Daily life of Alithea [IC][Alithea members only]

[Camaalbakrius]

Braxtonia, Camaalbakrius
Royal Palace

The mania outside was unnerving. Braxtion had never seen anything like this before in his life. Thoughts began to fill his head about the horrible things that might happen because of the inquisition. Could it lead to revolts? Civil war? Mass Genocide? He could not think about it anymore. He had to do something about this, and it would not go on for any longer.

Great Lord Braxtion got up from his great throne and began to walk towards his private communications room. As he was going, he passed by Brighton in the hall, and when they were across from each other, Brighton opened a nearby door, grabbed Braxtion and slammed him into the room, closing the door behind him as he entered it. Brighton turned on the lights in the empty room and pulled Braxtion and pinned him against the closest wall, saying "DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA OF WHAT YOU HAVE DONE?"

Brighton shook Braxtion as he yelled in his brother's face. "THIS INQUISITION IS DESTROYING OUR COUNTRY, AND YOU'RE LETTING IT HAPPEN!!!"

Brighton prepared to punch Braxtion, but he stopped and lowered his fist. He became calm once again, saying "I have a wife and children, you know? They came here to this country because theirs was in ruins, and they were expecting a better life. How is this better, Braxtion?"

There was silence for a moment. Braxtion didn't answer, and Brighton yelled at the top of his lungs, saying "ANSWER ME YOU COWARD!!!"

Braxtion kept his calm demeanor, and said "I'm doing the best I can, Brighton."

Brighton was swift in his response: "YOUR BEST HASN'T DONE SH*T FOR US!"

"Well this time, it will" Braxtion responded. "I'm going to contact Princess Historia of the Union, she might be able to help us, or at least, keep other nations off our backs."

Brighton let go of his brother and stepped back, saying "This better work, brother. If anyone in my family is harmed by this inquisition, you will pay dearly for it. Mark my words." Brighton left the room, leaving his brother behind.

Braxtion exited the room and continued to head towards his comms room. When he entered, he told all of the soldiers to leave the room, and they complied. He began to set up a private call with the number Historia gave him if he needed to contact her. The call rang, and when it was picked up on the other side, he heard a soft "Hello?"

"Lahja," he said, sighing in relief, "Is Historia with you?"

"Yes she is" She responded, "Why? Do you need to talk with her?"

Braxtion responded "Yes, this is urgent."

"Alright, give me a moment"

Braxtion waited for a few moments and after that, he heard a young woman's voice say "Hello? Braxtion?"

Braxtion immediately said "Princess Historia, we need to talk."

[Union Of Autocratic Empires]

22 of January of 1931

(translated from Finnish)

Dear diary:

Hello. My name is Astrid Isomtsä, and I am 7 years old. I have started writing here because Mrs. Semenko said it could help me feel better after coming here. She also gave sisar* one, but she says she is too sad to write.

I don't know what is happening or why we are here. Sisar and I were playing outside home when suddenly a grown up came to us and took us away. Sisko** tried to fight back, but the mean girl hit her and carried her away. I was scared, because she fell asleep after being hit. Lispetti tried to save us, but other two mean ladies approached her and hit her in the tummy. Then they stepped on her, like the bullies in school, before the mean woman got us inside a car. I wanted to wake up sisar, but I was scared of her, so I did not do anything.

She took us into a train and left us there. I waited and waited and waited for her, but the train left without her. Maybe she forgot? I do not know, but I was happy because I did not like the bad lady. Sisar woke up before we left, she was dizzy and was crying a little. She asked me where we were, and I told her I did not know. I was going to ask a man that was sitting in the otehr seat, but he was weird; he was brown, like my crayons, and had the same yellow hair as dad. I had not seen a man like that before, so I got scared. Sisar tried to speak to him, but he did not understand. He spoke a funny language.

The train moved, and sisar and I got very scared. We did not say mommy goodbye before, and then the scary lady came back. She said started saying something to the funny man, and he left. Sisko asked her where we were going and where was mom, but all the mean lady said was that she would hurt her again if she didn't "shoot her trump". I do not know what that means, and Mrs Semenko won't tell me. It isn't fair.

After a long time, the train stopped and the bad woman picked up a big, large bag and told us to get inside. I got scared and SIgbritt stepped inside me to protect me, like in recess, but the woman hit her with her boot and siad she would hurt her if I didn't jump in. We entered and looked through a crack in the bag; the place was filled with those funny looking brown people, who were wearing funny hats. And then, another mean woman appeared; she had the same yellow thing in her arm, and said she was there to pick us up. Then they dropped us, and when she was going to give us to the other woman, we suddenly started flying! I could see them try to catch us and try to pick up something from their pockets, but they fell down after a sound like fireworks hurt my ears! There was a lot of blood coming off of them ,too, but it was weird; it did not come from their noses, like normal, but instead from holes. I could also see a knight in black clothes and wearing a spear that had smoke from its tip.

The man that picked us up, Mr. Anatolyi Semenko. He is a farmer, and is a friend of mommy and daddy. He had heard from mom we were going to come here, so he warned the "auzoritis" and saved us from the bad women. I asked him if we could see her, but he only looked sad and told us he could not do anything. He also has a wife, Mrs. Yulia Semenko. She is a teacher.

He told us we are now in a village called "Aletsjoff"***, i Abula. I am scared, because that's were the bad people live. He isn't from here, too; he is from a country far away called Novokraina, while Mrs. Yulia is from, Siveroslavia. They are good people, even if they speak FInnish funny.

I will write more later. Sisar has started crying again.

---

*Sisar: Sister. It starts fading odd with the age.
**Sisko: Sister. This term stays even when the language shifts to German.
***Alletshoff, a small village in Northern Abula.

[Camaalbakrius]

Camaalbakrius
Braxtonia

Brighton rushed down the halls of the Royal palace, looking for the armoury. He made many turns through the long, winding halls of his home, and when he finally reached the steel doors that guarded the armoury, he scanned his finger on a small pad, and the doors swung open.

Lights filled the room and everywhere one looked, one would find weapons of all sorts. Machine Guns, pistols, rifles, grenade and rocket launchers, shotguns, etc. Brighton moved down the armoury walkway, passing weapons of all sorts, at last stopping at the pistols. He took his trusty M9 pistol and put it in his belt, along with some grenades and extra ammo clips. He wore his lightweight graphene vest around his chest for protection, and slung around his back he carried an MP5 sub-machine gun. In his hands he carried a pump-action shotgun for close range combat.

He exited the armoury when he was finished and the steel doors shut behind him. He went down into the garage where he took his personal car and drove out of the palace and out of the city.

As he went, he saw smoke rising from nearly every direction. Burning "Heretics" he supposed, and he ignored them and kept moving. Soon, after about 15 minutes, he
exited the city and headed towards the outskirts of Braxtonia. He arrived shortly after at a small house near the woods, where he parked his car and got out.

Getting his house keys, he unlocked the front door and entered, making sure to lock it behind him. He was greeted by his daughter and his two infant sons, along with his loving wife.

"Asyah" he said, "I need you to get the children into the basement as soon as possible."

Asyah was confused, "What's going on?"

"We aren't safe anymore. The inquisitors are targeting anyone now who doesn't support their cause. You need to hide with the children. Now."

[Western Pacific Territories]

Lt. Price.
Kyul’bertinova, Kruchau.
19th Infantry Regiment.

Lt. Price was kneeling, looking ahead of him. His superior, Cpt. Anashkov was prone on the ground. The captain said "Too dangerous. We'll have to go around." He stood up. "There's spots all over this area that have booby-trapped with mines and unexploded ordinance just waiting to go off. Step into one of those spots and you're a dead man." The two of them both started running to what appeared to be a shed with it's walls being made out of scrap metal. In the middle of the shed was a opening. The signs of poverty and desolation were quite obvious to them both.

Anashkov peered into the opening, saying "There's no cover, we're better going around." Lt. Price followed behind Anashkov as they turned around the corner. There was a house, with some light inside. The two men ran over to take cover next to a window. Anashkov peered inside, and looked back, saying "At least 4 tangos inside. Don't even think of it." They both kneeled, and silently crawled to the edge of the wall. Price, prone, set himself up. He was only armed with a silenced sniper's rifle and a pistol. Anashkov said "One tango on patrol. Either you can shoot him quickly, or just let him pass. He'll probably go inside." Price chose to wait. Sure enough, about a minute later the guard walked back inside.

They ran up past where the guard just was and then took cover behind a car. Anashkov checked to make sure they weren't detected, and moved onwards. Both of them went prone, and crawled forward. Anashkov suddenly stopped. They were positioned with a church to their right and a road straight ahead. There was a unoccupied car on the road. Anashkov said "Alright, look. There's a lookout in the church tower, do you see him?" Price nodded, and aimed towards the windows of the tower. The guard came around, and Price shot him, hitting him in the head. He lowered his rifle. "Blimey. There's a guy coming from the north, either shoot him or let him pass."

Price, once again, chose to stay silent and let him pass. The wait was infuriating, but after a few minutes, the guard suddenly started walking towards the house they were at a minute ago, and then swinged around past the shed. They both stood up, and rushed to the church door. Anashkov opened it, and the pair walked inside. Price noticed the stockpile of rifles, ammunition crates and artillery shells inside the church.

They walked through the church, and exited into a small graveyard. They walked through the graveyard, and exited the yard. Ahead of them was a large field with overgrown grass, they would blend in perfectly with their ghillie suits on. They began running through the field, but about halfway the sounds of talking forced them to take cover and go prone. Suddenly, a massive crowd of soldiers appeared. Price estimated that there were at least 60 soldiers in total. Anashkov said "Too many. Stay prone, do NOT move. Try to anticipate their paths. If you need to move, do it slowly, no quick movements."

Price could feel his heart beat faster and faster, until a soldier walked directly on top of Price and fell. The soldier started screaming "Agh! I think I rolled my ankle on a rock!" in Adran. Two other soldiers picked him up, and continued onwards. Soon, the group was gone. Anashkov said "That was way too close mate."

WIP

[Confederation of the Equator]

[minecraft villager sound]

[Saradena]

Ilya Ayukara
Katarika Park, Arcea
February 22, 2015 8:50 PM

---

"Okay Ilya, it's time. Now shine brightly and show them what you've practiced hard for!"

Those words echo through Ilya as she is given last minute preparations before her performance begins. She had been on stage performing plays before during her elementary school and kindergarten days, but not as grand as this one. But she can't turn back down now, she had already signed up for this. She had practiced hard, although she had to take numerous meds to prevent herself from weakening during performance, she still gave it her all.

After all, she was going to show him who was a superior girl.

Alex, sitting next to his older siblings, and Kotori, thoroughly watched the entire play unfolding as he waited for Ilya's time to perform. Kotori and Asuka conversed with each other as Koko and Johann watched the event silently. Ilya's parents and Hestia also sat beside them, also excited to see their daughter (as for Hestia, her younger sister), finally be on stage.

"Hey, isn't Ilya next to perform, Alex?" Asuka asks him.
"Ilya? you mean Alex's new girlfriend? Oooooohhhh." Koko adds, teasing Alex.
"Speaking of which, have you talked with Ilya recently?" Alessandra asks.
"Well, yeah, for a short while. I tried asking her why was she is ignoring me until now a while ago" Alex replies
"Wait, what?" Asks Kotori.
"And her response was?"
"Well, she just said "Just watch me tonight" and left."
"Just like that?"
"Yeah, just like that."
"Wait, what's going on- Dammit. Kimiko could you stop texting for at least 10 minutes, please?!" Kotori tries to ask, but was interrupted by her phone. Johann, meanwhile, just kept watching, consuming all of their snacks while doing so, especially the caramel popcorn.

After the previous performance was finished, with a huge applause heard through the cloud, including the Surmajis themselves. It was then Ilya's turn to perform as the "Mysterious Lady", who would perform the Sun Dance, and then adding a song/dance routine soon after.

"Alright, Ilya. It's time to shine."

She walks towards the stage, as the audience began clapping. Looking at the large audience, Ilya was petrified. She shook with fright, her heart began to beat fast, and sweat began pouring from her, but she could not show them now, especially as he is watching this performance. Once the music started to play, she took a deep breath, mustered up all of her courage, and began to move.

(I have not found a good track to go with this performance, the song that would play is a tune based off traditional East Asian music anyway)

Her dance had captivated the audience in just the first 90 seconds, especially with her quick, yet gentle moves as she moves towards the stage, swaying her fan around as the flutes played and the drums pounded. Her performance was done with full grace, comparing it with Margaret Stockhart's, a local priestess, 2008 performance. Alex was impressed by her Sun Dance, especially during the refrain where the tune had intensified. She had managed to pull through the act without missing a step, without knowing that he was her motivation not to miss or fail one step.

She pulls off her dance. After the performance, it was received with a standing ovation as people had been impressed and were captivated.

As she is handed a microphone, she greets herself to the audience. "I am Ilya Ayukara, 17 years old of Nadroski High School. Nice to meet you all.!"

Soon, the school's band arrived on stage, with a mix of traditional and modern musical instruments being brought along with them. "As for my next performance, I'll be singing a song that, I think many of my friends and classmates, and some of you in the crowd, have known, with an added twist. I hope you enjoy."

"Also, for a certain someone [Alex] that might be there on the crowd, I hope you are enjoying this. Because I'm going to crank it up twofold."

"A certain someone...." Alex asks wildly.
"It's probably you." Asuka replies.
"You." Johann adds
"I think it's you." Koko also adds
"Yeah, who else would Ilya point out anyway?" says Alessandra
"Wait, who?" Kotori asks again

---

Press Play (The song and the set up would be similar to this, just change the lyrics, the language, and the costumes, etc.)

---

Ilya dances at the first part of the song, swaying her fan similarly to her previous performance, until she jives in when the guitars joined in. She had sang perfectly, just as she had practiced well. She worked hard for this performance, and she was going to give it her all. The crowd cheered and clapped as the song played, with a lot of people jiving in to the song, including Alex, whose heart was caught in Ilya's performance. He cheered her loudly, saying to give her all. Ilya hears his faint cheer as she sang and made her smile more, seeing that he was now caught by her performance. When the song finally ended, two AF-12 Greyhawks fly over them, making Ilya's hair sway as she does a finishing pose.

The audience, thoroughly impressed and were extremely pleased with her performance, cheered and clapped for her and the band.

---

After the program

---

After the program, Ilya sits on a chair as she watched the crowd goers head out to the festivities around the park and in the rest of Arcea. Soon, she was then greeted by several classmates and friends of hers, who congratulated her on her performance, and complimenting her on a job well done.

"Great job out there Ilya! You really shined out there!" said the President of her Class, with the Student Body saying the same.
"Well, I had to admit, you did a decent job out there." remarked Angelika
"You should know that she has two standing ovations during her performance, not like you during your last two." a member of the Student Body asserts Angelika.
"Tch, whatever. I'm out of here." snobs Angelika

Ilya giggles as she thanks them for enjoying the performance. As the student body begins heading off, Ilya decides to look for Alex so she could ask him about her performance.

Finding him in a milk shake stand, she asks. "So, did you enjoy what I did back there?"
"Hell yes. I never knew that you were really this..talented...everyone was captivated by your dance, even more during your song. It felt like I was caught in your performance."
Ilya giggles as she blushes "T-thank you, Alex. I'm so happy that you enjoyed it. So, did I show that I'm a better girl than her?"
"Who?" Alex asks. Before they could say anything else, The Surmajis and Kotori approach the two, with Alessandra waving at them. Ilya's smile then drops at the sight of her.

"So, er...have you met Alessandra?" Alex asks
"Oh, the girl who took you awa-"
Alessandra suddenly approaches Ilya and introduces herself to her.
"Hi, Ilya, I'm Alessandra, Alex's cousin. Nice to meet you."
"Wait, COUSINS?! You mean....you weren't..together...as a couple?!" Ilya says to herself as she was shocked about finding out that she didn't take Alex away from her. Making what she did seem like a foolish act.
"O-oh.." Ilya replies, embarrassed "N-nice to meet you too" she shakes her hand.
"You were awesome back there on stage with your performance! I was just in awe. Goes to show that Alex does know how to pick a girl."
"Oh, come on, Alessandra, you're embarrassing us."

Ilya then turns to Alex with an embarrassed face "S-s-so...she's y-your cousin?"
"Well, of course. Wait, don't tell me you-"
Before Alex continued, Ilya glomps him tightly, happy that he was still hers the whole time, with Ilya's parents and the Surmaji siblings looking at both of them. Moments later, their classmates show up, looking at the two.

"Awww. looook. It's Ilya and Alex cuddling each other! Ain't it cute"
"AYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE"
"ALEX X ILYA CONFIRMED! C O N F I R M E D"

Alex looks at the onlookers, embarrassed as Ilya continues to hug him.
"Ilya, they're looking at us.."
"Let them, I'm just so happy right now. I love yooooooooouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu.

Just then, an elderly woman approached the glomping couple. Saying, "Well, I think I have stumbled at the wrong time.."
"Wait..... is she, wait, she is!" Kotori's eyes widened as she recognized the old woman. "Miss Trayaelle! Your highness!" she says to her as the rest of the Surmaji's and the Ayukara's stood there in shock.

"Ilya, it's good to see you. I was impressed by your performance there on stage. You really knocked the crowd out!" the woman continued.
"W-wait. How do you know my name?!" Ilya asks her, shocked.
"Well, it's going to be a hard-hitter for you, but...."
Miss Trayelle then holds Ilya's hands.
"I'm your original mother's cousin."

Ilya then becomes petrified, in shock as those words enter her ears. How? What is going on? Original Mother? What do you mean? those thoughts enter her mind as she, Alex, Hestia, Kotori, and Asuka say in unison.

"eh? EH? EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH?!

[Union Of Autocratic Empires]

Esgonia, 2 kilometers from Eldritcha.

The train sped through the Esgonian landscape as it made its way towards Eldritcha, loaded with commuters both native and foreign making their way towards the city for one reason or the other; among the second group was a rather unremarkable Liyomesse-looking woman wearing a dress coupled with a hat ripped straight from the 20s, looking trhough the windows with her icy blue eyes, sporting a bored expression. No one noticed the woman was non other than Gishael Kuvera Trayaelle, previous Empress of Abula and mother of Kaisar Karl. It wasn't surprising, though; after all, as a Kitsune, she was good when it came about concealing herself.

Even though the woman was looking by the window, Gishael was not paying atention to her surroundings; she was thinking about how she would tell the message she had set out to deliver. It wasn't exactly something easy to put into words, specially considering the person that was supposed to receive it was so young. She couldn't just drop it and leave, some finesse was needed to say what she had to. She sighed as the train stopped, and disembarked alongside the rest of the commuters while keeping enough of a distance to stop them from discovering her "anomaly" - she had already been caught before, and she had serious doubts the next person would end up marrying her too. She folowed this thought by chastising herself from bringing up her husband.

