The Match (Closed, Cornellian Nations Only, other TG)

[Shalum]

The Foreign Ministry, Fineberg

William smiled and took a sip of his tea, secretly pleased at the news. Ever since Peregrino, things had been a bit on the tense side between Shalum and New Edom, the undercurrents of unease felt at embassy during meetings throughout the duration of the conflict. To him, this was the stepping stone to possibly fixings the problems that his father may have created by deciding to go into Peregrino. It wouldn't be a magical cure, but it was definitely a step in the right direction. And not to mention, Shalum was loyal to her allies, something he hoped didn't bite them later on down the road.

"Wunderbar, I'm glad that it's settled then. I'll get in contact with General Harper when I return to the embassy. He's been keeping his schedule a bit more free in the event that the Ministry of Defense called him, assuming I remember correctly" William replied with a shrug. The prince secretly thought that Harper was also using it as a chance to keep a bit closer to his wife, but that was something that he couldn't exactly blame the general for. "I'm sure we'll be able to spare a regiment with little to no issue, considering what we have present at the moment to spare."

In response, William yawned, unable to control the action. He took a sip of his tea and sighed. "Believe me Minister Dathan, I do get a proper amount of sleep every night, that I make sure of. I've just been under a bit of stress in recent weeks, and the effects of that have been lingering. Not to mention I had just arrived from a five mile run prior to you contacting the embassy." William chuckled. "I didn't get much time to rest, or the chance to eat a proper meal. Thank you for your concern though" he smiled a bit and shifted in his seat. Glancing at his watch, William continued. "Thank you for your time Minister Dathan. Don't hesitate to contact me if you have questions. Alas, I need to take my leave, if there is nothing else of issue."

After exchanging formal goodbyes, William bid his leave, heading back to the Shalumite embassy to return to his normal duties; making a note to contact Jack with what he needed to.

[New Macureus]

General Ios Melin read the ravings of Vair Padin in the New Macureus City Probe and smiled a little. Perfect. The woman was working out just as he planned. He knew that she was always a little on the eccentric, even paranoid side. He had uses for her, nonetheless. It was necessary to throw everyone off balance by letting Vair do her thing and while they were distracted and fuming, the main objective, annexation of Eastern Nekulturnaya, was achieved. Who cared about if the Deadorans' feathers were ruffled, let alone the Shrailleeni. The former was too arrogant of late and could use even some minor setbacks, while the latter were on the brink of internal implosion by all accounts.

Let everyone at present wonder what he was doing, what was going on Nekulturnaya, etc. for now. Keep them guessing, he had decided recently. While their backs were turned, Nekulturnaya could be carved up a like a goose among the conquerors. Dengali was a useful diversion, might score some points with the Edomites with it, perhaps, embarrass the matriarchies, etc. but it wasn't the real issue. Nekulturnaya was the goal and while the rest of the region turned its eyes to Dengali and Azurlavai, southeastern Nekulturnaya would become an integral territory of New Macureus (minus about 40% for Old Macureus, one bit of matriarchal expansion that would have to be stomached unfortunately in pursuit of the greater good).

So, yes, he would remain absent and oversee the transition, meet with his Old Macurean and Vyrsarian counterparts, and collude with them to partition Nekulturnaya. The locals might not like it, nor might the CPO, but it would be a fait accomplis, a fact accomplished.

In the meantime, he had a secret message for Vair, via encrypted mail....

Excellent work, so far, Citizen Padin. Confusion, misdirection, and diversion are necessary at this juncture. Continue your efforts with respect to Dengali. Prepare arms shipments, if feasible. If necessary, perhaps a Taboro protectorate would be a great start. General Ajam, whatever his faults, at least is not in collusion with the Shrailleeni, unlike President Andrews. Andrews ceased to be legitimate when he became a Shrailleeni puppet.

The real key is the effort to annex and assimilate Nekulturnaya. Compared to Nekulturnaya, Dengali is but a diversion, albeit a very useful one. We just need to keep the Deadorans, Shrailleeni, and Edomites diverted into Dengali while we seize Nekulturnaya. Keep the CPO busy, too, of course. Continue your excellent efforts, Citizen First Commissar. I have no complaints. The illusion of insanity could be an asset here. For one thing, they're more likely to try to appease you.

Meanwhile, a message was left with the Vyrsarian and Old Macurean consuls here...but another, secret one was sent directly to Chancellor Adenaeur herself.

To: Chancellor Adenauer
From: General Melin

Chancellor,

Time to resolve the final partition, I do believe. The entire region will be better-off for it. Also, perhaps some gesture of antipathy to me and my government is best at this time. We should confuse the outsiders, make sure that they believe us enemies, when the opposite is so. Do you not concur?

Science and reason,
General Ios Melin of New Macureus

Let the Shrailleeni stuff that in their pipes and smoke it.

[Deadora]

Dressanna

Jacqueline felt a coil of stress loosen around her mind, one burden lifted out of many. The Shrailleeni response to the invasion had been of great concern. Jennifer had shared with her concerns that she overplayed her hand too aggressively, that the Shrai, guided as they were by their gentle sentiments, would side with the Patriarchs. Gillya proved otherwise, that they would stand as true Sisters in the eternal struggle against the Patriarchy.

The old saying did go: keep your sisters closer than your enemies.

"Your terms are acceptable. It is only fair that the Matriarch Empress shoulder some of the responsibility for protecting and nurturing Dengali as she struggles through this dark time. As for our swift action," Jacqueline met Gillya's eyes as she spoke, but shifted them downward ever so slightly. "The Matriarch Empress bid me to convey her deepest regrets that such behaviour was necessary. In discussions between her government and that of New Edom, the Perrin regime indicated that they would support Warlord Ajam, that he was their friend and ally. There was some concern that had we alerted the Mother Empress, she would be honour bound to consult with the government of New Edom and Josiastown. While she did not fault the Mother Empress this, she deemed that it would have forewarned Ajam beyond an acceptable risk."

She noticed Butler's discomfort, though she didn't pay it much mind. Clearly he was still a patriarch of some influence, but he was learning his place. Now that he was beginning to move under Deadora's shadow, that education would only quicken.

It was good that she was adept at the art of hiding her emotions, for these next words wanted to stick in her throat like burrs. "There is one more thing, honoured Queen. As a gesture of her personal commitment to this endeavor, the Empress offers that Prince Erryk remain here in Dressanna, to serve at your disposal and strengthen communication with Bryn Tegna. He is an educated and loyal man, well suited to a woman of such stature as yourself." At this proposal Erryk glanced fully at Gillya's face, and she wondered when he had grown so bold. But she held her tongue and hand. Instead she persisted as she had been ordered. "Shrailleeni is an ocean away, Acheron is all around you. When everything around you falls, family is strength. We could be sisters, you and I. Consider that, and perhaps when this struggle has been won we can discuss further arrangements concerning my brother."

Now she smiled, an expression just as calculated as every other, though it did reflect a genuine feeling regarding what had just transpired. "I thank you for the time you have granted me. I will speak of your wisdom to the Matriarch Empress, and convey to her all that you have said. I'm sure you have many other pressing matters to attend to, and I would enjoy a rest after my journey. With your leave, my Queen."

---

Ghish, Ghant

To: Emperor of Ghant, Nathan IV
From: Fyrreir D'Yhas, Deadoran Ambassador to Ghant
Subject: Re: Recent Events
Encryption: Delivered via sealed diplomatic pouch

---

Emperor,

I am surprised but touched you have taken such a personal interest in the trials my people face. Of course the Matriarch Empress is committed to the preservation of lawful rule in southern Acheron and throughout the Region. To discuss ways that Deadora and Ghant can cooperate to this end, I would be happy to accept your invitation. I can attend tonight, if you so desire.

Yours,
Fyrreir D'Yhas
Ambassador to the Empire of Ghant

Fyrreir had been surprised to receive a personal message from the Emperor of Ghant. From what she had experienced of the country, and the man, her impression was that both were almost entirely consumed by themselves, blind to the events of the Region. Yet here she was, readying herself to be interrogated by the adolescent patriarch mere weeks after the formalization of their alliance with New Edom. If he thought Ghant could just stick its nose into south Acheron. . .

Well, he thought wrong, the ambassador thought, exiting the embassy and entering the vehicle that would take her to the Emperor's palace.

---

The Tzhæl Estate
Calla Tegna

Jennifer Thrall was throwing a party. Here within the modest (compared to Calla-Gold) walls of the estate she hosted Princess's and Princes, Matrons and their mates, and even the odd Queen or aristocratic officer. It was not a violent gathering, but wine flowed freely in the place of blood, blaring bass the place of shouts and screams. The air was not empty of voice however, and many women vocalized their passions as they coupled with some partner, whether discretely in the corner or sprawling over a couch it did not matter.

Arlenica entered through the front door alongside D'Chenti. A Gelded drifted over wraithlike to collect their jackets. Her mouth hung open in a little o for a moment. Of course, she'd heard the secret, whispered stories of aristocratic hedonism as a child, but never had she imagined herself attending such an event, even when she'd been made a Matriarch. "How many of these have you been too?" She asked the older Kehrahnii woman, simply from having no other words to say.

"Too many," the General huffed, and led the way into the main room.

It didn't take long to find the Empress. She was seated in a plush armchair. Straddling her lap was a Nadirii woman, dressed in the Old Metoreac style, decadent strips of fabric stained purple, green, and blue; intricately knotted and wrapped around her body, leaving much skin exposed. The two women were necking, whispering into each others' ears, the occasional soft kiss. It was this other woman who first glanced to the side, spotting Arlenica and D'Chenti entering the house. A breathy murmur, and the exotic woman was clambering off the chair as Jennifer stood up, a glass in one hand, and began to walk towards them. There was a distinct wobble in her step, and when she spoke there was a hint of slur.

"Girls, glad you came! Grab a drink!" She grinned at them, sipping a clear liquid from her glass.

D'Chenti growled. "You're drunk."

Jennifer giggled.

"My Empress, there are urgent matters that require your attention. The Region runs swiftly." D'Chenti went on. Arlenica never heard anyone come as close to lecturing the Empress as that old broad did.

Jennifer's face became more serious. "My place is here."

"We just started a war! Yo-"

"That's enough General!" Jennifer lashed, her composure finally cracking. "There is a war, so fight it. I am Empress, many things require my attention that are beyond your ken. Now leave."

There were some tense moments as the two women stared at each other, but eventually D'Chenti turned away. Arlenica moved to join her, but a touch from the Empress stopped her. "Arly, lets catch up!" Shocked, the Matriarch stared first at Jennifer's inviting smile, then to D'Chenti's stunned face. She didn't miss the scowl that darkened it immediately. To her surprise, the old General then turned a withering look on her, before stiffly turning around and heading for the door.

Turning back to the Empress, she shrugged and followed her lead. She was being led to the stairs.

"You know what I liked about your career, Arly?" Jennifer said as they began ascending to the second floor. She was leaning on Arlenica for support. "You didn't make any enemies. Whenever there was an opening, there you were, seemingly the only qualified candidate." She giggled again, and this time it distinctly set Arlenica's nerves on edge. "But you lose your edge without enemies. Irri's a hard one, watch your back."

Understanding filled her mind, but Arlenica simply murmured, "Thank you, my Empress."

On the second floor the music was less deafening. Jennifer led Arlenica down a dark hallway, turning a corner and then coming to a door. They slipped inside, closing the portal and reducing the party to a omnipresent reverberation.

Arlenica looked around her. There were posters on the wall, posters she would expect from a young teenage girl. Shelves of books, more than she could remember having when she grew up. A narrow, if luxuriant, bed was in one corner, and a writing desk in the other. There were other things, personal things. A picture of Jennifer and the Captain of her Imperial Guard, Balla, as young women training at Argenta. A letter torn in two, lingering beneath the desk. Gelded kept the room free of dust, but moved nothing.

The Empress pulled her to the bed, where they sat side by side. "So Arlenica, a little serpent told me you're pregnant. Is it true?" Her smile was wide, the arm around her shoulders strong. The Matriarch had never been so close to the Empress so informally or when she was in such a state.

"I- err. . . Yes I am." Arlenica managed to stammer, caught off guard. She hadn't told anyone yet, not even her mate.

Jennifer looked at her slyly, then offered her glass. "Drink," she said teasingly. When the Matriarch hesitated, she repeated it more firmly, a command. "Drink."

Reluctantly, Arlenica accepted the glass and brought it to her lips. She took a breath, then sipped it.

Water.

She looked up at Jennifer's face, shock spreading on her own. It was met with a firm slap. "If you and her ever try and pull some kind of power play on me again, I'll reach up your snatch and tear our child out myself. Do you understand?"

Arlenica was massaging her jaw, touching a fingertip to a tender lip. The Empress had a good arm for those."I'm so sorry, my Empress! Truly I didn't mean to challenge you, but there are matters I wished to bring to your attention. I thought you would want to know, and I was not aware of what I would be interrupting. . ." She trailed off as Jennifer drew her further onto the bed, laying down, cupping her face, staring into her eyes.

"That woman I was with, did you recognize her?" Arlenica shook her head. "That was Julia D'Ankhol, Princess of Old Metorea. You understand her mother doesn't like me, doesn't like Imperial rule. But her mother is the past, she is the future. Queen D'Quarr is here as well. Her mother defied me, but now her city defies her. She needs help." There was a pause. "And so you see, my place is here. Do you understand? Do you trust in me?"

Staring into those green pools, depths of jade and emerald, rays of light tinted by forest leaves, a black depth extending to infinity, Arlenica could only nod. Warm breath touched her face, and Jennifer kissed her. They grew closer, pressing against each other, hot skin and supple flesh. She was off-balance; her lip stung, but maddening heat had bloomed between her legs, in her gut. Inexplicably she found herself thinking back to memories of adolescence, of self-exploration.

