afterwards, as a bit of the dark amber liquid rolled down her chin. She repeated this once more, before putting four of her headache suppressant pills in her mouth, and taking a third large gulp of the whiskey. Breathing heavily, she put the cork back into the bottle, and placed it back on her nightstand, before opening up her drawer, and pulling out another glass bottle full of green leaves. Uncorking it, the almost overpowering scent of mint rushed into her nose, making her turn her head away momentarily, before taking out a leaf, and sticking it in her mouth. She then recorked the bottle, before placing it back into the drawer, and closing it. Shizuku fell backwards onto her bed, breathing heavily for a few moments while continuing to chew the small mint leaf.

“Okay…” Her voice had a bit more life in it than before, seemingly reflecting her overall discomfort subsiding.

“…Let’s just hope that this will be enough to get me through today, and that it won’t be too…relaxed by the time of the ceremony.”

“…I’d rather not have to take that powder again if I don’t need to, since it makes me not be able to sleep for a couple of days afterwards, no matter how much I drink…”

“…Ugh…”

“…Alright…”

“…I know I’m already going to be late, but oh well, whatever punishment Matoimaru gives me, I’ve been through worse…”

“…She saved my life before, so as long as I can be of use to her, it doesn’t even matter if taking my life is the most useful thing for her,” Shizuku’s voice became oddly monotone while speaking, her face also becoming very neutral. She sighed, before pushing herself up onto her feet, and quickly getting ready for the day.

After a rather uneventful walk through the maze of hallways that made up the palace, Shizuku eventually found herself inside of Matoimaru’s office. The brunette fox didn’t dare greet her previous savior as she normally would have, due to her extreme tardiness to enter the service of the silver-haired Chieftess. Getting on one knee, she fully bowed her head to the ground, even flattening her ears in submission to Matoimaru, all before speaking to her in as respectful of tone as possible.

“I deeply apologize for my tardiness in reporting to your call today, Chieftess Matoimaru. I have no excuses, or valid reasonings for my mistake, and I just simply wish to express my sincere regret for my actions…”

“…You are welcome to punish me as you see fit, as whatever shall benefit you the most will bring me the greatest pleasure, even if it means simply separating the life from my body. I implore you to act your will upon me as you see fit, as I care not what happens to me as long as I am of my greatest use to you.”

Matoimaru broke her concentration with the paper she was reading, and stared at the girl with a face of concern, before her gaze turned cold, and she glared at the fox. Speaking with irritation in her voice, she addressed Shizuku’s extremely odd request.

“…Do you truly understand the implications of what you just asked of this one?”

The Pureblood’s bright red eyes swirled with annoyance, as her overall demeanor became extremely cold and authoritative. The small fox lifted up her head, as her deep blue eyes met Matoimaru’s cold red glare with a look of determination, denying even the slightest doubt that she did not mean any word she spoke. Noticing this, the silver wolf simply scoffed at her, before returning her focus entirely onto the paper she was reading prior to Shizuku’s elaborate apology.

“…There are a few stacks of paper on your desk. Take care of those, instead of attempting to get this one to solve your own qualms with living,” she coldly commanded.

The brunette fox stood and silently nodded, before walking over to her desk to view the work she had been assigned.

This left Matoimaru alone with her thoughts, as the sheer oddity of the scene that just played out prevented her mind from wholly focusing on the paper before her.

“…There is no possible way that there are not at least a few loose screws inside that brain of hers…”

“Her eyes bore true determination, as if she were ready to accept this one cutting her down right here, right now, for something as simple as being a little tardy to work in the morning…”

“…”

“…She was not but a quarter of an hour late at most, as this one only entered her office maybe that long ago…”

“When there is free time once more, this one must inquire with her mother, why she hired such a peculiar girl as my secretary…”

To the Esteemed Members of the Austro-Germanic Union (AGU),

We are writing to you on behalf of the United Syrvostrovian Federal Republic (USFR) to formally express our interest in joining the League of the Willing under the auspices of the Austro-Germanic Union. The USFR recognizes the significant achievements and the pivotal role that the AGU plays in fostering cooperation, stability, and prosperity within and beyond its borders. We are keen to contribute to and benefit from this esteemed alliance.

The USFR is committed to the principles of democracy, and the rule of law, which we believe aligns closely with the values upheld by the AGU. Our inclusion in the League of the Willing would not only strengthen our ties with member states but also enhance our collective capabilities to address regional and global challenges. We are particularly eager to collaborate on initiatives related to economic development, environmental sustainability, and security.

