The Obsidian Fortress (Closed, Attn:Sondria)

[Yalos]

The Obsidian Fortress (Closed, Attn: Sondria)

The Fortress Palace of Imperial Ju'tozzo, Eyuka

“I’ll never meet a girl like you again.”

A lone tear slid down Eyuka’s pale white cheek as she sat, utterly and undeniably alone, at her desk to the accompaniment of the silent patter of raindrops against the transparent canvas of the vast, majestic windows. The night was dark, hanging over the Fortress Palace of Ju’tozzo, a shroud that blocked out the sun and castrated joy. It was, for once, eerily silent. Eyuka’s powerful crimson and ebony Uniform--her golden dress-sword hang loosely by her sides as she trembled, the tears wracking her body as she silently reached for the lustrous, silver tea-pot. Perhaps, maybe just perhaps, another glass of green-tea would make her anxieties flee. Perhaps, just maybe. A trembling hand grasped the handle and slowly, tipped the pot’s mouth open, allowing the tea to flow into a quaint little tea cup, once reserved for lavish tea parties of the veranda.

She had never asked for this, really. One day, she had been an orphan, picking the pockets of fat rich men on the streets. Now, she was the Empress of an Authoritarian Absolute Monarchy. Since the day she had run into General Dkkt on that fateful autumn morning, her life had been unceremoniously been transformed into something she never had had time to reflect upon. She was a Queen without royal upbringing, a leader without resolve and a warrior without a predisposition towards violence. Of course, she had an Empire to rule, so she pretended that everything was perfectly fine. The military staff didn’t notice a thing, but in between all of the fanatical military parades and nuclear weapons testing programs, Eyuka took time to sit by herself, and cry. Cry because things were happening to her that she didn’t want. All because she looked like an old painting of a long deceased Empress, two hundred years dead.

Then, Eyuka had met Selos. Oh, he wasn’t the most beautiful boy she had met, but his brows contained a gentle honesty, and his breathless voice soothed her perpetually tense soul. He was, she imagined, going to father her children, take her to great voyages abroad, and treat her like a girl and not a princess…Selos…her beloved. The one who seemed to understand and appreciate her for being a girl, and not because she was an Empress. That was Selos, and Selos had been hers. And together, they had owned the world, strived for glory in the future. But that was now gone. Now, where was her Selos? He was vanished, gone, and eager to seek fortune and glory and power, when all she had needed of him was his presence. Bitter, Eyuka’s eyes fought back tears of loneliness and sorrow.

“Eyuka Yunsakattatta.”

The Empress turned back to her tea, fingering the cup’s fragile handle, feeling the finery of the sculpture and craftsmanship. The carved grooves, the brown paintjob, the mural of a man chasing a heron with a sword---it was all reeking of tradition and wealth and extravagance, and as of now, she really didn’t want anything to do with any of it. In fact, she raised the now empty glass to her ear, angrily, and prepared to hurl it at the far end of the room, her already trembling fingers struggling to maintain their grip before—

“Eyuka!”

Eyuka gingerly lowered her arm and replaced the cup gently on the desk as her surrogate father, General Dkkt stood at the door, a confused look in his eyes. Slightly concerned, the General nonetheless declined to comment, having more pressing and essential matters to deal with. Stepping into the room, his hand upon his belt in traditional style, he stepped before his daughter’s desk, and took a knee, before rising again proffering his sword. A sign of loyalty and submission. It was strange, really, Eyuka thought, that the man who had raised her for five years would act so humbly in her presence, but she had grown accustomed to these formalities.

“General Father,” she acknowledged him, wiping her red eyes with her sleeve. “What brings you here, into my office?”

“My Empress,” he growled with a deep baritone voice, kneeling with a head bowed.“Three days ago, we spoke about the rise of the cultist radical group in the North East. The ‘True Church of Thasal’Tha,’ Thasal’Tha Kuikkoko Nama.”

“Sure.” She mumbled, listlessly toying with the tea cup in her fingers. “But what of it?” she sniffed back a residual tear.

“It appears that they have…released the Zeikla tribals from their allotted communes.”

“Oh?”
“They have armed the natives as well, with old Kazakka Model T-97s captured from a military depot.”

“Interesting, I guess.” She simply stared at the painting on the far wall—another portrait of Jade Empress Yunakka the XVII.

“My Empress,” the General was a bit frustrated, “This is not a matter to be taken lightly. These are dangerous men with dangerous ideas. I need your authorization to-"

“Dkkt,” Eyuka sighed. “Why did you even bother coming here to ask me for permission to do anything? We both know that you’ll go ahead and do it anyways. Why even bother with the formalities? Just do whatever the hell you’re going to do, and allow me to mope around like the pathetic girl I am.”

“You are the Empress-”

“-I am a damn figure-head, and we both know it! I’m your daughter for Thasal’Tha’s sake, so treat me like it!”

The two glared at each other before Dkkt slowly nodded, and replaced his parade helm upon his head. A carved Dog skull with a thin layer of silver plating.

“I hoped you would see reason,” he said, “I hoped you would take the mantle of leadership for once. I didn’t raise you to be a puppet. I raised you to be our Empress. Understand, you were never my daughter. You were always my Empress, and that’s how I always treated you.”

He slammed the door shut on his way out. Eyuka’s tears began to return to her eyes.