"Now, tell me what you came to see me for," Jennifer murmured once she broke the kiss. And so Arlenica told her: of how Jacqueline had met with success in Dressanna and that the Shrailleeni were cooperating, of letters received from the ambassador of Ghant requesting an audience, not just with the Empress but with the newly crowned Baela D'Bhati, of how the Barbo pleaded for recognition, and of the vitriolic rhetoric coming from the New Macureans. And once she was done her telling, Jennifer kissed her again, except this time her hands found Arlenica's breasts, nimble fingers manipulating the buttons of her clothes.

There was one thing to do. Arlenica rolled them off the bed, pinning a surprised and struggling Jennifer who squealed in delight.

And so the party went on.

[New Edom]

Military District of Fineberg

It was like a crowded theater; Air Force, Army, Navy, and Civil service officials with clearance to attend were there, along with General Harper and staff. Because of their presence, some information was being referred to generally and not specifically. However the mapping and general signals and tactical information was all disclosed and given to them in folders.

General Jedidiah Kiron had every confidence in the National Air Force. Over the last several years rigorous cross training with the Lamonian, Estovakivan and Arbiter Air Force had resulted in strong training in a multi-disciplinary approach to Air Force doctrines. They made use of combined electronic warfare and advanced reconnaissance with superb flying training (the Lamonian Carrier based Naval training in particular), tactical schools in these foreign countries to fully modernize. It was also the most egalitarian force in the military, though in particular under his standards there were, to quote him, "No damned excuses for anybody."

Also, with several deployments in the last three years, every squadron had a cadre of veterans. Right now, the Air Force was the front line of defense against Deadora, which had been the plan all along.

"...from Southern Etruria to Northern Haran, we have a line of defense which includes long range missile batteries, our secret ARES long range gun bases whose locations are only known to select personnel, drone reconnaissance units, satellite constant sweeps, and soon to be augmented by micro satellites which will act as relays over specific locations known to be potential salients. Bases in Etruria, Bara and Haran will be ready to provide first strike cruise missile attacks against Deadora's staging areas directly. Fighter squadrons are ready in every province to put a massive dent in any potential attack." Kiron, a hard faced, compact, tall Baran with dark olive features and a tight cold smile, looked confidently out over his audience. The President's eyes looked calmly into his.

Nabal. Kent. Does he know? What does he know? Kiron noticed Harcourt sitting beside the President, also staring at him. Kiron looked at his notes. His neck felt hot.

"In conclusion, the National Air Force has never been more prepared, Your Excellency." He waited, but Perrin Pahath-Moab said nothing. Sweating now, he went back to his seat, to be replaced by General Jonathan Unwerth. That tall light brown haired sun browned lean man came up wearing his Barracks dress, billed cap under his arm, and said, "The First Army Corps main line of defense will consist of the 1st Etrurian Legion, the 12th Mechanized Infantry Division, the Elwe Division, and the Haran Division, supported by elements of the 103rd Shalumite Marine Division. Plan A will be focused on select units of these divisions responding to probing attacks by special forces units, paras and other advanced reconnaissance troops. Plan B will be focused on responding to necessary population control in the event of deployed WMDs. Plan C will focus on units held in reserve in case the Air Force fails to repel their attacks." Unwerth did not flinch from Kiron's glare. "Of course we hope and pray that will not happen, but one thing my experience in Hutanjia taught me if I had not learned it before: be ready for the unexpected."

Following this there was an explanation of how the Department of Defense and Ministry of Police were believed to be up to date beyond the Deadoran war capabilities of use of encryption, cyberwarefare and information technology, but of course such programs were often developed in secret. "In the event that we are superseded, more old fashioned land line systems, encrypted radio systems can and will be used. Information will be relased, if need be, of reinforced runways hidden under existing highways which can be used in the event of a surprise air attack."

General Pahath-Moab stood up. They all stood up. Perrin walked to the podium, smiled at General Ashdod, nodded to him, and took the stage.

He seemed to almost be supressing laughter, and he finally said, "My friends--the Deadorans, I feel so sorry for the Deadorans. They've stolen a march on us, they have captured ground already in Dengali, they might well have beaten us to Dressana." he laughed out loud. People were puzzled, bemused smiles, eyebrows lifted. Perrin chuckled. "Don't those poor bitches know that when we're outnumbered, when we're taken by surprise--that's when we're at our best? Friends--we got invaded by Vici Minerva, we got invaded by Nova Samnium; we got bombed by Damoclea, we had the whole CPO come down on us in Peregrino, led by the outrage of President De Groot. We've been starved, we've been kicked, we've been beaten and shoved around. And look at us now! Look how far we've come! Look what we've built! We haven't just defended this country, we've won time and time again!" he looked keenly out over spines stiffening, eyes becoming sharper.

"We've had this whole country torn apart. And the Deadorans--they've been sitting pretty for decades. I pity them. But if they push us too hard, it will be God alone who has mercy on them. Now, all of you--discreetly make ready. We won't be taken by surprise this time. And give all thought and prayer to our endeavors in Dengali. While we have breath in our bodies, we will not allow them one inch of ground unpaid for. We will send a message to Jennifer Thrall--the people of New Edom will play ball!"

He then walked briskly away from podium, through a crowd of cheering officers.

[New Edom]

Saint Elena’s Hospital
Ghish, Ghant

Prince Amenmar drove in his embassy car down the snow whitened streets of Ghish, warm in his car, in a black fox fur coat that was the same colour of his shoulder length hair and the black fur striping Barsina’s body; the little monkey sat by his side as he listened to the recording of Saint Saens’ Organ Symphony he had ordered for Sophia to congratulate her on a successful birth.

Ah, the stirring finale! So thrilling! He had recommended to Colonel Cain that the Ministry of Culture promote it as a replacement for the national anthem! Such a suggestion of new birth, of new hope! As it swelled gorgeously it made the interior of the car seem warmer, made the snow seem to glow beautifully with the lights of the city! Gloria in Excelsis Deo!

Arriving at the hospital, the car pulled to a stop at the appropriate doors, and he got out while the driver saluted neatly, Barsina jumping to his shoulder, and an aide got out of the front with a large colourful bag and both went into the hospital, where he inquired as to where he might find the Empress, and presented his identification. “Ambassador Prince Amenmar of New Edom to see Her Imperial Majesty,” he said, grandly, shaking the snow off his coat and removing his hat.

The female receptionist greeting the Ambassador Prince warmly. “Ah yes, the Emperor has been expecting you. Take the elevator to the third floor and go all the way down the hall on your left.”

“Thank you,” said Amenmar. “Come,” he said to the aide. The Aide was a young Army officer named Malachi Unwerth, and he seemed desperately anxious to please. Every look on his face suggested he was glad to be alive and in Ghish.

Heading up the elevator, Amenmar observed Barsina, who did not like elevators, and murmured to her a little nursery rhyme in Baran. “Come, my little darling, do you think that the little babies will like this song too? Yes?”

Lieutenant Unwerth said, “I imagine they will, sir.”

“Unwerth, I was not addressing you, I was talking to Barsina.” Amenmar informed him sternly. He had his eye on the boy. The instructions he had received were to the effect that the young officer was under suspended sentence of assignment to a penal battalion. “Send him as far from New Edom as you can, somewhere inhospitable,” his father had snapped when hearing about his dereliction, apparently. And so here he was. Young Unwerth quailed and looked down.

Arriving at the ward, Amenmar sniffed, he did not like hospitals much, though this seemed nice enough. He could smell antiseptic smells as well as what he fancied was the curious musky odors of babies and lactating women. Such delight. How fecund! He looked for a reception desk to get further directions.

Indeed, twas another reception desk with another lady behind it to greet them. “You must be the Ambassador Prince! Head right in.” The guards at the doors opened them, and gestured to Amenmar and his companion to head on in, Emperor and Empress awaiting.

Always trying to think outside the box, Nathan thought as he poured over some documents in the lounge adjacent to Sophia’s room. Pouring over documents? When do I ever do that? The answer to that question in truth was seldom if ever. Yet, now he felt compelled to, even if it did feel like thumbing around in the dark. Nathan seldom knew what he was doing, and this was no exception.

“Your Majesties, and little Highnesses, i have arrived, and as my old father used to say, with one arm not the same length as the other,” bowing and gesturing to where the young handsome officer in his army greatcoat and billed cap stood, embarrassed, holding the large red bag. “I hope I have not interrupted anything…”

Everyone was taken by surprise that was present, albeit for different reasons. Nathan because he wasn’t paying attention, and jumped a bit in his seat. Sophia was nursing the Crown Prince and was quite eager to see the Ambassador Prince. Arietta, who was holding her niece, was surprised to see Malachi Unwerth...when she saw him she smirked.

Nathan got up from his seat. “My Prince, welcome to our temporary home,” he said jovially, offering Amenmar a handshake, and then his companion in turn.

Sophia beamed. “Not interrupting at all, my prince. You are always welcome here, and I am very glad you came. I can’t wait to introduce you to our children.”

“...Sup?” Arietta asked, snuggling her niece.

Amenmar was used to Ghantish handshakes, so he greeted Nathan with one and inclined his head. “Sir, thank you very kindly.” He felt rapture overtake him at the sight of Sophia. His features softened. “My dear Empress, I do not believe you gave birth! You are glowing like the winter moon...surely you had a surrogate!” he bowed to Arietta. “I had dinner, thank you, Princess Arietta.” Malachi Unwerth took a deep breath and nodded to her.

Sophia covered herself and walked over to Amenmar, feeling much more featherweight in comparison to when they had last seen each other. “You are so kind as always, my prince. You being named Ambassador to Ghant was truly a gift of the highest order to our nation.” Sophia blushed. Then she continued. “This is my son, Crown Prince Nathan.” Sophia introduced Amenmar to the baby in her arms, who seemed content. “Would you like to hold him?” Sophia asked.

“Oh, yes, I would like to,” said Amenmar, cradling the little one. “All blessings upon thee, Prince Nathan, and may you be in turn a blessing to your nation.” he marveled at how light and small the child was. “How marvelous the growth of life is. Look at his little hands and fingernails!” he said, smiling at the others and then looking down at the babe again. Barsina peered down, and he murmured, “Gently, my sweet.” Barsina seemed to appreciate the situation and merely gave a gentle pat on the baby’s head, then withdrew to watching from the ambassador’s shoulder. After admiring the child a little more he handed him back, enjoying being close to Sophia, being able to see her up close, looking into her lovely eyes.

“I have come bearing gifts, as I said,” he announced. “Lieutenant…”

Unwerth reached into the bag and pulled out a little blue stonework egg, perhaps the size of a real goose’s egg, set in a gold filigree four legged base, which had a little winding key on the back of the base. “This, my dear Empress, is for you,” said Amenmar as the aide presented it to her with a bow, and placed it down. When it was wound up a soft tune played and the egg split open to reveal a crystal griffon chick which spun around, little blue sapphires for eyes, and seemed to dance to the tune.

Princess Sara seemed to be delighted at the sound of the tune, and Sophia fawned over it. “Oh my goodness, my Prince! What a marvelous gift. Could it be that you are as thoughtful and generous as you are noble and true?” Sophia’s dark blue eyes twinkled. “A gift that I shall treasure for all my days.”

Nathan nodded, squinting just a bit. “Yes, quite the spectacular gift, my prince. You truly are an exceptional man.” Nathan turned to Arietta. “Arietta, let us introduce Sara to the Ambassador Prince, shall we? She does seem rather fond of the gift, after all.”

Arietta obliged, getting up and bringing Sara over to Amenmar. The Crown Prince, who was rather inattentive and disengaged, was quite different from his twin sister. Sara had large blue eyes, and they hovered between Amenmar and Barsina as Arietta offered her to the Ambassador Prince.

“She’s very alert for her age,” said Amenmar admiringly, smiling briefly at Arietta, then focusing on the baby again. How he wished with deep yearning that they were his. “She is lovely…” he held her tenderly, admiring her. “Hello little Princess,” he said softly. Barsina peered down curiously, making little muttering noises.

After holding her a little more, he handed her back to Arietta, and said, “And now...how is little Prince John?” he asked, glancing from parent to parent.

Nathan and Sophia exchanged glances. Sophia seemed sad, while Nathan sighed. “I can show you him before we talk, if you would like.”

Meanwhile, while nobody was looking, Arietta pulled out a bag of marijuana and dangled it in Malachi’s line of vision...or least that was her intention…

“Of course,” said Amenmar to Nathan. He looked at Sophia. “I will speak to you again before I go, of course.” Malachi looked at Arietta with annoyance. He was wondering if he should swear off women altogether.

“I look forward to it.” Sophia smiled, while Nathan led the way to the intensive care unit where the younger prince was being treated. Arietta, meanwhile, tucked the bag back in her pocket and narrowed her eyes at Malachi, mouthing the word pussy at him.

Malachi felt like his scrotum had suddenly shrunk, seeing her look. What if the woman got him in trouble again? The words ‘Penal Battalion’ were emblazoned upon his mind like the words writ by Moses. Or was it Noah? He couldn't remember...he had to stay away from her...he followed the Prince out into the hall. “Wait for me here,” said Amenmar, to his dismay. He stood in the hallway with the gift bag, realizing that the ambassador, caught up in concern about the sick baby, had forgotten about the rest of the gifts…

Nathan led the way to the unit, and came upon a baby bed with much machinery and equipment hooked up, some of which to the baby. He was small, with pale, translucent skin, and a head of wispy black hair. He barely moved, and only occasionally did he make a noise, making whimpering noises.

“Breathing problems, heart problems, temperature control problems, immune system problems...the list goes on and on. Half the country wants to see this child’s suffering be at an end. An omen, he is called. Can you believe that?” Nathan asked, touching the tender, clammy skin of the superfetated baby.

Prince Amenmar said softly, “Our Lord came into this world as a helpless and endangered infant, born to a woman under mysterious circumstances, and was birthed in a lowly stable. Great things can come from a poor start, sir.”

