II. – Pogrom_Veleslawien ohne Pruten!
Veleslavia without Prutons - the message the Protysoyuzik are
chanting during their rallies.
Prutische Allgemeine
Author: Mariane Ardenne
Peaceful rally in Lyssychansk turns into bloodbath!
Yesterday morning a planned rally of Protysoyuzik-alligned citizens gathered in the streets of Lyssychansk, protesting the official adoption of Veleslavia into the Prut Meritocracy. While the majority of Veleslavs eagerly jumped into the opportunity and embraced Prutenizm without hesitation, a distinctive minority under nominal leadership of Viktor Voroshilov still disputes the validity of the referendum and demands another plebiscite, or even the nullification of the so-called “annexation” all together. Referred to as a misguided, angry and vocal minority, the protesters won’t give in.
It is no coincidence that Lyssychansk was chosen as the rallying point, for it was in this idle eastern town that Voroshilov was arrested a few months ago and his movement dissolved. Now the Protysoyuziks have returned and are determined to have their voice been heard by the Prut Meritocracy – thousands of people have gathered in the streets and blocked traffic. In other eastern cities the same pattern has been observed. Authorities wonder how the sudden increase in Protysoyuzik activity came to be; the coordination and organization of the events seems a bit to plausible without the use of any media of mass communication, while protest leaders claim the word was spread mouth to mouth and the old fashioned way, over the telephone.
After several hours of relatively peaceful standing around and waving flags, it came to several incidents between the protesters and local law enforcement. Allegedly, several policemen first abused the protesters verbally, then proceeded to attack them physically and tried to push them out of the streets. It came to several clashes, after which in Lyssychansk members of the police opened fire at the crowd. Similar events transpired in Tulchyn and Demydivka. In all three cases it ended in further violence and chaos. Several people were murdered during the riot, but order was re-established in the evening. The hospitals in the cities are now crowded with the wounded.
The policemen which opened fire were all later identified by their colleagues and will face serious repercussions. In the Lyssychank and Tulchyn incidents, the first shot was fired by Prutonic members of the force, while the person who started the Demydivka riot is Slavic, but a known supporter of the Union with Neo Prutenia. Konrad W. L., the person allegedly responsible for the worst incident, the one in Lyssychansk claims that he is wrongly accused by his colleagues who want to put the blame on his due to the tensions – he produced several witnesses who confirmed he was in a different location and couldn’t have possibly opened fire. On the other hand, many of his colleagues accuse him of blackmailing civilians to confirm his story and that the colleagues who claim he’s innocent are trying to cover for him. Wilhelm S. B. the other Prutonic native who is accused of having opened fire into the mass in Tulchin has a similar story – two of his colleagues claim he didn’t fire at all while several others as well as eyewitnesses in the crowd claim he had opened fire.
No hard evidence exists in either case, as no one managed to take a picture during the incidents and the weapons of the two officers and the ballistic reports which could have shown if the pistols had been used have conveniently disappeared. Dmytro H. admitted he shot an attacker in self-defence, when a young man charged at him with a combat knife and viciously slashed his forearm, after the policeman apprehended his older brother for throwing a homemade flare at the members of the police. Dmytro is currently hospitalized and in a stable condition. The young man, identified as Yuri K. (19) a local from Demydivka died from the wound and was the only fatal casualty in the Demydivka incident.
The entire issue has grown into an out of proportion controversy, as wild accusations are flying around between various factions. Later that evening several Prutonic neighbourhoods had been raided, but the police chased off any rioters and malcontents and established order. Several cities in eastern Veleslavia have been put under strict curfew while the investigation is going on. Protysoyuzik leaders demand that the policemen who fired are brought before court and state that the current “Prutonic dictatorship” is protecting its own while allowing freedom-loving Veleslavs to get murdered by their cronies in the streets. Local politicians and public figures had mixed reactions, several condemning the whole affair, while others used the riots as a publicity stunt by picking sides, some even going as far as saying that the Protysoyuziks had it coming.