The Sa'van'a Deserts, 112 km from Ju'tozzo

The fires of the camp cackled under the aegis of a simple hide canvas, stretched above on a frame of sticks and rifles. Four black men huddled around a single fire, tearing away at hunks of roast turkey as the rain continued to fall all about. Weary and dirty, the men could have rubbed fingers down their necks and produced a solid coating of grime, sweat and dirt. Their conditions, of late, had been horrid, imposed upon them by the Imperial order that had stolen their homes. They were the Zeikla nomads---once proud aboriginal warriors, then slaves, and now, finally, free men with guns instead of spears. Around them, hundreds, thousands of their brethren sat, stoically, in the falling of the rains as a patrol of fair skinned Asiatic Yalosii Rebels distributed jerky and water.

“How long until we’re allowed to fight the Eyuka’s men?” one of the men asked, as a supply officer arrived, handing him a steel bottle.

“We’ll have to be patient,” came the reply. “The great Prophet’s General needs time to plan an assault upon stronghold Ju’tozzo, but rest assured—your day of vengeance will come soon.” The officer smiled, before turning away in slight disgust. If these brutes weren’t so damn useful as soldiers, he would never have deigned friendly interaction. Mongrels.

“Neikaya,” one of the officers’ comrades approached, “The prophet wants us all in the tent in twenty. Finish up handing out those bottles, and let’s go.”

“I’ll be right there,” Neikaya confirmed, still passing bottles to the outreached, jealous arms of emaciated soldiers. “Why don’t you go ahead and save me a seat on the floor?”
His friend nodded, preformed a sloppy salute, and headed off into the night, whistling a traditional army chant. Rebels they may be, but old habits die hard.

Neikaya approached the tent after about half an hour later, cautiously lifting the flap to reveal hundreds of tan skinned Asian men with tan uniforms, seated in front of a masked man, who was currently in the middle of what appeared to be a sermon.

“And so Thasal’Tha asked, my brothers,” came the cold, undecipherable voice from behind the mask. It was a voice that both inspired courage and fear. A voice that touched the soul, but also stood, distant and unmoving so as to inspire a devotion of rationality and fanaticism, over love and passion. “Why art thou so concerned with the prolongation of life?” For in life, what is there but torture and scorn? In death, there is solace, and when one dies for the great cause, there is no doubt that death is the final rest. Then, my brothers, do not fear death. Fear only the loss of your homeland.”

“Let me tell you a story,” the voice continued, raising a single arm grandly.

“There was once a man who, bringing his dying mother some medicine, came across a treasure map. By taking an alternative path, the map said, our hero would have found a chest full of gold. ‘If I find this gold,’ he imagined, ‘I will be able to buy more medicine, and a big house for my mother, and she will be very happy then.’ So, he took the five day trip to hunt down the chest, hiking through a cruel mountain with jagged peaks.

"Upon reaching the site, he grabbed a shovel, and began to dig. And the map spoke true—for his shovel soon resounded with a loud bark, and he was upon a heavy chest. Alas, upon opening the chest, our man found it to be filled with worthless cobblestone, and he was disgusted.When he returned home, he found that his mother, desperately needing medicine, had died just hours before his arrival, and the man fell to his knees, cursing the heavens. Now, my brothers, what do you think Thasal’Tha was trying to say?

"We worry far too much about what could be,” the Prophet answered his own question. “We worry too much about what we could do with our lives, when, in reality, it is all so simple. We must be good to our families, and generous to our neighbors. Kind to our friends and gentle to our wives. We must fight for our religion,” the Prophet nodded, “but remember what we fight for. I was sent, from the heavens, in a beam of majestic holy light to speak these truths. As we liberate our homeland through our crusaders’ arms, remember, that we come to rescue and not pillage. These are the truths that Thasal’Tha, from his heavenly throne, told me. You would do well to remember them, as we prepare to march upon Fortress Ju'tozzo!”

The tent applauded, and the Prophet, his face hidden by the mask, began to smile.

“Good work,” the man to his right whispered, “They’re buying it.”

“Of course they are.” The Prophet whispered back. “They’re sheep---this whole country is full of sheep.”

“You truly are a madman…Selos.”

[Ghant]

”What Becomes of the Broken Hearted"
Near the Fortress Palace of Imperial Ju'tozzo

He walked in a land of broken dreams…many visions of many things. Love’s happiness, just an illusion filled with sadness and confusion. That was what the young man thought as he approached the Fortress Palace of Imperial Ju’tozzo, sullen and alone, but with a new found purpose, beyond his own original inclinations.

Ser Enki Erruko was a knight…once. From Jehenna, even. Tall and proud and strong…and foolish. 6’5’’, with a powerful build and broad shoulders, a chiseled jaw and blue-violet eyes…sometimes deep blue, sometimes purple, depending on how the light was hitting them. Of course, he had that jet black hair that was ever common among the people of that part of Ghant, up north.

Enki's heart was hardened by heartbreak, betrayal and injustice. In this strange land, Enki was endeavoring to redeem himself in the eyes of the Gods. For once, Enki was young, naïve…and foolish. He learned a hard lesson in life the hard way. No good deed shall go unpunished...

ooooooo

Enki Erruko was the son and heir of Lord Inigo Erruko and the Lady Esmeralda Baldakaro. The envy of his parents, a strong, healthy son. He trained at arms, was well versed in letters, and possessed a noble spirit. Yet, the Errukos were the smallest of the small houses of Jehenna, and never gained the attention of the Great Lord of Jehenna, or the “King”, as he would often call himself.

