The Principality of Damirez.
Nova.
Under the archways, the president walked.
They were sculpted in stone, old, resilient stone so long ago removed from the snow peaked mountains guarding Peteh, from quarries forgotten to the world. Those archways that held upon them the weight of history, the dust of time, once more witnessed a fragment of the never ending game. How much the walls could tell, how much the smooth surfaces could remember.
The Palace of Princes.
Old seat of Damiran politics, cherished and remembered. Even in these modern days, symbol for the people, a reminder for the rulers, a reminder of ages past and new. It was a massive building. Legend had it that the Princes of Peteh carved a mountain, driven by ambition to build a residence like no other. It had not towers, but peaks heading towards infinity. It had not walls, but mountains of stone. It had not trees, but gardens, forests. It had not pools of clear water, but lakes and rivers. It had not passages and alleys, but roads. It had not history, for history itself was made here.
Long after the unification, the palace, despite the fact that Mithras was the capital of the nation, was used as a place of gathering, of meeting and decision. It was not often that this happened, that men of influence and power gathered here, but at least once in a year the dust of time was stirred. For too much linked the nation to this palace for it to be forgotten. Not as the Palace of the now gone princes did it host these meetings, not as a symbol of ages past, but as the palace of the now prince, the President of The Principality of Damirez.
Liviu Librescu walked upon the corridors of the old palace, the city within a city, his pace quick, his posture straight, no trace of the old age, no hint of the years of servitude towards the nation. Only the sound of his steps could be heard as none interrupted his stroll. He was alone, and in deep thought. Not often did he shed the burden of age and responsibility, not even now.
For those that knew him, Librescu was a simple man, a man driven by his almost absurd idealism and his simple desires, a man living by the motto of the nation; “There is no way to peace. Peace is the way.” Yet, for all that his friends said, there was one saying none forgot, "Still waters run deep," for much like the nation, it was hard to rouse Librescu, but once done, only then could you witness his depths, and his opponents knew it well.
And now, there was a choice to make.
Hours earlier in the day, the Palace witnessed a moment like many others in its history, another page in a heavy book.
It was a meeting without pomp or flash, without trumpet or sound, one between two men that had much to remember and even more to forget. One, the President of the nation himself, the other, a forgotten soldier. There, in a hall large to host a ship, the men could speak, not interrupted, not witnessed by any but the sculptures, a white wolf of stone with ivory teeth guarding their meeting.
"Liviu," the once soldier spoke, "Something has to be done." His name was Aric Valerian, a man marked by war, his face carrying the scars of conflict, his large body betraying his military days, but for the grey hairs marking his age. "The situation has run out of hand for far too long."
"I know," in contrast, the president was so much shorter than the giant a table across, his body, if fit, marked more by age, his hair all white, a farcry from eight years before, "We can't ignore this."
"No," there was an expression to Aric's face, a short moment of silence as he gathered his words, "Much more."
"Much more?" a quirked eyebrow, the only treason the face of an experienced politician could allow revealed Librescu's puzzlement.
"Yes," the giant lifted from his seat, pacing through the room. "Much more."
"Aric, what you ask, I cannot give," even seated, Liviu surrendered none, "My hands are tied, the decision is not mine."
"Liviu, I think of you as a friend," the former soldier looked at the president, "We had our differences and solved them as we could," Librescu nodded in agreement, "We fought one against another many times and we often found ourselves in the same camp," there was no denial from the other man. "This is why I tell you this," the giant stopped his movement, entirely focused on the president. "You need to act," the voice was clear, nothing hidden, "I have supported you when many asked for retribution against sinful allies," the volume increased slowly, "I supported you when sons and daughters asked for blood, when the nation demanded vengeance in kind, when even Sarasvati born looked to their weapons!" he was all but shouting at this point, the expression on Librescu's face stopping him for a fleeting moment, "But I can't support you now," it was but a whisper, but the message was clear. But there was more to be said.