Königsstein remains eerily silent over the whole issue, with no member of the government or official having said anything so far in public. Joachim Isador Kordson, the Kommandant of the Chryse battlegroup has expressed his condolences to the affected families and vowed that he will uncover who is responsible and bring him to justice. To that end, Chryse will increase its efforts in the area to prevent such events and an escalation of the situation.
“Reading the papers again, Isador?”
Benjamin, Ben for short, always jocose, always positive, always enthusiastic, never calls me by my rank, even when the men are around. In the last several hours his big, dumb grin was one of the few things keeping me in good mood. My old Drill Feldwebel would boldly claim it has to do with a Prut soldier’s iron discipline and unshakable dedication, but she’d also claim that waging asymmetric warfare is a piece of cake, so anything coming out of her mouth should be taken with a grain of salt. That the old guard was wise enough to not claim to have a ready solution for this problem eased my mind. That was the second thing keeping my mood socially acceptable. Dumb grin reassuring me, smart superiors looking for a solution, though I had my own role to play as well.
Chryse has been on the move for hours now. I didn’t expect the Protysoyuziks to act so quickly and organized. If my suspicions turn out to be true, we’ll be in for a long ride. First the sudden increase in their financial capabilities; someone is obviously funding them, but who? The Meritocracy has no external enemies, and internally no one profits from a destabilized Veleslavia. It makes no sense, and I don’t like that. Someone is playing foul and I will find out who that person is. There’s also the issue of their organization. Obviously someone is pulling the strings from behind the scenes, this whole mess was obviously carefully planned. And it’s the Protysoyuziks, so Voroshilov can’t be far away. Question is, has Voroshilov secured some backers in the realm, or is someone using him and his friends for their own needs?
“Isador, I’m talking to you.”
“Sorry Ben, Ardenne’s article is making me anxious. Have our man managed to secure her?”
“Yes, she was conveniently heading to Lyssychansk as well, so we picked her up along the way.”
“First good news this day.”
We both turned our heads to right simultaneously, towards the sound of rotors working. I’d recognise one of my own
Schraubers even in a storm, the sound of the blades gracefully cutting through air, the engine methodically vibrating, the unmistakable melody of Prut craftsmanship. I didn’t have to tell the driver to stop the lorry, nor did I have to contact the pilot of the helicopter. Ben had already placed a new kettle on the stove and he’s currently searching through the tea selection. I allowed myself a moment of relaxation before opening my eyes again as soon as the door swung open.
The light from the outside dazed me for a second and just now I noticed how dark and cool it was in my command post. Weird, I even had my coat on, despite Veleslavia being quite pleasant this time of the year, though it was somewhat colder than Aschenkeilern Neo Prutenia. Two guys came in, both in short-sleeved shirts, natives used to the local climate. One of them had the typical traits of a Pruton – tall, fair skinned, amber eyes, athletic – but then I noticed the rather large and quite fresh scar on his forearm. The other guy was middle-aged, bald and somewhat out of shape, but his posture, stiff as a broomstick, and attitude, formal and dignified, identified him as one of my own. Funny how my kind easily abandons the usual regimen and body culture of home when it lives in a foreign environment for a longer period, but never forgets the proper salute. The younger one imitated it poorly, but showed enough effort and courtesy that I didn’t mind.
“Herr Biermann, Herr Hubarenko, I’m glad you responded so quickly to my call. I know the current situation you’re entangled in and I’m here to help you. I’m especially thankful to you, Herr Hubarenko that you came despite your wound. If you haven’t seen me in the news this morning, I’m Kommandant Joachim Isador Kordson, commanding officer of the Chryse battlegroup.”
“Please, if I can help in any way, I’ll gladly tough out this scratch.”
“Likewise, Herr Kommandant, I’m at your disposal.”
“Good to hear, good to hear.” I turn to Ben. “Oberst, any luck with the tea yet? Can we offer some refreshment to our guests here?”
“Just a second, I’m working on it.”