Furthermore, the USFR brings to the table a unique geopolitical position and resources that could serve as assets in the AGU’s strategic endeavors. We are prepared to actively engage in dialogues, projects, and partnerships that further the League’s objectives and contribute to a more cohesive and resilient union.

In light of the above, we respectfully request the AGU’s consideration of our application for membership in the League of the Willing. We are ready to provide any further information required and to engage in discussions to facilitate this process.

We look forward to the opportunity to work more closely with the AGU and its member states and to contribute to our shared goals and successes.

Thank you for considering our application. We await your favorable response.

Sincerely,

Office of the President of the United Syrvostrovian Federal Republic (USFR)

The training grounds hummed with activity, the latest batch of officer recruits now entering their finally month. The British Mercenaries were happily impressed with their work, all of the group had either been veterans or the children of veterans of the British forces that fought the First Yemetian Mysorean war. All had seen combat since then, weather in the battle of the free city Fumen, or in the fighting against the Shah. All had been tested and trained to the best standard the kingdoms could provide and now they, with hard earned lessons from many battlefields were passing this on to the new officers. Lessons focused on teaching independent command, as the fighting characterized in Merillia had mostly come down to small unit actions between poorly trained and worded equipped units, as to be expected as the civil war dragged on.

Yet that was changing with SSTO having formed their democratic front, a now league backed force was even launching attacks outside Merillia to hit neighbouring states, and the north was split between many petty warlords with a few single nation backers. Yet with rumours of the arrival of Emnaria forces backed up by kingdom forces from Hanconnia was now seeking to limit the excess of the warlords in north. This has thrown the Landsknecht loyalty into question. Yet their betrayal at the hands of the British government less then a year ago seeing much of the group best trained and leadership arrested had lead to a minor falling out between them at London Proper. If it was not for the Hydra Mercenary Board and the Imperial Corporation offering material and safe harbour for those who had remained the group could have been sniffed out there and then. Now they were in north Merillia and were simply loyal to their current warlord as long as the checks cleared on time, and the fact they had little else we’re to go.

Yet those checks... Payment disputes with clients wasn’t uncommon in there line of work, but arguments over hazard pay and repairs was doing more to strain there relationship with the warlord they were employed by. The work it self was quite easy for the group, mostly leading raids into neighbouring warlords to steal or destroy vital resources had seen their little slice of Merillia begin to grow fat and rich. This had attract bandits, refugees and raiders. The mercs on their own could not be every were at once hence why the training program had begun. This new set of trained professional soldiers would help give the mercenaries needed relief allowing them to deal with less pressing threats. Yet some threats hadn’t vanished, the warlord cruel rule though had lead to economic growth it had been less then forgiving for the average citizen, this lead to unrest and the occasional revolt. The Landsknecht were more then happy to stamp out such poor attempts of revolution, they had first felt little to the locals as their job was to keep the current warlord in charge so their lucrative contract would keep paying out. But as the group expanded, recruiting from promising locals and the next generation of internal recruits they began to run into a problem. This new company of men and women were far less jaded then their older peers, they were quickly running into issues with the warlords more brutal practices. As villages were brunt to keep other settlements in line this new batch of men would complain quietly to their superiors. Their older peers would laugh this off as young people being to noble. Then issues would arise with pay and then an incident would occur.

The incident would occur on the 26th of February, in the early hours of the morning the warlords personnel guard would conduct a raid on the training grounds after hearing rumours of rebel sentiments held by the new officers. What followed was a short gun battle between the handful of guards of the base backed up by the new officers and their trainers agasint the elite Kluj guard. After 20 minutes both sides would stand down with the arrival of a squad of Landsknecht power armour backed up by four Churchill Tanks. There no deaths had occurred it had strained relations greatly. The intelligence that had placed rising rebel sentiments had been discovered to have been false and the intelligence officer behind it had fled before charges and a swift execution could be pressed, with the intel officer behind the report most likely a spy of some kind. The reason why it had still gone through was that the commander of this Kluj Guard had despised the British Mercenaries seeing them as a threat to him and his men power base. This incident would see quite conversations happen between the younger mercs and the new officers in the warlord army, these talks would happen miles away from the eyes and ears of higher ups. Out on the Merilia plans, chasing down fleeing raiders quite talks happen in the back of APCs or field mess halls. Talks about the weather, talks about the new that it was only a matter of time till outside forces would hit them like they were gearing up to hit other warlords. Most interestingly talks that perhaps the region was better with new more youthful leadership...