"I know the pressure you need face each day, the choices and questions you must ask yourself for every step you make," the tone was much more leveled at this point, "But where were we as the region rose in arms? Where were we as nations clattered their shields and unsheathed their swords?" it was not a cordial expression that his face wore, the heat of anger barely constrained behind his now controlled voice, "What did we do as pirates, entered our region?! The same grave robbers we have encountered before?" he missed the cold gaze Librescu sent his way, the warning hidden in those eyes. "The scavengers so many in the League you built ask to be brought to justice?"
"Enough," the president rose, and even though his height left to desire, he towered over the other man, a cold fire lit in his own eyes, "Do you think that I don't know? That we sat silent, afraid to act?" Librescu's voice was cold, so cold and devoid of emotion. "But I am not Prince! And I will not be! I have not the power to make such decision as the one you ask of me!" The burning rage of one met the freezing anger of another and it was trapped in ice, "It's up to the assembly to decide. And what they choose, that we shall do!"
"Then so be it!" the other man smiled at Librescu, once more remembered why from billions, this man alone was president, "They are already in a meeting, one of my own shall bring this to the table."
Under the archways, the president walked.
The decision was already known, for once his allies in Peteh victors of the vote, the requests of his nation plain. He was to send so many sons and daughters of Damirez in harm's way, so many! But the vote was clear, for once old grudges forgotten, enmities buried and rivalries postponed. There was work to be done and for the first time in many years, The Principality was to head into a war.
The Griffincrest Corporation had to be taught that one does not mess with League and Region without consequences.
***
Mithras.
The Principality of Damirez.
Nova.
The Ministry of Foreign affairs was like a war zone.
It was a new building, like most in the young city of sky towers. Made of glass and steel, concrete and carbon, twisting and reaching, grasping some invisible goal in the havens it was an architectural marvel of the new age. A symbol of the growth of a nation, of the present built by Damiran hands joining its siblings in the capital during Librescu's tenure as a president, a new home for Minister of Foreign affairs and his staff. Yet it was not the view of this citadel of Damiran diplomacy that those of The Principality found most impressive.
If the outside drew attention, the building's interior aimed to do even more so. There were countless meeting rooms, large hallways and office space to spare, a constant flow of people engaging in diverse activities. The concept was one of efficiency and speed, the quality of work, important over all. Elevators moved at speed, meals often enjoyed in the gardens of the tower to spare time. And yet, despite it all, the building was now full.
Hundreds of bureaucrats, some old, others young, struggled with the sudden influx of papers and data, sensitive materials passing under vigilant eyes. There was not much to betray this to the outside, no more than vans arriving one after another a possible clue that something was amiss, yet this was not new for all but the most observant eye.
At the center of the storm, buried under reports and voices, sat Emilian Davout, the Foreign Minister of the Principality, in a meeting with those most trusted of his staff.
"We've expected this for some time now," Andrew Wallenstein, trained by Emilian as his successor, spoke to those around, "There were murmurs of disagreement for quite some time, and it was only a matter of time until something like this happened," there were dark circles under his eyes, his light brown hair messy.
"What I don't get," the voice belonged to one retired in all but name from the affairs of the state, now summoned for this occasion, "Is how the Peteh Wing of the Meritocrats gathered enough support to pass this through the assembly, usually the Sarasvatian wing would have shot it down, and the others would have followed." The puzzlement was clear in Anna Rayne's voice as she expressed her thoughts.
"Anna," Andrew rushed to clarify the issue, "They cut a deal with the Technocrats, Aric gave them the votes they needed."
"Wait, wasn't.. Aric," her lips stopped in an o as realization dawned, "Liviu knew about this already." It was not a question, but a statement that she was certain none of those present would deny.
"Yes," Emilian interjected, "Liviu had a meeting with Aric before the vote," from the results of the vote, they knew all they needed to know, but Davout saw fit to continue, "There has been substantial pressure on Liviu's shoulders even before this as you well know," the other nodded, "His policies were perceived as lenient upon aggressors against Damirez and even as inviting to further calamity by a small minority."
"And now the minority has a majority?" Anna wasn't enjoying the reason for this meeting, displeasure obvious on her face. It was not easy for her to find herself snatched away from her lover and the growing wonder in Rene's belly, but it was even harder to keep a focus on the matter as she thought at the still emotional frail woman.