Enki dreamed of becoming a Knight. A knight who was noble and true, one who protected his sworn lord, saved distraught ladies from distress, and delivered the land from the ambitions of wicked men.

Yet, in northern Ghant, nothing was given…a man only got what he earned. So Enki trained everyday with sword and lance, and even firearms when it permitted. He rode horses and could fight and shoot from their backs. He began his life rather small, but he grew, and grow tall and strong he did.

It eventually happened that King Josu of Jehenna put out a bounty for some brigands who were attack. That was the young Enki’s chance to prove his worth to the King. He set out upon his horse into the forests north of Jehenna in the summer of the year previous to the current, eager but also nervous.

He rode his horse along a bygone trail between Jehenna and Gaukoizarra, roughly in the area they were said to operate. The forest was quiet. Ancient, gnarled trees, with a cool breeze floating through the forest, one that might even chill a foreign born lad to the bone. In places the sun poked its way through the trees, casting narrow beams of light upon the forest floor, where saplings and vegetation coiled around like serpents of green and brown.

Enki wore his studded leather armor and kept a hand upon his longsword, still contained within its sheath. He would have brought his pistol as well, but the northerners in those parts did not take kindly to firearms, seeing them as the weapons of cowardice, used only by the dishonorable and by cravens. His horse was bare, minus the reigns and the saddle that Enki sat upon.

The bushes began to rattle to the left, and Enki’s horse whinnied. Something drew near, but whether it was a beast or a man, Enki could not tell. He slowly began to pull his sword from its sheath with deft hands in any case, preferring to air on the side of caution.

Then they began to emerge, appearing from the midst of the overgrowth. Three tall men, with battleaxes in hand. All strong, dressed in chainmail and boiled leather, with short, scraggly beards.

One of them had a scar running diagonal from his cheek to his forehead. He was the one that spoke, behind golden eyes. “Well well, what do we have here? A wee little knight eh?” He brandished his battleaxe. “Down from the horse now lad. Nice and slow, and where I can see your hands.”

Enki put up his hands so the man could see them, and he got down from his horse. As he stood straight with his hands out, he was ever the gentleman in his response. “Indeed, I am Ser Enki of the House Erruko.”

One of the other men spoke, the one with a knot of matted black hair atop his head. “You ain’t no knight, boy. A squire at best.”

The one with the scar nodded. “Indeed. A squire, it would seem. Who did you squire for?”

Enki responded truthfully, albeit nervously. “My Uncle, Lord Naru Baldakaro.”

The third man, the one with only one eye, laughed. “Good, good. Not only a noble boy but a squire from Jehenna. Should have some nice stuff on him. Fetch a nice ransom too.”

The man with the scar stepped closer. “King Josu of Jehenna is scum, a man without honor. We gather in these woods to oppose him in force. We rob from the rich and give to the poor, while the Lord of Jehenna means to rob from the poor and give to the rich. A young man like you could do much for us and our cause. I offer that you join our ranks, and do the right thing in the eyes of the Gods. Otherwise, you will be stripped of all your possessions, and you can return crying to your mother and father, assuming you live long enough to make it back. Your choice, boy. You got ten seconds to make up your mind.”

Enki never thought about the man’s offer…not even once. He waited for the whole ten seconds, sizing up the men. They seemed older than him, and slower, especially with their hefty two handed weapons. He could kill one of them before the other two could respond.

That was exactly what he did. With the three men surrounding him, he drew his sword and slashed at the one eyed man’s neck, sending out a sideways arc of blood. The other two attempted to bring their axes down upon Enki’s head, but he jumped back in time to evade their swings. Now he just needed to wait for one of these brigands to make a mistake.

The one with the matted hair made one, by charging at him, while the man with the scar on his face flanked him. The man with the matted hair swung his axe sideways in an attempt to hit Enki in the side, which would likely have cut him in half. He saw the swing, and bent over backwards, falling to the ground just under the swing of the axe. With the axe swung hard from the right to the left, Enki thrust his sword up into that man’s gut, and he fell to the ground clutching at his wound.

While on the ground upon his back, Enki looked up and saw the scarred man attempt to drop his battle axe upon Enki’s head. Enki rolled to the side as the axe bit into the dirt. Then, with one swift motion, Enki came to his feet, and swiped at the man’s side with his sword, sending that mean to his knees.

The scarred man yelled out in pain, clutching at his side, which was open and bloody. He fell to the ground then, laying on his back, and forgot about his weapon entirely. Clenching his teeth, he spoke to Enki. “So it would seem, young man, that you are quite talented in the arts of combat. With one swing a piece, you were able to send each of us to the dirt in blood.”

Enki walked up to the man, and stood over him, suspecting some kind of trick. “Your men were clumsy and unprepared. Such usually happens when you prey upon women, children and old men.”

“…And what does Josu of Jehenna do, my boy? Aye, he does the same thing…pray upon women, children and old men…you shall learn of this in time…and when you do, you will have Gardugo to thank you for the advance warning.”

Enki snorted. “I refuse to believe your lies, brigand. I will let you die with dignity, which is more than you deserve.”

