Imperial Disciplinary Barracks
Castra Ammaedara, Lindisseia Insula, Glascovia
14 June, anno Imperii CXIX
22:01
“Good evening. This is the GBC Imperial Service, live in Cansæ, at twenty-two hundred hours. Tomorrow marks the tenth anniversary of the infamous Ides of June bombings. Four hundred and seven individuals perished a decade ago when Glascovian Republican Army extremists bombed a high-speed train traveling between Sciiamchiamensis and Cansæ. In the course of Glascovian history, the incident stands as the single largest loss of life in a single day since the Second World War.
“While the government intends to mark the bombings with a commemoration ceremony tomorrow afternoon, Consul Maxentius stressed today that the GRA’s ‘dangerous ideology of a capitalistic republic’ has been thoroughly thwarted by concerted military and law enforcement campaigns over the past decade. ‘I am confident that these republican terrorists no longer pose a threat to the Empire or its subjects,’ a press release from the consul’s office stated. ‘No longer need we fear an unhinged minority that seeks to—”
“While the government intends to mark the bombings with a commemoration ceremony tomorrow afternoon, Consul Maxentius stressed today that the GRA’s ‘dangerous ideology of a capitalistic republic’ has been thoroughly thwarted by concerted military and law enforcement campaigns over the past decade. ‘I am confident that these republican terrorists no longer pose a threat to the Empire or its subjects,’ a press release from the consul’s office stated. ‘No longer need we fear an unhinged minority that seeks to—”
The radio in the prison cell shut off abruptly just as the lights switched out. “I was listening to that!” the prisoner cried out indignantly.
“Curfew starts at ten, Hakeswill,” a passing prison guard replied brusquely. “Warden’s orders.”
Aurelio Hakeswill slumped back in his cot, listening to the guard’s plodding footsteps recede in the distance. For four years, Hakeswill, a key GRA leader and financier, had languished in this prison cell—but not for much longer.
While his appeal to the courts had fared poorly, Aurelio’s fleeting access to legal counsel had given him a valuable glimpse as to what his comrades in arms were up to. Neither Hakeswill nor his revolutionary brothers were not so naïve as to trust his attorney with the details of the plot, but the lawyer had sufficed to convey the thrust of the GRA’s message: the Ides of June would mark the resurgence of a free, capitalist Glascovia—a land where the people’s economic potential could flourish unhindered by a suffocating state bureaucracy.
“Novus ordo seclorum,” Hakeswill whispered to himself, recalling vestiges of his bygone, long-since-underutilized classical education. “Iam nova progenies cælo demittitur alto.”
* * *
The University of Glascovia at Aquæ Flaviæ
Aquæ Flaviæ, Glascovia
15 June anno Imperii CXIX
09:00
“Serving as Praetor of the Empire for Education has certainly placed a lot of responsibilities on the shoulders of this Highland schoolteacher,” the young, red-haired woman at the center of the cobblestone courtyard said into the microphone. “But the job certainly has its perks, and among those perks is the opportunity to inaugurate a new chapter for the Aquæ Flaviæ Law School.”
The audience congregated around the praetor applauded warmly; she paused to flash a demure smile to the throng of professors and lawyers around her. Only a Congressional representative for two years, and a member of the Imperial government for just one, Praetor Appia Victricia Mackenzie still considered herself a political neophyte.
“While learning can take place anywhere, the completion of Tiberius Coruncanius Hall endows the law school with a facility commensurate with the quality of its legal education. With access to technologically state-of-art mock courtrooms, and one of the largest, most sophisticated law libraries in Glascovia—”
A sea of smartphones ringing in near unison briefly broke Appia’s concentration, as the crowd checked their mobiles and began murmuring to one another. Even the praetor took a quick moment to discreetly see why her own phone had so rudely interrupted her ribbon-cutting speech.
<Civil emergency declared in Cansæ.
Travel within Collis Capitolinus halted by order of prefectural aedile.
Further information forthcoming presently.>
Travel within Collis Capitolinus halted by order of prefectural aedile.
Further information forthcoming presently.>
Civil emergency, the praetor snorted to herself. Talk about a load of rubbish—odds are that squirrelly milquetoast’s just in a state over some bloody solar flares.
“Beg your pardon,” Appia said to the crowd, which was clearly as confused as she was by the emergency alert. “As I was saying, this new facility will allow the attorneys cultivated here to be better able to make their mark on this country—
Another cacophony of shrill chimes rippled through the crowd.