As she disembarked she made her way to her destination, but decided to stop in a nearby park to think better about how to best deliver her message. It was at a park when she found children playing football, which reminded Gishael of her own children. True, they had a complicated life - one of them a severely injured ex child soldier, and the other a persona non grata in her own home -, yet, for the most part they had happy lives, one of them happily married to a wonderful woman with three adorable children, and the other having found her calling by helping Salvation Ausozera; both of them had told her her support had been instrumental in shaping their lives, and yet here she was, having trouble with coming up with ways to talk to a teenager. What was supposed to do? Having a heart to heart with a girl that had no reason to believe her...

Unless she showed her actual evidence.

It was at this point when she chastised herself - again - for having taken so long to find an obvious way to convince her. To make matters worse, she had been 2 hours in the park, so she hurried to the home.

She finally made it to the luxurious houwehold, knocking on the door to be received by a maid.

"Excuse me, I am looking for the daught of the lord and lady of the house ."

"May I know why you are interested in her, Lady...?"

"Gishael Kuvera Trayaelle."

Upon hearing the name, the young woman opened her eyes wide and bowed. "I-I'm sorry, your highness! I hadn't recognized you!"

"It's alright. There is no need for formalities, I stopped being the empress a long time ago."

"Y-yes, sorry", said the maid as she tried to compose herself. "May I know what do you wish from the lady?"

"It's about her family", she said. "I have news for her."

[Atreidya]

Joining the Hamaia'riva

Cormack Serace brought his padded training weapon to block the massive Hamaia'riva guard's padded maul. Even though the brute had a padded weapon, his massive maul was still swung hard enough to break the block and send the smaller man sprawling across the mat.

"Get up recruit! Every member of the guard must be able to defeat me before they enter training!"

Cormack watched the massive man effortlessly twirl the equally massive maul. He had watched the Lieutenant break three other recruit's ribs and another's arm earlier. He preferred not to join them in the Palace's infirmary. However he could not simply give up, his family had been Hamaia'riva for sixteen generations, his father was a lieutenant in the order, anything less than Cormack joining would be a disgrace to his family, his father would adopt his wife and children and Cormack would be cast into the streets, easy as that.

No Cormack had been waiting for this most of his life. He propelled forward with his whole body, only inches up off the ground and swung his training weapon up and slammed it into the lieutenant's chest. Catching the man off guard he stumbled back and Cormack swung into his leg knocking him down.

Cormack readied himself to be cracked with the maul, to be smashed into a concussion, or worse. Instead he just heard laughing. The lieutenant slowly rose and righted the young man as well.

"That's a start my boy, you do your family proud. You pass, now go on home to inform your folks your dad will be proud."

[Camaalbakrius]

Outskirts of Camaalbakrius

As his wife took the children downstairs, Brighton locked all of the doors that led into his house. He closed all of the blinds, turned off the lights, and moved the couch so it was facing the main door. Against the back of the couch he leaned the guns he took from the armory at the palace. He kept his pistol in his pants and sat down on the couch and waited.

He figured that some people must have seen his car and followed him here. The cars of the royalty are easy to distinguish, and nearly everyone in Camaalbakrius could recognize them by sight. A disadvantage for those trying to make a sneaky escape, but there were no other cars avaliable.

After a few hours of resting on his couch, Brighton heard a loud banging on his door. A voice came from the outside: "Open up! We know you're in there!" Brighton slowly got up from the couch and looked through the peephole. It was a priest surrounded by armed men bearing rosaries and crucifixes. They were Inquisitors, and the priest was the questioner.

Brighton unlocked the door and opened it, saying "What do you want?" The priest replied "Just to ask a few questions." Brighton rolled his eyes. "You know who I am right?" The priest nodded his head in reply.

As Brighton was closing the door on his unwelcome guests, the armed men pointed their guns at him and prepared to fire. Brighton opened the door again slowly, and the men lowered their weapons. Brighton went away from the door and towards the bar to get himself a drink. The Inquisitors followed him in and made themselves comfortable.

"Can I offer anyone a drink?" Asked Brighton. They all shook their heads in reply. Brighton took his drink and sat down at his dining room table next to the priest. "What do you want?" He asked the priest. The priest smiled wickedly, saying "I just have a few questions for you. By order of His Holiness the Pope, you must comply." Brighton became increasingly angry, but held it in, saying "Ask away."

"Is anyone here with you?" Asked the priest. Brighton responded "No. I'm alone." The priest looked to his men and they began to search around the house, checking every nook and crannie for any signs of life.

The priest continued, "Would you consider yourself to be a devout Catholic?" To which Brighton responded "absolutely." The priest smiled and said "Good. Good." He continued, saying "Then you must know about our cause, yes?" Brighton gave a sort of evil smile, saying "Oh yes, I know. It's only the most popular thing nowadays. It's by people stay in bed and don't leave their houses anymore. You kill innocent law-abiding people in the name of God. But in truth, you defile every sacred command he gave to us, worshipping only death and mass murder. You call yourself a Catholic but all you are is a killer."

The priest became increasingly annoyed, saying "You call it murder, but I call it cultural cleansing. We are purging this nation of a great evil, and you should be thanking us. It is the will of God that we all follow him."

Suddenly a scream was heard from downstairs, along with the sound of a gunshot. Brighton bolted from his chair and went downstairs to find one of the armed guards dead on the floor, Asyah holding a gun in her hands with the children behind her. The rest of the Inquisitors rushed downstairs, including the priest. The priest, seeing the others, said "He lies! Seize the heathens!"

The Inquisitors rushed to take Asyah and the children but Brighton took out his pistol and shot the inquisitors before they could touch her. The priest fled upstairs and out the door of the house. Brighton dashed up the stairs and got his assault rifle and killed the rest of the inquisitors in the house. Brighton returned to Asyah and said "Take the children. We're leaving." Asyah asked "Where are we going?" Brighton replied "Home. Your home."

[Free Asian Ports]

“Sorry for the inconvenience! Can we get to the party?”

The Pacifican soldier was clearly unprepared for action. Indeed, neither were his comrades. His uniform was definitely hastily assembled and put on, probably because he’d been naked a few moments earlier. The Azen tankers might have had something to do with that. Perhaps dismounting both the tank and the girls, the man was intending to hitch a ride on the outside while the tanks went to some other party venue. But the Portean Marine standing outside had something to say about that. “Oi, you! What are you doing? Don’t you know we’re being deployed?” he shouted at the slightly disheveled man. A platoon of Marines had dismounted to get the attention of the Azen armor column, which had pulled off to the side of the road while its occupants did their… business. Both the Pacificans and Azens were very much unaware of current events. Hence the need to attract their attention. Preferably fast.

The Abrams that the Azens and Pacificans occupied were parked on a road leading into Azenyanistan City. The horizon was lit by distant flashes and anti-aircraft fire. Things were going downhill very quickly. A surprise attack by the New Islamic State had turned a festival into a warzone, and APFOR forces were being scrambled as fast as was possible. The 32nd Marine Division (Motorized) was on site at the time, and was one of the first Portean units to respond. Streaming out of the FOB where they were stationed, they filled the highway as what few Portean and Esgonian units in the area started reacting to the attack. Another Portean Marine unit was the 8th Marine Division, an armored unit that provided support to the 32nd. Their Leopard 2s headed columns of AFVs heading into battle.

As the scene of the disciplined Marines heckling the disorderly Pacificans passed by, Lieutenant Yukimatsu Kaori briefly looked out a side periscope in her commander’s cupola. She passively catalogued the moment, but thought no more of it. She was a little more worried about her own crew. This was their first combat action. Heck, it was her first combat action. Why, they could all die five minutes into the battle! Would their training pay off? The armor of the tank certainly felt solid, but Junko was still very much aware of the penetrating power of modern tank guns. Concerned thoughts like these poured through her head while she retained a less panicked posture.

Naomi had her face in the padded scope viewer, zeroing in the targeting systems for optimum accuracy. She was also checking to make sure all the filters worked, especially the infrared. Naomi was always nonchalant about everything, perhaps even a bit annoyed. Especially with this situation right now. She sat right in front of and below Kaori, where Kaori could easily communicate with her gunner for optimum combat performance. Sakura was doing a quick check of the tank’s ammo inventory. She fussed over the hurried departure, and was pretty sure the tank wasn’t fully loaded. Sakura’s personality was plainly at odds with her appearance. Her muscle and upper body fitness gave her a gruff appearance, but she was probably the most sociable of the crew. Always the first to start a conversation, Sakura’s friendly, smiling face could have belonged on a girl 20 kilos lighter. Those extra 20 kilos were all muscle, toned from hefting the heavy 120mm tank shells into the L/55’s gun breech. Lastly, and out of Kaori’s sight, was Yoko. Yoko, like Naomi, was a quiet girl. But unlike Naomi she spoke up a lot more and was definitely more willing to carry a conversation. Driving took up most of her attention, though, so she only communicated to call out targets of interest.

Over these crewmates, Kaori dotted. Always the worry wort, she frequently asked for status updates. Eventually, Sakura managed to calm her down. “Seriously, we’ll be fine. Just keep an eye out and stay on the ball” she said. “Is our fearless commander getting shakes?” asked Yoko over the internal comm line. “No! I’m not! It’s just that this is our first combat mission. I’m getting kind of excited about it” protested Kaori.

Any further discourse was interrupted by the radio. “All units, contacts spotted! Enemy tanks, approximately 2 clicks due north. Targets are Scorpion light tanks. Repeat, enemy Scorpion light tanks 2 kilometers north of our position” called in the company commander. “Ryoukai, third squadron moving to engage” reported another squadron commander. “Ryoukai, second squadron to support” snapped Kaori a moment later. She’d switched into battle mode, action bringing her the focus she needed to calm her nerves. “Two-two and two-three, follow me” she radioed her wingmen. The sergeants commanding the two tanks reported affirmatives and followed her as the squadron moved up on the third squadron’s right flank in a staggered formation.

Ten Leopard 2s thundered across the desert. In a chevron pattern, the three squadrons sped towards the outskirts of Azenyanistan City as fast as the tanks could go off road. The concussive blasts of distant combat were getting closer, echoing over the flat landscape surrounding the city. It wasn’t long before the enemy tanks started appearing in the city. And visuals go two ways. The light tanks, which had been putting shots into various police cars, started noticing the approaching Portean tanks. Their turrets slowly turned towards the newcomers, the crews starting to get a firing solution.

Presently, the Scorpions opened fire. The little 76mm cannons popped, throwing their shells at the Porteans. The high-velocity shells streaked across the distance between the two forces in no time, whizzing past the Portean tanks or impacting nearby, throwing up clods of dirt and sand. The Scorpions were being manned by clearly undertrained crews, and virtually all of their shots fell wide of the mark. Such was the poor quality of both their equipment and ability. However, they had the distinct advantage of numbers and it wouldn’t be long before they zeroed in and started landing hits. The puny 76mm guns didn’t pose a threat to the Leopard 2, but it couldn’t hurt to treat them as such. Kaori ordered her tanks to halt for a moment to provide covering fire for the rest of the advancing company.

“Gunner, targets forward, 900 meters. Two targets, armor” she rattled out. Naomi acknowledged and had Sakura load Sabot. “Up!” shouted Sakura to indicate that the gun was loaded. Naomi pulled the trigger and shouted “Away!”. The tank rocked back as the shell was thrown out of the barrel, recoiling under the force of the 120mm gun. Beside the tank, Kaori’s subordinates also opened fire, flashing over the heads of their comrades. Naomi’s shot fell true and punched through the engine section of one Scorpion, forcing the crew of the wrecked vehicle to bail out. What was left alive, anyhow. Though no other shots hit, the squadron’s cover fire was effective and several Scorpions were forced back into cover. After their barrage, Kaori ordered her squadron to return to the advance. At the same time, another squadron stopped to fire their shots. At one time, one of the three squadrons was stopped and firing while the others advanced.

This operation ran like a fine watch, each movement timed in coordination with the other squadrons. It made the ability of the NIS crews pale in comparison. Gradually, the company closed the distance to the edge of the city. Tank after tank defending NIS positions were systematically knocked out or forced to retreat. Before long, the Leopard 2s and their supporting motorized infantry were in the city, clearing out the infestation.

Hours later, Kaori collapsed into her seat. Their tank had secured two kills, and the company as a whole had done well. The city was retaken and the NIS were slaughtered. It was a tough fight, however. Later in the battle, significant forces started appearing with radically improved weaponry. Powerful weapons they hadn’t expected to show up in the hands of the NIS made themselves known. It was a hard battle, and Kaori’s crew and unit were pushed to their limit. Thankfully, they had not been found wanting. It was a boost for Kaori, too. At least they could fight. Sakura did one final inventory of the ammo load before they returned to base. “Ooh, that was a close one. I hope Naomi doesn’t see another PL-01 ever again” she said, wiping sweat from her brow as she too sunk into her seat. “I’m afraid that isn’t up to you” responded Naomi, who continued to be vigilant at her station. Kaori half-sighed, half-giggled. As long as her crew was fine, so was she. That was what mattered.

[United Azen Tribes]

Advocacy House, Yaneza, GLCA

MORNING

The four women were seated around a long, rectangular table made out of Spearwood in the only meeting room that the Advocacy House had. It was air conditioned and there were only a few windows. A door was behind them as Eve Saragon, the head of the Azen Union of Trade and Prosperity, spoke first with a glass of cold water in her right hand

"So, Advocate, what is this meeting going to entertain first?" said the fair skinned, long haired, slender and big-nosed Nahhan woman.

The Advocate was a dark skinned, slender, small nosed and short-haired Nyran woman. Her name was Tyena ur Mondli. A former assistant in the Advocacy and was known for nothing else other than being an expert on a few fields such as agriculture and technology. She was however a recognized analyst. She then said in reply

"Let's talk about the mayors."

The businesswoman nodded and so did the red-black haired, big nosed, tall and very white skinned Azzen woman next to the Advocate. Then that woman said

"The mayors are the biggest problem we have now. Before Tyena, the mayors all listened to me. They did the same with Sadisia and Asyah. But most are new. Young. The new generation. 4/5 of them are new. The remaining number are the old ones from Asyah and Sadisias times. And I tell you, only those old news and the new mayors in the SARAz are the only ones listening now. The rest are uncomfortable, unhappy and uncooperative. One mayor even insulted us when we asked her to participate in the Rebuilding. The reason why these mayors are not listening and are breaking the constitution we have now is all because they hate..."

She nodded at Tyena. The rest of the Azens looked at Aneyt and Eve Saragon scoffed and said

"They are actually going against you just because you are a Nyran? Just because you are black? And just because they do not know you?"

At this, Tyena spoke up

"Yes. They said so themselves. Why do we even have to deal with this? Well, the reasons are trivial and pointless. We have a problem and we know the causes. If this were math, we already have the given and the required is obvious so I will not state it unless somebody here asks. We need now a solution. And the solution will be to remove them from their positions. That however gives us another problem to solve which is if turned into a question would be..."

The woman beside the Advocate then said

"Who will replace these mayors when we are done with them?"

Eve nodded while the fourth woman sipped her cup of water. She was very white, tall but slender and her hair was until her shoulders and it was gray and black of color. She was also an Azzen. And she said

"We need manpower. The only people you have besides Aneyt, who's beside you, and the old ones."

But Aneyt nodded and said

"And some new ones. Killjoy is a commander now, Eudora is coming to help and so on but the numbers are countable. Our government now is so small. We are libertarian and so we have to be as I said we are. Even so, we should still have some control. Military, police and emergency services and we also have to represent our people. And do not forget, we are a part of the UOAE."

Tyena then said

"Aneyt, let us get back to the topic."

Aneyt nodded and said, with open hands out

"Of course. The point is that I agree with Ary. We have no manpower to spare. All our members are occupied. But we can either give our Advocacy more jobs to do or hire other people. But I do not trust our own people in our own homeland except Tyena and the Advocacy. For now, we can only trust the AUTP and our allies. We might have to resort requesting manpower from the Union and Esgonia. Maybe even from Ratte and the rest of our old allies."

They nodded. Then Tyena tapped the table twice and said

"We need Unionists. And we need our own. Not from the public, as Aneyt would suggest. But from the AUTP. Eve?"

Eve Saragon nodded and said

"Yes, Advocate?"

Tyena nodded to her and Eve did so as well. Nodding was their usual way of respect and greeting. Tyena said

"Your sons and your daughters...they do have education and training from you, yes?"

Eve nodded and said

"Yes. I gave them the best education I could acquire both from local and foreign institutions and I also taught them how to be able to lead their own companies or organizations someday. They are also all of age, Advocate."

Tyena nodded then said to her

"Well, with your permission, I would like to advocate for the appointment of your children, they being of age and qualifications, to being the temporary mayors for as long as we need them."

Part 2:

"So those are all of them?" asked Aneyt. Tyena nodded as they stood outside on the dusty sidewalk of Yaneza, the capital, and said
"That is all of them. Now that the mayors are all gone, only those in the SARAz remain. I have an idea though which I hope you will not shoot down."
Aneyt chuckled and said as a few CP patrol cars passed by, leaving Yaneza to assist in removing the mayors from office.
"I just might, Tyena. I am the Devils Advocate after all and my job is to oppose you."
Tyena nodded to which Aneyt said
"So tell me about it."
Tyena started with her right hand going to the left
"We have to ask those who want to move to the SARAz to move to the SARAz."
Aneyt nodded and said
"What about it? What if everyone wants to go?"
Tyena shrugged and said
"We have the donated vehicles. We can use them to take them all to the SARAz."
Aneyt nodded and said
"And I can handle the rest. Not a bad idea. However, we should give the SARAz a new name. Our own name."
The Advocate nodded and said, a kind wind blowing towards them, dust lifting off and their loose long clothes moved by the wind
"Sarazanistan."
"The land of the SARAz?"
She nodded and at this Aneyt hummed and looked at the sky. The Azen sky was always grand and blue, with countable clouds and the warm sun. Tyena looked up too and the both of them were quiet, enjoying the sight. Even with a few ruins and buildings rebuilt two years ago, Yaneza was still the capital of the land. The capital of the Ayr. The two Advocates saw a few children play on the highway. No cars really passed by here. Not too many live in Yaneza anymore. The Azens were all afraid of another massacre. Another holocaust. Another genocide. Yaneza was quiet except for the market. It was always noisy.