“Hmm, yes, I suppose there is great wisdom in that, for the greatest of men sometimes come from the smallest of origins.” Nathan explained. “Perhaps your companion might entertain the others while we discuss in the adjacent room?”

“Good idea,” said Amenmar, ignoring Malachi’s gestures of protest. “Lieutenant Unwerth, present the gifts and entertain the ladies while we talk in the other room.”

“Yes, Your Excellency,” said Malachi concealing his unhappiness with a smart click of his heels and bow. He went back into the room and presented the other gifts which included a CD for Sophia of the Fineberg Symphony Orchestra performing Saint Saens’ Organ Symphony NO. 3, some soft beautifully embroidered baby blankets of blue, yellow and green for each baby, a framed photograph of Mara and Sophia in their ball gowns together with on the back written, “Friends and Sisters forever--love Mara” and a snake like bracelet made of filigreed gold and with ruby eyes for Arietta from Mara as well. “His Excellency bids you accept these gifts,” said Malachi Unwerth, bowing. “The blankets and the CD and the egg are from him, the other gifts are from Queen Mara.”

Sophia fawned over these other gifts, nearly being brought to tears. “That is so sweet...few words can describe how sweet these gifts are!”

Arietta helped gather everything up. “Thanks, Malachi.” Arietta said as she did so.

Malachi sighed inwardly. “You are welcome, Your Imperial Highness,” he said, looking at her. She seemed like a beautiful red haired witch to him.

Meanwhile, Prince Amenmar went to talk with Nathan. In the lounge, Nathan took a seat, and poured himself some wine. “Care for a glass, Amenmar?”

“Thank you sir,” said Amenmar, accepting. Barsina jumped down and chattered. “Just a sip,” he said, gently, also taking a little cup and giving her a small amount of his own. She raised it and lapped at the drink.

“I wish it could all be pleasantries today, but the world we find ourselves in is a dangerous place. And it is changing. Dengali is just another brick in the wall, but one I consider most pressing, Amenmar.” Nathan explained as he eased into his seat and drank.

“I see. Well, sir, the situation is a serious one,” said Prince Amenmar. “Broadly speaking, what has happened apart from the news articles is that the Deadorans have sent mechanized and air units into northern Dengali’s Tabora Province, where they are engaging with General Ajam’s forces there. I’m not entirely up to date on it, but I imagine that they have established some headway. The Shrailleeni in Dressana are in negotiations with us, with the Dengali government, and with the Deadorans apparently. It is our government’s intention to support Dengali independence. Since the Shrailleeni have no authority over that part of Dengali, my government intends to press upon them the need to do likewise. I think that sums it up generally. Is there more that you need to know?”

Nathan sighed. “It is as I suspected then...that Deadora has ill intentions in Dengali. They need to be stopped. Not only would that undermine New Edom, but it would also embolden the feminist menace, which even Ghant is possessing of. This situation ought to be nipped in the bud before it has the chance to escalate.”

Amenmar nodded politely. “I see. And what did you have in mind?”

Nathan sighed again. “I believe that Ajam is expendable. Based on what Jennifer Thrall said, and I quote. The situation south of the border is intolerable, and if the government of Dengali cannot eradicate this menace, than Deadora will have no choice but to intervene. Make no mistake, Amenmar, this whole thing is about Deadora flexing some muscle and making moves...at your country’s expense. Which is at my country’s expense by extension. And Dengali is just the beginning, should it be allowed to succomb.”

“However, If ‘the menace’ that Jennifer is referring to is “eradicated”, that removes her casus belli for intervening in Dengali…Ajam can be a sacrificial lamb to strip Deadora of any reason to be in Dengali. And should she persist in the present course, well then it would be obvious to the international community that she was blowing smoke up everybody’s ass…including the false flags involving Queen Asha D’Bhati and that solar plant. Think about how badly it would damage her credibility, and that of her nation.” Nathan explained.

The Emperor drank some more wine, and then continued. “What’s the blood of one Dengali general against the blood of the thousands that could perish should the situation be allowed to grow?” Nathan asked.

Prince Amenmar sipped his wine, looked down fondly upon Barsina as she sipped hers in imitation, and said, “Well, I can see you have put a lot of thought into this sir. If I might however explain my government’s policy. You see, the government of Deadora has spent a great deal of time trying to push an ambitious foreign policy by Jennifer Thrall which would spread matriarchal ideals in the region. You can see Dengali as a test case. Now the Empress of Deadora has been testing the waters, so to speak, but one of the views of the Deadoran people is that they are a superior people. This would be an easy test case, and would demonstrate to them mostly that we are afraid of them. This impression must, in the mind of General Pahath-Moab, be corrected. It must also be established that Dengali is a sovereign state. And also--at the moment your solution, if you will pardon my bluntness, is not practical. They already have forces there. And there is another, final reason: General Ajam has been in negotiation with President Andrews, and at the moment both men are in agreement that the Deadoran invasion is a violation of their sovereignty.” he shrugged. “That’s it, really.”

“...And does your government harbor suspicions regarding the dubious nature of the power plant situation and Queen Asha as well?” Nathan asked.

Prince Amenmar smiled politely. “Of course. Naturally,sir.”

“Well, in that case, I would have your government be aware that Ghant is at its disposal.” Nathan stated. “Including military assistance. You see, Deadora is not the only country endeavoring for a...test case. I mean to make good on my commitments to New Edom. These things said in the media...they are words, and words are wind. New Edom might not like the rhetoric that comes out of Ghant, but we are prepared to demonstrate our allegiance as the need arises...with blood. For there is nothing that means as more as that.”

Prince Amenmar put his wine glass down and sternly looked at Nathan. “Speaking as a friend, and as an ambassador, sir, I would like to warn you about something. We are not directly seeking war with Deadora. This is what you call a proxy war. While I appreciate you making the offer, I have to ask: are you actively seeking cause to go to war or have hostile relations with Deadora?”

“Not at all...you have me mistaken. I just want New Edom to treat us serious as an ally, and be aware that while we would prefer to see a peaceful resolution to this situation that results in as little loss of life as possible, we are prepared to go to bat for our allies. That is all, really. The assurance that we are prepared to answer the call, provided we are called upon.” The Emperor explained using polite language.

Amenmar felt annoyed. In a way not with Nathan, but towards those who should have been teaching him how to govern. “I appreciate that, and I will pass the sentiment. Er...may I give you some advice, sir?”

“Please do. I covet good advice...I don’t get much of it.” Nathan laughed.

“New Edom and Deadora are in a very polite power struggle. It may not even come to action actual action if we land forces there. But throughout this region nations are bound in webs of alliances. Statements like yours need to be uttered cautiously. We are already allies. The way I might have put it is a bit more delicately. Like ‘we are concerned for New Edom’s security as our ally. Should you need our support, do not hesitate to contact me.’ That implies that there are many options you might have for how to support us. To immediately talk about military force suggests that you want to go to war with Deadora,” Amenmar explained looking at Nathan gravely. “Does that make sense, sir?”

“Of course it does. Mind you, I am neither as silver-tongued nor as wise as Sophia...but at least I have the common sense to keep my ruminations between us, here in the privacy of this lounge.” Nathan drank some more wine.

“How secure is this lounge?” asked Prince Amenmar.

“Very. Locked down air tight, the utmost security.” Nathan boasted.

Prince Amenmar stroked Barsina’s fur. “Really? How do you know that, sir? What security measures were taken?”

“Because this is where the babies and Sophia are, no expenses were spared. Only men sworn to our service get in here, and it has already been scoured to make sure there are no bugs.” Nathan responded.

“So in other words, you don’t really know,” observed Amenmar. “Sir, a head of state must learn to watch what he says. You are an intelligent man, you have a great many resources, and I know you want to take these things seriously. I believe your heart and mind are in the right place, but with the greatest respect, you have a great deal to learn about diplomacy. I do not say this to discourage you from trying it, but because you called me friend, and as a friend I would like to encourage you to excel at it.” he smiled to gentle his words.

“Well, not only do I want to take things seriously, but I want to be taken seriously.” Nathan answered. “I am the laughing stock of the world...what kind of example will that set for my children?”

“Well, sir, as I said about your poor son..small beginnings lead to great things, often. You will have to start with something simple and achievable, and build on that.” Prince Amenmar said. “One thing I have noticed you lack is men and women of talent and loyalty close to you that are devoted to supporting your aims. That is something to focus on--and as Emperor of Ghant you ought to have your pick. And aims--there are many aims your Empire surely has to fully move into the 21st Century. Often a man’s duty lies in what he can see around him.”

“That is sage advice. Thank you Amenmar.” Nathan replied with a smile.

“It’s my pleasure, sir. Shall we rejoin the ladies now?” suggested Prince Amenmar.

“Let’s do that.” Nathan responded, getting up from his seat.

[Deadora]

The Battle of East Lova

Fort Summer FOB
Southern Deadora

It was time. The 3rd Heavy Infantry Battalion had smashed through Ajam's motorized infantry, leaving East Lova vulnerable to the entire Legion to assault. Aerial reconnaissance conducted via drone was provided up-to-date visual intelligence on the defensive fortifications surrounding the city. Trenches and machinegun embankments. Ajam had whipped his slaves into quite the productive frenzy it seemed. The UAV's failed to spot heavy guns or other fire support weapons, though officers in the field were cautioned to be ready for anything. The Patriarch would not relinquish the city without a bloody struggle.

Fort Summer was a whirlwind of activity. Su-25's, hardpoints laden with air-to-ground missiles, taxied out onto the runways. Fuel lines were connected and disconnected, heavy explosives were hoisted into bomb bays, and a steady machine whine began to fill the air as jet engines cycled up.

Inside HQ, General Kehrd had just received reports from her field commanders and senior officers. She was pleased. They had lost a few vehicles, a few helicopters, but had decimated a much more significant amount of Ajam's troops. The strength of the 72nd was largely intact for the upcoming siege. The Light Infantry was currently skirmishing with the enemy along the Uffo River, any reinforcements from West Lova would need to break through that line.

Now she was laying out the plan of attack, which would be relayed to officers in the field via encrypted radio channels and electronic signals. "Artillery and aerial elements will bombard enemy fortifications heavily in preparation for the Cavalry charge. The 2nd will lead the attack from the north, supported by the two attack squadrons from the 1st. Heavy Infantry will hold the flanks and rear, and wait for a breakthrough to exploit. The attack will be focused and swift, a spear thrust to penetrate their armour. Once we're behind their defensive lines, they're trapped in their trenches and will drown in their own blood and muck." There was a general air of confidence in the room as she spoke, an energy humming in the air between them all like a live current. "Once the enemy is focused on repelling the main attack, that's when the air assault units will hit their flank."

D'Weit cleared her throat, and interjected. "The 34th will be in the air at full strength to support the mission. I've requested additional fighters in preparation for Edomite reinforcements, they will arrive within the day."

Kehrd nodded acknowledgment to the younger officer. "Latest word on Dressanna is that they're cooperating, but Josiastown might still try and intervene. Otherwise, any foreign forces fighting against us will likely be Edomite. The Empress wants East Lova before that day."

Outside, the first flight of Su-25's lifted off from the ground and, clutching deadly cargo, headed south towards the besieged city.

---

Outside East Lova

Rocket artillery had set up twenty kilometers away from the front line, whereas the two self-propelled howitzer batteries were operating ten kilometers distant and would engage in "shoot-and-scoot" tactics to confuse the enemy. Coordinating with drones and front line units, they (the guns at least) would be able to provide accurate indirect fire support where needed, as needed. Rockets, while lacking precision, could be fired in a volume that was, simply put, terrifying. No doubt the Dengali trenches could weather such a beating, but there was more to an artillery barrage than simply inflicting death.

The first rockets and shells impacted the Dengali trenches just as the 2nd Heavy Cavalry rumbled over a rise and into visual range of the city. Some of the T-80 tanks, equipped with the latest armour and upgrade suites the Imperial Army had access to, stopped in hull-down positions where the terrain allowed, while others raced ahead, firing on the move. The steady boom of 125mm smoothbore's began to punctuate the whistle-and-bang of the artillery. Obviously fortified hardpoints were targeted, machinegun nests or anti-tank bunkers. Overhead Ka-50's and Mi-28's swarmed, loosing rocket and gunfire freely.

The 4th Heavy Infantry Battalion was screening the flanks of the armoured thrust. Any survivors from the earlier skirmishes would have had no choice but to fall back to East Lova, where they could either keep fleeing or harry the Deadoran offensive from all sides. But the heavy IFV's had proven to be more than a match for Ajam's trucks. Also within the main advance, but behind the armoured spearhead, were BTR-82 armoured personnel carriers, to support the T-80's with infantry where needed.

---

A Company, 3rd Heavy Infantry Battalion
Roads to East Lova

Prisoners were herded roughly into lines to mount the trucks that would take them back to a Deadoran prison camp. Patches were ripped from their arms and collected for some future use. Soldiers jeered at the captured boys, laughing and making jokes in their own language, mostly comments on their black skin and funny looking faces. They were searched for weapons and ammunition before having their hands bound behind their backs.

Deirza stared down at Aneke with chips of hard jade. He really was a savage. She thought of the women and men who would not be coming home. Darkness clouded her face, a snarling sneer, and the Captain drew her knife, pretending to examine the blade for infinitesimal specks of grime. "Captain Aneke, you are now a prisoner of the Deadoran Imperial Army. Cooperate and you will remain whole and unharmed. Resist. . ." she touched the tip of her blade touch his thigh and gently trailed it towards his groin. "Where is Ajam?"

---

The Bridge

Zshek saw the bridge, and then her copilot brought the chopper into a steep climb. She saw the man running from the bridge trailing wires, and the stream of autocannon fire that would hopefully cut him down before it was too late. She saw three bursts of light and smoke.

Zshek ejected. A charge blew the rotor assembly and cockpit away from the fuselage, and the next instant she was shooting into the air. Three RPGs ripped into her bird, utterly devastating it. It crashed into the river below, leaking fuel and belching smoke and fire from its wounds. Zshek's 'chute deployed, and she began drifting down to the ground. More specifically the western bank of the river. The enemy side.