"Not exactly," Andrew replied, "They're far from gathering the votes they need to influence politics beyond this point, and I believe that Aric will keep supporting Liviu's line in regards to foreign affairs, except for this matter."
"It's not like Liviu was going to take this in silence," Emilian said, "It's quite obvious that he planned a reaction, but what we had on the drawing boards was nowhere near something of this magnitude."
"Yes," Andrew agreed with his superior and mentor, "It was to be a reply as a signatory of the Dagora Doctrine and a reaction in kind to the intrusion but as it stands, he was forced to make a decision not only as a signatory of the Doctrine, but also one as leader of the League and President of Damirez."
Emilian couldn't help but smile at the appraisal made by Andrew, the young man leagues away from his naive beginnings. "And what a decision it must have been for him. He has resisted it before, despite the pressure, but this was the last straw."
"I must admit," Anna said, "I was surprised that this happened to begin with. Given the hostility manifested towards the Griffincrest Corporation by many Novan nations, the fact that they actually entered the region left me baffled. I remember quite well that some named the Corporation as an ideological enemy for quite time now."
"Yes," the earlier smile left Emilian's face, "There were several proposals from League members for action against the predatory maneuvers of the Corporation, most involving direct military action," he paused, his eyes focusing on a point in the distance, "Until recently, it wasn't as difficult to hold those tendencies in check, even from our more," he left out a sigh as he released the next word, "Outspoken allies, and then.. Mvisa happened," he made a minute gesture to Andrew, the man familiar with all that happened.
"It was the first times coffins of League sailors reached home," the images were still fresh in their minds, the flag covered coffins forever etched in the minds of the Damiran public, "And despite the fact that it wasn't Griffincrest that pulled the trigger, they're the ones considered guilty for those deaths. From that point on, it became an uphill battle," the tone of Andrew's voice made it clear that he shared the same opinion as those pointing the finger at the Corporation for the loss of life and the conflict that that incident could have brought about.
"And then it got worse," Emilian bitterly remarked, his fingers tapping a few keys to reveal a map on the display, "Despite the insistence of the Manthian diplomacy, there was naught but a defensive intention on our part," several red dots appeared on the map, "Even though the increased pressure from those in the League meant we had to handle the situation with great care, we thought that it was still a viable position," the screen focused on a single red dot, zooming to reveal an island familiar to all from the geography classes, "Until Iythagoras," he grimaced, "That definitely stirred the hornet nest like nothing else."
"Worse," Andrew took his cue as his mentor stopped, "It stirred the Damiran public, it stirred the politicians and something had to give."
"We're going to need you Anna," Emilian said, "You have precious experience in the field and we'll need every available high level diplomat we have. It's the first time that Liviu's forced to act like this by the assembly but he's not one to shy away from this. He had in mind a more elegant solution, but we do with what we have to do."
"So," Anna cursed her luck, already aware of the stress this would place on Rene, "What am I to do?"
***
Delos.
League Headquarters.
Nova.
The island was never silent.
Delos, island positioned between Etoile Arcture, Mephras and Damirez. At first sight, a non impressive rock of horrendous dimensions, a sole redeeming features its shores, fit for harbors and ports. But once one takes a closer look, a different story is told. It's not hard to notice at this point that the island holds a position of great strategic importance, key to the defense of the Principality and to the control of one of Nova's most important bodies of water, the Delosian Sea. It comes thus as no surprise that from the very first days of existence, The Principality acknowledged the importance of this island and acted accordingly. But the importance of this island grew even further.
Under President Liviu Librescu's guiding hands, The Principality founded the Delian League, named after the island that was to be its home. For Damirez, this was the perfect location for the League's Headquarters. And to make it even more so, titanic efforts were put into transforming the island into a fortress of unimaginable magnitudes. Huge armories were built, shipyards and docks, airstrips and barracks, restaurants and shops, and bunkers over bunkers. All that was needed for supporting the fleets of the League, all that was needed for providing the infrastructure for the organization to function, and all that was needed that this island was never to fall to an enemy, no matter the odds against it.