“While we’re waiting for the tea, I’ll explain the issue. Just to make sure you know, I’ve already read the reports and I believe you. Several of my men were present there as well and basically confirmed your stories. The only issue might be Herr Lutz, your colleague from Lyssychansk, since none of my men witnessed it. Then again, that might exactly mean that he couldn’t have done it. Due to the nature of our work we cannot clear your names, not right away. It is my firm belief that a group of well-organized and well-funded conspirators and malcontents aims to destabilize the area for personal gain and that the various agencies you’re working for have been infiltrated by them. A purge is imminent, but under the current conditions might provoke the masses and give rise to uncalled-for tensions. It’s a delicate matter and it requires
Fingerspitzengefühl.”
Ben cheerily brings the tea, putting a cup in front of each of us. He went with a simple hibiscus, spicing it up with local honey. As Ben joins our little circle, I start the ceremony, to the confusion of our Veleslav guest. Luckily he either heard of our habit or was just well-mannered, since he didn’t interrupt me. Ben and Biermann followed my example and prepared their beverages according to their tastes, with Ben stuffing it with sugar and Biermann just slowly mixing it. After a minute I put down the spoon and take a sip with all of them joining. We enjoy the serenity of the moment for some time, before I continue.
“I’ll show you several dozen pictures of various persons. I need you to identify as many of them as possible. All of them are known members of the Protysoyuzik and I need to know how many of them and which ones where among the protesters.”
I stand up, go the table and bring back my laptop and notebook with pencil. Turning on the device, I sit next to Biermann and Hubarenko and prepare to write down every name matching a face they identify.
“Start, please.”
Hubarenko, the apparently more impatient of the two, goes first. He easily picks out nearly a dozen of them, identifying one of them as the now dead attacker who made that nasty wound on his arm and another as his older brother. The rest of them he can accurately recall to have been among the protesters and certainly among the rioters. I expand the search to the family members and known friends of the people he identified and Hubarenko finds several matches there as well, but he reassures me that those persons were not among the rioters. Biermann’s turn. He’s more slow, but methodical, carefully examining every face and even borrowing a piece of paper from me to make notes for himself. After ten minutes, he gives me a complete list of everyone he saw, the description of their clothing, behaviour and even manages to identify a few others from the friends and relatives list as well. All in all the two of them combined identified around 20 Protysoyuzik and twice as many supporters. Had Lutz been among the policemen on duty in that particular part of Lyssychansk where the riot happened, he might have been able to find more of them for us, but these two now have confirmed my suspicions.
I had already sent two teams to look up the Lyssychansk and Tulchyn incidents and find out if the policemen who accused the two Prutons are in league with the Protysoyuzik and I’m expecting results soon. Slowly this puzzle is starting to make sense. I might not be able to see to greater picture, but I can anticipate their next moves now. On that account, these two coppers will come in handy.
“Herr Biermann, Herr Hubarenko, again, I thank you for your cooperation. The helicopter will drop you off at your homes soon. However, before you go I have to draft you into the Abwehr. The state will need your services in the next few weeks to combat this threat. In that regard, you possess the optimal traits to be Abwehr operatives in the Demydivka and Tulchyn area – you shall continue to operate as normal members of the police force, but you will stay in touch with us. Herr Biermann, I suppose you know the procedure?”
“Yes, Herr Kommandant.”
“Is this even legal? We’re police. You cannot draft us into the Military!”
“The Abwehr is not a part of the military; it’s an inter-governmental agency employing individuals from all sectors, both public and private. As a certified Abwehr Operative, I can draft whomever I want, as members of a government agency, you cannot refuse, Herr Hubarenko. While I understand your protest here, nothing is out of the ordinary.”
“I see… “
I hand him my Operative ID and certificate, to reassure him. Then I take two envelopes, one for each of them and hand it to them.
“These are your documents, new phones and IDs. In there you will find further instructions on how to proceed and behave. Herr Biermann, since you’re familiar with the procedure, would you do me the favour and brief Herr Hubarenko on his new role?”
“Of course, Herr Kommandant.”