The Village

Askyr allowed the elder to lead her to the hidden supply, flanked by two of her male soldiers. So far the people seemed cooperative, almost pleased. She didn't trust them. Surely Ajam would not have left so much unguarded, between his own disputes with other warlords and tribes and the Deadoran offensive, he should have been keeping a closer eye on these fallback supplies.

Gesturing at the goods, the Major ordered her men: "Take the fuel, but leave the grain for the villagers." Meanwhile the rest of her soldiers were setting up a perimeter, watching the roads, finding concealed ambush positions in case Ajam's men came, whether it be in flight or fight.

[New Edom]

The Battle of East Lova

The Battle Commencement: Soundtrack

And the world erupted in roaring fire; spears of flame howling out of the skies and coming crashing down in terrifying explosions, too fast to react too. Few of the Dengali troops had been under concentrated artillery fire, and words, orders, movements were swallowed up in maelstroms of smoke and dust, flying fragments. Ajam's militia who were caught in the open or in moving vehicles in some cases vanished from sight in the awesome display of firepower. Those who were luckier, already in trenches or foxholes, were mostly safer but barely aware of it, at first just shocked at the constant flashes and explosions seeming to ripple the very earth.

And this was followed by other element of the cacophony--the whistling moan of artillery rounds slamming into the fortifications and the ground, 125mm tank rounds smashing forward.

Peering through clenched teeth Captain Peter Ondol flinched and shuddered, clenching his buttocks as his bowels threatened to revolt at the terror wanting to swarm and overcome his system. Ondol was a hard, tough man who genuinely believed he was doing the best for his community by being in Ajam's community--making sure his extended family and friends were well fed and provided for, providing some sense of law and order. Many of 'his boys' were in some way related, were neighbors, or had been inducted into his company and were in a way like family to him. Even as he had to put them in peril.

"Cover, make sure they're all under cover!" he screamed at his sergeant-major, a neighbor he had grown up with. "Move your ass!" He could see through the smoke the frightening shapes of tanks...it was like they were crouching out there like crocodiles...and yes...he could see them moving.

Oh it was not like the border clashes with Andrews' men or the Barbo; he had to force his mind to be still, and every time he checked his grid references the map shuddered, dust showered down in his bunker, his guts clenched and roiled; he nodded to his RTO, his nephew. "Get me battalion command, now!" he roared. He made himself look tough, cold, full of hate only for the enemy. The boy shaking got him connected, and he began to shout out the grid references.

If only they had been able to mine the approaches. He confirmed the grid reference and raised his binoculars to goggled eyes. The tanks were still moving--he saw a flash and instinctively ducked and shouted, "Down!" the bunker groaned and moaned as the round struck; for a horrifying moment he thought he'd be buried alive; the structure held. There were shouts and screams, he cried out,"Is anyone hurt? Is anyone hurt? Sound off!"

"Come on, run run run!" screamed two boys in a foxhole to a pair of comrades who had been setting up an extra coil of razor wire; they had abandoned the roller; waring just shorts, vests and sandals they were crawling, vanishing now and then in flares of light and smoke, their eyes white in dark faces. "Run, Alaon, run Josaima,. run run! Come on, you can make it!" one of the boys pleaded. He began to get out to help them, hiscomrade pulling at his shoulder screaming at him not to go when they were buried in a shower of earth and explosion, and when they recovered, they saw that there were only smoking half cooked remnants where their friends had been.

The more air exposed trenches were among the first targeted from the air; streams of autocannon rounds, gatling rounds and rockets flew into them. The soldiers crawled into the bunkers, hunkered in shaking terror if they could; others not so lucky were all but torn apart. Officers trying to rally troops to hide or take better cover blown apart before they could get two words out, others abandoning rank and dignity to crawl like roaches into the burrows and hide, shuddering, shaking, praying if they could.

East Lova had more MANPADs than the advance units though, and they made use of them; concealed in buildings, moving in roving teams, they began to fire where they could usually in a fore and aft attack against the enemy helicopters. "Fire and move," shouted one anti-aircraft sergeant, slapping his team on the back the moment they had fired. "Keep to the buildings, keep out of the streets, use cover! Move, move!"

They particularly did this in coordination, as planned, with the long barrels of the D30s being unveiled, and with targeting of the enemy tanks given, the battery of towed 122mm howitzers roared into life.

---

Roads to East Lova

The youthful light infantry soldiers who were captured mostly were fearful, wary of the pale faced, swaggering, brutal Deadorans; they were humiliated by the jeers, by the laughing faces, by the ripping away of their patches. Thoroughly cowed, they moved afraid of kicks, rifle butts and worse where they were told, to an unknown fate.

Captain Aneke felt as though a barb had been put into his testicles and tugged up; he felt his penis shrink in fear, and he stammered, "Excellency, I do not know! I am only a Captain, the General is often on the move! He may be at East Lova or West Lova, he has a mobile headquarters! Other times he is in a palace. He has a compound estate too near West Lova, and fine houses in each city! No one knows where he will appear next! It is said he often moves about in disguise." He had never imagined this: a Deadoran witch woman taking his masculinity away. He felt a desperation to live, unmutilated. The knife seemed large as a sword to him.

---

The Bridge

Captain Hanani abruptly sat down. The strings had gone out of his legs, and he felt a shock going through him as he realized his lap and thighs were covered in blood. It was coming out fast. He could not seem to make anything work; his hands on their own clutched at the wound in his gut. "Take...take..." he managed, but he was choking, thick liquid was entering his throat.

"Yes, sir!" shouted his Dengali aide. The man did not pause. He was a good man. Yes. Hanani felt he owed himself a little rest. He slumped down and felt it odd that he felt no pain.

"The Captain--" cried the other aide.

"He's dead! We have to blow this bridge!" the other said, and ignited the detonator. There was a bright fiery flash along the center of the length--then suddenly a great crash in the water; the wreckage of one of the trucks leaned down and slid into the river. Smoke the length of the bridge hung black and dirty in the air; some of the structure remained but the bottom was out completely; with a groaning crash the other truck fell into the water with a tremendous splash.

Cheers broke out from the company. Lieutenant Obori said, "Alright, let them have it and prepare to fall back by platoons, 1, 2, then 3!" He kissed his fingertips and pointed where Hanani had been. "You were a great warrior, my friend."

All the riflemen and machinegunners had opened fire at once; this was a tightly disciplined fighting unit, the racket was terrific and joined as it were like a great piece of cloth tearing, a long ripping rattling sound. They were going to retreat by platoons. Major Rollin and Captain Hanani had taught some of Ajam's troops this; it would be their first true battlefield evolution of this kind, done under enemy fire where they were not just rival warlords or Barbo tribesmen.

Meanwhile, seeing the parachute come down before, he had ordered a squad to move to grab the pilot. Boys who seemed almost too skinny for their AK-74s moved swiftly to surround her as her parachute came down; taking no chances they intended to give her enough of a beating to be able to disarm and bind her arms behind her back. They were both fearful and excited at the same time.


The Village

The villagers were delighted by the grain surplus, but they were also cautious, and decided to leave it there.In fact, privately, the elders were worried. What they had mostly known of war were raids, and there were dreadful tales of the fate of those who opposed Ajam. So they began to get the villagers to go about their regular work--herding, grinding grain, looking after children, washing clothes, repairing machinery, that sort of thing. There were baboons, wild foxes and wild swine to keep out of crops, there were animals to guard.

The thing was though, they were very used to acting in a celebratory way on demand--so they did. They went about their tasks with apparent joy, smiling at the soldiers, even though they were frankly cold, alien, strange people.

While they were smiling and laughing, occasionally in their own dialect as women were rhythmically pounding millet seed, they were muttering, "Are they going to kill us?"

"If they try, sister, run for the grain fields, scatter, they cannot get us all...they are after Ajam..."

While some of the men focused on repairing a tractor engine, cleaning and carefully removing parts under the guidance of Sam Mechanic, as the village nicknamed him.

Skinny girls in sack dresses scattered scraps and grain for guinea fowl and scrubby little colourful chickens. Boys went out to look after their herds. Cautiously, the village tried to go back to their lives and hope they were too insignificant to pay much attention to. They offered the soldiers food and drink too, with smiles--cassava bread, fried chicken, yam pudding, millet beer, well water that was surprisingly refreshing and cool.

There wee other villages in the area, too, but people weren't moving around a lot. Scavenging birds and a lot of motor vehicle noises were in the air, a lot of dust from them had been on the road, and in fact in one only 4 klicks away one of the light infantry companies had just passed. They had not stopped for anything but to remove the petrol stores and then quickly keep moving. The soldiers sat in the backs of the trucks, land rover and the two gun trucks, goggles and sunglasses on, holding their rifles.

[The Shrailleeni Empire]

Dressanna, Marbidi Province
Southern Dengali

Gillya watched Jacqueline extremely carefully to see how she would take the Queen's "terms." They were, of course, more or less what she had judged the Deadorans wanted in the first place, with the added caveat that Shrailleen would remain in control of Dengali. To her content, the Princess showed signs of readable relief. Her facial tics and submissive eye movements, as well as placative words, indicated that she felt pleased enough to give certain rank-privileges away. The Deadorans had apparently been more worried about fighting the Empire than Gillya had suspected, and she had very much suspected. How would the Princess react if she knew how little oversight their talk had from the Imperial City? In truth, it did not matter.

She considered pressing forward her advantage, reminding Jacqueline that had the Mother Empress or herself received intelligence that Ajam was moving against the country's matriarchal population then a better-coordinated effort might have been made. She decided to be gracious, however, not wanting to spoil the atmosphere of cooperation that her acceptance of the invasion had fostered. Besides, there was still a facet of this newfound fight against the warlord that she wished to press, and she wanted the Deadoran amicable.

"Given the time-sensitive nature of the warlord's plot, I am certain that the Mother Empress will understand why she was not consulted," she responded with a friendly tone.

Then Jacqueline made her proposal.

Queen Gillya turned her eyes on Erryk's as the Princess spoke, softly challenging the glance that he had made in her direction as she mulled over this unexpected offer. Now she understood why the Matriarch Empress had sent one of male family members to this meeting. She had assumed that it had been a gesture of placation, a recognition of the differences between Deadoran and Shrailleeni matriarchy. Instead it seemed that this man was being offered to her as an Envoy, and more, as a husband.

This explained the glance as well. She had recognized the look on the Prince's face instantly, as she had seen it on a dozen different suitors the year before she turned twenty. In an arranged marriage, prospective husbands were presented to the family of the bride, but it was ultimately the bride's choice of which man to select. Men competed to bring honor to their families by winning the approval of the woman, and if they were lucky that approval came from genuine affection. At least, that was how it worked on paper. In reality the powerful families of Shrailleen gave their daughters little choice in the matter. Marriages were used to form political alliances, and the matriarch's word was law. That was how she had married her current husband. And that was what was being presented to her now, behind the Princess's veiled words.

Governor Butler was no fool either. He was not as well versed in the unspoken as a Shrailleeni man, but then again the offer was not well veiled. This time he hid his surprise completely, his will to appear unthreatened by the Princess's offer overriding his sudden shock. But if this Deadoran thought that she could take away his best chance for an independent Marbidi, then she would as the movies said "have another thing coming."

"I would be honored to invite the Prince to be a guest of my House," Queen Gillya replied diplomatically. She turned musingly to Jacqueline, regarding her with unconcealed interest. "Your words ring true."

Then, all at once, she was businesslike once more.

"You are correct of course, as it so happens I am host to another guest after your Honored Self, and it would be most rude and unbecoming of me to keep them waiting for longer than our discussion has been concluded. Before you take leave, please allow me to provide you with the contact information for our Military Command Headquarters. It would be best for our forces to integrate as much as possible in our noble endeavor, and to exchange coded communications. I plan for Dengali Air Command to maintain the integrity of Dengali airspace, and these codes will allow your flyers their clearance for entry."

She smiled warmly, and bowed her head. An attendant stepped forward, expression unreadable, with a folded envelope in her hands to present to the Princess.

"I pray for our success in this most crucial endeavor. Together, our empires will make Dengali a safer place for the Children of the Mother Goddess, and a safer place for all. Give my regards to the Matriarch Empress and to all of your family, and accept those of the Mother Empress and House Sevreen as you travel from our home."

---

Skies Over Tabora,
1st and 2nd DAC Squadrons

From the air, Dengali seemed like a much smaller place. Squadron Leader Seya Telta fe Vangarra watched the muggy greens and browns of the jungle stretch toward the plains of the North, and beyond that the plains of Southern Deadora. Beyond that, out of sight, lay the continent of Archeron, with its many plains and mountains and forests. Compared to all of that, Dengali truly was a small place.

These thoughts came and went in a flash of idle inspiration as the officer's thoughts were brought back to the task at hand. Behind her were twenty-four 'Sparrowhawk' multi-purpose fighters, half outfitted for air-to-air combat and half for air-to-ground. The purpose of their orders was cryptic, but those orders were clear. They were to assess the situation along the Dengali-Deadoran border, and if the Deadorans had in fact crossed that border they were to regain air superiority and halt the Deayas' advance. There had been some speculation before takeoff as to what their true purpose was, after all, they wouldn't fight their Sisters would they?

But as Tabora spread out in front of them, it appeared as if that was exactly what they would be doing. Both her squadron and the 2nd were cruising at mid-level altitude to better scan the area. As the sensor feeds began streaming in, a rough picture of the battle began to unfold in front of them. They picked up multiple unidentified aircraft, and signals that signified columns of armored vehicles. It was true, the Deadorans were invading.

SL Seya Telta ordered her squadron to move for the deck, and the 2nd followed suit.

"Talons out," she said through her mask, "Folding Vine formation. Assume bogeys are bandits. Air flights pick your targets, ground head for the ants."