Tank treads crunched the barricade of furniture, a pathetic response of hand gun fire slammed into the Churchill front plate. The mercenaries behind said armour merely chuckled at the pathetic display. With the barricade now crushed under the weight of the machine the gunner, using the automated turret let off a stream of 50 cal shots from the sten gun. This caused the farmers turned rebels to begin to flee as planned. This village had refused to hand in their full harvest, but hadn’t killed the tax collector. As such the Landsknecht backed up by the newly trained companies of native mechanised infantry were looking too simply scatter the majority and kill the few die hards. After all if they killed everyone there wouldn’t be any farmers left to tend the fields, not to mention the newly trained regiments of native infantry would bawk at such orders in a way that the jaded mercs couldn’t help but to laugh at. As they fired a few more shots over their head an alarm went off in the tank. The automated turret began to wing around towards to source of the detected range finder. The driver didn’t even wait for the order and slam his foot on the gas pedal driving the war machine forward. Less then a second later the ATGM crew fired. The top attack missile was in the perfect position from the roof of the farmer dwelling. Yet these Churchills had more then merely armour to defend themselves, fired from the left side of the rotated turret came the inception missile, the automatic system did have a tendency to over do it wasting its expensive ammunition but the crews were more than happy to have that he it’s flaw then the opposite. The ATGM crew were to slow to escape the 150 mm HE shell that leveled much of the house they had hid in. Calling over the radio the tank commander warned of the new threat, this would see Merc tactics change. Going from a almost forgiving tactics designed to install fear then to kill and limit damage to the town they threw this plan out. Liberal use of smoke, high explosives and grenades they began to clear the town. By the end a quarter of the town male population lay dead or injured, in total 15 percent of the town was either killed or wounded in the bitter fighting that had followed. Over 60 percent of the town had been destroyed or damaged in the fighting, with the survivors either gathered in the town centre or having fled to the nearby woods the mercs and native troops began to process the captives and count the dead. It was in the ruins of another house they find another ATGM Solarian make and model.

An meeting would occur between the higher up officers their and then. It was feared this day would come, it was clear despite their distance SSTO attention was slowly drifting further and further northwards. They had all gotten lucky , first that the active protection system had worked and second that it seems that only two of these were in the town. How long until the rebels started to get actually training and rifles that weren’t from the 1920s. Yet what could there be done? The rural villages food stuffs was desperately needed to feed the growing urban and industrial workforce who own goods once sold was paying for all their wages. The native officers, all of which had received Landsknecht training, suggested a wide range of solutions from reduction in taxes to increased raids agasint neighbouring warlords states to gain needed food stuffs. The younger Mercenaries suggested a focus on finding those smuggling in Solarian equipment as though the current position was bad in time the locals isolated from outside support would buckle and break. The older mercs suggested a wild tactic, letting a few neighbouring raiding parties through the lines and sacking a few of the more troublesome villages. They then could once most of the damage has been done come swooping in like heros, it would show the locals why they needed Kluj rule. After all despite his cruel rule it was better than anarchy. The Mercenary would agree to this plan and contact Kluj about it. Until they got a response they kept up previous mission pace hitting a raider convoy before it penetrated deep into Kluj territory. The raiders had been lightly equipped and fallen straight into a planned ambush.

Churchill tanks fired there 150 mm cannons, each deposited a high explosive shell into groups of raiders. Men torn apart by disciplined volley after sustained volley from the rifles of the native troops. The raiders had there front of their convoy being torn to shreds would turn to flee, it was then they ran into the mercs most dangerous unit. Autocannon fire ripped through the trucks and pitiful armour of the APCs. Fired from a standing position, the bulky, up armoured forms of the power suit wearing men of the Landsknecht elite veterans. Half of there number wielded their deadly 20 mm autocannon. For an autocannon they were stripped down and light weight, but with their special ammunition could punch through 60 mm or less armour that covered the sides of APCs. The remaining half with a roar and cry of havoc barrelled their way into close quarters. Their pistols barked, their chain blades sang a deadly siren call. The light infantry spilling out of trucks stood little chance against these practice killers. After an hour the ragged remains of the convoy broke out of the ambush and retreated back to there warlord state they crawled out from.