“Splendid. Gentlemen, that would be it for now. Read through the instructions on your way home, you will most likely be contacted today and given further instructions. I again thank you very much for the valuable information you’ve provided us with. With further help, we shall easily root out the Protysoyuzik agents within the police force and purge them from our system. We shall turn the tables on their foul game and defeat them – your cooperation will be essential here. Understood?”
“Yes, Herr Kommandant!” : responded both in unison.
“Isador, phone.”
“Important?”
“Depends. It’s Ardenne.”
I utter a quick “Dismissed” to the two policemen and send them off, then I almost jump over Ben to get the phone.
“
Hallo? Ardenne, c’est toi?”
She didn’t answer in her usual seductive way, which was slightly disturbing for me. Her voice was serious, but luckily she didn’t sound like she was in danger or under any pressure or coercion. I noticed a certain worried undertone in her voice as well.
“Cher ami, yes, it’s me. I’m calling from Lyssychansk. Turn on the telly now, Kanal Jedan.”
I gestured to Ben to hand me the remote and complied. She didn’t have to say anything else. The image of an angry Voroshilov was all over the screen, apparently he was giving a speech in front of a crowd in Lyssychansk. I knew that park and that statue, it was about 50 m away from the main police station, the place where I assumed Ardenne was calling me from.
…long will we keep our eyes closed? They treated us, the proud sons and daughters of Veleslavia with pity and contempt when we rose those many weeks ago, when they crushed our movement. They didn’t then possess the strength and resolve to challenge us properly, they knew they couldn’t defeat us, hence they used guile and trickery to subdue our freedom movement. Branded us as criminals, traitors who don’t respect the people’s wishes and their right to express their true allegiance. ALL LIES!
I must apologize to you, my brothers, my sisters, mother and father; I must apologize for not having taken a stand there. It was I who should have challenged them there directly and forced them to reveal their true colours then and there. But I was weak, weak because of my love for my kind, my concern for you, for your safety. I never wished to spill the blood of the innocents, your blood, the blood of my kindred, but I should have. I should have drawn my sword and pointed it at our enemies, I should have cut off the snakes head then and there. Would blood have been spilled? Yes! Would it have been spilled in vain? NO!
No, it wouldn’t have. But yesterday and today it was spilled in vain. It is my deepest regret that these foul murders could have been prevented. Instead of so many victims from yesterday, they would have been martyrs to our cause, our most noble cause, a free Veleslavia. But they died in vain, pointless, mean and petty deaths at the hands of our oppressors. Not even our oppressors, but their cronies and henchmen. They thought the Protysoyuziks broken, defeated and gone, but as soon as they’ve seen our supporters, our allies and our might they panicked. They panicked because they realized their masters from Königsstein lied to them, for we were never broken, we were not defeated and most certainly we never left our beloved land. The Pruton lapdogs shoot their own kind. Those of them who infiltrated our society have finally shown their true colours as well.
For what is the Pruton but a wolf posing as a sheep? Murderers waiting for the first opportunity to draw blood. Lurking in the shadows, spying on us, draining our life force, pitting us against each other. We have allowed the poisonous viper to dine at out table for too long. They tried to scare us, they failed. I say we go to that so-called house of law and demand justice to be seen! I say we demand they deliver us that murderer who shot peaceful protesters without provocation, that cruel barbarian who killed your children, your brother, your sister, your son, your daughter.
We, the Protysoyuziks have returned in your time of greatest need. We will lead you to freedom. Now you see who is the traitor and who is on your side, now you realize who has your own best interests at heart. Brothers, sisters, Veleslavs of Lyssychansk, today we make a stand, today we shall demand back our rights, our laws, our sovereignty so cunningly confiscated from us by those snake charmers armed with venomous smiles. Onward, onward to demand justice! Do not fear, for blood has already been spilled, our blood. No more! Today we demand theirs! Today we will march onward without regret, without remorse and without concern for our blood, meeting our foe with a blade between our teeth and an infinite scorn in our hearts. Now is the time we show them that we ARE willing to spill blood and bleed for our rights.”
“Mariane, get out of Lyssychansk now.”