As Gardugo lay there in the dirt and vegetation, bleeding out and drawing his last breaths, he laughed. “Such a naïve boy, you are, Enki Erruko. You shall learn…learn that honor and duty is exploited by powerful and corrupt men to serve their owns. You shall realize it only when it is too late. Only once you have been betrayed by those you mean to pledge your sword to and serve, once you have found a good woman, once you have sired a child. Only then, will you realize that you are nothing more than a pawn in their great game…and that crossing them will mean your death. When you die in vain, I will greet you in the realm of the Gods, if only to laugh at your stupidity.”

Enki didn’t care to hear anymore. He dropped his sword on the dying man’s neck, and with one swift slash, cut the man’s head from his body. Then it was done. Enki sighed, even as his breaths were long and laborious. He went over to the other two men, collected their heads, put them into a sack, and gathered the monies and treasures that were on their persons, and put them into a separate pouch.

By the time he returned to Jehenna, it was night. Enki rode up to the gates of Jehennagaztelua, even as the spikes of the pits around the ancient stronghold reflected the moonlight as if some beckon booned to them by death himself.

“What business do you have with Josu? He is feasting!” Said one of the armored guards, clearly not in the mood for any shenanigans.

“I come bearing the heads of the brigands he placed a bounty on. I also have collected their fortunes, should the Lord deign to have that which was stolen returned. I beg his audience, upon my honor, to make good on the bounty.”

The guard nodded, and called for a stable boy to gather up Enki’s horse, while Enki, with sacks in hand, walked inside the fortress. He found Josu and his court feasting and laughing at some unheard table side humor, but upon the sight of Enki, they stopped. Enki broke the silence. “My Lord, I, Enki of the house Erruko, have come to deliver to you the heads of the brigands that have plagued the northern road, and their stolen treasures.”

One of Josu’s heralds collected the sacks and brought them to the King. The King dumped the heads out onto the floor, and squeezed the bag of jewels and monies. “Very good, my boy. Please, join us for this feast tonight, and tell me what you want for a reward.”

Enki walked around the table, and before Josu, he dropped to one knee. “My Lord, it is my wish to serve in your company, as a Knight.”

Josu laughed. “That’s all, huh? So be it. Come first light, I shall grant you the boon that you seek. We need a few more good men around here anyway.”

Enki rose to his feet, even as knees shook and his legs felt like noodles, too excited and anxious to do anything else. “Thank you my lord.” He took a seat on the other side of the table, and feasted upon venison, corn and drank of dark vintage.

Come the following day, he was knighted at first light. With Enki on one knee in the Throne Room, before the throne of Jehenna, the herald repeated the oath.

“Do you, Enki of the House Erruko, swear upon your life and honor to fear the Gods and to maintain their laws, to serve your liege lord in valor and faith, to protect the weak and defenseless, to give succor to widows and orphans, to refrain from the wanton giving of offense, to live by honor and for glory, to despise pecuniary reward, to fight for the welfare of all, to obey those placed in authority, to guard the honor of fellow knights, to eschew unfairness, meanness and deceit, to keep faith, to at all times to speak the truth, to persevere to the end in any enterprise begun, to respect the honor of women, to never refuse a challenge from an equal, and to never to turn the back upon a foe?”

“I do. I swear by all the Gods, and upon the honor of my house.”

Josu tapped Enki upon the shoulders with his sword. “You have knelt before me as Enki of the House Erruko. Now rise, Ser Enki, Knight of Jehenna.”

With that, Enki came to his feet, proud and honorable was he in that moment, for great was his sense of accomplishment, having made his dream finally come true. His mother, father, brothers and sisters all rejoiced, and of Jehenna was happy that day, for its new knight.

At the feast that night to celebrate the new knight, Enki caught the attention of a new admirer, a young noble lady it would seem. She introduced herself to him that night…Selenia Kodolbika. A tall, thin and willowy girl, with skin as white as snow, hair as dark as night, and violet eyes that seemed to haunt Enki at first glance.

Enki was not the only man smitten with Selenia, however. So too was Josu’s son and heir, Jacobe. Jacobe was very much infatuated with Selenia, but she never returned his affections. She did return Enki’s, in time.

Enki often rode with the other knights and men of Jehenna, defending the cause of justice against northern rabble, bandits, brigands, clans and tribes of ill repute. Enki earned a reputation as a great fighter, possessing great loyalty and high honor. Yet, Selenia was always on his mind, and inspired him to succeed, the thought of seeing her again giving him strength to endure any trial that he was faced with.

He would always find Selenia awaiting him when he returned. After many moons of spending time together, talking, eating and walking together under the moon that loomed large in northern Ghant, Enki returned her to her home, and there they made love in a fit of passion, each of them the other’s first. It was clumsy and a tad awkward, but it was sweet, and feelings of love and affection ran high between them.

One way or another, this relationship was eventually discovered by Jacobe, who needless to say was none too pleased. 6 months after Enki was knighted, another feast was held at the Palace, and the lords, knights and ladies gathered round to attend.

Enki noticed Jacobe’s hate, his seething pent up rage. As the feast drew on and there was some music, he noticed Jacobe bid Selenia to attend him in his chambers, rather forcefully. Enki didn’t like that, and discreetly followed them, able to get past the guards of the inner sanctums of the Palace.