Then Tyena said to Aneyt, their eyes both hidden by sunglasses
"This will be quick. But we will not hurry. Rushed development will kill people."
Aneyt then turned to her and said
"Taking words from an Arkanan?"
Tyena nodded
"Foreign and other imported ideas are not bad. Unless they are like the inquisition or anything that every nation was so afraid of or hated. I am taking those Arkanan words. And I will use them. I want this to go day by day, week by week, slowly. One step at a time."
Aneyt smiled then said to the shorter Nyran
"What is the next step?"
"My dear Devils Advocate, the next step is to appoint the children of Eve Saragon as mayors."
"And the next?"
"We call for the foreign experts. Think tanks and city planners and other professionals. And remember to call the ones we have in Sarazanistan and abroad. Ary is our best on the field. Have her work with the foreigners."
"Then what next?"
"We finally use those donations. At the same time...let us create more housing for our people. For we will replenish our numbers."
Aneyt said
"Azn. So be it, Advocate. I do wish to add that it might be best to speak with Asyah. She has just come back. The Inquisition is bleeding and driving Azens from Camaalbakrius. Too bad but rebuilding is our most important concern. Asyah might prove well to be a fine mayor. And I need to remind you, Tyena, that Yaneza is your city. You take care of it."
Tyena patted her taller classmate and said
"I will. For now, let's take this afternoon to watch the sky."
"Agreed. Our people are doing as we told them to."
"Anrn." acknowledged Tyena. And so the two continued to look at the sky where the Azen sun gave warmth to all things, good or bad, living and not, human and not. For there is much work to do.

[United Azen Tribes]

September 12, 2015
At the flat part of the roof of the Advocacy House, the capital of Azenyanistan (YANEZA), west of the Grand Libertarian Confederacy of Azenyanistan and the United Azen Tribes, Sishai, New Ausozera

The sky was so full of stars. And the moon was not hidden by the clouds. It was good to see. If I recall correctly, it was like the old Nyran story that my mother used to tell me when I was still a child. I no longer remember the story but it said that the moon was the mother of the stars so the stars were her children. I also no longer remember who my mother was, what she was and where she was and if she was still alive or dead, missing or not. That was the only thought that spoiled my night now.

Then came my good friend and classmate before, Aneyt. And of course, she was my Devils Advocate. And I was the one who was the Advocate now. She said to me when she emerged from the door that led into the roof

"What a beautiful night it is, huh? I just came from outside. I knew you would come out here when you were done with things for today. Mind if I sit with you there, Tyena?"
I smiled at her, raised my hand and gestured to her to come while I said
"Sure, Aneyt. Come, come. Sit with me."
When she did, she glanced at the stars and then at the moon then at me. Then she said
"Want to know what I did for you today?"
I nodded as I looked up to the sky. She began
"Well, you and I no longer have to deal with the mayors."
I looked at her and said
"Really?"
I was surprised really. I never thought they would be voted out. But they were as Aneyt told me. She continued
"Really. The entire public is still deciding who will replace them though. Too bad we couldn't appoint our own or remove them while they were still in office. But both ways are just...not the Azen way."
I agreed with a nod and then asked
"What else?"
She chuckled and said
"Well, word spread all over Azenyanistan that there were caches and stashes of supplies that were donated to us. They were either in warehouses or hidden all over the country. The hunt for the stuff just began this morning. I thought you would notice but you didn't. Silly you. You're an analyst just like me but you didn't analyze that one, did you?"
I blushed as I scratched my head and said to her
"Come on, Aneyt. Cut me some slack. I just got your office ever since you resigned. And besides, I had to get used to this house."
Aneyt rolled her eyes and told me, putting her left arm around me and getting closer to me
"And if you're going to say sorry about being so secretive and shy, don't. It's all right. And sure, I'll cut you some slack. But keep informed, all right? And I can't always be the one doing stuff for you. Why not Anino or your own secretary? Hell, even the rest of the Advocacy works in the house for a few hours before heading off to their offices and their respective groups."
I just smiled as she then got back to the topic
"Anyway, Tyena, at the end of the day, the public found more than 35 of the supply stashes and caches. Most of them were in our area, Tyena. And of course, the public isn't stupid enough or bad enough to use them for selfish reasons. Sure, there were some individuals that had to be arrested for some very petty crimes but almost everyone cooperated. And I don't mean that in a bad way. If cooperate is such a bad word because of the connotations then how about play nice? Two words, yeah, but they sound better."
I told her
"Tell me about what they did with the stuff."
She said after a little sigh. I looked at her as she said
"They either started using it or brought it into the public warehouses so they wouldn't have to go all the way to where they were hidden. In the north, they're using the stuff to prepare their homes and their buildings for the cold. A very mild winter is coming in the next months, they said. But them being Azzens and Ennans, they'd rather prepare than risk anything. In our area, the west, we're using it to fix everything that didn't get fixed because of the past. In the east, they're using the stuff to replace anything that just didn't do them good. For example, the public buildings and the parks too. If not replace, they're improving stuff or just doing what they can to make their place look and do better. In the south, where your tribe is, they're using the stuff they found to do a little work on the ports. It's amazing though that the AUTP was able to create a new fleet, an Azen made fleet, for private and military use. You do have the documents on the fleet, right?"
I nodded. She always looked beautiful in this city. Her skin that looked like silver didn't really match the fair skin color of the Ayyrans here but she stood out and that made her pretty. Her long black and red hair was also amazing. And so was her slender figure, her battleship gray eyes and her big nose. That big nose. Oh well, Azzens have them. And some Ennans too. But she indeed was a true Azzen.
She went on
"And of course, Afghanistan is just being Afghanistan. It's the best, it's gonna be the best and has always been the best. If I were Azenyanistan herself, I would be jealous of Afghanistan. It's the best but it is only one place, one part of Azenyanistan. The rest of it is still..."
I added with a gentle smile
"A work in progress?"
She nodded and gave me a fistbump for that before she said
"Yup. It's a work in progress. But in months or just 10 years, I know we're gonna see a better, greater, faster, stronger and just...you know, more able and more awesome Azenyanistan. You and I are still young and still a little fresh out from our educational system which still sucks unless the AUTP gets those new private schools up and running. But the point about you and I still being young and fresh is that you and I can get this done. We can see this thing through. I know it. And I feel it. You feel it?"
I raised an eyebrow. I wasn't that sensitive. But that made me hate myself a little. It seemed nice to be sensitive. Being an Azen, I thought I would be sensitive and I was but not that much.
She rolled her eyes at that and said
"Nah, you don't. That sucks."
"Hey." I said. "It's not my fault that I can't be as sensitive as you or anyone else in Azenyanistan."
She just laughed and said "Hey, I'm joking, Tyena. Don't be too serious. You sometimes are. But yeah, I know we can do this, Tyena. We can see this thing through. Months or years, it's gonna happen. And I might be wrong but my analysis is that the world is looking forward to seeing us get back on our feet."
I agreed. I remembered the donations of the international community. I remembered how the UOAE rebuilt our country for two years before letting us take charge and spearhead it ourselves since it was our country despite being a member of their union. I remembered the good they did and the goodwill they had. From the very individual to the entire whole of a nationstate, this world actually cared for us. Our cause was not in vain. But I cared not for fighting for it. I cared for working for it. I wasn't a fighter.
Aneyt then said "You know, Tyena, folks new and old are starting to have more belief and faith in the times now. Even with the wars going on in the north. I mean, for the love of the Grand Creator, do they NOT ever get tired of wars? For the love of the Grand Creator, I mean, do they NOT? I lost count of the wars that this world has been through and it's actually disappointing for me to know that we contributed seven wars to this world and we lost them all. All seven of those wars!"
And at that, I laughed so hard that it made her slap me in the back of my head as she said
"Come on, Tyena! What's funny? Seven wars, we started them then we lost them. It's a disaster. No, seven disasters. It ain't funny!"
And when I was done laughing, I just said to her
"Well, Aneyt, if you think about it, then you would realize that the past is just so funny. Funny in a way that, if you think about it, it's actually futile and just the past. Past is past. It's over and over is over."
I got the 'I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about, Tyena' look and then I rolled my eyes and said to her
"It's time to joke about the past, Aneyt. Forgive and forget as they say in Ratte."
But Aneyt shrugged and said, looking at the sky above
"Yeah but we ain't Ratteans. We're Azens. Forgive and forget is as difficult as finding water in the great desert of the west. It's a good thing that there are a lot of oasis around though. But still, the point stands. We're not Ratteans. We're not like the foreigners. We're us."
I agreed. But I couldn't relate.
Then she said
"And yes, I got more news. Ary just called me to tell me about the drone that she just sent out this morning to check the rest of Azenyanistan. And if you forgot, she's in Afghanistan, talking with some visiting Esgonian and Portean city planners and experts on basically everything you have to know in order to create a better country. The drone is still out there, taking a video that isn't gonna stop being taken until the drone gets every detail of Azenyanistan into its memory."
I nodded. Then Aneyt stopped to ask me, her voice a little softer
"Are you listening or are you looking at the stars and moons and just hearing me?"
I shrugged. I got punched. She said
"For the love of-ugh, Tyena!"
"What?" I said, with a hint of 'Chill, Aneyt' in it
She said "You can't just let what I tell you just enter one ear and leave the other like it's one very long string of noodles from Urran or FAP or Canaam. I mean, come on!"
I could not help but giggle. I got punched again. Then I said
"Okay, okay! I'm listening." as I got my eyes to look at her instead of the sky.
Aneyt then sighed at me but her eyes were significantly trying to tell me that she's okay with me. That it's just my fatigue due to having to roam around the house until I got used to it and knew every room and detail of it that is making me like air. She then said
"So, now that you're listening, the final news is that the Nauchtens have struck a great deal with us."
"Oh, I remember that. Tell me about it."
"Well, we traded seventy million NSD for ten thousand LichtLastkraftwagen 1 and LichtNutzenWagon 11. Also for Autmoatsihkarbin 2 and its derivatives which the Nauchtens wisely did not say how many they were and a large amount of 6.5×55mm Nauchten ammunition have been shipped to Azenyanistan. This is going to be something that I won't handle because we have Tanyah, Killjoy and the rest of our more military-leaning Advocacy members handling them for you and me and for the rest of the Advocacy and of course, the GLCA."
I nodded at that and I said
"That's good. But I think the world has another problem."
"What is it?" She said, with a tone of 'Oh no, what is it this time?' in her voice
I said
"Terrorist attacks in Esgonia and Ratte."
Her eyes widened but I said
"They're not Azen though."
She sighed in relief and said, looking up for a while before looking at me again with a nervous smile
"Oh, that's a relief. And I thought this might be something bad for us again. I wouldn't want to end up with such an emotional and mental wreck that our teach had."
"You mean Sadisia ur Kaiteriza?"
"Yeah, our teach. Sadi. Do you feel sorry for her?"
"I do."
"Yeah, me too." She said, looking down. Then she looked up and then at me and said
"All will be good, yeah?"
I nodded and said with a smile
"All will be good."

[Nauchrtenfield]

Lance Corporal Henrikz K. Leppe
Nauchrtenkapitell, Nauchrtenfield
0545

Darkness, a few weak lines of light found its way past the blinds and onto the floor of the flat. It was a small two room flat, with a kitchen area. But it served the now sleeping LCpl perfectly, it was close to the train station, and by extension his work at the State Guard Army, the defence force of the island, and likewise its police, the reason for that was old and complicated. The silence was broken as an alarm clock located on a bedside desk started to ring, sending its tones around the room, and brining the LCpl to his feet, pressing the button on the clock to make it quiet once more.
Rising from the bed he quickly fixed it, a trait many Nauchterners carry over from the days in national service that they all do between the years or sixteen and eighteen, before attending high school, then he moved over to the toilet and stepped into the shower, letting the cold water bring his senses to life. Henrikz stood there for some minutes thinking about the day, he was on call until 1700hours, then he would have time to take a shower and take the 1732 tram to a restaurant placed close to the coastline. Meaning he will be there at 1812, with 18 minutes to spare until his date would arrive. All in all, it was looking to be a good day. He stepped out of the shower, and quickly dried himself with a bath towel. Henrikz moved back to the bedroom and started to put on his clothing, underwear and tall steel grey knee-socks, Back pants made out of a durable yet stylish looking material, and lastly a black button-up-shirt. The shirt tucked into his pants and secured by a white leather belt.

He moved out to the kitchen area and opened the fridge, picking out a assortment of breakfast foodstuffs. Sitting down by the small table he had in the kitchen area he started to eat, surfing his phone to catch up on the latest news; “Nothing” he muttered as he put his phone into his pocket and finished eating. Placing the food back into the fridge, before heading towards the door, taking on his shining tall black riding boots, and finally, the long coat, caring the insignia of the State Guard on the left shoulder, the golden leather belt the last part to be put on, the sword frog holding both the half meter long bayonet, as well as a telescopic baton. He quickly checked his pockets for everything, ID, wallet, Keyes, Zip-cuffs ect. Before stepping out into the walkway outside his door. Around him more small apartments on three floors in a U-shape, a parking lot beneath connecting the residents to the massive road system of the island. But alas, he was not going there, he was instead now headed for a stairway into the depths of the earth, a tram station. As he walked, breathing in the crisp morning air, his boots sending of a rhythmic clopping sound as they hit the ground.

Lance Corporal Henrikz K. Leppe
Nauchrtenkapitell, Nauchrtenfield
0627

Many things changed when you moved from the outskirts of Nauchrtenkapitell, to the inner parts of it. But two things remain a constant, the clopping of leather riding boots, and an endless sea of marching uniforms; some soldiers or recruits, some high school students, and some just civilians that liked to wear the uniform. It was easy to see what group someone belonged to. The soldiers carried nametags and unit insignias, the students had the name of the school sewn onto the uniform, much like the soldiers. The civilians lacked any markings. It was easy for Henrikz and his kin to see who was what, but to a foreigner they would all look like soldiers. Soldiers in fancy uniforms, but soldiers none the less. Henrikz walked along his path, and suddenly the crowd he was in disappeared, he had gotten closer to his destination; for he had passed into the grounds of the place he called work “Nauchrtenkapitell Central Military Administration Centre”, or as it was called in layman terms; The central police station. It was a massive complex built in Victorian style, much to contrast the low modern towers surrounding it. The complex coincided of eleven buildings, ten of them three stories tall and placed so that they flanked a two-lane road, at whose the eleventh building, two stories taller and twice the length of the others with two wings approximately twenty-five percent of the total length extending towards the smaller buildings stood, a lone clock tower in the middle of it. In front of it a plaza was, with three statues standing in the middle. Along the sides of the building, and along the two wings cars, both military and civilian stood parked. Henrikz Knew that more stood in two of the smaller buildings, both having bene converted from stables to garages when those became more common. Now just one stable remained in this complex, although that had always been sufficient. Henrikz walked past the statues, representing the current Council, that is, the leaders of the armed forces. He walked up the stairs towards the entrance, past the guards with their Autmoatsihgewhär 1910. Into the compound he walked, up to one of the receptions “Morning, Lance Corporal Henrikz K. Leppe” he said, handing the receptionist, whom also wore the same uniform as him, his id card and tag. The receptionist took it and quickly put in the info into the system, nodding as she handed back the card and tag; “Good morning Lance Corporal. You are cleared to proceed”. Henrikz saluted, and as the receptionist returned the customary salute he walked on past the security barriers and metal detectors, past more guards with the century old rifles. Down a flight of stairs, then another, and lastly one more, he was no on floor -3; Physical & Mental Exercise, as well as the firing range. All men and women serving in the armed forces had the right to 5 hours of payed training per week, and Henrikz thought he might just as well use one of them now, so he went into one of the firing ranges, and started talking to the quartermaster present.

[The Federation of Democratic Regions]

White Palace Gardens, Blomstra
December 17th, 2015

Hope pulled the jacket closer as she sat on a bench under a tall maple tree, watching the snowflakes twirling through the air. She was still getting used to the whole concept of snow, considering her native homeland rarely had snow. The way the sunlight twinkled through the tiny flakes as they danced about in the sky was enchanting to her. Two Royal Guards marched past with shouldered rifles, both letting out a crisp "Ma'am." in unison. So many of the staff were formal to her here, a stark contrast to the warmth in the way her people spoke. She knew they had jobs, but it was like they weren't allowed to show emotion towards anyone.

Standing up and brushing off the snow that had accumulated on her winter clothing from sitting on the bench, she headed back inside. The warmth from the many fireplaces scattered throughout the palace hit her immediately as she shrugged off her heavy jacket and stomped her boots on the rug. She had taken one of the staff entrances instead of the main entrance as she had been told when she arrived in the Federation. Too many people used it and could recognize her, making it look like the Federation was taking sides in the Banshee issue. As she walked up the flight of stairs to head to her rooms, she thought of the conditions that had made her leave her people and family. Her mother had done so much for Azenyanistan and now they had thrown her under the bus just to appease the international superpowers. She respected Sadisia and knew her hand was forced, but certainly there was something she could've done! Firm Vanquarian protection had been the only reason her mother hadn't been sent to some sort of kangaroo court and indicted for exaggerated charges.

She had been forced to spend her sixteenth birthday away from the comfort of her home and her family. She sorely missed her mother and her lullabies, along with the friendly talks with her father. For all his tough Vanquarian talk, he was a nice man on the inside. The two oak doors that she had left open when she went outside were now open, and she could hear faint humming. Aaliyah, the friendly Azen maid she had met when she came here, was inside cleaning up the room. Aaliyah was the only one who she could really confide with, and that was why the Kaisarine had tasked her with Hope to begin with, hoping the young woman could bring some happiness back to the young girl.

The maid greeted her as she walked in. "Hello Hope! I knew you were sad about missing your birthday in Azenyanistan, so I went out to the shopping district last night and found something I hope you'll like." She had indeed turned sixteen only six days ago, but could only have a small party with her friends. All of her friends were teenagers from the military academy in central Blomstra that she had also been enrolled in, and she loved to go shopping or just hang out with them. "Aw, you shouldn't have Aaliyah." She said, blushing. Resting in the center of the bed was a small engraved wooden box with a red bow on it. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she picked up the box and looked at the engravings on the side. It depicted a small scene from the first invasion of Azenyanistan, with the speaker standing strong with her fellow Azens against a tide of enemies. Inside the box was a single white flower, exactly like the ones she had once picked outside of her family home.

"I knew they grew where you used to live," Aaliyah explained, "and I thought they would help you feel more at home here." A single tear rolled down Hope's cheek as her mind wandered back to happy memories of her father tucking a white flower behind her ear before picking her up and twirling her around. His little flower, he had called her. She ran over to Aaliyah and gave her an enveloping hug. "Thank you so much Aaliyah. I used to pick these all the time when I was little." The maid simply smiled and went back to her cleaning duties. Walking over to her mirror, she tucked the flower snugly behind her ear before grabbing her trusty Nokia 3110. Her mother had gotten her on the phone, and despite everyone claiming it was a fossil, she had kept it for years.