<All inter- and intra-national travel suspended by order of the Imperial Gendarmerie.
Citizens advised to remain in their homes.>
Citizens advised to remain in their homes.>
Appia could merely stare at the small, back-lit screen in puzzlement. A part of the praetor’s brain recalled her days in the classroom and urged her to press on with the speech, but her mouth seemed incapable of doing anything more than moving silently up and down.
“Madam Praetor,” a male voice next to her whispered suddenly. An Imperial Security Service badge briefly glimmered in the sunlight before disappearing into the man’s suit jacket just as quickly. “I have orders to remove you to a safer location. Please, follow me.” The man’s hand curled around Appia’s slender arm, guiding her politely but forcefully from her podium.
“If you all will kindly excuse me,” Appia shouted out to the crowd as a small contingent of plain-clothes Security Service officers surrounded her and ushered her away from the campus. “I’m so terribly sorry for the hasty exit!”
* * *
Indagare Anchorage (Via Navalis @ Via Praesidii)
Cansæ, Glascovia
15 June anno Imperii CXIX
09:37
Brigadier Charles Tiberius Dolabella tapped a bloody finger on the smudged, nigh-illegible map of Cansae nailed to the side of an overturned food truck on one of the wharf’s piers. “So the Imperial Grenadier Guards are grappling with the enemy here?” he asked the sweaty, swaying lance corporal standing at attention next to him.
“Yes… yes, sir,” the enlisted man replied between gasps for air. “1st Cohort, Imperial Grenadier Guards, Legio VII Cruenta reports engaging hostile combatants—maybe three hundred, three hundred and fifty, sir, I couldn’t say for sure—at the Cansæ Power & Light Tower. May I… may I sit down, sir?”
The brigadier peered over his glasses at the soldier for a fleeting second. “No, not just yet, corporal,” he replied curtly. “I need you to run over to Via Excelsior and Via Auspicis —tell the major heading up the City of Olympia Regiment to swing around and cut off any enemy retreat from the Power & Light district. We can’t afford to let those bastards escape.”
“Sir, right away, sir,” the lance corporal said back. He managed to exhaustedly raise his arm in salute before hurriedly marching off.
“Waging war by messenger,” the brigadier groaned. “Gods give me strength!”
Brigadier Dolabella turned to his adjutant, a wiry, African colonel Dolabella had known since they studied mathematics together at Corragia State. The colonel was wringing his hands together nervously and making a great big show of perusing the tactical map—Dolabella knew exactly what this meant.
“So I take it the major general didn’t pull through, did he, Raila?” he said, sighing with resignation.
“No, afraid not,” the colonel answered. “Doc said he hung in there for a good long while, but, you know—VX is one hell of a weapon. How the hell did the GRA manage to get their hands on that?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. And have we heard anything from the defense ministry? Or even some other units outside Capitoline Hill?”
“Not a thing, Charlie, not a thing. HQ at the Forum Gloriae was one of the first targets hit, and I’m fairly confident that the minister, the chiefs of staff, and a good chunk of the division commanders were all gassed. Hard to say for sure though—so much goddamn radio chatter I can hardly make sense of what’s going on, much less get a hold of anybody.”
“Fuck. Tell me you’ve got some good news for me.”
“I hate to disappoint, but I’ve got nothing. The civvies in Congress are dead, our military’s been decapitated—on a scale of ‘one’ to ‘grim,’ I’d say we’re screwed.”
“Sir, I’ve got something on the radio!” cried a private, running towards the brigadier and his colonel with a piece of paper clutched tightly in his hands. “Just a moment ago, sir, on all frequencies—government, civilian, you name it.”
“Let me see that,” Dolabella said, taking the paper from the private. “Dismissed.” The radio operator saluted and hurried back to his post.
<This is an official Imperial broadcast, pursuant to 10 C.L.I. § 4515.
All government praetors and ministers are instructed to go to Consular Directive 51.>
<Repeat: This is an official Imperial broadcast, pursuant to 10 C.L.I. § 4515.
All government praetors and ministers are instructed to go to Consular Directive 51.>
“That can’t bode well,” Dolabella muttered after he finished reading the message aloud.
“What on God’s green earth does that even mean?” Raila said, puzzled.
“It means that the emperor, the consul, and the lion’s share of the Imperial cabinet have all been killed or incapacitated,” Dolabella replied slowly, stunned somewhat by the message in his hands. “So now any surviving members of government will reply to that broadcast, and the automated systems at the Central Government War Headquarters will determine who’ll take power.”