The squadron began to fan out, RADAR painting select targets, mostly helicopters and columns but also what appeared to be ground-support aircraft. Then another voice came on, over the secure channel to DAC HQ.

"1st and 2nd stand down, repeat, Sevreen Delvis, Deayas are not hostile, repeat, not hostile."

"Abort!" Seya said quickly, switching off her own combat RADAR. "Targets not hostile, reform Sey'triva Formation and resume altitude!"

At the last second, the two Shrailleeni squadrons pulled up. Listening to the chatter from HQ, Seya began broadcasting friendly signals, hoping that the Deadorans would get the message instead of panic at being painted. The next few minutes would be incredibly tense, and she kept her fingers near the 'hilt' of her cockpit. But if they had received the message in time, than their new objective was to monitor Deadoran traffic across the border, and verify the entry of their flyers.

She felt herself soaking her flight suit with sweat. That had been very, very close. Perhaps too close yet.

---

Southern Tabora,
3rd Reform Cavalry

This wasn't the first time that Commander Yessen had been through Tabora. She knew the country fairly well, following the Cookish War she had actually been stationed in the province on regular patrols. That had changed in the wake of Ajam's rise to power, of course. The government in Josiahstown had decided that it would be cheaper and more effective to allow the warlord to maintain stability in his own province, especially after he had begun complaining about the presence of the Mother Empress's troops in his territory. She had not been in the province since his rise except on the occasions where she was called to stop a border skirmish from becoming the spark of a civil war, and then never into the interior.

Well, she was headed inward now. Her bird was silent as it tread across the muddy border where jungle gave way to grassland, trained not to give away its position. War Kalkos were a different breed from their farm cousins, selectively raised for load-bearing, silence, and speed. Her mount could carry her across far more treacherous terrain than a vehicle safely could, and allowed her unit to strike from angles that a modern enemy would not suspect. On the plains of Tabora that advantage was hampered, but sporadic islands of forest still existed here, and could be used by a clever Commander.

As they trekked further, they passed through several small towns and villages known to her from before. The people within were not strangers to the sight of Shrailleeni, but still she could feel their glances filled with suspicion. She understood why, the Shrailleeni had never been on the best of terms with Ajam's men, and the people of rural Dengali were accustomed to cycles of revenge. But she didn't see any of Ajam's actual warriors among the Southern villages. Perhaps they were all being pulled to the North.

She contemplated what she was being asked to do as she road. Her unit was to engage in skirmishing actions against the Deayas (a slang term for Deadorans which sounded like the Railtic word for 'bloody') and support Ajam's men wherever she could. The 3rd would delay the enemy and control their movements in preparation for the main force's advance. She did not relish the task, but she had her orders.

Except, those orders changed.

A runner from the Sub-Matriarch's command unit came out of the East, delivering a message the old-fashioned way. Yessen halted her force, and paused to read the dispatch.

The complete turn-around was difficult to process at first. Apparently, word had come down from the highest authority that the Deayas were actually correct to invade. Apparently Ajam had been planning a massacre of matriarchal communities in Kadisa, an attack which had been supposed to coincide with the bombing of the Deadoran energy plant. Now her orders were to continue North and apprehend any of Ajam's men that she could find, while the rest of the 3rd combed the villages of Southern Tabora for Ajam's weapon and munitions caches, as well as any other equipment they could find. She would have the support of the artillery command, and there were instructions for how to contact her Deadoran opposite numbers.

Yessen considered this information somewhat critically. She had spent a long time on the ground in Dengali, she knew how things worked almost as well as a native. Ajam was a warlord and a criminal, and it was true that anti-matriarchal sentiment had been growing lately, but there was a certain balance of power that had always played out while he was in control. He wasn't the kind of man who took rash action. Indeed, the very fact that her orders contained an explanation was cause for suspect. It meant that they were intended to be explained to the soldiers to increase their morale...and to deter troublesome questions.

But Yessen was a soldier herself, she had orders, and she had no great love for the warlord. She would leave the politics to the politicians. In the meantime, she relayed the message to her women, and headed North toward what aerial intelligence made out to be the remains of Ajam's defensive line.

[New Edom]

Skies Approaching Nalayan Border

One of the largest Edomite Air Armadas ever deployed was on the wing now, communications on encrypted allied codes (known between New Edom and Nalayan Air Force) paving the way.

Elements of the 4th Tactical Bomber Wing, the 2nd Refuelling Group, the 2nd Transport Wing and the 3rd Tactical Fighter Group were moving through airspace, carefully coordinated. Teratorn Low Penetration Bombers, KC-10 Refueling Aircraft, C-10 Minotaurs, CM-7 Coureurs, Shadowhawks and Sparrowhawks all on the move, coordinated by A565 AWACs surrounded by protective fighters. Advanced relays of such fighters waited at friendly airports in Nalaya along the way. Accompanying them as well were Nightbat drones to act as a screen for the AWACs.

Nestled within were snugly encased machines, vehicles, soldiers, equipment, enduring this long flight towards Dengali. Colonel Daniels among them, his eyes closed, resting, but one ear instinctively cocked for anything requiring his attention. His orders stored meditatively in a part of his brain that was always alert like a sleeping cat ready to wake.

[Mavari]

Bhang Boro, Dengali

What a past few weeks it had been, scouting out two of the finest most loyal male soldiers in the Mavari army, completely dropping them out of the system and erasing all their history, making sure they left behind any identification. Even having gone so far as to having bought all the equipment on the black market, and clothes in local stores in Dengali. Explaining to them that they were going to die for a greater cause. Still they had accepted it and were more than happy to die for Queen and country.Sergeant Tannon moved towards the two men one being Michael Hitchcock, and the other James Rodriguez, both had served in the military for years with flawless records and several honors which was something for a man of Mavari.They had both dressed in inconspicuous clothes jeans, t-shirts, jackets, sunglasses and ballcaps. “You two know the plan…” She narrowed her eyes as she to was wearing civillian clothes and handed them both backpacks. “Let’s rock and roll.”

Bhang Boro Train Station, Dengali

Michael and James entered into the train station making sure to seem as inconspicuous as possible the whole time. They moved towards the restroom and eached entered a bathroom stall. Very quickly they began to change. They started to pull uniforms from Ajam’s forces out and dressing into the uniforms. Also in the backpack they dragged out a vest each. Each vest had five pounds of C4 and 15 pounds of steel ball bearings stapped into it. They both stepped out of the stalls and looked at each other taking deep breaths and nodding as they headed for the door out of the restroom. They stopped at the door and counted to ten prepping themselves for what was to come. Thoughts roared through their minds of how this was all in good service to the One Goddess, how this was all in service to Queen Ajina. Finally they flung open the door.

Quickly they marched into the crowd shoving through the people quickly moving each in two separate directions to stand in the most crowded of areas. Stopping they each held up a hand holding a detonator. In unison they cried out. “GLORY TO AJAM!“ It seemed like the entire train station had froze in that moment, eyes went wide as people knew what was going to happen, but had no time to react or get away. Thumbs smashed down on the detonators and each of them exploded seeming to vaporize before the very eyes of all the onlookers. Those close to them would be caught up in the explosions dying from the very impact and shockwave of it. As the explosion continued hundreds upon hundreds of steel ball bearings tore through the crowds sendings blood spraying across floors and walls, fine mists of it filled the air. Men, women, and children alike fell before the onslaught of the flying death that tore through the train station leaving many dead, and even more wounded. There would be survivors though. There would be survivors.

Bhang Boro

Sergeant Tannon stood down the street leaning against a older motorcycle watching the train station from the corner of her eye that were shaded by a dark pair of aviators, all the while pretending to read a magazine. She was about to stand up to investigate if they’d been caught when a explosion rocked the street and windows exploded outwards from the train station in storms of glass. Tannon took a deep breath and turned towards the bike and straddled the seat quickly starting it up and kicking it into gear. With a roar of the engine she took off down the road as screams and crying filled the street. “The One Goddess will sure bless those men… I expect to see them in the afterlife.”

[Deadora]

To: Anara Lianu, Ambassador from the Empire of Ghant
From: Arlenica Nessic, Matriarch of Foreign Affairs
Subject: RE: Audience with the Matriarch Empress
Encryption: Delivered via sealed diplomatic pouch

---

Ambassador,

Your petition has been approved. The Empress will receive you at the Palace, and is eager to discuss the ways that Deadora and Ghant can come closer together in peace and cooperation.

Yours,
Arlenica Nessic
Matriarch of the Office of Foreign Affairs

---

Bryn Tegna

The Black City coiled resolute on the windswept moors atop the Ordet Plateau, frost crusting the ancient stone of the Old City, chilled by winds blowing down from the Nadir that now wailed and keened between the skyscrapers of downtown. Calla-Gold Palace perched triumphantly on a central hill, a black nipple upon a breast. It was a massive black dome inlaid with ribbons of gold twisting and looping all across its surface. The main entrance was pointed east, and opened into that massive vault. The Black Throne was on the other side of those doors, at the very center. Six towers ringed the dome, and there was structure ringed around their bases four stories high.

Foreign embassies were built just outside the Old City, closer to the government and noble districts. There was a dedicated gate for diplomats in the old wall surrounding the ancient city, all of which had been preserved in accord with the reverence that was bound to such ancient stone. The Ordet had been masterful architects, chaotic and imaginative. Their knowledge had been preserved by the Cornellians, which had in turn passed it to the Nadirii, through one method or another. The Ghantish ambassador would be transported by a sleek, black motorcade through the city to the entrance of the Palace.

Arlenica Nessic was waiting to receive Lianu. Her jet-black hair was twisted up into a professional bun, and she was dressed in charcoal grey business attire, with a heavy but fashionable coat to keep out the cold. "Welcome to Calla-Gold, Mistress Lianu. It is regrettable that we haven't had time to discuss things personally, but a woman's work is never done." The Matriarch greeted as the ambassador exited her vehicle, and began to escort her the short walk to the Palace entrance. "How are you enjoying Bryn Tegna?"

[Ghant]

Calla-Gold Palace
Bryn Tegna

After the invitation to attend the Empress was granted, the rest happened quick. Anara had just enough time to prepare herself, dressing in a fine beige dress and wore her light brown hair long and loose behind her. The Ghantish ambassador was picked up and transported by a sleek, black motorcade through the city to the entrance of the Palace.

The Black City, as it was called, was a most interesting city, not unlike one that could be found in Dakmoor. Foreign embassies, such as the Ghantish one, were built just outside the Old City, closer to the government and noble districts. There was a dedicated gate for diplomats in the old wall surrounding the ancient city, all of which had been preserved in accord with the reverence that was bound to such ancient stone. That was one thing that Bryn Tegna and many cities in Ghant had in common…the preservation of old things, be it stone walls, castles, monuments, etc.

Upon a hill sat Calla-Gold Palace. It was a massive black dome inlaid with ribbons of gold twisting and looping all across its surface. Six towers ringed the dome, and there was structure ringed around their bases four stories high. The main entrance faced to the east, as Anara recalled.

Arlenica Nessic herself was waiting to receive Lianu. What a treat! Her jet-black hair was twisted up into a professional bun, and she was dressed in charcoal grey business attire, with a heavy but fashionable coat to keep out the cold. "Welcome to Calla-Gold, Mistress Lianu. It is regrettable that we haven't had time to discuss things personally, but a woman's work is never done." The Matriarch greeted as the ambassador exited her vehicle, and began to escort her the short walk to the Palace entrance. "How are you enjoying Bryn Tegna?"

Anara stepped out, holding up her dress slightly so she could make sure to land her feet upon the ground with ease in her exquisite ugg boots, which were the common footwear for most in weather like this. It was chilly, and there was light snow upon the ground.

The ambassador smiled and did a curtsy, before walking with Lady Arlenica. “Thank you for having me, Minister.” Anara said politely. “It is a pleasure to be here. So far, I have found Bryn Tegna most enjoyable. It reminds me of…certain cities back home, aesthetically speaking, that is. The weather however is much more mild in comparison this time of year. And indeed, a woman’s work is truly never done.”

My work is just getting started. Anara thought. Hopefully it doesn’t come to an abrupt end.

[New Edom]

Southern Tabora, Dengali
Soundtrack

Traffic on the smaller roads and fields through which the Shrailleeni scouts passed was fairly light, and varied from water buffalos to jeeps to land rovers to battered old pick up trucks, with lots of foot and bicycle traffic in between. Several villages were like museums of the Cookish War—repairs and even entire buildings patched up with scrap metal and Cookish Army canvas.

The scattered elements of militia were mostly missed by the Kalko riding scouts, as they were largely defending the border of Iow-Orune to the west or heading north to reinforce West and East Lova. Those that did see them seemed more surprised than anything, but on at least two occasions units moving north would suddenly see a motorcycle or a pickup truck abruptly stop and do a one eighty fast, in a cloud of retreating dust.

They also began to see from some of the towns and villages ahead that there were big thick black columns of smoke rising into the air. They seemed from very recent fires. From the air, it could be seen that around Southern Tabora, busy activity of small vehicles—pickup trucks, land rovers and the like, were swarming around the areas where these fires were burning. As the more slowly moving troops were beginning to do their sweep and clears, the light militia forces of the warlord known as “Professor Dubios” were dropping whatever they were doing—getting high on opium or crack, raping women accused of witchcraft, eating, sleeping, watching lazily as tenant farmers worked their fields—and were mounting the aforementioned light vehicles, ripping canvas off ammunition boxes, checking the actions of machineguns, stowing RPG rounds and grenades in sling pouches, and getting ready to delay the Shrailleeni. They were not a heavy infantry force, but they didn’t have to be. They knew the area well, they often wore little in the way of a uniform but Dubois’ own black cross in one form or another. Bandanas, do-rags, berets, tin helmets, forage caps, baseball caps, bush hats, vests, shorts, pants, cast off Dengali and Cookish uniforms, some stripping naked and wearing only boots and combat webbing to prove their faith in the living God. They blazed through small villages and towns scattering chickens and kids on bikes. In many cases villagers and townsfolk hid, in a few others they became ecstatic and followed like mobs, singing hymns and dancing in the streets.