Leaving her room, she nearly bumped into the Kaisarine who had been about to walk in. Elizabeth jumped back in surprise, while Hope grinned sheepishly. "Sorry Kaisarine, I didn't see you there." Resting a hand on her bump, the Kaisarine smiled. "How many times have I told you to just call me Elizabeth? We're both in our own residences, and you're just as important as I am. I was coming in to ask if you would be interested in joining us in lighting the Christmas tree this year in the square. Each year they set up a massive tree from the northern forests and everyone comes together to decorate it in a public ceremony. I'm sure we could get your friends front row seat if you wanted as well." Normally she didn't celebrate Christmas, considering the influence Jehovah's Witnesses held in Azenyanistan. "I'd love to Elizabeth. I'm sure my friends would love it as well. Thank you." With a smile, the Kaisarine went back down the hallway while Hope went back into her room and sat on her bed with her Nokia. Perhaps even without her loved ones and with her home thousands of miles away, she could still be happy.

[Saradena]

Maria Hartley Marzipan
Raqqesh, Northern Syrnistan
July 14, 1988
9:43 AM

---

A white Mazda Etude passes through the streets of the region, carrying with it four individuals; a negotiator, and three bodyguards from Bruhl International LLC. One of them was 23-year-old Maria Brunshelm, a recent recruit of the company who was renowned for her skills in shooting as well as easing tensions. She decided to join Bruhl after leaving the army mostly because of the benefits she would get such as higher pay to support her mother and siblings, she was not only assigned as the negotiator's body guard, but as his assistant too.

Their job came from the Syrnistani Government, where they were hired to protect the negotiations between the government and North Syrnistan Revolutionary Front or the NSRF for short, whose goal is to secede from the Syrnistani mainland in any way they can. They region was in turmoil against the two factions, and the tensions had gotten worse as the rebels were alleged to have obtained several gallons of Anthrax, and were rumored to have used it against rural villagers. Fearing that they could be used in a terrorist attack, the government decided to try to settle the regional conflict peacefully, and decided to send a negotiator in. The talks would be held at the headquarters of the NSRF, where they would talk with the leader of the faction. Bruhl, knowing that the rebels would be heavily armed, sent in their best assets to assist.

As the car continued on, Maria sighs as she looks out the window, wishing she were assigned somewhere else instead. It was, in fact, her first job in Bruhl, and despite being in numerous combat zones such as the peacekeeping efforts in Rhodesia during her army days, she was still a bit nervous and afraid.

"For once, I wish it wasn't in the place where it isn't hot...Wasn't Rhodesia enough for me?" she mumbles to herself, the driver, another bodyguard hears her and replies back. "Hey, you're not the only one who's served in Rhodesia, we all did. Besides, you needed the extra cash, didn't you? You know, with your mother in hospital and the high medical bills?"

"From where did you hear that?" she asks angrily
"From Bossman." he replies back
She lets out an angry sigh as she returns to the windows, annoyed at the driver. As she looked, she realized the place they were in was now full of troops. NSRF troops, toting AKs, RPGs, and heavy machine guns, riding on jeeps and even a captured T-54 tank. They knew that they were near the area. The bodyguards begin to lock and load, preparing their AM MRS-4s. Maria, meanwhile, only had a handgun with her, as she was the negotiator's assistant, and her bringing in an assault rifle wouldn't be a good idea.

"We're here." The negotiator finally breaks his silence. The place was a large square palace-like building, surrounded by NSRF forces. As they approach the area, they are stopped by two soldiers. As they approached the driver's window, they asked
"What's your business here?"
"The negotiator's here."
When they heard those words, one of them runs towards the palace to inform the commander that the negotiating party is here while the other soldier guides the driver on where to park. After they park, the team gets out of their vehicle and enters the facility, where two soldiers tail them and another guides them to the room where the commander is at.

"Stay frosty. I'm not liking this any more than you guys do." One of the operators says to the other three
"I just hope we can settle this peacefully. Us being skinned alive and baked in the sun to die is the last thing we'd need.." The negotiator says to them."
"Don't worry, it'll all be settled before lunch time. Anything else, and we have your back.." answers Maria.

The headquarters was packed with luxury items, including a fountain, furniture and statues imported from places like the Union, Azenyanistan, Vanquaria, and electronic items. Fighters all over the area, chatting, enjoying themselves, chatting with women, many of them even watching a football match between the Isles'ish National Team and the Rattean National Team on a Panasonic TV. The four operators, as well as the negotiator, were disgusted by these, enjoying themselves in luxury while their victims suffer and die. Further down the hall was a room full of weapons and ammunition stocked, probably their armory. They soon come upstairs, where they pass a room where they can hear faint screaming from inside, when Maria stopped to listen further, the soldier from behind them ushered her to move forward, ignoring those screams.

They soon stop at a doorway what was veiled by a velvet silk curtain. The guide then pokes his head on the wall to tell the commander that they are here, then he goes back to tell to tell them that they can pass through.

The four then enter the room, and they are greeted by a large man, about 40 years old, sitting on a desk with a golden accent, eating his breakfast; pancakes and a cup of Azen coffee, surrounded by his soldiers and a few females, which were apparently his servants, as he calls one of them to clean up the table, and when she does it clumsily, slaps her in the head with his engraved D114. Maria wanted to intervene, but her conscience tells her not to, seeing that this wasn't the time or place to perform a stunt like that. As the servant finishes and returns to her place, the commander offers the negotiator a seat, along with the assistant, as the rest stay at the doorway.

"Ah, glad to be meeting you here, hopefully we can have peace after this meeting." Says the NSRF Commander, who introduces himself as Nurad Bahadur. "Glad to meet you here as well. I am Sharfur Nusrad, the negotiator speaking in behalf of the Syrnistani Government." The negotiator introduces himself, Bahadur then turns her eyes towards Maria, with a pleasant smile. "And who might you be, Miss? You don't look anything like a Syrnistani. Where are you from."

"I'm....Maria, the assistant negotiator from Esgonia." She hesitatingly introduces herself.
"From...Esgonia?" He raises his voice. "You know, darling, I have problems with your government. Supporting the Rhodesian scum and killing my comrades there." Before he could continue his tirade, he lets out a sigh. "But for now, let's just talk about the deal."
"Alright then." The negotiator interjects. "Well, as you may know that we intend on seeking a peaceful solution to end this terrible war that has killed many and has displaced many more, and to recover the chemical weapons that you have reportedly acquire, we would like to see what are your demands."

The commander smirked, seeing that he could use the chemical weapons as a bargaining tool to get what he wanted. But before he could continue he could say anything, Maria interjects.

"Commander Bahadur, before we can continue the negotiations, so far the reports of Anthrax you have obtained were only speculation. I wish to ask, where did you obtain those weapons, and can you confirm that they actually exist?"

The commander gives a chuckle and replies to Maria "They came from Rhodesia, originated from Zhengua, they were supposed to be used by the FRELIMO in the fight against Rhodesia but when they fell, it went to us before your or the Rhodesian soldiers could find them. And evidence? Take a look at these!"

He opens a drawer from his desk, and gives them pictures of the said chemical weapons, along with him and his troops posing on them. There was even pictures that confirmed that they used it against civilians for testing. Those pictures horrified both her and the negotiator. "I see..well then, let's continue." on the inside, Maria was disgusted by the man, and wanted no other than to put a bullet into his greasy head.

"If there's no other interruptions, I would like to state my demands." Bahadur continues. "I wish for Northern Syrnistan to become it's own nation, as it's own country, with it's own borders! Free from the clutches of Syrnistan. I would also demand the release of 20 of my comrades unjustfully imprisoned from your prisons. Along with that, the ownership of the Sahmari Mines and the Minura Oilfields. As well as High-end Military Equipment." He arrogantly stated his demands.

"And lastly. I wish for the daughter of President Mahad. She is the one I have fallen in love with, and I want her in marriage. She will be my concubine."

The two were in disbelief in his demands "I-I...see..but..some of your demands are a bit too...far-fetched. Maybe we could discuss further abo-"

"NO! THESE DEMANDS ARE FINAL! NO OTHER REQUESTS!"

Maria then interrupts the conversation.
"Look, as much as we would like to state those demands, Those 20 prisoners have done heinous crimes such as the bombing of a school in Nasrah and the murder of a local politician through decapitation. And we can not just simply hand over our military equipment to you, especially as it is of the high-end ones too. And lastly, why the daughter? Does she even know you? Why do you think that she would go for you?"

The Commander repeats his statement. "NO OTHER REQUESTS, YOU WILL COMPLY TO THESE DEMANDS OR OUR FIGHT WILL NEVER END UNTIL OUR DEMANDS ARE MET! Or else you will end up like these people!"
He then orders his men to release a few of the prisoners from the concealed room. They returned to see a horrible sight.
They were 3 people, two females and one male, both looked as if they had been beaten and raped. The male was castrated and his ear slit.The sight was enough for Maria and the negotiator to cringe. The other operators at the doorway were horrified.

"You see, THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS to people who dare to cross us!" as he grabs a knife and jabs it into one of the female's left eye, slow turning it as the ear-piercing scream reverberates through the room. After pulling out the knife, he decides to grab his engraved D114 and shoot her in the leg, then the feet, then the hands, and then, the head. "You will suffer like them." as the other soldiers shoot the remaining two prisoners.

Maria just shook her head and said "You're nothing but scum. And you have the audacity to state such demands towards us?!" as the negotiator just stated angrily "What you're doing is unacceptable! Do you think we will comply these demands now?" The General just looks back and tells the two, smiling. "Oh, so that's how you feel. Well then!"

He then turns to his soldiers and shouts in Arabic "Grab them and take their weapons. Lock them up in the room!" Maria knew what was going to happen and ordered the negotiator to get down and signaled the other operators to get down. As two soldiers were about to grab her, she pulls out her Beretta 92 at them Mozambique-style while the other operators open fire on the other soldiers as the room was filled with chaos and the women were already either running towards the back room or were diving for cover. The commander was horrified and tried to point his D114 at Maria, but she dashes towards him, grabs his gun, kicks him, and shoots him repeatedly until he falls down the window of the building. As the fighting was over, only the servants remained, who did not challenge any of them. Now knowing that talks have failed and with the NSRF commander probably dead from the amount of bullets emptied onto him and from the fall, they knew that they only way to get out of here was to fight them. She then grabs additional ammunition from the enemy soldiers and his desk while the negotiator grabs the photos of the chemical weapons, along with documents that were deemed valuable. The operators who were at the doorway goes outside and dispatches any NSRF fighter who was there. One of them begins to radio headquarters "HQ, this is Zulu team, the talks have failed and we're now facing the entire NSRF here, requesting extraction and support, over."

"Zulu team, this is HQ, copy that. Head towards the designated Landing Zone at 0135 1044."
"The LZ's a klick away! We can't make it that far without support, over."
"We can't risk sending in another chopper there, the area's too hot. You'll just have to make it there somehow. Out."

"Heh, now we'll just have to fight our way out of here. Just what I wanted." Maria smirks as she reloads her Beretta and storms out of the room, the negotiator and the other operators behind her. "I'll take point, watch my back." The team begins fighting their way towards the stairs, Maria gunning down any one that stood in their way with her dual pistols. As they make their way downstairs, they could hear the commander shouting for his troops to advance and kill them. It seemed that what she didn't manage to kill him, pissing her off further.

"Cover me" she shouts to her colleagues as she slides her way using the stairs, mowing down anyone that tries to come up as her colleagues open fire at the troops downstairs. The firefight engulfed the entire room as bullets move across the room, destroying the furniture and the tv, and completely smashing the statue. Maria slid and moved back and forth gracefully through the room as she clears out the entire floor, only taking cover to reload. She then tells her colleagues to dash towards the car as she covers them. The team then makes their way outside as they are greeted with a hail of gunfire coming from all sides. Maria slides down and guns any soldiers that was aiming for her colleagues as they enter the car. Once they were inside, one of the operators signals her to hurry up and get inside the vehicle, but before she could do so, she hears a rumble nearby, listening closely and she could hear the sound of a tank. Knowing that the tank could kill them all in one blow, she instructs the rest to drive to the LZ as she covers their escape.

"But what about you, Maria?"
"Don't worry about me, I'm just doing my job! Now go!"

As the car speeds out of the compound, Maria continues to gun down more of the NSRF rebels and hits Bahadur again in the shin. She then notices a machine gunner taking aim at the car so she spins around and guns him down. As the tank gets closer, she then runs back towards the inside, closing and blocking the main entrance. She then heads towards the armory and grabs an RPG lying on a shelf and a few rockets. As soon as she exits the armory and heads to the roof, she could see a female servant looking out from the Commander's room. As soon as she saw her, she takes out a KS-23 shotgun and aims it at her, she then pulls the trigger and manages to hit Maria, but only slightly. Maria then guns her down with her two pistols then rushes towards the roof.

Once she gets there, she locates the tank and identifies it as an Arkanan M9 Grizzly, a cheap but effective tank. It was something that she was used to seeing as the Rhodesians used these, and the enemy tank was a captured Rhodesian one too. From her experience in battle, she knew that she needed to take out the engine first, even though that the gun could still fire, at least the tank won't be able to give chase to the car. She aims at the back of the tank, and fires.

The rocket hits the tank's engine, and the tank stops. Then she aims for the back of the turret, where the ammo storage is, and fires. Once the tank was hit, the tank's turret comes apart as it explodes. She wanted to rest, but as soon as she could hear the soldiers come up towards the roof, she ditches the RPG and prepares to make a last stand against the troops. As the first soldier pops up, she instantly opens fire at him as he falls down. The soldiers then approach the stairs en masse as they open fire at her. She then performs a dive towards a piece of cover, firing her Beretta 92 - AM D114 combo and killing as many soldiers as she can. She continues firing for several minutes until she was out of magazines. As the last bullet was fired. She holsters her handguns and frantically tries to grab a nearby AK-74 but was shot by a soldier and the gun kicked out of the way by Bahadur, Maria then looks at him with contempt, and realizes that under his clothes, were layers of body armor, which was the reason why he managed to survive Maria's barrage on him. Bahadur looks down on her with a smug and says. "Did you idiots think that you could get away with this, with what you've done to me? and to my grand palace? Did you think you could take ME down? Commander Nurad Bahadur? The leader of the Northern Syrnistani Revolutionary Front? NEVER! Even though they may have gotten away, my men are already chasing them down. There will be no escape. As for you, darling. I have plenty of plans for you. Esgonian scum.."

Moments later, they could hear the sound of helicopters in the distance. As Bahadur looked to where the sound came from, a bullet rips through his skull, killing him instantly. The soldiers were then cut down by heavy machine gun fire as the rest scramble for cover or flee. Maria then looks up to see two AT/H-48A Krokodyl Attack Helicopters of the Syrnistani Air Forceattacking the compound. Another helicopter then shows up, approaching the rooftop. It was an Esgonian Marine Corps UH-66 Blackfoot, with a young Marine Sniper, about a year older than her, sitting on the sides. He then approached her and helped her on the chopper as the Krokodils continued strafing. As the Blackfoot takes off, she asks what happened.

"Bruhl contacted us. Since they were unable to help you guys, they decided to call on us for support as soon as we got work on what the fuck happened. I'm surprised you managed to get out alive. Luckily your guys are now safe."

"Yeah...I'm glad it's over..." she smiles as she looks at the two pistols in her holsters. She then looks at the Marine's nameplate and reads "Brunshelm" where she smiles and rests on her shoulders.

Hours after the incident, the chemical weapons were located and recovered by Syrnistani forces after the negotiator brought the documents to his superiors, which revealed the location of the weapons, NSRF bases, buyers, arms dealers, and all other information regarding them. In the months to come, the NSRF was finally destroyed and stability was brought back to the region.

As for Maria, although she was reprimanded for her rash actions, she was promoted for her outstanding performance. She had managed to pay off the hospital bills, and now she has her sights on the Marine that saved her, but that's for another story.

[Camaalbakrius]

Outside Braxtonia
Village of Grenford

Maxwell Friedmann

Maxwell lived a life of poverty and constant labor, but he didn't seem to mind overall. He had a loving wife, a family, and a small house of his own on the outskirts of Grenford. Every day he would work all day in the fields, planting and harvesting crops for his Lord, who owned the land. He wasn't payed well, but it was enough for him to provide for his wife and three sons.

After a long, hard day's work in the fields, he received his daily pay from his Lord and began to walk home for the day. He longed every day to see his beautiful Annabelle's face once again. She, along with his sons, were his greatest joys in life, and they meant the world to him. As he walked down the street of Grenford, he felt a strange feeling of tension in the air. Something was different, and not in a good way. As he looked around, he noticed that the street side shops were empty, and strange posters seemed to cover every building wall in sight. He walked up to one of the posters and read it: "Join the Revolution! Join the Worker's Party! Power to the People!"

He was shocked at this poster, but he decided not to pay any mind to it. He continued on, and as he kept walking, he began to hear loud shouting. It was faint, but it was definitely shouting. He followed the noise and found a large crowd, presumabley the people who had abandoned their source of income. There was a man standing upon a stool and yelling at the top of his lungs "We shall rid this country of the Tyrranical Monarch! Up with the people! Down with the nobility! We shall destroy the ones who make us slave on their land for little to no pay! We shall rise and defeat these oppressors and reform this country into what it was meant to be!" Cheers followed in great multitudes. Maxwell had had enough: He ran away as quickly as possible and ran towards his home. He needed to tell someone. These people had to be stopped at once.

When he reached his home, he found his family inside, just like they always would be when he came home from work. When he saw them, his youngest son said "Where have you been daddy?" When he heard this, Maxwell felt a feeling of peace in his heart, as if all of his problems had just disappeared entirely. His wife came in and said "You're late honey. Where have you been? You look pale, is something wrong?" He looked at his wife for a second, smiled, and said "No, honey. I'm fine, thank you."

[The Federation of Democratic Regions]

Highway 17, Northern Province
January 19th, 1976


Patrol Officer Michael Lanjins left the sirens flashing on his bike as he dismounted and removed his helmet. The truck he had pulled over was a standard box truck, the white paint job almost blending in with the heavy snow. He flipped through the pages of his notebook as he keyed the radio, stating he had pulled over a white box truck, rattling off the license plate and that he was approaching the vehicle. As he transmitted the license plate, he heard shouts from the truck and a light turned on in the cab. Suddenly, a man jumped out holding an assault rifle. Frantically reaching for his pistol, Michael watched as the man fired right at him; bullets riddling his chest. Collapsing in a puddle of blood, he spent his last few seconds watching the truck race off as dispatch requested an update.