Delos never slept. With hundreds and at times even thousands of ships in its docks for maintenance there was always something to do. Fixing a nuclear reactor here, unloading a few billions worth of missiles here, taking a review of the latest batch of recruits, all in a good day's work for the personnel stationed here. But the state of things at the moment was definitely not normal.
There was no League marine without his uniform on the entire island, permissions canceled, personnel mobilized, support technicians working fervently to prepare all ships for operations, plane after plane delivering weapons and crews, ship after ships unloading precious cargo in what might have otherwise been considered record time. And in the distance, every so often, another group of sleek ships could be spotted. The League was gathering its strength and in bases spread across the shores of member nations, the situation repeated itself again and again.
Deep under ground, in an office protected from even the most terrific nuclear barrage, Fatima Al'Hamil, secretary and commander of the League, held another meeting to coordinate all this effort.
"According to the diplomatic think tank responsible for this," the one speaking was a young man, dressed in NavInf garb and quite confident in his words, "The odds for the ultimatum to be accepted are relatively low given the influence of the Griffincrest Corporation in the day to day affairs of the Confederacy," images flickered during his report, "But recent developments show that there might a possibility for this to happen."
Fatima listened with rapt interest the report, the political and diplomatic analysis relevant to the actions that the League was about to undertake.
"Regardless of the diplomatic response," the young man continued, "A general mobilization order for the League has been issued, in preparation for the unfortunate eventuality that our requests are denied by the Blackhelm government," it was clear from his expression that he didn't put much hope in the situation being solved peacefully.
"I swear," one of the admirals present commented at this, "I've never seen the Assembly to agree so easily to something like this before and with such a crushing majority," the results of the vote, the unexpected support for this resolution had produced waves even as far as Delos. And for those present, growing in a world marked by the Succession Wars, this was even more of a wonder.
"That's bound to make a lot of people happy," another replied, his frown betraying less than pleasant thoughts at the matter, "But it's going to cost us," memories of flag covered coffins brought shudders to all those present. Despite the years in service it was hard to get used with death. For those in charge, knowing that their decisions could doom thousands, the pressure was even greater.
"It's what we do," Fatima spoke, "If the situation demands it, the League will move to neutralize a threat to the interest of the member nations. And Griffincrest made sure his Corporation represented a threat." As the secretary of the League, Fatima knew of her sworn duty, and now the call had been made for the League to act.
"If I may be allowed," the NavInf officer was tapping on a keyboard as more images flashed on the holographic display, "There's more than just the League answering this call. The resources and assets available should the primary option fail are rather... impressive." Flags floated in the middle of the table, flags well known to the officers in the room.
Following the display, one of the admirals present couldn't help but whistle at what he saw, "This is going to be... interesting," he commented, the earlier topic abandoned in favor of more practical subjects. "And a bitch to coordinate," he threw a look at Fatima, the woman watching the data without a sign to betray her view on the matter.
"But it can be done," she finally said, "However, we must first organize our own detachment."
"I wouldn't call it exactly an detachment Fatima," Yves, admiral in charge of the expeditionary fleets spoke, "We're talking about seven thousand ships here. Only the logistics of it all are mind boggling!" the League Fleet was the largest up to date deployed in a single combat scenario, and for Yves, this was of great concern.
"Quite so," she smiled, allowing herself a moment of amusement despite the situation, "And you're going to be responsible of it all."
"Don't remind me," Yves grumbled, the assignment already a headache even before beginning in full, "Can you imagine the difficulty in keeping seven thousand ships in formation?" He afforded himself to do some complaining, even as the cogs in his mind kept turning and whirling as they had done ever since rumors of this deployment appeared between the ranks.
"No, but I'm sure you'll tell me all about it after you do it," she supplied, "Besides, the morale is excellent, and, according to the reports," the image shifted again, a data sheet, incomprehensible for all but those aware of its meaning, appearing, "All supply issues have been handled," she smiled encouragingly at the man.
"I know, I've read the reports as well Fatima," Yves's reply was quick to come, perhaps a bit too rash "I'm more concerned about my supply train once the fleet will be in the field. Hopefully this will not require a lengthy campaign, but if that happens, I'll need more ships."