It was there in Jacobe’s chambers that Enki discovered Jacobe attempting to force himself upon Selenia, ripping at her dress and slapping her with his hands. “You won’t share my bed, but you would with some up-jumped noble boy turned knight? How dare you insult me so!”

Enki burst into the room and knocked Jacobe straight in the teeth, sending him to the floor. It all happened fast, the two men entangled on the ground like two serpents dueling each other. Eventually, Jacobe drew a dagger and attempted to slash at Enki’s neck with it. Enki was a better fighter then Jacobe was, and was not only able to dodge the slash, but also was able to catch Jacobe’s wrist, turning the dagger back upon his master’s face.

Jacobe screamed as his own dagger opened up his face diagonally, from cheek to forehead. In his pain, Jacobe was able to kick Enki off of him, and with a great speed was able to get to his feet.

Selenia stood and gasped in horror at the fight, unable to move. Jacobe, in a great fit of rage and with dagger in hand, ran up to Selenia and plunged his dagger into her belly. “Fuck you, whore.” And ran out of the room, back down the stairs, while Selenia trembled and turned ghastly white with a dagger in her belly.

Enki looked on in horror, and rushed to his beloved Lady’s side. He cradled her in his arms in that moment, terror taking him over. He had nothing to say, he only began to cry. “…I am sorry…I am sorry…I am sorry…” He finally said in a confusion of anguish and agony.

Selenia gasped as the blood seeped out of her wound. “Don’t be sorry, my love. Live…for me…be strong…be just…love again…for me…”

Enki shook his head, his face a mess of blood and tears. “No…no…no…”

The men of Josu found him there in Jacobe’s quarters. Jacobe was with him. “There he is! Seize him! He cut my face and killed Lady Selenia! You see!” At that moment, Enki was pulled from the embrace of his dead beloved, and put in chains in the dungeon, beat within an inch of death.

The truth of the event was decided by those who had the power to do so…by Jacobe, his father Josu…even Selenia’s own family. There was nothing Enki and his family could say or do to convince anyone otherwise. Enki was decided to be a madarikatua, or a man without honor, a despicable creature, and was exiled, but not before having a mark carved into his back to brand him a such. An oath breaker, one who not only bore steel against his sworn lord, but also for allegedly having raped and murdered a noble woman…Gardugo was right, after all…and just like Gardugo predicted, Enki was too late to realize it.

He was stripped of his armor and weapons, and was told that he had until nightfall to leave those lands, and that should he be found anywhere there, he would be put to the sword upon sight. He returned to his home to say goodbye to his father, mother, brothers and sisters, even though his own father said that Enki was “dead to him.” Enki’s mother gave him some armor, a sword and provisions, and sent him on his way, to the west.

He couldn’t stay in Ghant, not as a madarikatua. By now even the Emperor and Empress of Ghant would know of this story, however false it may be. There was no hope for him…who was anyone likely to believe? The word of the Lord of Jehenna, or that of some lowly knight? No sense in barking up that tree. So he boarded a ship and left Ghant, never once looking back…

ooooooo

Indeed, leaving everything he knew was hard. The world beyond Ghant was a strange and foreboding place, filled with strange people, customs and technologies. Enki traveled for a time, living off of the money that his mother allotted to him, which was sufficient enough to stay in one place or another.

Eventually he found himself in a strange country called Yalos. Yalos had an Empress too…one that might have need of a seasoned man to protect her and serve her. A second chance perhaps, one for a madarikatua of Ghant.

So it was that Enki of the House Errkuo came upon the Fortress Palace of Imperial Ju'tozzo, hoping to secure an audience with Empress Eyuka Yunskattatta of Yalos. Such was the fate of a man that had lost everything, whose dreams were realized, only to have them come crashing down upon his head, leaving a hole where his heart had once been. To have loved a woman, only to have died in his arms, and to be blamed for her death by her would be rapist, who even now lived as he did in comfort and prestige.

As for Enki, well, such was as good an example as any of what becomes of the broken hearted.

[Yalos]

Co-written with the spectacular Ghant!

Ju'tozzo, the Market Square

Chickens cackled in their cages as boys chased each other through dense swathes of shoppers and pedestrians. It was a market day in the Capital, and thousands of farmers, city-dwellers and on-leave-soldiers spent the day in leisure, walking away from stalls with towering piles of artisan goods and groceries as fire eaters, sword-dancers and prostitutes weaved in and out of the seas of people, soaking up the excesses of the day’s exchanges like golden sponges. A troop of soldiers shouldered its way through, apprehending rabble-rousers and breaking up the occasional scuffles that erupted on accusations of perceived treachery and theft. Fresh fruits, vegetables and pottery exchanged hands as coins jingled in the warm, pleasant sun, and the market was abuzz with chatter.

A pair of sandals pattered against the sandy market street, and an ancient man made his way through the throngs of people, arms crossed behind his back in silent contemplation. His kind features and powdery white hair hung loosely off the sides of his head as he smiled, tossing coins to beggars and candies to children as they passed. His garb clearly marked him as a member of the Imperial Aristocracy—a member of the warrior caste, to be exact, but his countenance showed signs of generosity, and his mien betrayed no hubris of self-righteousness. His lamellar armor, braided with golden beads and the finest silk, seemed to almost radiate a sense of relaxation and aged wisdom. This was the beloved General Mkkhibhi, the hero of the peasants, even if his reputation in court carried a negative connotation.