Industrial District, Scavald
January 20th, 1976


The armored van pulled to a stop outside of the warehouse, already surrounded by police, and was quickly followed by two other vans. SWAT officer Phillip Ravod jumped out, holding his MP5 to his chest. He was quickly joined by the other members of his team, along with the two other SWAT teams called in to deal with the situation. At almost midnight the night before, human traffickers smuggling Liyomesse children had been pulled over by a lone motorcycle officer. They had gunned him down, leaving his body in the snowbank, and sped off to Scavald where they had been tracked to their final destination. It was presumed that the children were going to be sold into slavery, a prominent problem stemming from the kingdoms a continent away.


The ground commander was standing by a table set up behind a squad car, looking at floor plans of the warehouse. It was an ugly red brick two story building, with a fenced in parking lot and large skylights overlooking the production area. The truck was in the parking lot, empty but still covered in snow. Phillip joined the other ground team leaders by the map, quickly counting the number of rooms in the original plan. Three insertion points had been decided: the skylights, the side entrance, and the roll doors. Police snipers were also in position on nearby rooftops to support the entry team.


Initial reports suggested at least twenty armed smugglers with hostages, estimated at fifty children and teenagers. Most of the hostages and smugglers were concentrated in the basement, with only a few remaining on the main floor. The ground commander began to explain the situation and the plan. “Alright guys. We’ve got a hostage situation on our hands here. Armed smugglers killed a patrol officer twelve hours ago, and we believe this is their base of operations. They’re smuggling Liyomesse children into the sexual slavery trade in the region, and we believe they will be using the children as shields. Many of the smugglers are armed and considered dangerous, so ROE is shoot to kill unless they’re surrendering. Shields go in first, secure the hostages and neutralize or capture the smugglers. You’ve got thirty minutes before you go in.”


Phillip jogged back to his waiting team of seven SWAT members. Five were armed with MP5s like himself, one with a shotgun, and one with a shield. All had flash bangs, a pistol, and extra ammunition in addition to full body armor. He explained the plan, and watched as a police helicopter arrived and took the third SWAT team on board. They would be fast roping onto the roof and then breaching through the skylights and onto the main production floor. His team would be breaching through a side entrance formerly for workers, while the other team would be entering through the roll doors. His radio suddenly buzzed to life with a message from the ground commander. “Team One, you’ll be joined by a canine team to search out any hidden compartments or smugglers. Insertion in five minutes, get ready.”


The helicopter began to lift off as the other two teams approached the building. As the helicopter team fast roped onto the roof, his team stacked up on both sides of the side entrance. Signalling for the point man to bring up the battering room, he grabbed a flashbang off his vest. Counting down, he tossed the flashbang into the cavernous production floor as the door shattered under the battering room. Phillip’s team filed into the room, stepping over the remnants of the door. “Team Three, production floor is clear. Enter the building. Prep the canine team.” Three rooms were directly adjacent to the production floor, while a catwalk on the second floor crossed over it. A set of double doors led to office space and the basement. Splitting his team up into two search teams, he led three of his men to the first door. Whispering could be heard on the other side, as well as shifting furniture.


Stepping back, he kicked in the door. Gunfire immediately erupted from inside as the smugglers blindly fired through the doorway. When they ran out of ammo, his team rushed into the room, firing at both of the figures crouching behind a tipped over metal desk. One cried out and flopped over the desk while the other fell to the ground silently. Sweeping the room, he called in the canine team to search it and moved to the third office with his team. The other four members of Team One confirmed the second office was clear and joined him at the third door. Counting down with his fingers, he cracked the door open and tossed in a flashbang before closing it again. Someone began shouting inside as the flashbang went off, and he kicked in the door. A smuggler was standing up by the door, covering his ears with his gun on the ground. A swift hit to the back of the head with the butt of an MP5 knocked him out, and the team cuffed him before sending him out to the production floor.


“Ground Command, side rooms clear. Moving to breach the offices with Team Two.” He said over the radio, as the sixteen SWAT members stacked up on the double doors. Team Three was sweeping the upper floor and had yet to encounter any smugglers or hostages. Waving his hand towards the door, Phillip watched as the point man sent the doors flying open with the battering ram. Moving in, he locked onto a smuggler crouched behind a couch and fired off a quick burst that dropped the man with a grunt. His team quickly dropped the other two smugglers in the room with bursts of gunfire. “Ground Command, office space clear. Five smugglers KIA, one captured. Moving to sweep the basement.”


“Confirmed Team One, Team Three has cleared the second floor and is moving to rendezvous with you at the stairs.” As 24 SWAT members assembled in the room, Phillip outlined a brief plan to storm the basement. Team One would enter first, under the cover of the shield, and secure the stairwell so the other teams could enter the basement. Team Two would take the left junction in the hallway while Team Three would go right. Finally, his team would head straight down the middle.


Stacking up behind the riot shield, his team silently moved down the stairs. As they turned the corner, gunfire began to hit the shield and shred the cheap wallpaper around them. Rolling a flashbang under the shield, Phillip waited until the grenade went off before leaving the cover of the shield. Two smugglers were on the ground covering their heads while two more were staggering down the hallway. “Team Two and Three, begin sweep. Four more in the open down here.” The two retreating were quickly shot in the back, dropping face first in the hallway in their own blood while the two on the ground were handcuffed and left behind with one SWAT member. Team Two filed off to the left of the intersection in the hallway, while Team Three went right. Five rooms were straight ahead, and Phillip divided his team in half to breach two at a time. The first room was clear, while the second one had only one smuggler who was quickly dropped. Team Two reported little opposition, only encountering two smugglers attempting to use children as shields. Both had been dropped without mercy, and eight of the children were accounted for.


Team Three on the other hand, stated they were encountering heavy resistance. Their point man had been shot twice by a smuggler hiding behind a desk, and they had been pinned down in the hallway by heavy fire. “Team One, we gotta go help ‘em out. Move it before they’re swiss cheese.”Turning the corner, Phillip began to fire bursts down the hallway to suppress the two smugglers firing from an open doorway at the end. Team Three began to fall back down the hallway, dragging the wounded point man with them. While reloading his MP5, the smugglers poked back out and hit another member of Team Three, who went down clutching his leg and crying out. Phillip fired back towards the doorway, hitting one of the smugglers in the arm and quickly finishing him off with another burst. Pushing down the hallway, his point man nearly blew off a smuggler’s head with a shotgun burst. The last smuggler still breathing in the hallway tried to slam the door, but one of Team Three’s members ran up and kicked it, slamming the smuggler into the wall with it. A smack to the face with an MP5 sent him slumping to the ground.


With a sigh of relief, Phillip turned to sweep the room only to discover six children bunched together in the corner staring at him with fear. None of them looked like they could be older than twelve, yet here they were waiting to be sold into slavery. Leaving Team Three to clean up, his team returned to clearing the middle hallway. “Ground Command, we’re encountering more resistance than anticipated. Team Three has two injured in exchange for four prisoners and seven KIA. Fourteen girls accounted for.” Each of the side rooms in the center hallway were empty, although much commotion could be heard from behind the door at the end. Signalling his team to stack up on the door, he told the point man to get a flashbang in the room. When the stunning noise went off, he kicked in the door and ran right into a smuggler. Phillip ran past him as he shot the smuggler, shooting two more running for the children. The rest of his team cleared the room quickly, dropping five smugglers. Sixteen children in this room, and the smugglers had been running for a grenade on the desk. Fuckers wanted to take the kids with them.


Team Three reported they had found the remaining children as well as the remaining smugglers, and when the threat had been neutralized the children were led out of the building to the waiting ambulances. Many were sobbing, dressed in little more than rags and going on in a language he couldn’t understand. Some of them had a thousand yard stare, traumatized by what they had been through. Regular police rushed in to sweep the building, while paramedics loaded the children into ambulances to get them to the hospital. Another job well done, but goddammit, these were just kids! Fuckers were trying to sell innocent children as little more than pleasure toys. Hopefully they’d be executed, considering the maximum penalty for such a crime was lethal injection. At least he knew he had done his job well and saved some innocent lives today.

[Saradena]

Inspector Rowena Yang
Laruposa, Eastern Esgonia
January 21, 1974
7:42 PM

---

1970's Esgonia was a troubled place. Still reeling in from the Canaam War, crime and corruption spread like wildfire. Crime syndicates grew in size and in firepower while the police were still fending off Maoist protesters and investigating homicides and serial murders. The military was undergoing a drastic change too. For Inspector Rowena Yang, a seasoned veteran of the Esgonian Police Force, it was a huge pain in the arse. She was assigned on the case of the disappearance and gruesome deaths of multiple people from across the country, most of them coming from neighboring nations who had recently entered the country, whom police alleged to be the work of a human trafficking ring, but eventually got nowhere as everyone who were even close to figuring out end up in body bags, some of them even opened up and their organs taken away.
Rowena sits at the front seat at a bar she frequented, drinking tequila on the rocks as she sighs frustratingly over the situation she was in, sitting beside her was Police Sergeant Aurora Schulz, a Rattean who immigrated to Esgonia when she was a child and joined the Esgonian Police Force after graduating from high school, much to the dismay of her parents, who wanted her to study in college. She consoles Rowena over it, saying "Don't worry. One of these days we'll figure out who’s behind all of this."
"How?" Rowena replies "Everyone who even tries to get close to them is dead, we have ZERO leads or evidences, and we have not even ONE informant in our hands. We've already lost 5 guys this week because of them, and I hate to bury another one of our colleagues." Aurora sighs in agreement as she cleans her Mossberg 500 shotgun, she knows that she is right, but there’s got to be a lead somewhere, right?
Suddenly, the bar’s front doors suddenly burst open, revealing a young man who was bloody all over, his clothes ripped off, and his nose bashed in. He looks around the bar for a few seconds before he notices the two officers through Aurora’s badge. “P-Please...you have to help me...” he says to the two in a desperate voice. Blood spatters all over the floor as he says those words as tears come out of his eyes, but they weren’t noticeable due to the amount of blood on his face. Before he could utter another word, three guys come up from behind him and grab him by the collar of his shirt, trying to drag him away. Then one of the goons then notices the two officers and shouts “AW SHIT, THE COPS ARE HERE!” as he pulls out a D114 handgun and aims it at Aurora.
As the thug pulls out the gun, Rowena, in a split-second action, pushes Rowena out of the way and aims at the thug with her customized D114 handgun, her handgun was customized by a friend of hers in the Esgonian Army’s Armory. The gun had a black finish, a 3-dot sight system, similar to the newer pistols, a long-type trigger with checkered grooves, and a reinforced slide and frame. On the slide has the engravings “Black Katana Special” on them. She fires three rounds on the thug and hits him center mass. As the thug goes down, the other two fled as fast as they could and leaves the wounded man, Rowena tries to chase them but is stopped by Aurora, who tells her that they should assess the man and the downed thug as the bar owner quickly calls an ambulance. Rowena then tends to the thug’s wounds while Aurora on the beaten man. Rowena asks the thug to why did he beat up the man, with him replying “We were only doing what we had to do. That guy’s a stuck-up traitor who decided to run away from us…that son of a –AGH!” After a few minutes, the ambulance arrives to take the wounded men away, but the wounded thug had succumbed to his wounds. Rowena decides to follow the man to the hospital, as he needed to answer some questions that Rowena had on her mind.

---

Laruposa Medical Center, Eastern Esgonia
January 21, 1974
9:37 PM

---

After a few hours of waiting in the hospital, a doctor then approaches the two officers to inform them that the beaten man is now okay, and that he needed rest. Rowena then tells the doctor “Alright then, we’ll only need to ask some questions from him. That’s all.” The doctor nods and lets them be as the two approach the man’s room. His face was bandaged all over, mostly on his nose, although he could still see, breathe, and talk. After the man thanks the officers and introducing themselves to each other, Rowena asks him to what did he do to get beaten to near death, with him replying in the most frightened tone.
“I was a part of a gang that was working for the Rinoan Cartel, the ‘Double-headed Eagle’ or something. We do a lot of shady shit like making and transporting drugs, weapons, money laundering, doing hits on anyone who tries to fuck with us, you know that Our warehouse is like a fucking shopping mall for terrorists, too. Selling shit from guns, drugs, anything short of a nuke. One day, while we were guarding our warehouse, I stumbled upon something. And I realized how fucked up they were.”
“What was it?” asked Aurora
“It was a truck, a refrigerated truck, full of body parts, mostly hearts, livers, intestines, eyeballs and what not. And in another vehicle were people who were apparently kidnapped from their homes, according to what the guys were saying. They said they were either going to be chopped and dissected for their organs, or sold into slavery. It scared me to shit, knowing that I was playing a part of this. I was doing this to help my wife and kids, but with then doing this, I just can’t….Just please. Help me. If not, help my wife and kids. They’re all I have left.”
“Where is this warehouse?”
“Karamat Industrial Plant. Near the Abulan Border. They’ve moved in there after the Plant was abandoned. Lots of folks gather there, Yakuza, Lotscheners, the whole bunch.”
“I see. We thank you for cooperating. Don’t worry, we’ll keep you and your family safe. You have our word.”
“Thank you so much.”
The two then leave for their car after saying goodbye. Rowena was now relieved, they finally have a witness, and a location of their headquarters. All those months of painstaking work now paying off. Now they can finally halt this crime spree as well as avenge their colleagues who had fallen before. Before they exit, Aurora reaches for her pocket and realizes that her pen wasn’t there.
“Are you sure you brought it with you here?” asks Rowena
“I’m sure of it.”
“It’s probably inside the room. Let’s check it out.” Rowena ushers her. As they made it to the room, they spot a figure exiting the room, the man’s wife had not been informed yet and none of his contacts know he was in the hospital. Rowena’s eyes widened in the possibility that it might have been a hitman and rushed towards the room. Inside she saw the gruesome image of the man with his throat slashed. She turns to the figure who was walking out of the hall and ran towards him, shouting “Esgonian Police! Stop right there!” The figure then bolted his way out of the door with Rowena and Aurora chasing behind him. As they made it downstairs, the man was greeted by his fellow gang member, who was disguised as a security guard, and three other men. When the four spot the two officers, they pull out their guns on them and began spraying.
Rowena, acting quickly, dives for cover while kicking Aurora into another piece of cover as the four gangsters began shooting. “Dammit, they were quick!” Rowena scoffs as she pulls out her D114 pistols. Aurora loads up her shotgun as Rowena orders her to provide covering fire as she moves up. When she gives the signal, Aurora gets out of cover and fires three slugs onto the thugs, killing one of them and wounding another. The shots suppressed the gangster’s fire, giving Rowena a chance to move up and dispatch the remaining thugs with her pistols. When the gangsters had been neutralized, they head towards the exit as they tell the staff and patients to call the police and to stay down. Outside, they spot the man talking frantically at another group of men near two white vans, telling them what happened, some of them wearing ambulance crew or security guard apparel. When the man sees them, he points towards them and tells them they were the cops that were tailing him. Immediately, the men grabbed their guns and opened fire, two of them wielding AK-47s. The two cover behind their car and reload. Rowena orders Aurora to move up towards an ambulance as she gives covering fire, hitting a gangster by the crotch. Aurora quickly advances and blasts another thug rushing towards her. With Aurora already in cover, Rowena slides off the hood of her car and rushes towards a low wall, still firing her handguns as Aurora supports her advance. As they move closer, the amount of fire they were taking was more severe, preventing them from shooting back, so they decide to stay down until they stop firing. When both of them stopped shooting back, one of the gangsters with an AK-47 slowly walks up to where Rowena was. As he moved closer, Rowena could hear his footsteps slowly approaching her. She signals Aurora not to move as the barrel of the thug’s AK-47 was at grabbing range. As soon as the thug was about to find her, she grabs the AK-47 by the barrel and whacks the thug in the head and opens fire on the other thugs as Aurora follows suit another second later. The thugs were taken as surprise as bullets rip through them. As the hostilities cease, most of the thugs were lying on the ground, dead or wounded, as the rest drop their weapons and surrender just as police sirens were heard nearby. The Chief Inspector then arrives at the scene and approaches the two officers, demanding an explanation to what was happening, to which Rowena replies.
“Sir, we might just solve this case quicker than we thought.”

---

Esgonian Police Headquarters – East, Eastern Esgonia
January 22, 1974

---

After hours of extensive work, ensuring that the informant’s family was safe, acquiring testimonies from the surrendering and wounded thugs, and extensive surveillance of the said warehouse the informant had stated, the Esgonian Police Force had everything they need to launch an assault on their base of operations, as such, the Colonel of the Eastern Esgonian Police force assembled Rowena, Aurora, and several other policemen, including operators from the Federal Security Bureau to brief them to what was to be called “Operation Steakhouse”.
“So, as you all know, we are here today to brief you on what would probably be one of the most dangerous police operations in the history of the Esgonian Police Force. Thanks to Inspector Yang and Sergeant Schulz, we have now the location of Double-headed Eagle group’s base of operations, the said group that our ‘informants’ have stated is carrying out the human and organ trafficking operations, and, by extension, responsible for the several disappearances and deaths of individuals from across Esgonia. This warehouse was apparently abandoned by the Argus Manufacturing Corporation after they had gotten bankrupt 3 years ago but apparently this group managed to set up their operations there undetected due to neglect and the fact that it’s located in a remote area in the mountains. Now, our informants have stated that security is tight and that multiple clients, including the Portean Yakuza, Lotschen nationalists, and even people from Queen Eponine’s regime are there. Other than that, they had no other lead, and we need more intel on what’s inside. So, Inspector Yang and Schulz have volunteered to go themselves, disguised as buyers. They are to gather as much information as they can. When they have finished gathering enough evidences, they are to radio us so we can storm the building and apprehend the suspects. Because of the nature of this operation, the Esgonian Army is offering its support in the form of attack helicopters from the nearby airbase. If all goes well, we can end this crime syndicate and stop even more deaths from happening. So, are there any questions?”
“None? Then prepare to move out, men. We’re leaving in 30 minutes.”
Once the briefing was over, Rowena and Aurora head towards the lockers to gear up, with them wearing body armor beneath their clothing. Aurora, knowing that a shotgun might not be effective for this operation, grabs the new MP5 submachine gun instead. After finishing, Aurora says to her partner “Well, let’s get this over with.” With Rowena nodding and replying: “Let’s kick some arse!”