“I am truely Humbled by the Loyalty of Love of my people. We the Narag House desired to give the people a say and so we did. Yet my beloved people desired that the House of Narag not give up. Therefore with the Permission of the Kristan The Emperor Of the Naragians shall work side by side With the Kristan and its Consul to bring Prosperity, Stability, And Honor To our Glorious People. Remember the Words of my father when the Barbari(Barbarian)invaders attacked for the Third and final time. Honor, No matter how dire the Situation never Forsake it. We Naragians are the most Honorable People in the world. Our Code of Honor dates back to First Emperor Theo Narag back in the fifties AD. As Emperor of the Naragians I must set the example For all Other Naragians… No For the world. We are one of the Oldest Civilizations in the world dating back to the Birth of the First Neo-Naragians eight thousand years ago. We have a duty to protect this world and Guide it to the Future the Ancestors promised. We are a long way from that Goal but as my Grandfather Astril Narag, The Great, Said. Progress can Only be Achieved One step at a Time. That first step must be made by us. We must end our Isolation both Economically and Politically. We carry the will of a dead people. One day we will reclaim the Imperial Homeworld but we can only do this as a united world. Peace, Honor, prosperity to you All.” With this speech The High Priestess of the Chosen walks up to him placing the white Jade Crown on Sol’s head as her ancestor Did for First Emperor Theo.

After this meeting Sol’s Nineteen Wives walk up from the place Garden. Sol smiles at him pulling them in for a group Hug. “Our Family must be reminded of the love We share… so that The Civil war Forty years ago will never happen again. Theo should Never have been forced into a Corner.”

One of his wives Theodora smiles. “Thank you Love… For considering my father’s situation. Where ever he is I Hope he is happy.”

Sol laughs. “From what my father tells me My Adopted great Uncle is likely watching. Seeing his daughter happy would be all that matters to him.”
They travel to the Kitchen for the Evening meal of Lamb steak and mashed potatoes With peppers.

The early morning frost glimmered in the soft light of dawn, making the curbside shrubbery into constellations and cobblestone streets into strips of galaxies. Before the dawn had made itself transparent through the thick veil of northern night, the capital city of Uppsala began to stir from its sleep. Microcosms of destroyed stars finally concluded the still night, horses treading with the authority of gods upon the sparkling fragments of ice. The men and women that rode among them hurried impatiently to their storefronts and workshops, the multilayered sound of trotting horses a melody to the chords of trolley tracks and the idle chatter of morning.

Among those that crowded the roadways of Uppsala was a young man called Rasmus. He had wrapped himself warmly, yet still his nose and cheeks glowed a bright pink, betraying his true age of being in his mid twenties. He weaved slowly through horseback traffic and overtook carriages just as everyone else did, himself but only a droplet of water in the rivers of Svipjoth’s capital. His satchel, marked with the royal seal, sat still between himself and the horn of the saddle, secured only a loosely dangling strap from Rasmus’ neck. Its normal place was on his side as all satchels belong, but this delivery was too important to risk theft or espionage worse yet.

Emerging through the last major intersection on his route, it was without words and only a flash of his satchel before the gate guard of Hvithaar Hall allowed him entrance into the Fylkir’s sprawling estate. Rasmus clicked his tongue loudly and gently bucked his stirrups into his steed’s sides, beckoning his mount to accelerate into a canker, even if the time saved kept his lord waiting only a few minutes less.

Through the stables and through the sprawling throne hall, Rasmus quickly walked, holding the stiffness of a sore soldier’s march. Each footstep was unwavering, his right hand gripping the postal satchel with white knuckles. He kept his gaze to the ornate carpet, following this route enough times to remember the slight creases and discolorations. With the final loose string of golden thread as his queue, Rasmus halted in his stride and gracefully fell to his knee in a respect to the throne that he knew was before him.

“Stand, Kind Rasmus.”

He lifted both his body and his gaze, cautiously meeting the sharp gaze of Fylkir Beinlaus. Rasmus obediently lifted his hand without second thought, Beinlaus then taking it gently and giving his iconic greeting of a kiss to the knuckle.

“Thank you, Your Holiness. I have traveled far to deliver this personally to you,” Rasmus lifts the satchel from his body, opening the flap and cautiously retrieving a thin envelope imprinted with an eagle,

“It is a letter from The Greater Empire of Emnaria. Here it is, still sealed, for your eyes.”

Taking the envelope, Beinlaus unsheathed his seax and quickly sliced underneath the tab. Unfolding the letter and taking his time to read the brief telegram, Beinlaus gently sighs and leans his head into his palm,

“I don’t understand, Rasmus. As grateful as I am, they all communicate through their offices… At least Dr. Kirkland of Minuda wrote to me personally. Regardless, I wish to meet their Emperor in person. I want to see the kind of man he is. He is their ruler, after all.”

Beinlaus snapped his fingers, quickly whispering into the ear of his personal servant before they scurried off, returning with a scribe accompanying them.