"That's not a problem," Fatima changed the display yet again, ignoring his small outburst, "At present mobilization rates, the League is expected to reach full capacity in three months. If the situation reaches critical levels, we can make available two thousand more ships in little over one week."
"I can live with that," he replied, acknowledging the information. It was something he already knew, but it was so much better to hear it from Fatima's lips.
"Once the ultimatum goes on and the fleet departs," Fatima continued with the affairs at hand, "Protocol #4 "Blind Fox" will come into effect and members will be informed of the implementation of Orb and Amethyst just in case things turn sour faster than we expect."
"Right," it was the only reply as she went about the procedures. This was but the start of the wait.
***
Ix Chel.
Principality of Damirez.
Nova.
"Quick, we have to hurry," he told her excitedly, his hand outstretched to grab hers. In the dimming light of the sun, they were running, chasing one after another, climbing the difficult slope. It was a hard climb, the twilight light not enough to make obvious the path, shrubs and trees blocking their advance. Her outfit, a sunflower dress and sandals, not intended for the impromptu rush, his own, polished shoes, elegant trouser and a shirt, marked by dust and branches as he tried shielding her during the ascension. There was no road, just a barely marked path flooded by grass.
They were young, the pair of them, just barely a couple, yet bound together by the same passion of their age. She was panting as she tried keeping up with him, her long hair tangled and sweaty from the exhaustion, but she kept on, her eyes fixed on the man before her and the smile he threw her as he turned to check on her. It was easier for him to challenge the path, his body used to the effort, but he was mindful of his companion, not pushing himself to the utmost of his limits. And he was familiar with this trek.
All of a sudden, he vanished between bushes and she was quick to dive between them only to halt in a gasp as she took in the view. It was a clearing, a small clearing between the trees and rocks, flooded with the light of the sleeping sun, a symphony of warm colors touching all that was to see.
"This is my place," he spoke, his voice warm and tender, "I haven't shared it with anyone yet," he gave her a toothy smile, patting a spot on the green carpet of grass as he sat down. She joined him, no thought given to her dress, her arms embracing him, her head resting on his shoulder as he threw his own arm to hold her.
"It's beautiful," she found her voice, looking at the sunset and the rays of the sun as they fell across the city laid down in front of them, "I wish we could stay like this forever," she added, a look of longing on her face as she tightened the embrace.
"So would I," he kissed her forehead, the same look of longing in his eyes, "But.." she shushed him with her finger, then pointed at the sunset, the show they were to enjoy with a smile on their faces.
The light of the sun showed all, the glass towers of the city, the countless gardens and old ruins, the traffic and rush, millions going around doing their day to day business. They saw it all, all the while, their eyes fleeing from one of the distant image in the corner of their eyes. For under the sun, there was also a display of power and glory, of death and duty.
It was a military base, one like countless others in the nation, now filled with gathering men, moving trucks and howling tanks, with soldiers assembled and officers commanding. But it was more than just a simple base. For her, and countless others, it was the base that would swallow what was her own and perhaps never give it back.
She couldn't help but stare, not for the first time wishing that she could tame her beating heart, not for the first time wishing that the nation was not rising in arms and gathering its sons and daughters with a call. It was perhaps hate, it was most likely jealousy. How could she feel otherwise when for a simple call he was to leave her side and answer, so soon after their first encounters?
"It'll be fine," he reassured, his blue eyes focused on her, knowing what had her entrapped so, "We're just reserves, we're not heading for combat," he sounded secure, but there was hesitation in his voice, betrayal of the uncertainty within. She kissed him, her eyes glassy, her worry great. They both needed reassurance, to be certain that this moment will never leave them.
Across the nation, such scenes repeated themselves. Young lovers, fathers and mothers, all searching to embrace those dear to them to spend all time they had with those whom they loved before the fickle fates rolled their dice. It was perhaps, to be a war, one that was to cost blood and sacrifice and all knew that some might not return. But there was also grim determination, a hint of sharp steel under the sheath of family and love, responsibility and anticipation making themselves known.
For The Principality, mobilization, no matter the scale and aim, was usually a silent affair. Soldiers on leave were recalled, reservists announced to present at their units and equipment checked once more, the armories following a strict procedure in awakening the fighting force of the nation. There was no fuss, not grand gestures made about it all, only the increased activity and numbers to betray that something was happening at all, only the embracing families a hint that one of their own was to pick up arms.