---

Karamat Industrial Plant, Eastern Esgonia
January 22, 1974
--2 hours later--

---

After an hour of driving, the two officers finally make their way towards their destination, where they are greeted by two heavily-armed guards asking who they were and what was their business.
“Meat shopping” Rowena says to the guards. After a brief inspection, they motion the vehicle to continue. Outside the warehouse were several vehicles, most of them of luxurious design. They park on one of the vehicles belonging to a Portean Yakuza member. Before they disembark, they load their weapons and inform Police HQ that they were on the target. Rowena holsters her D114s as she tells Aurora “Stay frosty. I’m not liking this one bit..”
They soon enter the warehouse, and inside was like a bazaar bargain for terrorists. There were several items for sale, including military-grade weaponry, drugs, and other illegal items. Along with that, there were people who were shopping and chatting about, some of them were social elites, and many others were even from wanted lists all over the globe. As they strolled around, a man, of around 30 to 40 years of age, wearing spectacles, approached them.
“Welcome to the Karamat Expo, Who are you and what is your business here?” he asks the two
“Oh, we were looking around to see if we could get our eyes on some exotic girls around here. We’re shooting a kinky snuff porn flick tomorrow and someone referred to us here saying that we could get some fresh young girls here.” Rowena replies to the man. “Agartha, please forgive me for saying that” she says to herself subconsciously.
“Oh certainly, we have plenty of them right here. Since you’re new around here, I’ll guide you there, maybe I could show you and your friend around?”
“Oh sure, we’d be delighted if you do.” Says Rowena. He then gestures the two to follow him as they head towards the place where they were selling the said merchandise.

(Work in Progress, dess~)

[Atreidya]

Imperial Throne Room

Locus II sat on his elegant gilded chair, a throng of over sized cushions on either side of the throne, and at each sat a dutiful assistant or concubine. To the Emperor's left sat the Empress in an equally elegant throne as her husband. Lastly to the Emperor's right sat a Cushion with a beautiful mahogany back with carved designs and words telling age old stories of the Atreidyan history.

Ebrahamud Il'Fasitha stood to the side of the Throne room. He was out of the way of the Courtiers and guards and watched as the Emperor's Brother, Prince Lorath, whispered in his brother's ear. Many considered the younger of the two to be the brains of the Throne, but all knew including the Prince that the Emperor was groomed for his position since birth and none would alter his vision for Atreidya. That was what oracles said of Locus when he was born anyway. Thus he was named for the great Locus, the boy's Great grandfather of a dozen generations. Locus, Center. So proud the imperial government was that Locus II was living up to his name. The heart and sole of Atreidya was the Royal family. It's blood the purest of the people.

"Ebrahamud."

Ignoring the voice Ebrahamud continued watching as the court began their dealings. With great poise and elegance the Courtiers each brought forth propositions and the Emperor heard them before one of his Concubines retrieved the written version of the Courtier's proposition to the emperor. As had been done for centuries a slow and meticulous process that...

"Ebra!"

Now turning Ebramud was face to face with the young Princess Meila. The pari were distant cousins and had often played in the palace together as children, but now, Ebra was a man. Nineteen, he would soon inherit his father's position n the government if he could pass the examination of right and either defeated or didn't have any rivals vying for it. He Smiled to the girl and turned his attention back to the court. If he was to be one of the Emperor's assistants he would need to know the ins and outs of Court better than the courtiers themselves. Who often stood awaiting their lord for hours.

"Ebra, you won't learn anything new here."

He rolled is eyes and faced the princess. He made a clear expression he wasn't in the mood to fool around while watching the ancient traditional court session. Yet Meila, as always was incorrigible.

"Yes Princess?" He bowed slightly pressing a palm to his chest. Now was Meila's turn to roll her eyes.

"Oh stop it and come on." She grabbed him by the arm and gently led him towards the side door. Just as she began to usher her cousin an friend through Meila shot a glance back to the raised royal stands. Her Brothers both returned her look. Locus winking and grinning slightly and Lorath giving an almost comical headshake before matching the grin of the elder brother.

As the pair of teens slipped out of the Throne room and into the corridor Meila tugged Ebra along until they came onto the gardens. She began removing her small crown and jewelry before nearly ripping the beautiful tailor made dress as she fumbled out of it. Not surprised the princess was wearing a snug tank top that complemented her body well and fell attractively too short. She wore a pair of jeans, she had gotten from a small shop in the city and her shoes were a pair of running sneakers. Ebra sighed and di the same, his hidden outfit proving to be similar in a well fit T-shirt and Basketball shorts with running shoes. He had paled from his usual look due to the increased work load his father gave him, but he retained his fitness as was encouraged heavily for a man of the royal family no matter how distant of relation.

The Princess smiled broadly before taking off while Ebra continued to tie his shoe, casing him to take a pair of awkward steps as he finished the loop and began to run simultaneously. He caught up to her rather quickly and they set into their jog to the lower levels of the palace, taking the servant route so to get in some extra exercise and avoid the prying eyes of the visitors to the palace. As they rounded the last bend they came out onto the Imperial Dock yard. Some men did busy work as most bickered at one another in the shade.

The Pair raced out of the shadow of the palace and don an old worn pair of steps. As they came to the base of the steps a group of similarly dressed teens sat waiting beside a large speedboat. They began to whoop and holler as the Princess and her cousin joined them. Together they all climbed aboard the boat and pushed off from the dock out into the harbor and they began heading for the less disturbed abandoned docks on the other side of the Palace bridge.

Leaving the palace grounds behind them some of the teens pulled bottles of liquor out of the cabin of the boat and began passing it around. A group of friends. Their possible last time together all seven of them. They had grown up together and all spent large amounts of time at the spot they now travelled toward. They joked and laughed but their was an air of anxiety to the group. Their examinations of right were coming up. Each was a specially tailored test for the position they were after and each was very rigid. Non royalty continuously tried to usurp the positions of those already established. That was the Atreidyan way. If you could not keep your station, you did not deserve it. Most undoubtedly would pass with flying colors. Like the Emperor they had been groomed for their positions by their parents and siblings. A few like Ebra were vying for the position of Imperial Assistant. However many were vying for other spots. Meila herself though she didn't need to was after the job of Diplomat. She hoped to see the world and make Atreidya's mark on the map in her own way.

The group continued to laugh as it neared the old stone dock just ahead. They were far from the palace now, nearly on the other side of the city. Little more than the odd joke and drinking challenge ha been spoken between them. Ebra some times envied those not connected to the palace. Their standings were not continuously measured and they could take the time to enjoy themselves when Ebra knew after today he might never get that opportunity for many years. A golden cage is still a cage he thought.

[The Commonwealth of South Pacifica]

Ozyl, Pacifica, 1926

The pair lay naked on the bluff looking out over the moonlit ocean; a host of cliff plants provided a rough blanket for their backs. The dark pool of Anna's hair spread inkily across his chest. Further up the cliff were the lights of the village, but here, in their special place, it was quiet. Only the occasional whisper of the wind made a sound, brushing the night with the aroma of wild herbs.

Trailing his fingers across the smooth curve of her back, he saw her look up, eyes bright in the moonlight.

"Don't go," she pleaded.
"Go where?" He asked.
"To the war."
"If I must, I will."
"It's all the men talk about in the tavern. War. You'd think they'd invented it themselves."
"You'd rather live under a Tsar forever?"
"Isn't that what our people have always done?" she asked. The bow of her lip was proud, like her own subservience was some hidden victory. She reminded him of the icons of the martyrs, sanctified in their own surrender.

"If Pacifica fights, we must fight for her," he replied.
"I don't see why you should," she said resentfully. "What did they ever do on the mainland for us?"

He didn't really care about why or for whom. Part of him wanted to fight for the sake of something new. He wasn't afraid to go to war, but he didn't know what it would be like. He'd barely been to the other end of the island, and Ozyl was a place the world passed by.

She'd been silent for a while, listening to the rhythmmic beating of his heart.
"I'll be fine," he said, running his fingers through her hair, "I won't go to the trenches. I'll join the navy." He thought about it, and warmed to the idea. Now he was a simple fisherman, but if he were to come back to the village a proper seaman having served his country, Anna's father might think him a better prospect for her. It was all well and good making love at night in the lavender, but it wasn't the proper way to do things. He looked down at the inky crown of her head, breathing in the subtle scent of honey and flowers. A country of his own and a beautiful wife. It seemed like an honest thing to aspire to. He had seen the cripples in the street, of course. Victims of the last war, or the one before, with their scarred stumps or their twisted faces. Had they had sweethearts, like he did, once?

Red light bathed the cliff from above, Anna stirred, looking up at the sinking spark. "What is that?" she asked curiously.
He watched the flare as it sunk out of sight. "I don't know," he said. Only the coastguard station at Narva had a flare gun, but he'd seen them on the Krossan yachts when they came to visit, before the Tsar started fighting the Martoviks, and he knew how they worked.

Anna was sitting up now, pulling her thin, peasant's dress back on over her pale shoulders.
"Do you see someone?" She asked as he scooted to the edge of the cliff and peered down to the beach below. But it wasn't someone from the village. A submarine lay in the bay, bulbous and silvery in the moonlight. The submarine had a sharp conning tower like the fins of the dolphins that liked to follow his fishing boat out in the harbour, but the long barrel of its deck cannon was entirely on its own. The dinghy was a dark shape moving across the water, the night wind carrying the faint put-put of its outboard.

"Get down," he warned her.
"Who is it?" She whispered.
"I don't know," he replied. He realized there were two boats, filled with the silhouettes of dark figures. He heard the crunch of pebbles, and the scraping as the vessels were drawn up onto the shore. He could hear the men talking in a rough, foreign language.

Anna was beside him. "Is it the Tsar's men?" she whispered. She saw the barrel of the nearest man's gun glint in the moonlight. Something was being unfurled. Perhaps a map.

"I don't think so," he replied, recalling the fat governor in the village and his faded uniform, and thinking these strangers were quite different.

Maybe the world had come to Ozyl after all.

[The United Remnants of America]

President Gabriel Drake

---

Naval Hospital Bremerton, URA

---

4/12/2004 - 16:25

---

The hallway to this wing had been cleared out, and at each door was the stereotypical agent in a black suit-and-tie, sunglasses over their eyes, and a small, barely noticeable earbud feeding them constant updates from others throughout the building and even outside. A whole company of Rangers were devoted to the protective detail of the President of the United Remnants of America, and they did so not by dressing in fatigues but by dressing for a less conspicuous protective detail.

Gabriel Drake, like most people, disliked hospitals. They smelled of antiseptic that just only covered up the coppery smell of blood. On top of that, there was just something visceral about the feeling of a hospital, of the pain and suffering that had happened here, the amount of lives changed for the worse. Sure, some could make an argument that a hospital was a place of lifesaving and hope, but Drake was never an optimist.

His black boots thudded dully on the white tile, creating a muted echo as he walked. It was cold inside, which was unsurprising since Naval Hospital Bremerton was right on the coast, and April was always blustery near the coast. He kept his peacoat just to keep the shivers away, though. It also helped that his public image included the peacoat, as well as the sharply cut hair and neatly trimmed beard that he kept. Drake looked at the walls as he went, where clippings and plaques adorned the walls, detailing the building.

Naval Hospital Bremerton was pre-War, and the hospital was the largest and best-equipped medical facility in the URA, and it was by providence that the hospital was owned by the Remnant Military, meaning most occupants at this point were soldiers with chronic medical conditions, or veterans with health problems. The URA had avoided war for a few years now, so long-term wounded were on the down-tick at the hospital.

Drake approached a door that was flanked by two Rangers, one of which was his protective detail head, the newly-appointed Commander Brent Wolffe. Beside Wolffe, a man whom Drake only recalled now as Wolffe's second-in-command stood silently. Drake nodded to Wolffe, who opened the door for his president, but Drake held up a hand, "Please, Commander. I don't need a babysitter in an empty room."

Wolffe's jaw flexed, "Yes, sir." He held the door open and stood still as Drake entered the room alone, the door closing behind him.

Inside, Drake heard the rhythmic beeping of a heart rate monitor behind the privacy sheet, which he pulled aside to look at the single bed with one form laying under the blankets. The form was small, a boy who appeared to be no older then ten or eleven. His skin was pale, almost sickly so, and his hair was as jet black as the man who stood before him. The boy had several monitors and wires hooked up to him, as well as an IV in his arm. Drake stood and watched the steady rise and fall of the unconscious boy's chest for several minutes, listening to the beeping of his heart until the sound of the door opening behind him pulled his from the trance.

A man in a white lab coat appeared at Drake's side, a clipboard in hand. "Good afternoon, Mr. President." The new occupant of the room immediately began flipping through sheets on is clipboard.

"Good afternoon, Doctor," came Drake's reply. "How is he?"

Without looking up, the doctor responded, "The medically-induced coma is keeping him deep under right now. We were going to start preparations at oh-seventeen-hundred and begin surgery at oh-seventeen-thirty."

"Survival rate?"

"Fifty-fifty, sir. There's no way to tell if this will actually work. Just because your son-"

"He's not my son!" snapped Drake. He took a calming breath, "He's not my son. I'm his father, but he's a bastard child, a mistake."

"Right. Sorry, sir. Just because the test results show him as healthy and a viable subject, as you can see, he's taken to the hormone treatment rather harshly, and some of the staff feel that Thomas may not make it through the surgery."

Drake looked at the doctor, "Well, it's a good thing your staff isn't paid to feel, then. Subject Zero's mother died in a car accident three months ago, leaving him an orphan. Preliminary tests show he's viable for the study. He's strong, he's a Wolf Scout, an athlete. He can survive the surgery." Drake made sure not to refer to the boy by the name his mother had given him.

"Yes, sir. And if the surgery fails?" For the first time, the doctor looked up from his clipboard towards Drake.

Drake sighed, "Then we see why it failed, and we find a new subject."

"Yes, sir."

Drake stood in silence for a moment longer before turning and heading towards the door, but he stopped himself before opening it. "And, doctor?"

The doctor turned to look at President Drake, "Yes, sir?"

"This is classified. If you or your staff breathe a word of this to anyone, you'll be executed on the spot."

"Of course, sir."

[Azenyanistan]

DAILY LIFE - THE AZENS




AYZA UR TALLTOWER


The Azens once called this land by another name. Now, it was simply known as Urranese Azenyanistan. While it indeed rained much there, it wasn't as much as the kind of rain that Azenyanistan got. The sun there shone on both Azen and Urranese. But it seemed that the sun shone more brightly on the Urranese than on the Azens who lived there. Who were supposed to call it a part of Azenyanistan. But it was instead a part of Urran. A foreign nation. An allied nation.


Many were disappointed at how it wasn't returned to Azenyanistan. Some believed that it wasn't right. That Urran got it fair and square. The coalition got their shares and while most of her members returned their shares to Azenyanistan, some of them did not. Some believed that it was time for the Azens to let it go. It was just a piece of land with some people on it and what else you have to know about it. Some believed that it just won't work. The biggest question made by those who believed in that was "Why would it?" The Urranese have taken that land and not too many Azens live there anymore. While, yes, the Azens who lived there are growing in numbers because it was a good, stable time for the Azens to have families, it was the Urranese who called this "a part of their nation." A territory added to their control. Some believed that it is better for Azenyanistan to let the Urranese control this land. The Azens get a closer ally and the Urranese get more land for their people. But some believed that it was all wrong. The Azens lived there for many years. It was an ancestral land. It was a part of their heartland. It was an artery to the heart of the Azen people. And it just was taken away from them. Some believed that the Urranese should let the Azens rule themselves there while they acknowledge the dominion of the Urranese over them, that the Urranese should consider Urranese Azenyanistan as Vanquaria considered New Azenyanistan. The life of the Azens in New Azenyanistan was OK and under their administrator, Banshee (who was an Azen), things were very OK. They didn't mind the Vanquarians and most of the Azens there liked them. But that was on the condition that the New Azens wouldn't be hostile to the Azens. They were still Azen. All of them. So why wouldn't Urranese Azenyanistan be relaxed?


Some say that reunification is possible. If the Azens and the Urranese could work something out, the Azens might get back this land and the people in this land. But some say it just isn't possible. Why would the Urranese leave this land? They have more homes, more space to live. Why would they? Why should they? If it returned to Azenyanistan, would the Azens allow the Urranese who lived there to stay? Would they have to force them out? Or would they welcome them?


But almost all Azens could agree that a promise was made. Sadisia made that promise. And they were still believing, hoping, waiting, dreaming for that promise to come. The promise that the Azen heartland would all be REUNIFIED. That seemed impossible. Fronsland still had territory, Vanquaria still had territory and a few other nations too. Most of the land that had been taken was given back. It was all temporary. But would it last? That division? The fact that the Azens weren't living as ONE NATION? Maybe the Azens were too sore? Maybe they couldn't accept it any longer? Maybe they sucked?


But the point was that a promise was made. And the point was that the heartland of the Azens ONCE included these territories. The Azens were still rediscovering their lost history. Day by day, a little piece of their past, their deeper, more historical past, was coming back to them. Their archeologists, their historians, their students, their teachers, their chroniclers, their experts, their people. A little by little, the Azens were rediscovering themselves. And as they were re-identifying themselves, making themselves new again...why wouldn't they believe in that promise? That promise of reunification? Could it even be done? Could it ever last? Can it last ten years? Twenty years? Fifty years? A hundred? Or shall it last until the very death of Azenyanistan as a nation? Or to the end of time?


Before, there was chaos. Now, there was order. After, what would come? What future was there? Reunification? Or sustained division? A mended heartland? Or a heartland split up by nations of the world? Even by their own allies, the ones who were once their enemies? What future was there? What hope was there?


Perhaps...the Azens are simply too emotional. Perhaps receiving their stolen land was just too much of a dream, too much for a promise to be made true. Perhaps it just had to be dropped. That the peace and the stability and the greater good would be achieved if they simply...let their land and their people in that land continue to accept the foreigners who now called them their citizens, their people, their own.


Ayza thought a little differently. While a student of Sadisia, while an Azen, while a Chief of the Confederacy, she thought differently. She said nothing about the promise, about reunification or anything about Urranese Azenyanistan. While she only talked about the Azen administrator of that place, while she talked of her memories as a child there, while she talked about travels and all...what did she really think about? Was she secretly trying to reclaim the land? Or was she really, truly, absolutely allowing the reality of the situation come and establish itself into the very core of the Azens? That there really is no way the Urranese would allow this new land to come back to the heartland?


She was silent as she remembered how she was there in Urranese Azenyanistan. While in her hotel room, a cheap hotel room, she remembered how all the signs were in Urranese. There was no sign anymore that was in Azenish. While the Azens have been relieved, education was an issue and so was more local administration and what not. Ayza however did not seemed to be bothered by this.