“What’s going on over there?” he asked one of the soldiers at his side. Angry voices and the formation of a small crowd seemed to signify some sort of skirmish in the market.

“Shall I find out, milord?”

“No. It is fine Pokuii,” the General smiled. “There is still some strength left in these bones. A short stop won’t make me unduly late for our important meeting today, heh?”

As Enki approached the Palace, he found himself in the market area of the capital. The area was bustling with people selling various goods. There was also an assortment of street performers, courtesans and other sorts of solicitors, from the looks of it.

Enki didn’t think much of any of it. He singular focus was on reaching the Palace. He was wearing a hooded cloak and some furs, brown and black, with leather pants and boots to match. His hair was a bit on the longer side, and he had stubby facial hair that framed his jaw. He would have stood out in a crowd, but with people beyond count all in one place, he hoped me might be able to go about his business without incident.

Yet, something grabbed his attention. There was some commotion…people sounding angry…there was even a crowd gathering around. Enki was too close to not be drawn into it, both out of curiosity and out of a sense of duty…maybe someone was being hurt, or would get hurt. If he could do something to stop it, he had a duty to do so as a Knight.That was what Enki did, in any case. He attempted to squeeze his way into the action, in order to find out what was going on.

“It’s foreigners who perpetually bring about the daily degradation and downfall of our glorious nation!” A short man wearing a golden eagle hat stood on a stool, yet, still barely any taller than the people standing around. In his hand he brandished a microphone and in the other, waved the Imperial tricolour--red, black and gold. Anger seemed to emanate from his every pore, and he was flanked by burly, armed soldiers who gazed menacingly into the crowed. Inspired by fear and curiosity, people began to gather to hear this man’s rantings.

“The Eyuka is a disgrace to our nation!” he continued. “Who is she, anyways? A random girl picked off the street? Why, we were better off when the Council of Prophets ruled as Regent Lords!” a resounding cry of agreement broke from the assembled soldiers and parts of the crowed. Frustrations were beginning to break out, unleashing like torrents of passion.

“Why should we serve a Queen who has forgotten what it means to be Yalosii?” the demagogue yowled. “She panders to foreigners, invites Rustonians into our sacred Holy City of Ju’tozzo, and makes mockery of our armed forces! She came into power promising glory and wealth, but tell me--has anyone of you experienced any such glory or wealth? I say we protest until--”

“That is quite enough.” Mkkhibhi stormed forward, his usually tranquil expression bent into one of mild rage. “Take your rabble-rousing out of this city! We are Imperial citizens, enjoying a simple day at the market! Do not insult her Imperial Majesty!”

“Oh, and of course,” the rabble-rouser exclaimed satirically, “the aristocrat believes that I’m disrupting the peace! How quaint! Unfortunately,” he chuckled, “the Eyuka herself passed a free-speech bill. I can say whatever I please, wherever I please you fat lump of walking lard!”

“I won’t deign to respond to that,” Mkkhibhi replied coldly, “Because I know that your type are nothing but trouble. Mark my words,” he warned “If you continue this nonsense, a lot of people will suffer. And it will be on your head”

Enki was close enough to hear it all. He didn’t like the man in the golden eagle hat…Enki thought this man was like a worm to him. The kind that took what was given to him by his overlords and gave nothing back to them. No honor, no dignity, no couth.

Enki spoke up. “You, short man.” He pointed at the man in the golden eagle hat. “Have you no honor? To speak such foul words against your Empress, the Empress of Yalos! You speak of loyalty to your nation, and yet you slander your Empress in the streets of her own city. Tell me, are you that much more loyal to your country? Something tells me that it is you that does not know what it means to be Yalosii.”

Enki turned to the man who just arrived, examined him, and then turned back to the man in the golden eagle hat. “This man here might not deign to respond to that, but there is nothing stopping me. Keep attacking the honor of your Empress in my presence, and you shall learn what it means to be disrupted.”

The man scoffed, and leaping down from the stool, and angrily stalked towards Enki, his hand reaching for his sword hilt--an accessory that was not uncommon for Yalosii males. The soldiers, however, or rather, armed thugs, pulled him back, advising him to apply restraint.

“Please Naika,” one of the men begged, “It’s not worth it! The cause must transcend all! Do not compromise all that it is we work for!”

The short man nodded twice, closed his eyes, and angrily threw his arms towards the dart, roaring twice, and glaring at Enki.

“I have no obligation to speak to a mongrel foreigner,” he hissed. “Come on, boys, let’s go before the Royal Guard tries to throw us in jail.”

Passing by Enki, he uttered a barely audible whisper.

“You’re going to get it, someday. Mark my words you white-skinned filth. We’re going to rule someday, and you will regret this day.” And with that, the men were pushing their way through the crowd. The assembly dispersed, and soon, Enki was alone in a sea of people.

Enki stared down the man in the golden eagle hat, with a hand on his sword hilt, ready to pull it from its sheath. He had no need, however, as the man and his...posse merely walked off, issuing threats, which to Enki meant next to nothing.

After they were gone, the other man who had exchanged words with the man in the golden eagle hat approached, and spoke to him.

Mkkhibhi stared at Enki intently for a few moments in a sort of pleasant wonder. Nodding twice to himself, he approached the stranger, bowing slightly.