Bhang Boro, Iwo’Orune

Trucks with sacks of yams, water buffalo lowing in protest as they were moved across roads, people walking along, women with water sweater out of big clay jars on their heads, a group of young militiamen in colorful shirts signifying Barbo clan colours riding in the back of a pickup truck listening to local folk music, nodding their heads and clapping, rifles leaning, schoolgirls in uniform skipping along gossiping, a group of middle aged men haggling and bidding over a motorbike were all not far from the rail station, which was discharging people and cargo, when suddenly people on the rail station itself heard a shout. To those farther away, it was incoherent and momentarily forgotten, but some heard a shout of “GLORY TO AJAM!” and then an explosion ripped through the station. People fled, screaming and yelling in terror, dropping whatever they had been carrying.

“What in the name of the sacred Heavens…” muttered the Chairman, Lionel Impasso, startled by the boom that could be heard even across town. He had been sitting down to an excellent meal of lemon pepper chicken, baked yams with palm oil and spices, and pickled vegetable salad when he nearly dropped his utensils at the noise. His extended family, seated at a long outdoor table under a canopy, made frightened and worried exclamations of alarm.

“Go and find out what that was,” he said to Vincent, his shrewd and able nephew.

Vincent walked to the walls of the compound, and called out to one of the guards, “What direction did that come from? Did you see any smoke?”

“Yes sir, it came from the rail district!” the guard shouted. “I don’t hear any shooting or anything though!”

“Damn,” said Vincent. He took his cell phone out of his pocket and called the district’s police commandant. “Senche, this is Vincent Impasso. What’s going on there?”

“We don’t know yet, sir, but it seems like maybe it was a bomb—no one heard a rocket go off or anything. We’re sending people to check it out. A lot of damage, a lot of people hurt and even killed maybe. I’m on my way now…” the commandant said, breathlessly.

“Alright, thank you,” said Vincent, his mind whirling as he went to report it to his uncle. His uncle got up, looking at him impassively.

A few minutes later, they were at the scene of destruction; smoke hung hazily, moans and cries of distress could still be heard. Volunteers were moving around the wrecked area, people with tools were being organized by the fire brigade leaders and the local gendarmes. The commandant, a bulky man who removed his sunglasses out of respect for the Chairman, said, “Witnesses heard someone hout, “For Ajam”.”

“A...suicide bomber?’ said the Chairman thoughtfully. He shook his head. “Such a wanton evil act. For Ajam. Why would someone shout that? He has never had suicide bombers.”

“There is a first time for everything,” said the commandant, gesturing. “Perhaps it is an act of desperation, to warn us not to take advantage while the Dadorans are attacking him?”

“It could be. To show that he has power here, can strike at will, that we should be afraid of him,” agreed Vincent.

“Possibly. But that it was something as....unusual as this, bothers me, my friend,” said Impasso, shaking his head again. "Ajam's army is made of of impressed villagers, boys forcibly recruited, some veterans, some loyal personal followers and mercenaries, but fanatics? The only ones I could say would be might be the boys, but they are only determined light infantry. To kill themselves? That is either something frightening he has learned...or else it is...I don't know...."

But before he could solidify his thoughts, as they spoke and watched, weeping and wailing grieving people, anguished at the destruction of loved ones expected at the station, began to approach; bodyguards stood tall and held their rifles meaningfully. “Why, Chairman? Why has this happened? Does Ajam make war through terror on us now?”

“My people!” said Impasso in his well trained speaking voice, resonant and carrying. “We are shocked and grieved by this wanton act of cruel destruction, which has robbed people of their family members and of friends and neighbors! I will do all in my power to find out what happened here and why! In the meantime, I assure you absolutely of my promised neutrality! The war in Tabora is not our war, and I will say so to the highest powers in the land! And I will insist to President Andrews that we must cooperate to make sure that there are no other terrorist actions, and I will say likewise to the government in Dahamy and in Dressana, and in Bryn Tegna also! Be assured!”

“It was Ajam!” cried a woman, tears streaming down her face.

“It was Ajam!” shouted a young man, still stained with the blood of his uncle, holding up red hands.

“It was Ajam!” a burly mechanic roared, holding up his wrench.

“Ajam, Ajam, Ajam!” voices cried in the crowd, beginning to shake fists in rhythm.

“Fools,” muttered Chairman Impasso. “What do they want me to do, invade Tabora?”

“Deadora is very close; New Edom is very far by comparison,” Vinent whispered to him. He looked at his nephew quickly, his face otherwise impassive behind hi sdark glasses.

“I will not be forced to make a choice by a mob unless there is no OTHER choice,” he said sharply, then he raised his hands. “Silence! My brothers and sisters, my comrades! Is this the way? Do we focus on vengeance when there are people who grieve, who are hurt? My people, we have much to do here! We have much work to do! Let us be about it! I have ordered the commandant to begin a full investigation, let him do his work!”

People began to disperse but they were grumbling. He concealed his worry.

[Shalum]

Military District of Fineberg

Major General Jack Harper sighed quietly, running a broad hand through his short raven hair as he read through the folder provided to him by the Edomites, his intelligent eyes looking over everything that was being presented to him here. Some part of him wished that he would have payed more attention to Merari all those months ago back in Quality Bay when they had spoken of Deadora and the problem that she was out in the gardens. Granted, at the time, he didn't know that he was going to end up married to an Edomite countess or commanding the Shalumite forces in New Edom for that matter. And now, it seemed, that the chance of his men duking it out with Jennifer's soldiers was very real.

To his left and right, Major Jean-Paul and Brigadier General Schultz looked pensive as they thumbed through the rest of their own folders, their eyes skimming over the presented information like analysts. Both warrior leaders, Jack knew, were very nervous about the days to come due to the fact that their units stood the chance of being sent into harm's way. The major was in command of special operations forces, a company of scout snipers and a company of marine sappers to be exact, both of which could be vital if a war was waged on Edomite lands. He was now beyond the point of going into combat himself, and acted as a shot-caller and adviser anymore. Most of what Paul had done while serving as a soldier was covered in thick, black ink and would never see light. Even Jack knew little of the major's record, though from what he gathered, the man was quite good at making things explode before slinking back into the shadows.

General Schultz was nervous for another reason. He was the one who had chosen what units would be sent to aid the Elwe forces, and would be overseeing some of their operations from the Shalumite base, while a Colonel by the name of Jeremy Louis handled the operations on the ground from his mobile headquarters that would set up in a more permanent location as advised by the local forces. The unit he had chosen to send in was the 7th Marine Infantry Regiment, which just so happened to be the unit that both Tyler Holland and Jack had served in many years ago. They were a tough group who had been one of the first units into Azurlavai once Shalum had chosen to intervene, and had seen their fare share of combat during those months. Hopefully their experience wouldn't be needed here, but if it was, the feminists wouldn't know what hit them.

Throughout the meet, the Shalumite officers were quiet, content to simply nod their heads and take notes of what they may have needed to know. A good deal of what they were being shown didn't pertain to them exactly, though it was still helpful to know. At the mention of ARES guns, the Shalumites glanced at each other. The Department of Defense had shown interests in acquiring some of said heavy artillery pieces, though said interests had never been followed through as far as they knew.

The rest was rather uneventful to them, as the plans were laid out before them. It was all rather straightforward, and easy to understand when it came to the Shalumites. They knew what their jobs were, now they just had to move out and meet up with the Elwe units. Brigadier Ferdinand was rather interested in meeting them, as it turned out due to the fact that he had little to no experience when it came to dealing with them. He wondered how their forces would hold up in the heat of battle, how competent they were. These thoughts were provoked since they were guarding the border with Deadora, probably a large deal all things considered.

And then came the speech. The Shalumites, much like their Edomite counterparts, glanced between each other in confusion at first; not quite sure what the Edomite on stage was going on about. But as the speech went on, they understood what he meant, though they weren't as affected as the local commanders were. It was no fault of their own, as the marines were foreigners and had less of a connection with what he was saying. Still, they grinned and cheered when the time came, if only because they felt they had to. They decided to linger a bit before heading back to base in case they were needed, assuming the briefing was over. None of the men present were in any rush to get out of there, though they were looking forward to it. While the briefing was going on, the marines of the 7th regiment were getting ready to move out and link up with the Elwe.

[Macureus]

"So, it is agreed that we must weigh in on this matter, yes?"

"The Oracles have confirmed it, yes. The terrorism of Ajam is simply unthinkable, such violence! The Oracles confirm this. We must stand against terror and urge that Vair Padin listen to reason, if at all possible."

"Indeed, Supreme Magistra. We will do so. Get on with it."

To: Arlena Nessic, Matriarch of Foreign Affairs
From: Daniela Lavon, Magistra of the Grand Coven

My sister in the Goddess,

To say that we are very concerned with the actions of General Ajam is to understate things greatly. For him to engage in such brutal massacres only shows that he has no compassion, no heart, no love for Women and Men everywhere, even in his own country. Such a man cannot be allowed to stand. He must fall. To that end, I am prepared to offer you some assistance, in the form of intelligence sharing between our communities, as the opportunity arises, as well as a firm opposition to any recognition of his regime, and as necessary, diplomatic and economic sanctions against his rule. We might even have to provide some....other forms of assistance, as needed.

If interested, please contact me at once. I act with the full blessing of the Goddess, of the Oracles, and of the Grand Coven, including the Supreme Magistra.

Sincerely,
Daniela Lavon

[Deadora]

The Battle of East Lova

Now it was a war. For many of the Deadoran soldiers this was the heaviest combat they'd been in since enlistment. Some had been in border skirmishes with Vatani, or urban fighting against Metoreac insurgents. But inside the hulls of their tanks and AFV's they could hear, and feel, the boom of artillery. Enemy artillery. Now they felt their first sense of fear, true fear, exchanging tight-lipped glances, pale skin shining with sweat. To feel that sound and still charge forward -- that was the highest courage. Each squad had at least one or two veterans, female and male both, and the untested took comfort in their scars, their hard gazes.

It was hard to hit a fast moving vehicle with artillery, but the concentration of vehicles was to the enemy's benefit. Direct hits were rare, but were complete kills when they occurred, smashing through the thin upper armour and reducing the war machines to smoking hulks. More common were mobility kills, a near miss disabling the track of a T-80 or BMP, or a wheeled BTR caught in a muddy crater like a beast in tar. But the cloak that had sheltered the Dengali guns had been ripped away by their first volley of shells. Helicopters and tanks near any of the D-30's launched return fire, but more critically they reported the positions to their own artillery batteries. Distant, free of the chaos of battle, they launched concentrated counterfire on reported enemy artillery.

The charge reached the trenches. Anti-tank rockets raced to meet them, but the thick frontal armour and ERA blocks along their sides allowed most of the Deadoran tanks to shrug off those first hits. Now gunners climbed up through the hatch, manning the secondary machine gun and firing into exposed trenches and infantry as they crossed over them. As BTR's and BMP's followed, they began to unload their deadly cargo.

---

The BTR came to a sliding halt, the side hatch doors opened, and Deadoran soldiers swarmed out, launching themselves into the trenches. Deyka Induros was among them. His AK-74M had its long bayonet affixed, as did the rifles of his fellow squadmates. A few had eschewed the rifle altogether, preferring to root out the Dengali scum with hooked knives in one hand, sidearms in the other. Deyka's boots thudded into the dirt, his lungs drew in the host, dusty air. He clambered into the nearest trench, following his fireteam. Outside the battle was louder, deafening even. He carried on. A Dengali rushed around the corner, but a quick burst from the woman ahead of him put the savage down. She was a good shot.

They came to a bunker, and Deyka took point. The interior was dim and gloomy, dust constantly sifting down from the ceiling as artillery and tank shells pounded the earth. A Dengali rushed at him, pistol firing. The Deadoran felt rounds whizzing by his ear, and released a burst with his own rifle. The bullets drilled into the dirt. He lunged forward, thrusting his weapon. The bayonet took the boy, for that is what he was, in the chest, nearly lifting him off his feet. Like the average Deadoran soldier, Deyka was in his mid twenties, well-nourished, athletic and well-muscled from a decade of training.

Hot blood gushed over his hands, and the soldier watched as life fled from the boys eyes. But he felt nothing. That black face wasn't human, just another slave of the monster that would terrorize his people. He dumped the body to the ground with a grimace, a savage grin, and continued on through the trench. Narrow earth pressed in on him from both sides, trembling constantly from the shelling. Tanks roared like dragons above them, enemies screamed like demons ahead of him. He put them down with bullet and blade. So far the resistance in the trenches had been scattered and broken. Slave-soldiers quivering childlike in fear or shock without their officers. It seemed hardly a fight, pity rose up like hot bile. These boys had attacked his people, brought this on themselves? He didn't understand, and because he knew it was so, he hated them more for it. Ignoring their babbling, desperate pleas was not so hard.

Around the corner was another bunker. A tank round smashed into it just as he peaked around the corner. Deyka pulled a grenade from his harness, signaled to his squad with his hand. Pulling the pin. he hurled it around the corner, towards the entrance of the bunker. He waited for the explosion, then charged, all of them charged, bayonets bloody, roaring their own demon cry.

---

As the main offensive of the 72nd began to penetrate the trenches north of East Lova, more and more of the infantry began to infiltrate the enemy fortifications. Here they excelled, larger than the Dengali militia on average, and honed by brutal training to be excellent close-quarter fighters. They took great pleasure in spitting Dengali on their bayonets, or ripping out their entrails with knives, though they preferred a well-aimed shot more than either two indulgences.

Heavier losses were suffered by the attack helicopters. Enemy MANPADS were more numerous, and the men wielding them had a bounty of locations to launch surprise attacks. The choppers prioritized the killing of these squads above all others. Still, helos were downed. Some were able to implement their countermeasures, or speed into the city and outmaneuver the missiles around what few large buildings there were.