The Azen community in Urranese Azenyanistan welcomed her. She remembered that. She wouldn't forget that. Why should she? She had to keep that in her memory. Forever more. She came on an early morning. And at that time, the Azens were expecting her. They greeted her at the airport, they let her ride on their truck back to their community and they had a very pleasant, very warm breakfast. And she learned from her hosts about their lives here. It was good. While they were outnumbered, slightly or not, by the Urranese, this was their place after all. Their heartland. The smell of sizzling meat, the laughter and chatting of her hosts, the familiar coolness of the usually dry climate and the very Azen atmosphere. Their culture was very, very alive. Their being Azen was very, very alive.


Then when she left them, she was invited by her former classmate, her old friend, the administrator of Urranese Azenyanistan. The both of them discussed with each other in her office. And they had discussed many, many things. They tried to avoid talking about the issues of Urranese Azenyanistan and they tried to stay away from the subject of reunification. But in the end, there was a little word here and there about such things. But it was all mostly just catching up. The both of them had ended up as politicians, as people in charge, as very important persons, as popular figures for their respective groups.


But even though their discussions were lengthy and distinctively open, all things had to come to their ends. And so the administrator invited Ayza to spend her remaining time with her in her residence. But Ayza politely, curtly and assertively said that she couldn't. The administrator invited her again. But Ayza again said no. So she asked where her friend would stay for the time. And Ayza answered that she would rest in her hotel. The administrator then came to silence and let her take her leave.


In her hotel room, she thought and thought and thought. While her horse was under the care of those who came with her, she was here. She had a cheap room, a cheap bed, a cheap table, a cheap chair, a cheap bathroom, a cheap closet, etc. But the hotel was quite great in terms of quality. Just not in price. And in there, she thought and thought.


She had stopped recalling what had happened in her visit. And instead focused on thinking about what to do, what to do. On the what, where, why, how, who, those kinds of questions. The Chief allowed herself to think without interruption or distraction.


She sat on the floor, legs crossed and on the balcony of her room. She felt the cold night air touch her body. Ayza could hear the faint cries of the local Azen mosques calling their worshippers to pray, the soft ringing of the bells of the Azen churches, the gentle din of the markets. Her eyes were closed to it. But when she opened them, she heard them not. She instead heard the faintness of the city. The kind of sounds that came with foreigners.


She heard the Urranese language. She met the Urranese in person. She saw Urranese paraphernalia. She had experienced much of the Urranese as she was there. And she was still there. While she was away, her team was taking care of the nation. While she was away, her nation was at war with Donnerland. While she was away, The Devils Advocate was within Namenian airspace and territory. While she was away, her brothers and sisters were all occupied. Much was happening. And much was to be missed. And much was to be reported to her when she came back. She was going back to Azenyanistan tomorrow.


She glanced at her things. She had never unpacked. She kept everything in her bags. And she only had two. And thus she remembered something that happened during her campaign. While running for Chief, many of her enemies made fun of her for being too humble, being too...close to the people. That she was like Sadisia, they made fun of her and insulted her for that. But some people said that perhaps she was better than Sadisia. However, Ayza always deflected what people said about her. And if there was anything good about her that was said, she humbly credited others or said something else. Often, she just simply said her thanks and then moved on. She remembered the time that she visited a village in Central Azenyanistan. The village was not too poor but it wasn't too rich. It had electricity, water and the rest of their needs. There was a post office, a small hospital, a village hall, a tiny church and mosque and a tower that provided their Internet and their communications. There was even a modest bank.



But she wasn't there to gain any support. She was there simply because she wanted to. She refused to let too many people come with her and so only allowed her team to come with her. She had no guards or anybody else. Just herself and her team. And while in that village, the villagers invited them all to sleep in the house of the chief. Ayza accepted and slept in the house of the chief. But while everyone was sleeping, she snuck out and went to the house of the poorest of the village.




The householder was utterly surprised. She kept on trying to politely convince the Azzan to return to the house of the chief. But Ayza insisted. Then she asserted. So the householder gave in. And when Ayza got in, she saw that she was indeed a very poor woman. She had only one room. It was very small. Her cooking place was outside. And she had nobody else. She was alone. She only had one bed. But Ayza didn't seem to care for that and slept with the woman for a while before returning to the house of the chief so that nobody would suspect her of disrespect for the chief. At the end of her visit, just as she was leaving, she called the woman whom she slept with. The woman came to her and Ayza gave her a letter. Then she told the woman "I promise you that you will be poor no longer." And she left the village.


One week later, Ayza came back to the village. She saw that the woman had a better house. She could cook inside. It wasn't small anymore. And she was comfortable. She was no longer the poorest. She now had a job as a seamstress. And she was earning modestly. Life became good for her. And it was all simply because that letter expressed to the village that that woman had permission to, by Ayzas name, improve her living conditions. Attached to that letter was a check of 500,000 Rayyans. And in just one week, she had left her old home and now lived in her new home.


And nobody but the village knew about what Ayza did. And only Ayza and her team knew about what she did besides the villagers. She remembered that. Even though her team scolded her for risking her reputation, candidacy and her money. They even told her about what would happen if anyone else knew about this or if the villagers told other people about what happened. But Ayza asserted that it was the right thing to do. The rest of the village was OK. If not, they were more than capable of sustaining themselves. And so she chose to give money and support by her name to the poorest member of the village. A woman. And for the very brief time that she was with that woman, she learned that had ACS, that she had lost her husband and children (a son and a daughter) to the Seven Wars and the Age of Chaos and that she too had fought in such periods. And she learned that she was the poorest of their village simply because she didn't know what else to do when all the chaos and all the bloodshed was over. And she was alone in all of her struggles. "The village rarely helped her or noticed her, " Ayza said "So why should I, a chief of another tribe who is working with your help to become the Chief of the Seven tribes, not help this woman?" Her team then left her alone. Because when they came back to the village and talked with both the rest of the village and the woman herself, what she had said to them was true.


She smiled to herself at the memory. Then she looked away and stood up and looked up to the sky, the night gifting her with stars and the moon. It was purely concidental that the moon was a crescent. And that there were many stars around that moon. For that night and that night alone, the stars were close to the moon. Never again would that happen in her lifetime, she thought.


And at the beautiful sight of the sky the Azens and the Urranese shared on the surface beneath her, Chief Ayza wondered about her future doings. What would she do when she came back and received the reports of the ones who took care of things while she was away? She prayed to anyone who listened to her that she would do good. Good in the sense that no matter what anyone would say, no matter if it was in secret or in the eyes of all to see, it would be something that would benefit the ones she cared about. Good in the sense that she would respect her title as Chief. Good in the sense that she would make her heart beat more comfortably. And good in the sense that it simply helps people. Others.


Then to the moon, she seemed to speak to it softly "While I was a student, I learned that my nation believed in spirits. And that she believed in a spirit whose name is Aramaja. And that she was the great spirit of Azenyanistan. That she was appointed by the Grand Creator to watch over the land and to care for the people that resided upon it." She paused as she put her hands upon her heart, which beat faster "To you listening to me...I pray that you grant that spirit to do her duty. And I pray that you grant me audience with her." Ayza then sighed a little and thought over the next words that she was to allow out of her lips. She said "I believe in you and I in myself and I in my own. But hear me please...know that I am not too proud or too tough or too assertive or imperfect to refuse to call or pray or ask for help. You know my team are taking care of things for me while I am here. And you know that my people are watching their steps as they keep on moving along the path they have chosen. But I am praying for your help.


Do not let all of the weight of my being a Chief fall upon me. And don't let what is beyond the borders of my nation to disturb us and prevent what is within the borders of my nation from ruining us. I came to be Chief not because of any other reason but because I want to build up my nation. So please allow me to build up my nation even while the world is constantly awake and ruining herself. Do not allow me to become too flawed that I could not be Chief of my own people. And do not allow me to become too great that nobody would ever believe that I had been Chief. Let me do my duty and let me do it with your help.


Say the word and let me meet Aramaja. Say the word and let me see for myself what am I working for. Say the word and comfort me with the promise that my nation will continue to stand. Say the word please that my nation will not fall again. Say the word that it shall be good and great.


Please take this prayer and keep it in your heart. I hope my purpose is not in vain." She then added "And while I believe in you, let me be self-determined and be an example to my people. You may say yes or no to me...but let me know that I am doing something good."


After that, she nodded to the sky and went to rest upon her bed.



SALADE


Salade had become an old woman. And she had returned to the caves of the mountains of the deserts which the tribe of Ayr called their own. That was her home as Afghanistan was, as the North was.


She looked around and found an old picture in its frame resting on the top of a cabinet. She took it, looked at it and saw her daughters there. One adopted, one of her own blood. Both of them were smiling while Salade was simply smirking. But one was wearing a uniform while the other was wearing a badge on her lab coat.


She said to herself as she remembered them "My little ones." She then returned the picture to where it was. Then she came to her bed and sat down and then lay upon it. She looked up to the ceiling of the cave and tried to remember her life...the one after the Seven Wars, the one after the Age of Chaos.



While she was still a commander in the old Azen militaries, she fell in love with another Ayrran and his name was Danjar. Danjar had a mohawk, blue eyes, a round face, small nose, thin lips and dark skin. He was shorter than Salade but more muscular and scarred than her. They first met each other during a little meeting among the Azen commanders. While they were talking about the foreign military aid that was given to them, Salade and Danjar kept on discussing about the future of the soldiers. Naturally, since they weren't too interested in the current subject (having already exhausted all of their suggestions and ideas at previous meetings), they were allowed to speak outside of the meeting room. And they spoke to each other.




Salade and Danjar agreed on many things. But they could never agree on whether to give the military more support or to support the civilian portions of the country more. Salade argued for the military, Danjar argued for the other. But even with their own meetings with each other, even with that disagreement, what could stop their attraction to each other?


Professionally, they kept it safe and cool. No touching and no intimate language. It worked until they both left the military. They had retired. So they broke their rules and began to make their relationship grow.


On every date, Danjar brought Salade flowers from different parts of Azenyanistan. In delight, she brought him statuettes and other culturally beautiful items from different parts of Azenyanistan. They always talked about ways of improving the military and the country itself, even when they were retired. And together, they gave letters containing their ideas and suggestions and advice to the government. But they didn't care whether the government listened to them or not. What mattered was that they were still trying to help their country.


Then on a cold day, Salade approached Danjar, took his hand and kissed it. She then kissed his forehead and touched his neck and embraced him. And finally, she held his hand and said to him, eye to eye "Will you marry me?" Since their relationship had lasted many, many months, he approved. On the last day of the following month of December, they married.


They made love to each other and that caused Salade to become heavy with a child. On a January, she gave birth to their daughter who would become the government scientist she saw in the picture. Things changed when Salade, Danjar and their daughter, Nisana, came to Nah. There, Salade found a girl and she felt pity for her because the girl was struggling, really struggling to keep on living in a tribe that was known for business and fertility. So she took that girl and literally demanded from the tribal hall that she be allowed to adopt the girl wit their blessing. They did as she demanded but this displeased Danjar. So on their next wedding anniversary, Danjar divorced Salade.


This humiliated Salade. It was because Ayrran women should always be the one who first declare to the public that they were to divorce from their partner. It shouldn't have been Danjar. But it happened. And so Salade was left alone with her daughters and all that she had because if there were to be a divorce, an Ayrran woman could choose to or not to keep all that she and her mate had before the divorce. She chose to keep everything.


While it was difficult to raise the both of them on her own as she worked for the military again, she managed to do that. Nisana graduated from the local science-focused university while Salade II graduated from the international military academy in Azenyanistan. And when they both graduated, they took their last picture together as a family.


Nisana chose to work all over Azenyanistan, travelling several times. Meanwhile, Salade II joined the military and worked her way up until she was one of the High Commanders of the Azen High Command. Both of her daughters made Salade immensely proud. But this meant that the family was to be separated. Nisana continued her work as a scientist while Salade II eventually became a Supreme Commander. And also because of her past with Danjar and the humiliation that followed, she chose to retreat into the caves of the mountains of Ayr.


Even though her two daughters kept on asking her to come live with them, Salade chose not to and continued to live in the caves. She had begun her fight from the caves. And now, she had begun her rest in the caves. She had observed the tradition. She wouldn't cut her hair for days. And she would rest for all the days of her life. She had a good pension and because of her service and all and because she was the mother of the one who was in charge of the entire Azen military, the government chose to never let her go. They kept on supporting her because they valued her. Even when she was aging now, they'd often give her a little more than her usual pension.



Often, soldiers old and new would come to her. They'd visit her and do her favors. They'd bring her gifts or bring her flowers or simply speak to her. Some of the discussions were quite lovely. Others were all serious and drew Salade in with the most interesting of interest. But it wasn't just soldiers that came to her. Chief Ayza approached her. Secretly.


In the cover of night, Ayza came to her and for hours, they spoke to each other. Salade learned that Ayza, though assertive and very popular, she was quite like Sadisia in a way. Both of them were often thoughtful. Salade would say that they overthink. But Ayza seemed to handle it with more skill than Sadisia did. Ayza was older. Yet Ayza was Sadisias student.



Many of the "old Azens" approached her. Even Banshee paid her a very brief visit. At all these memories, Salade smiled and then shook her head. She set them aside in her head and prepared to rest further. She had washed her clothes and put them out to dry. She had cleaned the caves again and again. Now she had come to rest. Again.


DUNE AND NOREEKA


The Secretary of the Confederacy Noreeka was back again. This time, she chose to work as a secretary again. Again and again, she has dealt with the frequent changes and transitions of the Azen government from one type to another with grace. Every time there was a change, she kept her job. And that was being secretary.


A survivor of the Seven Wars and the Age of Chaos. A graduate of an international school. A long time member of the Azen government. Quite a history. And Noreeka was satisfied. 15,000 Rayyans every 10th and 20th of the month was good for her. And a week long break every other month was good for her. She had family in both New Azenyanistan and Urranese Azenyanistan and she always used her week long breaks to see them. She'd spend the first half with those in New Azenyanistan and the rest with those in Urranese Azenyanistan. Then she'd come back and do her job.


And like many Azens, she was a student of Sadisia. She had learned a lot from the young woman. But she didn't expect that Sadisia would actually give her a lot of pointers and all for being a secretary. And thanks to her, she was more often than not hand picked. There was no way to get rid of her from her job.



And while she was at her desk, rechecking schedules, browsing through the mundane, intelligence-demanding tasks of the higher levels of government and re-examining appointments, a knock came to the door that she was close by. She had her own office and it was the closest to the door of the main compound of the highest of the Azen government. She hummed as she got off her seat, went over to the door and opened it. She saw her.


And she smiled and said as she opened the door further "Hello, Duney! What can I do for you? How's your mother?" It was Dune and she was the eldest daughter of Sadisia ur Kaiteriza. She had inherited her mothers eyes but she was totally different when it came to hair. She had longer hair with the color of sand. And she was taller and carried her frame like she was a tough city girl. She wore a yellow dress and a brown shemagh around her neck. She smiled back at the secretary as she walked inside and said with a voice that sounded younger and more exotic than her mothers "I want someone to talk to. Thank you. Oh and she's doing quite OK."


Noreeka invited her to take a seat at the chair that was close to her desk and she accepted. The secretary then took her own chair and put it close to the chair she gave to Dune. There, the secretary began to speak again

"Really?" She softened it and became more friendly "Please send her my regards." Then she cleared her throat and said to Dune "What do you want to talk about? It's great timing that I'm on my free time."

Dune smiled and began

"Well..."



ARAMAJA




"Huh?" She said. She was drinking water when she felt a strange warmth come to her heart. She noticed how she had tightened her grip around the glass and put it down on the small table she called her dining table. Then she went to her living room which was simple. It had a small TV next to a radio that was situated upon a DIY table. Just in front of it, by a distance, there was her couch. She sat on that couch and looked at herself. She saw that the hair on her arms and legs had stood. And she hasn't even realized it!


The woman, who had a very fair color for her skin, then noticed that her senses had become very active. She could still smell what she ate for lunch and she could still hear the rain that had just stopped a while ago. She felt an ant crawl speedily over the skin of her left leg. And she noticed how that strange warmth remained in her heart.


But there was one big thing that stuck to her head. And that was a question. She asked herself "Who called me?"


The woman resided in a small house of mud and stone. The mud protected her from the heat while the stone kept her home strong. To keep her warm when the world was cold, there was a heater built into the walls of her home. She had electricity, water and all the other utilities she needed to consider herself an average citizen of the Confederacy of Azenyanistan. While her home may look poor to the outsider, what is inside is what counts and so that outsider may change their mind when they see that she simply chose, perhaps, to be humble when it came to appearances.


She looked outside and saw her flowers, her little trees and the grass that grew at the very front of her house. And as she looked outside, she said out loud to herself "Nobody has said my name for...so many years. And yet I have heard one call my name."



Then that changed. It changed so quickly she shuddered and frowned. A great coldness came. It went straight for her heart and it stole the warmth that came to it. Then came a great fear. It clutched her. It made her shiver even. The woman gave away a shaky breath. And then she was released. It was sudden. And although it was sudden, she recovered and she looked around. Then her eyes focused on a deep, black smoke that was flowing out of her radio.


She frowned further. Her chest became high. Her head became set. And she began to feel anger replace the fear that once struck her and took away the warmth. She saw the smoke come out completely out of the radio and settle on the floor. It began to fill itself with violet light. And then the smoke rose to create the shape of a woman. And at this, the woman of the house whispered through her teeth, with all her gathering anger "Adversary..."



The smoke then fell. And what the smoke hid was revealed. A woman of dead white, hair that touched the floor and rested around her feet and smoke. The smoke kept her breasts hidden and her crotch safely disguised. But for everything else about her body, she was naked. And fear was overflowing from her presence.


But combating fear was anger. And when the two mix together, it is not beautiful. The woman of the house shouted at the woman of smoke, the one she called Adversary, with all of her anger, now that it has gathered and gathered well


"I DID NOT INVITE YOU TO COME TO MY HOUSE, TO MY HOME, AND I HAVE ALREADY TOLD YOU: YOU ARE NOT WELCOME HERE!"


But the other woman rolled her glowing violet eyes and she swayed her slender hips as she took three steps towards the woman of the house. The woman of the house stood her ground and listened to the other woman say...silently, chillingly and with deaths touch to it "Yet I am here."


The woman of the house said, turning her hands into fists, moving the anger she had gathered into them "Get out of my home." But Adversary curled her lips into a twisted grin. A grin that cut her own skin as it was so great. The smoke intensified. And her mouth disgracefully released a cancerous sentence "Oh, I won't be doing that any time until I've had my fun with you...Aramaja."