“It’s quite uncommon, these days, to see such courageous souls in this world,” he remarked, pacing Enki in circles. “You, who have no stake in the affairs of our state, have chosen to make a stand for an Empress you swear no loyalty to. My dear man, tell me, where are you from?”

Enki merely bowed, and answered the question as it was asked. “Ghant, if it pleases you sir."

“Ghant...that is no surprise. Tell me, my good man,” Mkkhibhi queried, “do you need work? I can perhaps see if you might not make a worthy palace guardsman. It seems these days that the pool of willing applicants is dwindling. It is possible that you may find some of your own brethren serving within our ranks, already“ the old man chuckled. Mkkhibhi was a good judge of character, so his invitation wasn’t one made lightly on a spur of the moment whim.

Enki bowed. "Twas my objective indeed to swear my sword to the Empress, and my life if needs be."

“Oh ho ho!” Mkkhibhi chortled, “I think I like you already. One so full of spirit could truly liven up the damping gloom of our lifeless palace. Here, come with me. You start working with me today. Pokuii, here will have you costumed, clothed and briefed.”

Enki bowed his head. "Thank you." He was at that point at the disposal of the Palace men. He was feeling a great deal of relief that he had the opportunity to serve once more. He only hoped that Eyuka would be more worthy of his loyalty then the Jehans of Jehenna.

The Imperial Palace, The Eyuka's Gardens

The trickling of an artificial waterfall could be heard reverberating from within the mouth of a massive stone dragon that stood perpetual vigil over the Great Royal Gardens of Imperial Ju’tozzo, flanked by faceless terracotta knights, clutching towering, fifteen-foot tall Pikes flying the Imperial colors. Amidst the painfully maintained, trimmed and watered, lush grasses of the cool lawn and the bright, sanguine colors of the seas of flowers, a majestic pond sat, in the centre, with a sole island connected to the rest only by a pair of delicately constructed bridges. A pair of butterflies flapped lazily in the welcoming air, and had the circumstances been any different, this garden might even have been conducive to relaxation and peace. Many a Yalosii Emperor had wasted hours away in the comfort of this ancient garden, with a pot of green tea.


But not today, of course.


Eyuka Empress sat, almost awkwardly, on a large seat prepared for her flanked, like the dragon, on two sides--on one side sat her father de jure, Dkkt, who seemed to be perpetually scowling, radiating a sense of tension and anger. On the other, however, was seated the beaming figure of a wise, if perhaps a bit chubby, elderly man who hummed old folk songs as he filled his protégé’s glass, giving her a pat on the back as she wordlessly took the cup, setting it down almost immediately. His eyes full of concern, the man motioned for a pair of palace maidens, and whispered a few silent commands into their expectant ears. Of course, the face of General Mkkhibhi was recognizable to almost all Imperial Denizens, and his name bore almost the same stature of the Empress herself, and he commanded tremendous respect. Nevertheless, he insisted upon smiling and treating even his subordinates with respect. His new guardsman, Enki, stood at the back of the gardens, just within earshot.

“Would you two please--if you have time of course--bring the Eyuka’s favorite soda?”

The girls nodded, and returned several minutes later with a liter bottle of a purple bottle, inciting Dkkt’s own face to adopt the same angry hue.

“We are about to meet foreign diplomats in a meeting that, if I assume correctly, could win us much needed diplomatic support, and you have the give the foolish girl soda?” Dkkt was standing, smashing his palms upon the table. “Do you mean to insult these guests?”

“Put it back--it’s fine--” Eyuka feebly muttered, before being cut off again.

“I understand that this is a diplomatic function,” Mkkhibhi poured himself a glass of tea, before speaking again. “However, it is crucial that the Eyuka not lose her nerve now, at all moments.” He did not feel the need to look up. “I only have the Empress’ best interests at heart. Maybe it was time that you did, too.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mea--” but before Dkkt could receive a reply, a Royal Herald ran into the garden through a large archway, bearing a flag.

“Your Imperial Majesty,” the soldier yelled. “Your esteemed guests have arrived, and now await your command to enter! They have already received their gifts--a silver chalice from Sua’chiito, and an engraving of the Great Thasal’Tha--as your request.”

“I didn’t request--” Eyuka muttered to herself, before it dawned upon her. Of course, Dkkt had arranged for such gifts to be delivered under her name. How typical. She stopped herself, and nodded.“Of course, soldier. Please send them in.”

“The Eyuka’s Guests may now enter!”

[Yalos]

Kyoto Lkai, The Night Before

The sewers of Kyoto-Lkai featured incessant water droplets, green, luminous sickly lights and hushed voices as the pitter-patter of so many feet echoed softly throughout the tunnel chambers. Dozens of cloaked men passed through, unseen and unheard, bearing their volatile packages with great care, whispering with hushed voices. Today, the true warriors of Thasal’Tha, the great soldiers of the new revolutionary cause, would make their mark on Sondrian history, and it would not necessarily be a positive impact. Their black masks and red insignia were remained unseen in the shadows. These were the best of the Prophet's men.

A sole Imperial guard paced the front of the station, rifle lazily hung at his side. A pair of bolos twirled through the air and caught the man, sending him crashing to the ground as three assassins ran forward, and without hesitation, quickly slit his throat, allowing him to shudder and collapse into a red pool of his own blood. Without stopping, the men continued and smashed the door in, filing in with bull pup rifles raised, scanning the room for resistance. There was none, save a few snoring figures which were quickly dealt with, as the flowing of blood expanded on the vinyl floors. Then, out another door. The Crontorian embassy lie just a bit ahead.