And then the ground-attack fighters struck, firing heavy Kh-29 air-to-ground missiles at fortified bunkers and artillery batteries, dropping heavy bombs over enemy positions that turned into brilliant roses of fire and noise. They shrieked like banshees over the battlefield, trailing death and suffering in their wake.

---

Fort Summer FOB

There had been several tense, panicked moments when the Shrailleeni fighters had appeared on Deadoran radars, seemingly preparing to fire on the 72nd and attached air elements. They had no fighters of their own above East Lova, but the 34th's compliment of modernized MiG-29's, which had been patrolling in a holding pattern on the Deadoran side of the border, turned south, engaging afterburners as they rushed to defend Legion. A flight of Su-27's was in the process of arriving and refueling at Fort Summer, the sleek air superiority fighters taking off again as soon as they were able.

But things changed all at once. First, the foreign fighters seemed to be disengaging, climbing back into the sky, resuming standard formations. Then they received communications from Bryn Tegna and Dressanna. The Princess's negotiations had been successful, the Shrai were joining Deadora in the fight against Ajam! The change in mood was swift and total, broad grins and laughter disguising relief. Authorization codes attached to the communications were disseminated to the pilots, which in turn relayed them to the Shrailleeni fighters as they approaching the border.

In the space of a couple hours, the sky above Tabora had gone from empty to full of fightercraft.

---

The Bridge

First the helicopter exploded, ripped and torn by the smoking lances of enemy RPG fire. Meiryn watched with surreal horror as it plummeted into the murky waters of the Uffo, and the drifting chute of one of the pilots drifting to the opposite river bank. Then the bridge exploded, a brilliant fire ball that rocked their trucks on their suspension and would leave many a soldier walking away from this battle red-faced. Cheers carried across the river, a prelude to the massive wave of bullets impacting their defensive line. He saw the enemy retreating in a coordinated withdrawal, beating and binding their captive. His jaw clenched and worked, but all he could do was huddle where he was. The trucks they were hiding behind were not meant to withstand such continuous fire, and were left useless by the time the last Dengali platoon had departed.

Meiryn rushed to find the Captain. "Ma'am, one of the helo pilots survived, the Dengali took her prisoner." He said nothing else, but the expectation in his eyes was clear. It was in all of their eyes. But another soldier was reporting that she'd seen a number of the enemy split off from this force before they engaged, heading north. There was a smaller bridge there, which they could destroy or use to move forces across the river. Either way, the Deadorans wanted to deprive it from their enemy.

There were a few moments of heavy silence, strange after the din of battle, and then the Captain summoned her RTO and made her calls. Three platoons would head north, scout out the bridge and report back. The rest of the company would wait here, tend to the wounded while they waited for a bridgelayer from the 2nd Heavy Cavalry to arrive. Then they would give chase to the Dengali and liberate their captured sister. In the meantime, a jet was called in to tail the trucks, and possibly harry their retreat.

---

Back at Fort Summer, a lone Su-34 taxied out onto the runway. Bombs and air-to-ground missiles were fixed to the hardpoints, and then it was in the sky, confirming its mission with Shrailleeni Air Command. A Deadoran soldier had been taken prisoner, they were to locate, track, and halt the motorised convoy if possible. A sonic boom was its farewell to the ground crew.

---

Zshek went for her sidearm before she'd hit ground, but the Dengali were on here before she could aim. A single round buzzed uselessly into the dirt. Fists and rifle butts came down all around her, hitting her skull, her arms, her sides. She fought back, punched one boy in the face, clawed another one's eyes, but there were too many. Her arms were yanked behind her back and bound, and she was dragged, squirming and struggling, into the back of one of their trucks. Dengali stink and filth was all around her. She made a silent promise to herself: the first cock they tried to stick in her mouth would be her last meal.

---

The Village

Askyr was going over maps with one of her subordinate officers. A Company had failed to secure the bridge, but were conducting reconnaissance on the status of other crossings. The siege was reportedly going well. The countryside still needed to be secured however, which is why she sent C Company ahead to secure another village four kilometers away. Scouts in smaller UAZ utility vehicles dispersed along small backroads, even venturing offroad, searching for signs of enemy activity. Gunfire, conversation, the rumble of vehicle engines or a plume of dust kicked up by a convoy. These signs they radioed back to Aksyr, who in turn contacted some of the Ka-52's still in the area. The choppers were operating alone or in pairs. They avoided roads and known enemy positions, putting down in territory seized by the Deadorans to conserve fuel. When enemy trucks were spotted they leapt into the air once more, staying high in the air, and strafing the Dengali with rocket fire.

[New Edom]

The Battle for East Lova

Soundtrack: Battle of East Lova—Overrun
“Reload,” shouted the battery commanders; they had not fully pulled back the netting but had left spaces to fire from; however the smoke would hang long enough for some targeting. They were aware that they might be on borrowed time. “Fire for effect,” the orders were; the enemy armour and IFVs passing through towards the bunkers and trenches could not help but be terrorized and ideally struck by the occasional round; the key thing was to pour it on as fast as they could. Loaders let smoking shells drop. “Fire!”

They managed to get off perhaps 3 more rounds apiece before one of the officers, crouched in a nearby building with binoculars, shouted, “Incoming rockets!” people scattered from the artillery pieces but it was a flash and then shuddering explosion after explosion as the sharklike enemy attack helicopters did their deadly work.

The first lines of trenches had been reached and were under heavy attack; only the bravest and most experienced soldiers or,ironically, the youngest, with a lack of fear of mortality, their very humanity driven to violence hatred and loyaty were able to quickly rally in the face of rumbling machines and unsettling enemy discipline. Many of the recently called up militia there simply melted, but there were enough who rose up and began to open fire with assault rifles, grenades, mortars, rpgs and machineguns. “Aim for the treads, aim for the treads!” roared many an officer guiding RPGs, which whooshed towards the enemy BMPs in the frantic moments as they crouched there on their firing steps.

The enemy, the white devils, were on them, swarming around their deadly low slung booming vehicles, coming on with grim intent as though they lusted for death and battle! “Here they come, here they come!” screamed a boy squad leader in a voice almost as high as a girl’s, waving to his fellow boys as they poured out of their holes dug in the sides of the trenches. “Come on, come on boys!”

“INCHAGA!’ screamed the determined ones. “SAAAA, SAAAA!” as they ran forward.

Captain Peter Ondol kicked a boy in the behind. “Get up there and feed him!” he screamed, gesturing at the machinegunner who was blazing away with an RPK; enemy soldiers were using advancing BTRs as cover,the big blocky wheeled APCs seeming to shrug off bullets with indifference—but the soldiers were not so indifferent.

“Sir, the next bunker’s being taken, white devils pouring in there sir!” shouted his RTO at him. He had lost control of his bladder hearing the sound of rounds going off and screams and muffled shouts from there as boys and men he’d known all his life were clearly being butchered in there.

“Shit. Secure the door on our left flank, give them an RPG in the face if they come through! Don’t let us be outflanked!” Captain Ondol ordered a corporal nearby. The man nodded, grinning more in a battle spasm than out of real mirth, and scrambled with the RPG team to do so.

“We should fall back to the next line!” cried the RTO>

It flashed before him—but he refused. What if the bunker to their right was the only salient—they’d be the ones who broke the line. He imagined the creative torment Ajam would reserve for such a man, and shook it off like water on his neck. “No!”

“I think we’re surrounded, the only ones in this sector,” his nephew, the RTO, protested.

Captain Peter Ondol felt a wave of fear that he took command of. “Then this is as good a place as any,” he said, “For us to go to God. Fight, damn you, all of you, fight, fight!”

Unbeknownst to him, the battalion commander, to the rear, gaped in horror as he saw explosions ripping along his front, then saw the front line of trenches and foxholes were,for the most part, overwhelmed in minutes by enemy APCs and soldiers. He gave orders. “Mortar company, fire for effect, within 2 meters before and aft of forward trenches!”

The mortar company commander said over the radio, “That will hit our own men—“

“You thrice damned bag of pus, damn your soul, FOLLOW MY COMMANDS!’ he chewed his lip, stuffed khat into it, and put his sunglasses down to look tougher. “We’re going to—redeploy the headquarters unit to find higher ground to get a better look at the battle, from the bunker within the city,” he said to the nearest officers and NCOs.

“Our place is here!” protested the sergeant-major, an older man, a former Dengali Republic soldier who had had to join Ajam’s militia simply out of necessity.

“Shut up, and do what you’re told!” the battalion commander said. “Let’s move out!”

As though to galvanize everyone, enemy missiles and bombs began falling all around the city, as though a massive earthquake from the heavens themselves was shattering their whole world. The D-30 battery went up in billowing explosions; moaning howls rippling all around the front and in other sides of the city. People were swiftly moving to trucks. It was all that they could do to keep any order. If anything was surviving in those trenches….God alone could help them.

The Bridges

Captain Amos Kigalo meantime had rigged the other bridge as per Captain Hanani’s previous orders; he had seen the attack helicopter go down, had heard and seen the other explosion. He had the strong feeling that they were short on time. Scouts, deployed on both sides of the river, were scanning for enemy activity with binoculars.

“Sir, we see some dust trails approaching our position, and enemy helicopters eem to be using the forest and the river as cover, we’re not likely to have much warning. And Captain Hanani is dead,” reported his lead scout, a 20 year old sergeant.

“Understood,” said Kigalo. He rapidly moved back along the bridge trailing wires. This would have to do. “For the love of God,” he murmured, and set off the blasting caps from a shielded distance; nevertheless he was almost shaken by the rippling explosion that took out the bottom and center of the bridge. “Lieutenant,” he said to Obori over the radio, “We regroup and fall back to West Lova.”

Lieutenant Obori handed the handset back to his RTO and looked impassively at the white she-devil they had captured. She had struggled; he could see that she had scratched a face badly, one boy limping from a kick in the scrotum, another blacked in the eye. She had fight, this pilot. He had never seen a Deadoran witch up close. What a prize for General Ajam!

“Gag the witch, and guard her well,” he said, gesturing at a senior corporal, a proud tough boy of 17. “Search her, make sure that she carries no hidden weapons.” He watched as hands swarmed over her, ripped her upper clothing open; he felt his nostrils flaring, blood rushing to his groin with lust at the sight of white flesh, but he stopped them. Her immodesty would be distracting; before it came much below her breastbone, enough to see any military identity tags, he snapped, “Enough! No games! She is for the General to question. This prisoner is now the property of General Ajam! Bring her, put her in a truck, and hobble her legs for now.” He looked at her sternly in the eyes and said in poor latin, “Ib you dry to run, I led my sodjas cut joo. Mebbe finger, mebbe ear, savvy?” turning to his troops, he said, “Mount up!”

The last of the platoons was falling back under covering fire; the gun truck’s heavy machineguns chttered away. Ammunition wasn’t exactly cheap though so Obori said, “Cease fire! Give us some smoke for cover, rendezvous with the captain’s force! Move out!”

Open Country

Rockets were slamming into one of the retreating motorized companies; the gun truck in the lead, formidable as it was, was not proof against this, and the ammunition stowed in it began to go off as the vehicle smouldered; soldiers screaming and burning tried to flee from it; others blinded and choking from smoke stumbled free; a few, luckier than others, terrified and wide eyed, dived off the sides and crawled for ditches, afraid that any moment enemy infantry would be upon them. Some stripped down to shorts or nothing and ran for it, hoping to blend in with the population if they could.

From the village, the farming community could nto pretend anymore; they were dismayed and cowed by the awesome display of firepower whistled up by the Deadorans; even from a distance they could hear the swarming double rotor sounds of the enemy attack helicopters that now seemed to own the air above them.

The air screamed with the enemy air force. It seemed that now, the land and sky itself belonged to the Deadorans.

[Arbites]

To: Office of Undersecretary Dathan, Foreign Ministry
From: Ambassador Jacob Lee, Order Pacific
Subject: Dengali
Encryption: Hand-delivered by diplomatic courier in sealed pouch, eyes only

Undersecretary,

I hope this message finds you well in these troubling times. Foreign Minister Kent's health remains in our prayers. It is unfortunate that an occasion as momentous as a royal wedding is followed so shortly by any number of regional tragedies and outrages, including the subject of this message: Dengali.

It is the opinion of my government that the recent trends of matriarchy and feminism are highly distressing. Their underlings continue to grow more radical in their attempts to subvert the social order of decent nations, to the point where they want nothing less than universal emasculation. Now, despite your own diplomatic overtures and mutually-beneficial economic ties through FODE, the Deadorans have demonstrated they have little regard for international relations of any kind save those which advance their own ideology.

Though we realize the Shrailleen are Edomite allies, we must also consider the possibility of Dressanna being complicit in the Deadoran invasion. Compare the Empire's responses to Dengali and Altinum. When an invasion of Altinum was imminent, we staged a preemptive strike to defend thousands of Altinian lives from a merciless radical organization. Even though we were forced into a defensive action, the Shrailleen then made motions to have us dismissed from the CPO and are currently engaged in backroom dealings in FODE to undermine our position there. They have not relented, even after the Lost Legion declared its intent to raze Altinum to the ground, even as their vessels have put to sea.

By contrast, we have not heard any formal protest from the Empire regarding an outright invasion of a sovereign state. An invasion which, under normal circumstances, could severely threaten Shrailleen interests in Dengali. Unless, of course, they had certain assurances.

It is the opinion of the Inquisition that the Deadoran invasion of Dengali has the markings of a false flag operation. Considering the speed of their attack, it is their opinion that the Deadoran military was far too prepared for this to be a spontaneous response to an unexpected terrorist attack. To what extent Bryn Tega was involved, whether the government simply allowed the attack to happen or staged it themselves, remains a matter of speculation.