There was an understanding amongst the people for those that chose to defend them and The Principality, the sons and daughters, fathers and mothers, brothers and sisters that picked up arms when it was deemed needed. For some, this was an understanding for a way of life, for others, for a necessity born of a cruel world, but over the entire homeland, it said the same. 'Never judge he who fights. Judge always he who sends him fighting.'
Often were those elected challenged by their own voters, to explain and justify their actions, the need to send soldiers into the fire, for war was not a fickle thing to play with. At times, there was support, at times there was scorn and lost elections, but at rare times, there was resentment, anger, frustration that sough expression in the most martial of arts.
Such as this time. For the common man saw this last straw as defiance, as posturing and mockery, as a challenge of their collective security. For once, the nation was eager for conflict, for a message to be sent.
***
Presidential Hall.
Peteh.
There was agitation in the hall, cameras and recorders focused on a stage, above the heads of the crowded reporters, their murmurs of expectancy and curiosity. There was a strange order in the room, a few guards, merely a token force, keeping in check the mass of people waiting. But agitation the agitation ceased, the hum stopped as a door opened.
Flanked by two trusted aides, a look of promise and determination adorning his face, Liviu Librescu made his way to the podium. He was impeccably dressed, his trademark suit once more thrown into the fires of politics. He made no hesitation as he stood behind the microphones prepared for him, but for a moment he looked at those assembled. All major agencies were present, many affiliated with foreign channels of antions spread across Nova or pertaining to those nations of the League. That was good, for this message had to reach those as well. He drew in his strenght as his thoughts touched on what he was to say and opened his mouth.
My fellow compatriots, I come to you this hour with tides of war and strife, of conflict and adversity, with hope and resolution.
Yesterday, in an exercise of the act of democracy we so much cherish and in accordance to the will of the people, the Damiran Assembly has voted that we take action against the entity that is the Griffincrest Corporation.
We are not a nation that values war for peace is always preferable to armed conflict, but there is a time when words falter in the face of implacable greed and arrogance. A time when kindness and respect are taken as feeble minded and as a weakness to be exploited, a time when those that prefer not to throw the nation's youth to the flames of war are marked as naive and targets. But there is also a time when even the most restrained of nations takes steps to correct injustice. When those of power act to change the world.
We are not the guardians of this world, policemen of the world, judges and executioners, for no nation, no matter its resources and allies has the will and power to be so, yet even we know when the call for us to act has come. And that call has come.
For years, we have seen the dishonorable actions of the Griffincrest Corporation as it pilfered and robbed defenseless nations as a gunpoint, yet we could not take action, wounds of distant conflicts, loss of dear friends, a grim reminder of what war could bring should diplomacy fail. Yet for all our reserve, for all our patience history never stops.
How long could we ignore the defiance of this organization? How long could we ignore the fact that their ships and those of allies exchanged blows? Yet we stayed our hand and those of allies, so eager in their demands for justice for we knew of consequences that would come. We valued peace.
But all that lays shattered. In a supreme act of defiance, as to prove once more that the Corporation is above all, Griffincrest ships entered Novan waters, willingly challenging a region of nations at odds with its methods and existence. Nations out of which some consider them nothing more than pirates. This act alone has shown us we cannot shy from taking action.
If Griffincrest, and any of his ilk, think that they can threaten our homes and act as though they control this world, then I say to them, I think not!
Already our Etoilean brothers, Manthian allies and Czardian fellow Novans are engaging the Corporation in what remains of Spredonia, a nation's grave robbed by the Corporation without respect for the dead. A proof of what the Griffincrest Corporation promotes and stands for, an act of such dire infamy that we must never forget.
To these who hide behind human faces, we must bring justice!
We know that they will hide, that they will take refuge behind the Blackhelm Confederacy, for we are not blind to see how they are linked these two. Yet we choose not to condemn the Confederacy, not to challenge its choices and action if justice is to be done. At the same time, should they choose to protect the corporation, should they choose once more to hide the perpetrators and claim no affiliation to the crimes, we will act. Do not try to hide that which is in broad light.