Aramaja immediately put her fists up. She took a stance. And without a second wasted, she caused her fists to become hot with her anger. The heat that came from them pushed the smoke a little back. It also made Adversary take one less step. But it did nothing more. She answered her "Leave me alone."

But Adversary replied, taking that step forward as her smoke pushed forward too "No."



And at this point, Aramaja felt the heat of her anger which she had focused fade. But as Ayza claimed her to be, that warmth returned weakly. Despite its weakness, it provided her enough fury to pour more heat into the rest of her body, stopping the smoke. It had covered the floor. But it never did that to the part of the floor which Aramaja was standing upon.


Aramaja then snarled. Adversary's grin went away. But she chuckled when the spirit said "I will make you say yes and you will not come back." And Adversary returned with "Will you really? Are you even strong?" Aramaja replied honestly, feeling more power come to her "I am not. But this is my home. And I won't let you defile it with your filth. Not with your restlessness and your...curse."



At her words, the Adversary told her "Curse?" She grinned again "Ah yes. I am the CURSE of this land. The Fallen Queen?" Aramaja cringed. "I am who I am. And I am what I am. And I am..." Her voice became louder and stronger with fear "ADVERSARY."




And then without a delay, the Adversary brought her pale hands up and pushed Aramaja back. The smoke rose from the floor and began to flow to and around Adversary's arms as she used the fear and the darkness of her being to try to push away Aramaja and her powers.



But Aramaja, after a great push, did not allow herself to be pushed. She stood her ground. Her feet remained upon the same part of the floor that she was upon. And Aramaja declared "YOU ARE NOT WELCOME HERE!" And summoned more of her power to push Adversary back. Her push was greater than Adversary's and so she was able to drive her to the wall.


The two spirits stared at each other. Adversary was leaning on the wall she was pushed to. Her smoke began to rest and even dissipate into the air. Her glowing eyes flickered. And Aramaja began to cause the powers which she gathered into her hands to create flames. Flames that destroyed the smoke that was around her as she took step after step closer to her rival. Aramaja spoke assertively "I am not going to tolerate your presence here. And I am not going to fail in doing that. I will not speak to you as you are here. And I will never allow you to rest."


She then cried out as she began to hurl flames at Adversary, the rival spirit merely dodging them as Aramaja continued "I know who I am. And I know what I am. How dare you repeat those words and use it to justify yourself as a spirit? You are no spirit of greatness or of anything significant! You are merely the shadow of the past! BEGONE!"


But as Aramaja fought back, Adversary stopped dodging, letting her flames hit her smoke as they flowed to protect her from them. Then at once Adversary softly shrieked and then louder and louder, she shrieked until Aramaja stopped hurling flames at here. Then she laughed. It was a laugh that wasn't great. It was a laugh that could cause the stones to cry out. The kind of laugh that could make men mad.



Then she said "Oh, are you even that serious, Aramaja? Tell me, oh yes, tell me. When was the last time you ever prevented me from resting? Where were you when I came back? When I tormented that little girl that ruled the land YOU are bound to?" Aramaja was silenced. Her skin-ripping grin came back. And the Adversary called to her the smoke she brought with her. She continued "You have no answer. You failed to keep me asleep. And you have failed to guard and to bless that little, little girl. Such a shame. That Kaiteriza girl had so much potential. What a pity that she could only contribute so much now." Aramaja did nothing. She had froze. And the Adversary was walking towards her, her fingers pleasantly running through the deep smoke that was hers. She said "How beautiful. You failed the Azens."


But Aramaja quickly shook it off and shouted "KEEP AWAY." Adversary continued to walk to her. "KEEP AWAY!" She shouted again. But the rival continued. And she continued just enough for her eyes to be only a hand's distance away from the eyes of the spirit. But she could go no further. A great force from Aramaja was keeping her from approaching any further. Smoke combated the flames as the heat struggled to keep alive against the chill. Adversary finally said, with eyes narrowed and a loose smirk formed by her lips "Are you even going to try again? You're only hiding out here. In a house of mud and stone, with power and water and all your needs. You are no longer within the prison I created before I was forced to spend my time in slumber. And yet you have created your own prison. You've willed yourself to avoid intervention. To simply watch your charge try and try and try again pitifully to watch their own steps, to be self-determined and to be free from the world. How is it that they are still divided? And why is it that my fear, my hate, my jealousy, my darkness and all of my wonderful gifts of what they have come to accept still within their hearts?" There was no answer. "No answer? I was expecting you to be as furious and grand as you were in the past, when the world was still young and the land was still fresh and the Azens you have been bound to take care of still forming a nation. And yet there is nothing?"


FWHOOM! PPSSSSH!



The great spirit said again with all the capability of her throat and lungs "[B]YOU. ARE. NOT. WELCOME. HERE! " And she had hurled a greater, more powerful ball of fiery anger at her. Adversary, however, was untouched. And she simply sighed and said

"Perhaps I came to you at a wrong time?"


Aramaja was breathing deeply at a furious rate. She said "Yes you have."

Adversary rolled her eyes and said to her, turning

"You are no fun."

The smoke then returned to her. The Adversary walked away from her and into the stone and mud walls of the other's home as the smoke came to hide her very body. Then it surrounded her and then after a while, she disappeared as the smoke dissipated.




With Adversary out of her home, Aramaja sighed and fell to the floor, exhausted. She looked around as she saw her living room. It was all a mess. Thanks to her powers, she had torn up the couch, broke the TV and set fire to the radio.


She sighed again and closed her eyes a little as she felt that strange warmth return. And then she said to herself



"Someone called my name..."





END OF POST

[The Commonwealth of South Pacifica]

Coal Mine, Southern Valleys ​

“Hold, Hold I say!”

Around Captain Kyril Ivanov the guardsmen stood, growing increasingly hesitant against the torrent of curses being hurled in their direction.

He wiped a hand across his face, gloved hand covering in itself with a thin film of ebony dust as it crossed his brow.

Coal dust, even with the mines at a standstill it covered everything, plugged every pore and scorched his throat far worse than the thickest gun smoke. It was unpleasant to say the least but it was at least a distraction from the cacophony assailing his ears every second. Even on the fields of Abula or during the dark retreats towards the end of the war, he had never heard such vulgar language hurled with such venomous loathing.

His thin olive line stretched in-front of one of the main gates and were facing off against a horde of strikers . The black faced coalminers were still present, angry yet lethargic after weeks of continuous protests. Their ranks were being swelled with a new throng of troublemakers however, hard core unionists and despicable rabble rousers had turned out by the thousand with the onset of the general strike and descended on the valleys, the place where it had all started.

Tens of thousands of them, fresh and very, very angry.


The coal mines of the Southern Valleys had been pushed hard by wartime demands up until the final signing of the armistice. The postwar economic collapse, coupled with the harsh consequences of defeat turned these towns and their overworked populace into hotbeds of dissent. ​

“Another train load just arrived in town” muttered the veteran Sergeant at Kyril's side.

“Tell me that means the trains are running again and this bloody strike is over.” muttered Ivanov.

The NCO shook his head nervously while trying to laugh. “If only, telephone, telegraph, trains, everything’s still down. They're running trains for their people and their people only. Something about union solidarity.”

“Not only can't they get us reinforcements, they can't even stop the bastards seizing public property and descending like a crowd of vultures.” he whispered under his breath.

“Sir?”

“Alright, tighten things up Sergeant, detach a squad of guardsmen to greet the new arrivals and keep them as honest as you can.”

The Sergeant glanced at the militiamen lounging around by a site office. “They don't look to be particularly eager sir.”

“They'll have to be sufficient for the task Sergeant, just keep them off anything that looks too expensive.”

“Sir!” replied the Sergeant as he took off at a jog to try and rouse some enthusiasm from the small pool of militiamen the army had been able to provide at short notice to assist Kyril's company, leaving the veteran Captain sighing and leaning against the heavy wooden crates he'd pulled from the company stockpile.

To be honest he didn't know how they'd handled it so far. Weeks worth of general strikes with a skeleton force from a skeleton army.

The last three years since the peace had been harder than the fiercest days of fighting during the war....the war...

Shrapnel, shellfire, a cold sweat running down his face.. The Portean position some sixty metres distant, pounding at them with the constant thump of mortar fire. There was a man at his feet, resting in the quagmire that was their trench, arm shredded by shrapnel. He was whimpering as a young Lieutenant Grigori Vasilyev bent down beside him, rolling his brother onto the mud soaked stretcher...

“Captain sir”

“Yuri..”

“Nikita, sir”

Kyril shook himself back into the present. A uniformed private was looking down at him from atop a fine black horse holding out a folio of papers.

A dispatch rider...with the phones down and vehicle transport in disarray it was the best they had to work with at the moment.

“Go ahead Private.”

“New orders from division, relaying direct from Krosno.”

Kyril took the piece of paper from the Private's outstretched hand and ran it over, turning only for a moment to observe the crowd as the banner wielding idiots began to chant even louder.

“Hopefully they'll consider sending help our way. Stand by Private, I need you to take a reply back for me, I need permission to pull back from some of the outlying offices and warehouses, the chance of confrontation is simply too high. Message to read...”

He stopped and read the lines of the unfolded message, over and over again, double checking the typewritten stationary used to stamp out the short barrage of instructions.

His tired eyes, the ones that had read so many orders before, orders that had sent him and his men over the top on a dozen different occasions sighed as he read them under his breath.

ACTION: IMMEDIATE

CURRENT SITUATION RE: RIOT AND DESTRUCTION OF PROPERTY UNNACCEPTABLE.

COMPANY TO DISPERSE CROWDS WITH ASSISTANCE OF LOCAL FORCES.

PER EMERGENCY LEGISLATION, DIVISIONAL HQ TO SUBSUME RESPONSIBILITY FOR PROSECUTION AND DETENTION OF SUBVERSIVE ELEMENTS FOLLOWING CROWD DISPERSION.

GOOD LUCK

The veteran officer crumpled up the message and scrunched it into his pocket, pulling his revolver from its holster and checking the load.

“Nikita, I need you to get every NCO you can find to report to me right here, right now.”

The dispatch rider looked at him quizzically, caught off guard by the sudden instruction.

The Captain pulled the chain from around his neck and slid the key into the padlock sealing one of the innocuous wooden crates on which he had been sitting those few minutes ago. With a deft flick of a wrist he hefted off the lock and flicked open the lid.

The dispatch rider looked on in disbelief as the Officer seemed to go into a trance examing the contents and waving down several other regulars.

“ I gave you an instruction Private, carry it out.” That sent the young lad packing as familiar faces began to surround the Captain.

They listened, war veterans all, in stunned silence as he read the instruction. Dmitri spoke up first.

“You really think we can disperse these crazies without firing a shot or has HQ just gone mad?”

With practised precision the Captain hefted the 12 kilo amalgam of wood and metal from the crate and locked the dorsal magazine into place. He checked the bi-pod was screwed into position on the barrel jacket and then set the Lewis gun down on Pacifican soil.

...It seemed a definite enough answer to the question.

[Camaalbakrius]

Braxtonia
Throne Room,Royal Palace

As Braxtion sat upon his throne, bored as ever, he was approached by a group of councilmen carrying a piece of parchment. Braxtion saw them approaching and said "What is it that you want now?"

The councilmen approached and showed him the piece of parchment. Braxtion scanned over the document and his eyes widened, almost with horror. He sighed and said "I have to do this now?" The councilmen nodded silently.

"Ugh" Braxtion said. "How long do I have?" He asked the councilmen, and they responded, saying: "You have 2 months, if not done by the end of that time, then you must abdicate the Throne. This must be done for the sake of securing the mon-"

"Yes, yes, securing the monarchy." Braxtion interrupted. He let out a large sigh and said "How am I supposed to do all of this in only two months?"

One of the councilmen interjected, saying "You would have had more time, your majesty, If you had reviewed this document earlier for yourself instead of waiting for us to bring it before you when you have time constraints."

Braxtion said in response: "I guess you're right. I've just had so much on my mind lately, I haven't had time to think about this kind of stuff. I thought a King's first loyalty must be to the safety and welfare of his people, but I guess I have to do stuff like this in order to retain my throne. Well, I don't have much of a choice, I might as well get started."

He dismissed the councilmen and slumped back in his Throne, whispering to himself: "This will no doubt be the most difficult thing I will ever have to do."

[The Commonwealth of South Pacifica]

Southern Valleys Coal Mine​

“Keep your bayonets fixed, your chamber empty, and your wits about you men.”

His last order echoed through his head as Kyril watched his men begin to divide the protesters from his over watch position on the roof of the site office. It had taken him all of a second to decide against charging in like some Krosno bluejacket breaking up a group of drunkards. Outnumbered by such a large number his only option was to divide the mob, breaking it apart into more managable chunks and diffusing the energy of the protest.

The result, from his vantage point, appeared disconcertingly like a snake slinking through an ocean. Thin arcs of soldiers advanced, one man every few metres, bayonets fixed and calling out orders to the closest protesters. As they advanced the basic human instinct for the strikers was to back off from the sharpened steel. It was a risk, with each man reliant on the man next to him to prevent any smart alecs getting behind him and breaking up the line but so far it seemed to be working. His veterans had already split the main mass into five or six smaller clumps, some of which were beginning to break up and disperse towards the town while the guardsmen watched and made sure no one made a run for the vehicle park or equipment store.

Yes it seemed to be working.

Captain Pavlov swung his Lewis gun to point skywards as he scanned. He had four Lewis guns set up in similar over watch positions, all manned by men he trusted to hold their nerves. They were the guardians. For safety he'd had his men empty out their rifles. An accidental discharge could ignite the whole bloody mess...
No, if someone was going to pull a trigger on these god-forsaken rioters then it would be him. He hadn't slept a day since the war anyway, one more ghost to haunt him was better than saddling some 18 year old with that burden.

Trailing his eyes across the scene his heart suddenly stepped up its pace.

"Dmitri what on earth is your boy doing?"

--

Private Artyom focused on keeping step with the line as they advanced, watching the protesters for any sign of foul play. Clumps of coal assailed him as he advanced on the right flank of the eighteen strong phalanx. None the less they advanced pushing back one of the smaller groups.

They were doing it, they were actually pulling this thing off.

Then he saw the group they were driving shudder in in the throes of crowd mitosis. He saw a mob of figures, fourty, maybe fifty strong break at a run from the mass and head back towards the vehicle park.

Saboteurs.

Without a thought he broke from the line and caught the men at a frisk run. “Hey you lot, what the hell do you think you're doing!”

The crowd rounded on him, headed by a particularly burly union type and yelled the usual wall of expletives back. “We're protesting bloody injustice, what do you bloody think you murdering git.” That was the call he registered from the leader of the mob.

Artyom was doing his best to suppress his fear and self consciousness. He wasn't a veteran like most of the others in the company but rather a fresh recruit brought in to make up the numbers. Given his unit's sterling record in Abula he felt he had alot to prove.

“Injustice or not, you'd better get your collective arses back away from the damn mine!” he managed as he closed in, doing his best to project a confident pose, rifle pointed towards the ground.

-
Raise your bayonet you fool.
-

Ivanov's impromptu riot dispersal tactics relied on the length of the rifle when fixed with a bayonet. With it, a soldier could control a considerable area of space with relative safety against a mob, provided of course, that his flanks were covered by other, similarly armed men.​

With a swift movement the bullish unionist charged inside the young soldiers guard, clenching the rifle as he did so. The young private recoiled from the physical and verbal assault but the crowd had sensed weakness and closed in around him.

Get in there Dmitri..

–

Corporal Dmitri charged his bayonet as he closed in on the beset private, advancing the gleaming piece of metal towards the protesters.

“Back the hell off and let him go!” He shouted it in an accent as thick as his muscled biceps.

At 6'1 and stockily built, the NCO was a fair bit more intimidating than the young private. Not that the unionists seemed to particularly care.
Still keeping his hold on the end of Artyom's Enfield the protester called back from behind a thick black moustache.

“Sod off, we're just defending our rights and you lot are down here pointing guns at us like you're a bloody slanty.” As he spoke other union toughs closed in to support their mouthpiece against the new threat.

Now you didn't just call me that mate. Not after my years at the front.

Dmitri extended the rifle slightly as he stepped in aggressively. “Your 'workers rights' don't entitle you to assault one of His Majesty's soldiers, so you let the boy go now before I start getting pissed off!”

The rebuke seemed to leave the civilian wavering. Sensing a moment of indecision the young private yanked back rapidly on his rifle, trying to dislodge it from the protester’s grip. The giant seemed to be yielding but as the weapon slid back the long blade found flesh and cut deeply into his hand,slicing veins and spreading a thin arc of crimson as it went. The man screamed in pain and the bloke next to him shoved forward, whether he was moving to assist his friend or assault the private was hard to tell but when he sent his hand grasping for the rifle again Dmitri charged in, sending his rifle's stock crashing against chin.

“Get back private, now!” he called over the sickening thud of plated wood against bone.

–

From his vantage point Kyril's heart accelerated as he saw his old friend charge in to extract the young Private. His blow rang true but it also disrupted the arc of safety that his charged bayonet had provided. He was angry, he was determined, and it might well get him killed at this rate.

Sweat beginning to form on his brow, the captain looked desperately for another group of men to send into the fray but everywhere he could see his small band of regulars were busy trying to drive the enormous crowds back with the halfhearted assistance of the guardsmen. Dmitri's own group was now dangerously overstretched, two men down and now facing an increasingly agitated crowd.

Kyril charged his weapon and turned back to the situation, looking down the sights. Through the rusty slice of steel he saw three of the miners try to bulldoze in to help those men laid low by Dmitri's aggressive strikes as the NCO struggled to make safe, backward movements in the face of the crowd. Dust flew as the flurry of footwork through up a layer of dried earth and coal dust that soon partially obscured the scene. It seemed for a moment like Dmitri would be able to extricate himself and return to the safety of the bayonet line..for a moment at least.

–

Twenty three year old Mikhail Orlov, a young machinist's apprentice from shoved forward through the crowd towards the argument. At 5'6” he was hardly getting a good view and he needed to know what was going on. As the crowd seemed to roll back around him he shoved through to one of the edges and felt the colour drain from his face. He saw his father on his knees, hand and arm covered in crimson towered over by a fearsome faced soldier, yelling and beating down on his uncle with abandon.

He didn't think, he just grasped his hammer.

–

Time seemed to slow.

Through the metal frame of the gun-sight, Michael registered the dust obscured figure breaking from the crowd behind the NCO.

His heart beat.​

He registered the silhouette charge forward and grasp at the NCO with his left hand.

Beat.​

With a silent terror he registered the Portean Soldier raising the club in his hand and beginning to bring it down on Dmitri as he stood embroiled in the trench fight.

Beat.

He registered the recoil of the Lewis against his shoulder.​