“This is what I wish to write to the Emnarians:”

The scribe readied their typewriter. The clack and rings of the machine rung as Beinlaus spoke,

ᛏᛟ ᛟᚢᚱ ᛆᛥᛆᛆᛗᛆᛞ ᚾᛆᛁᚷᚻᛒᛟᚱᛋ ᛏᛟ ᛟᚢᚱ ᛋᛟᚢᚦᛌ
ᚥᛆ ᚪᚱᛆ ᛈᛚᛠᛋᛆᛞ ᚦᚪᛏ ᚣᛟᚢ ᚻᚪᚹᛆ ᚪᚾᛋᚥᛮᛆᛞ ᛟᚢᚱ ᛁᚾᚹᛁᛏᚪᛏᛁᛟᚾ ᛟᚠ ᛞᛁᛈᛚᛟᛗᚪᛋᚣ᛫ ᛁ ᚷᚱᚪᛋᛁᛟᚢᛋᛚᚣ ᚪᚴᛋᛆᛈᛏ ᚣᛟᚢᚱ ᛟᚠᚠᛮ ᛟᚠ ᛒᛆᚷᛁᚾᚾᛝ ᚱᛆᛚᚪᛏᛁᛟᚾᛋᛌ ᛒᚢᛏ ᛟᚾ ᚦᛆ ᚴᛟᚾᛞᛁᛏᛁᛟᚾ ᚦᚪᛏ ᛁ ᛗᚪᚣ ᚻᚪᚹᛆ ᚦᛆ ᛈᚱᛁᚹᛁᛚᛆᚷᛆ ᛏᛟ ᛗᛆᛆᛏ ᚥᛁᚦ ᚣᛟᚢᚱ ᛆᛗᛈᛮᛟᚱ ᛁᚾ ᛗᚣ ᚻᚪᛚᛚᛋ ᛟᚠ ᚻᚹᛁᚦᚪᚪᚱ᛫ ᚣᛟᚢ ᚪᚱᛆ ᚥᛆᛚᚴᛟᛗᛆ ᛏᛟ ᛒᚱᛝ ᚪᚾ ᛆᚾᛏᛟᚢᚱᚪᚷᛆ ᚠᛟᚱ ᚻᛁᛋ ᚻᛁᚷᚻᚾᛆᛋᛋ ᚠᛟᚱ ᛒᛟᚦ ᚻᛁᛋ ᚴᛟᚾᚹᛆᚾᛁᛆᚾᛋᛆ ᚪᚾᛞ ᛈᚱᛟᛏᛆᚴᛏᛁᛟᚾᛌ ᛒᚢᛏ ᛁ ᛋᚻᚪᛚᛚ ᛆᚾᛋᚢᚱᛆ ᚦᚪᛏ ᛗᚣ ᛟᚥᚾ ᛋᛮᚹᚪᚾᛏ ᚪᚾᛞ ᛆᛗᛈᛚᛟᚣᛆᛆᛋ ᛗᚪᚴᛆ ᚻᛁᛗ ᚴᛟᛗᚠᛟᚱᛏᚪᛒᛚᛆ ᚪᛋ ᚥᛆᛚᛚ᛭
ᛏᛁᛚ ᚻᛆᛁᛞᚢᚱᛋ ᛟᚷ ᛞᚱᚣᛞᚪᚱᛌ
- ᛒᛆᛁᚾᛚᚪᚢᛋ ᛇᚹᛁᛁ ᛈᛃᛟᛏᚢᚱᛋᛋᛟᚾ

“To our esteemed neighbors to our south,
We are pleased that you have answered our invitation of diplomacy. I graciously accept your offer of beginning relations, but on the condition that I may have the privilege to meet with your Emperor in my halls of Hvithaar. You are welcome to bring an entourage for His Highness for both his convenience and protection, but I shall ensure that my own servant and employees make him comfortable as well.
Til Heidurs Og Drydar,
- Beinlaus XVII Pjotursson”

“Thank you. Send that at the earliest convenience.”

The scribe nods silently and both they and the servant departed from the throne.

“Before you depart, any response from either the Department of Offense and Defense or Dr. Kirkland?”

“While I have yet to receive any summon back to Minuda for delievery of their response, the Departments of Warfare has your telegrams ready for me to pick up. If I recall from my initial meeting with Melkorka correctly, your letter to Vyerossia directly addressed the threat against your righteous authority, but gave them forgiveness for this diplomatic slight and offered an initial meeting with a delegate of their cloosing. As for your response to The Austro-Germanic Union, we have taken their many offers gently, but offered first a meeting with their Kaiser, same in structure to your request with the Emperor of Emnaria.”

Beinlaus nodded softly along to Rasmus’ listings, stopping only when he finished his summary. He spoke,

“Go then with my blessings, Loyal Rasmus. Travel across the realm.”