“And what if nobody survived to reply to this, er, Directive 51 message?”
To that, Brigadier Dolabella had no response.
* * *
Castra Ammaedara
Lindisseia Insula, Glascovia
15 June, anno Imperii CXIX
10:44
“I figured I’d get you a present when you were finally released from custody,” Adalberto Caracciolo, the GRA’s second-in-command said to Hakeswill as they walked through the military base. “So here it is—Castra Ammaedara. It’s all yours.”
Hakeswill took a deep breath, indulging in the twin luxuries of fresh air and victory. It had been too long since he had enjoyed either.
“Well, isn’t this a sight,” Hakeswill sighed, surveying the field of corpses littering the base’s parade grounds. “I must say, Adalberto, you’ve done some damn fine work here.”
“Thanks,” Adalberto Caracciolo, the GRA’s second-in-command replied. “But I can’t take all the credit. After all, we could have hardly seized this fort had we not had overwhelming firepower. Those Lyrian guns pack one hell of a punch.”
The two men paused to watch a flurry of GRA fighters pour out of one of the magazines, clutching boxes of ammunition close to their chests. Despite the plethora of guns with which Lyrian Arms had provided them, the rebels couldn’t afford to leave even a single bullet behind—lest it end up back in the hands of the Imperial Army.
“An hour and thirty-three minutes,” Hakeswill said, shaking his head. “I languished in those miserable cells for five years—beaten, tortured, starved—and it just took our men an hour and a half to free me. Absolutely amazing.”
“Don’t marvel too much, my old friend,” Adalberto cautioned. “We might have seized the island fortress of Castra Ammaedara, but wresting just one inch of the mainland from the Empire’s despotic hands will be no easy task. Getting past the Imperial Navy alone will require a miracle, not to mention—”
“Have faith, Adalberto,” Hakeswill interrupted. “If what you’ve told me is true, our attack on Cansæ was successful beyond our wildest dreams. Their consul lies dead, and their military leaders along with him—as we speak the Empire’s lackeys are scrambling just to figure out who’s in charge, not planning a counterattack.”
“But when they do appoint a new consul, surely they will—”
“You give them too much credit! Who might have survived our assault, if anyone? Do you really think that—oh, I don’t know, the praetor for education, say—can really pose a threat to us?”
HMS Margrave of Cansæ
Aquæ Flaviæ Harbor, Aquæ Flaviæ, Glascovia
15 June, anno Imperii CXIX
11:01
“Pursuant to Directive 51, Ms. Appia Mackenzie stands as the sole successor to the consulship,” an older man, clad in black robes and a long, powdered wig said to the crowd clustered on the battleship’s upper deck. Appia stood next to the Second Circuit judge, uncomfortable with the position of authority she was about to assume.
“Never in Glascovia’s history has a consul been sworn in under such ghastly circumstances, and I wish that this ceremony could proceed under happier circumstances—but the Empire requires a helmsman to steer us through these trying times. I shall now administer the oath of office,” the judge continued. He gave Appia a reassuring, albeit brief, smile. Unfortunately, it did little to distract Appia from the throng of reporters clustered around her on the battleship’s deck, or from the incessant flashing of myriad cameras. The judge cleared his throat. “Madam Praetor, please repeat after me.”
Appia nodded, fighting the look of shell shock that threatened to dance across her face. Despite her best efforts, Appia’s hand trembled as she held it aloft; never in her wildest dreams had this former fourth-grade teacher contemplated the events transpiring around her.
“In the presence of the pantheon, I, Appia Victricia Mackenzie, do solemnly swear…”
“In the presence of the pantheon, I, Appia Victricia Mackenzie, do solemnly swear…”
“…that I will uphold the Articuli Imperii of the Second Glascovian Empire, that I will dedicate myself wholly to the service and welfare of the Empire…”
“…that I will uphold the Articuli Imperii of the Second Glascovian Empire, that I will dedicate myself wholly to the service and welfare of the Empire…”
“…and that I will faithfully execute the Office of the Consul.”
“…and that I will faithfully execute the Office of the Consul.” Appia’s voice cracked slightly as she repeated that phrase, and she struggled to maintain her composure.
“May the gods direct and sustain me.”
“May the gods direct and sustain me.”
OOC2: Information about Glascovia may be found in my factbook.