There is but one last chance for peace. One last chance that our wrath is not to be unleashed on those so deserving of it and those protecting them. An ultimatum has been issued and should they heed its conditions, then there will be no blood, no fire and chaos. Let there be peace, but should they choose wrong, there will be war.
It's not a promise or a threat, but simple fact.
Moments after the president finished his speech, every governmental information terminal in the Blackhelm Confederacy, from fax machines to emails received the following message. Simultaneously, every available public television channel broadcast the message to the nation and the world.
Open Communiqué
Following the recent events involving the Griffincrest Corporation and as a result of the long history of brutality exhibited by both the organization and its affiliated alliance, we, representing the League, under direct authority from the member nations, find it necessary to bring the issue to a conclusion and act in such a manner that the situation at hand ceases to be a problem for the nations of the world or for said nations legitimate businesses.
It is our desire to conclude the matter at hand using the diplomatic means available, thus avoiding further escalation in the already volatile environment, preventing the potential for unnecessary confrontation and unrequited military exchange offering the premises for a firm solution in the current dilemma.
Finally, after deep deliberation and tribulation we concluded that given the diverse nature of the affair it is at the origin of the challenge that we must seek a conclusion. For this necessity, we have decided on approaching the involved parties so that according to the international accepted rules of diplomacy, there would be an opportunity for consideration and amends to be made.
The fact that the Blackhelm Confederation has condoned, if not outright endorsed, the behavior of the Griffincrest Corporation becomes obvious even at the most superficial of observations. It was as a result of this and the subsequent supportive nature of the state towards the organization that the Griffincrest Corporation was allowed to grow and flourish in a sea of blood establishing an empire of greed, corruption and violence on the bones of men, women, children and nations.
As the Corporation has often shielded itself behind its host nation, legal and illegal action justified by the difference between the two entities, we are left with no other choice but the following.
Given the role of the Blackhelm Confederacy's continued existence under its current shape, we request the following.
#1 That Griffincrest armed forces under any name and form are brought under the control of the Blackhelm Confederacy.
a) Effective cessation of any Griffincrest military capacity and of its capabilities as a threat for the nations of the world.
b) Confiscation of GC military assets by the Blackhelm Confederacy either by reorganization under government endorsed military agencies, therefore making the Confederate government directly responsible for actions undertaken by said armed forces, or by direct confiscations, with compensation to be arranged between the two parties.
c) Surrender of the Griffincrest fleet either for dismantling, usage in the fleets of offended nations and for integration in the Confederate Naval Forces.
#2 Renegotiation of all oil contracts between Griffincrest and nations providing oil for the corporation.
a) The Corporation will provide compensations to the nations exploited by its coercive expansion policies. This includes, but does not limit itself to the nations outright attacked by the Corporation.
b) The Corporation will seek future protection for its business interests solely from sources agreed upon by the host nation.
c) Any individuals, corporations or governments which may have signed contracts with the Corporation under duress or threat of coercion may terminate such contracts without any legal or financial penalty.
#3 Cessation of the Griffincrest Corporation as a political entity.
a) Withdrawal of the Corporation from any international binding agreement not relevant to the market interest of a legitimate company. This includes all agreements pertaining to military organizations and participation.
b) The Company will exercise any property rights it may possess as a private business entity under the law of whatever nations it may do business in, rather than act itself as a sovereign government of territories or populace.
#4 Legal conclusion of the Corporation's military - aggressive behavior.
a) The arrest and surrender of Claudius Griffincrest and his board of directors to the League Forces for trial in front of an international jury.
b) The arrest and surrender of all Griffincrest Corporation employees connected with the internationally illegal and aggressive actions and/or policies of the Corporation.
These conditions allow for the continued existence of the Grffincrest Corporation under a more market acceptable form, preventing loss of employment and profit. The conditions as they are now are nonnegotiable.
You have twenty four-hours to comply.
The ultimatum had been issues, now all lay in the hands of the Confederate Government. War or peace, it was their decision to make.
Day One.
OOC: This is a strictly IC thread. The OOC thread.