As was the case in Damoclea, as is the case in Azurlavai now, the Imperium believes that this sort of wanton aggression cannot be tolerated. The Curia therefore proposes the deployment of Special Forces to Dengali to disrupt Deadoran operations there. It is believed that the Deadorans' brutality and ideology will alienate the native population, and that they have little experience in fighting foreign wars. A few well-delivered strikes could undermine their efforts against General Ajam and Dengali in general. Should your government approve, planning discussions would be opened between the Order of the Templars and the Ministry of Defense.

Regrettably, this potential conflict will result in a sharp division in FODE, and serious discussions may have to take place regarding the future of the organization. However, the Deadorans have demonstrated once again that all material benefit, all peaceful discourse, and indeed all reason is secondary to their attempts to impose a backwards social order on the rest of the region.

By His will,
Ambassador Lee

[New Edom]

[box]To: Jacob Lee, Order Pacific, Ambassador
From: Levi Dathan, Undersecretary of Foreign Affairs for Cornellia
Subject: Dengali
Encryption: Delivered by diplomatic courier in sealed pouch

---

Dear Mr. Lee,

Thank you very much for your concern on behalf of Mr. Kent. I hope your wife is well and your family also. I felt somewhat grieved that I had little time to spend with you both at the Queen’s reception, but I hope you will honour me with a more private get together in the near future.

Not only have the Deadorans invaded Dengali, but I fear you are right about the Shrailleeni. Joint training operations with Vyrsar as well indicate that the matriarchies are gaining in some unity and strength. Of course Jennifer Thrall and the Mother Empress have both exerted their governments towards this end. There will unfortunately likely be a confrontation regarding FODE in the near future.

As to Dengali: cooperation with the Imperium’s Special Forces would be most welcome. The President has had to acknowledge that Tabora Province may need to be written off in the immediate future, but that the Republic of Dengali’s coastal and near interior provinces will be reinforced. Right now the main operational zones will be those directly controlled by government leaders loyal to President Andrews directly.

It is the opinion of this government that the matriarchal religion and mode of government must not be spread further. In this, my friend, we seem to be in complete agreement.

I have the honour to be
Levi Dathan,
Undersecretary of Foreign Affairs for Cornellia[/box\

[Deadora]

Dressanna

Jacqueline returned the Queen's gesture, dipping her head even as she stood to leave. They were gentle folk, this island sisters, but fierce in their own ways. Erryk also stood, and for a moment the two siblings regarded each other.

"Be safe, brother." Jacqueline murmured, laying an uncharacteristic gentle touch against his pale cheek. "Do as your bid, and be safe."

The Prince, a slight widening of surprise taking his eyes (though he didn't risk a glance at her eyes), nodded. "Of course, my Princess. I will make you proud, make Deadora proud." With that, he went to stand behind Gillya's shoulder, while Jacqueline departed the room without a backward look.

It seemed she was not the only one with business with the Queen, Jacqueline mused as she stepped through the portal and noticed a calm, if somewhat impatient looking, foreign woman waiting outside. Given the current situation she had a good idea of where this woman hailed from: New Edom. The Deadoran Princess approached at a languid pace, her beautiful face slowly developing a haughty, taunting smirk. Ruby lips curving, emerald eyes alight with mirth, a slight flare of her nostrils as if aroused. She held eye contact with the woman, a knowing look, a victorious look, and brushed by without uttering a single word.

[The Shrailleeni Empire]

Royal Palace, Dressanna
Marbidi Province

As Jacqueline departed, the messenger who had been waiting by the door entered at her turn, bidden by the attendant who moderated such visits. Inside, Gillya was sharing a glance with the Governor as the woman entered, bowed, and presented the sealed envelope.

The Queen thanked her, unsealed the letter, and read it carefully. Twice. She wondered briefly if Erryk could read the Railtic type over her shoulder, but trusted that a Deadoran man would never think of being so disrespectful. Besides, he would know its contents soon enough. She pondered the report for a moment, and then passed it to Governor Butler to read for himself. He did so slowly, Railtic not his first language, but he quickly understood its import.

"If this is true," she offered, "then New Macureus could conceivably have had a hand in these events."

"And even if it is not," Governor Butler agreed, "this information changes everything."

Queen Gillya stood, taking the letter from the Governor's hands and carrying it to the room behind the welcoming parlor. She bid Erryk to follow as she did so, directing him with her eyes an hand motions.

"Honored Prince," she addressed him when they were alone, "I will speak more with you on these matters in a moment. For the time being, I feel that it would be most conducive for my next guests if they did not yet know that I have accepted you into a place in my Court. If you would wait here," she placed the letter down on a table that functioned as a private dining area, "my attendants shall see to any wants that you may have. As my guest, it is my honor to provide for you."

She gestured, and a male attendant came up, ready to serve. She nodded to him, inclined her head to the Prince, and then rejoined the Governor in the welcoming chamber.

Outside, and attendant approached the New Edomite delegation.

"The Queen shall be honored to meet with you now," the Dengali woman bowed and smiled, leading them between the two guards through the doorway to the Queen's chamber.

Southern Tabora,
3rd Reform Cavalry

As they road through Tabora, Yessen began to feel more and more tense with the familiar dread of looming combat. So far her unit had not encountered any resistance, but the few militia vehicles that she had seen (and nearly all vehicles belonged to followers of the warlord) had spotted them and immediately turned around to the North. Did the warlord guess their intentions? Or had the Shrailleeni Empire's declaration of war been made? It didn't matter, either way she felt that the forces of Ajam were preparing to fight incoming cavalrywomen.

She knew her part in this operation well. Her command, nearly two hundred women, was the point in the Shrailleeni movement. She had her units spread out by squad, using the maneuverability of their feathered mounts to maximum advantage as they combed forest and stream with impunity. Their goal was to establish a line of battle, rooting out and maneuvering the warlord's militia in preparation for the main Shrailleeni advance. Nearly all of her women had radios to help achieve this, as well as trained messenger birds which would fly back to their main staging area. These birds were reserved only for highly critical information, as it was not expected that Ajam's men could crack the Navarettan-Old Railtic codes used in Shrailleeni military radio transmissions.

As they neared the columns of smoke which rose in the North, she gave the order to prepare for combat. Their opponents would be skilled at using the land, and launching unorthodox tactics. Fortunately the Shrailleeni Reform Cavalry were trained in just such maneuvers. As they approached the villages and towns were militiamen gathered, the 3rd Command dismounted their kalkos, fanning out and advancing on foot. The men of the warlord were still preparing for their approach. Rifles were gripped, RPG launchers readied, the 75mm guns of the Command's towed artillery put into position to the rear.

Yessen pushed her belly into the mud along with the rest of her women, teeth clenched in anticipation of battle. There would be little formal communication amongst the 3rd from this point on, it all came down to the plan. She watched the village in front of her, men scurrying among civilians to gather ammunition and form a defensive line. She didn't like that so many innocents were following the enemy. That was why she had ordered the snipers to fire first.

The first shots, spread out across several villages approached by Yessen's Command, came from Cavalry sharpshooters, dismounted and in position anywhere that they could find cover. The rest of the women held their fire, their Lyran assault rifles and medium machine guns quiet as they waited for the enemy to respond to the opening shots.

Further afield, the other elements of the 3rd made similar approaches, snipers picking their targets, focussing on the men who seemed to be issuing orders. Composed of three Cavalry commands and one of artillery, the 3rd was preparing to create the line of battle that the rest of the Defense Force would shatter.

Shrailleeni Defense Force Dengali
'Army of Dressanna'
Overall Command: Army Matriarch Vellat Attara

1st Dressannan Infantry Battlegroup
-23rd Mechanized Infantry Sub-Battlegroup
-3rd Reform Cavalry Sub-Battlegroup
-4th Reform Cavalry Sub-Battlegroup
-1st Dressannan Artillery Sub-Battlegroup
-5th Battle Engineers

1st Dengali Air Command
-1st DAC Squadron
-2nd DAC Squadron
-3rd DAC Squadron
-Engineering and Support

[New Edom]

Dressana

Dr. Mehitabel Taramundi was waiting, massaging her thigh and feeling restless, when the doors opened, and of all people, Jacqueline Thrall stepped out. The woman was unmistakably smiling at her, a smile like a cat who'd eaten the cream. She felt worried--the Deadorans had sent a high powered negotiator, someone who was as close to the Imperial Throne of Deadora as could be, and the Allied States had sent her She managed to cover up her widening eyes a bit, her training instinctively making sure her mouth stayed shut, lowering her head in a polite bow

Then she was up and walking. She was followed close behind by Major Malluch, who saw things differently. Yes, they had sent Jacqueline Thrall, or "Jacky T" as the New Edomite intelligence community had named her. Yes, it did indicate the stakes at hand. But he felt concerned about the ambassador for different reasons. He didn't trust her. If there was one thing he had learned in his line of work it was how few people you could really trust. Oh, you could trust most people the way you could animals--if the motivation and rewards were there,t hey tended to behave predictably, though like animals most people to Malluch were stupid, cattle like, sometimes ready to trample one another or do other stupid things not in their own interests at all. An excellent example was how you had to actually teach soldiers to keep their feet dry and regularly clean their weapons. You'd think self preservation would be less hard to teach.

In the Ambassador's case, he felt that she was a dangerously intelligent fool. He also felt sure that they knew this in Fineberg; if he knew one thing it was that everything the Interim Government did was calculated for effect. So why Taramundi? Why someone who was openly critical of the Pahath-Moab government--at least among fellow Edomites?

But now they were both bowing, and Dr. Taramundi was saying, "Your Highness, I am so happy to see you again, I wish it were under happier circumstances. However on behalf of Queen Mara I and the President of the Council, I bring you our greetings and warmest reminders of friendship. And do forgive me, this is one of my advisers, Major Malluch of the New Edomite Army."

The soldier had continued to keep his head down during this part of the conversation; now he released the bow. While respectful, his eyes were sharp.

[New Macureus]

New Macureus City Probe,
Alar Darin

In a clearly decisive response against the rumored aggression against Dengali that First Commissar Vair Padin has insisted took place on the part of Deadora and the Shrailleeni Empire, sanctions have been imposed on both nations, beginning with a punitive tariff on Shrailleeni cocoa and coffee, as well as Deadoran spirits and sex toys, effective immediately. Also included in the sanctions is the closing of all New Macurean consulates in both nations and the immediate recall of Ambassadors to both nations. This, in effect, amounts to the full suspension of diplomatic relations with both nations. The tariff on both nations is set to be increased by 4 macs each, which while not prohibitive for more affluent New Macureans, would be for the rest of the population.

Said the First Commissar, "We cannot merely permit, without some form of sanctions and retaliation, continued aggression against both nations. There must be a price to pay for the aggression of Deadora against Dengali and Shrailleen's complicity in that aggression."

While there were some critics who assert that the First Commissar has no evidence to support the claim of Deadoran aggression or a Shrailleeni conspiracy to collaborate with them in a partition of Dengali between the two matriarchies, Padin continued to claim, in fact, that such a sinister deal is in progress.

An unnamed source, however, calls this, "Paranoid ravings unworthy of a New Macurean leader, given their illogical nature. Vair Padin is a lunatic zealot, obsessed with her not-so-dispassionate view of all matriarchies. She is long known to despise all matriarchies with a malice bordering on pathological. Someone, preferably the Supreme Commander, needs to impose corrective measures on her detrimental conduct."

Personally, I have not able to verify any such proof or even circumstantial evidence of such an invasion, as of yet, but I anticipate continued endeavors in this respect, so as to ascertain the plausibility or probability of these assertions. It could well be that the First Commissar is simply privy to intelligence not known to the anonymous source, or that she has embellished such things due to hallucinations and paranoia.

Of course, meanwhile, by contrast, the silence regarding the recent Vyrsarian actions in Nekulturnaya is deafening, prompting this reporter to inquire publicly why the one alleged aggression is condemned so vigorously, while the known expansion of Vyrsar's role in occupying Nekulturnaya is not discussed. None in the Foreign Commissariat would comment on my inquiries on that particular topic.

[New Edom]

Fineberg Greater Railyard System

The Shalumite Marine force was going to be moved by Brightwater by rail owing to the already massive commitments to deploying forces to Dengali.

The rail yards were used for multiple purposes, as rails were used for a lot of transport in New Edom's interior and to neighboring nations like Nalaya, Gavinium Magnus and Tartarus. Most significant to the current operation was that with a tank factory and a car factory right in New Edom's greater urban area, there was already ample organizational infrastructure for transporting military vehicles. Furthermore, there were personnel who worked there who had transported military gear on several occasions, and so the New Edomite Department of Defense already had liaisons who were prepared to help the Shalumites organize and deploy their forces by rail. Any adjustments for size or weight could be readily put into the computers and figures recalculated; shipping management staff would coordinate with the Shalumite logistics and transport officers to make it work.

There were also cranes, elevators, and a lot of trained personnel in loading and unloading vehicles. The rail yard was something that had been put together during successive government years, and ironically one of the best decisions of the New Day Party had been to rebuild it. It was a fact often forgotten beneath their many failures.

[Deadora]

To: Shrailleeni Military Command - Dengali
From: Brigadier-General Zarla Kehrd
Encryption: HIGHEST

---

Honoured Sisters,

It is regrettable that we are only now speaking, but such decisions are not mine. I sincerely hope whatever friction that may cause at the diplomatic level, it will not impact our ability now to communicate efficiently and openly. It is with that spirit that I attaching to this message the location and movements of the units of the 72nd Cavalry Legion, which is conducting the offensive against East Lova. It is likely that Ajam has fled the city, possibly to gather what will remain of his strength in West Lova. Any assistance that could be provided in his capture would be appreciated.

There is also the matter of New Edom's intent to reinforce Ajam. While it is true that the Matriarch Empress desires no conflict with the Edomites, she must prepare for the possibility of an attack against our soldiers and incursion into our territory. As such the Imperial Army will be increasing its presence in southern Deadora and in Tabora province.

Respectfully yours,
Zarla Kehrd