“Let us shock those pathetic Crontorians into fear—first Crontor, then the world!” the Prophet had assured them the day before. “When we massacre their treasured ambassadors, they will be cowed into submission. Our plans will go, then, unimpeded! Go forth, brave warriors of Thasal’Tha! Strike this holy blow” With these instructions ringing in their heads, the insurgent soldiers moved forward, steadfastly, determined to overthrow the shackles of nonexistent Crontorian Imperialism in Yalos. So, forth, these devoted soldiers went. And it seemed as though their cause would succeed…

A shot rang out, and the lead man fell, his head cleanly shattered into messy red chunks. Several more shots broke loose, and then, it was clear—the mission had been compromised! As the rebels attempted to make an escape, they found themselves face to face with Imperial Guardsmen who tore them down with semi-automatic fire. The desperate attack quickly dissolved into madness and chaos as the marines closed in with great discipline and precision. As the last attacker fell, a Yalosii soldier was seen escorting the Crontorian Embassy staff into an APC.

A disaster had been averted, and twenty bodies lay, stiff and soggy on the streets of Ju'tozzo.

[The Greater Aryan Race]

Yalosian Airspace

The Gulfstream 550 hurtled through the skies above Yalos, as it began it's final approach to the imperial capital of Ju'tozzo. If any one had been able to catch a glimpse of the aircraft in the sky, they would have detected the distinct Balkenkreuz roundel and insignia on the wings and tails, indicating to all who laid eyes on the Gulfstream that this was an aircraft of the Greater Aryan Race.

Onboard the plane, Reich Ambassador Theodor Kellermann sighed as he looked through his dossier on the nation of Yalos once more in anticipation of his new job. He had only recently been appointed to the post of ambassador to Yalos, as part of the Reich's efforts to cement and strengthen her diplomatic ties with her regional neighbours in Sondria and the Imperial Fascist Alliance, of which Yalos and the Greater Aryan Race were both members of. With the Reich Ambassador came the military attaché, Colonel-General Edmund-Glaise von Horstenau, and scores of bureaucrats and other embassy staff who had accompanied the Reich Ambassador. This visit however, had taken on an extremely dangerous turn, as news of the assault on the Crontorian embassy had filtered through to the Reich. There was always the possibility that the assailants, whoever they were, might try something funny once more. Hence, the decision to increase the security detail for the Ambassador considerably.

Ambassador Kellermann looked out through the window besides him, as if the sky contained all the answers to the many questions running through his mind. No doubt after the perfunctory presentation of credentials, he would be compelled to ask the Empress Eyuka on the situation in Yalos. The whole Crontorian affair smelt of trouble.

"The Empress Eyuka..."

Ambassador Kellermann had read enough of the dossier compiled by the Foreign Ministry to know more about this strange creature who had come to govern and rule Yalos. She was of course the daughter of the illustrious General Dkkt, often acknowledged in the Reich Government as the real unofficial power behind the throne. His masters in the Wilhelmstrasse would no doubt want a full report on the Empress herself when Ambassador Kellermann reported back to the Foreign Ministry.

"Attention ladies and gentlemen. We're beginning our final descent and landing the Ju'tozzo airport. Kindly fasten your seat belts and return your seats to their upright positions." announced the pilot over the intercom. As he spoke, the Gulfstream had already begun it's landing approach to the runway ahead of them. Kellermann grudgingly complied with the pilot's instructions. He had a long day ahead of him and the weather was surely not helping his temperament.

[Crontor]

Sondria;
Imperial Federation of Crontor;
Crontor Administrative District;
Columbia Province;
Vienna:

News of an attack on a Crontorian embassy was not taken lightly. The developing story had sent a shockwave through the Imperial Federation and its people. People stood transfixed in the Federal Plaza watching the reports stream in from Yalos on the Crontorian Broadcasting Company’s billboard screen. Just a decade earlier, such an event was commonplace. News tickers were constantly featuring a myriad of attempted, threatened, or actual attacks against Crontorian embassies across Sondria while Crontorian citizens watched in horror as the symbols of their international presence were brutally attacked and their sovereignty violated.

The last decade had brought an era of peace rarely seen for the Imperial Federation. Following the defeat of Al Hafa by CAF personnel, who had launched a coordinated naval landing in Mahdah little over a decade ago, the nation had seen little in the way of mass acts of violence directed against it. Operation Maniac saw Expeditionary Strike Groups of Crontorian Eastern Command (ESCOM) carry out a series of marine insertions into the nation of Mahdah, which had been considered a no go zone following the failure of Operation Pit Viper several years earlier. Their target had been an Al Hafa compound which the Central Intelligence Service had identified as the meeting place for the top leadership of the organization.

Then President Christian Cranico had termed it, “cutting the head off the snake” following the conclusion of the operation, which enjoyed unparalleled success among Crontorian counterterrorism operations. The ESGs and their marines faced little to no resistance as they landed in and around the compound, as simultaneous airstrikes targeted Al Hafa formations in their encampments. Pulling out with their prisoners, it was the last that the Imperial Federation had seen of Al Hafa. What had once been Sondria’s most notorious terrorist group seemingly vanished overnight. The CIS had watched gleefully as the remaining remnants dissipated or squabbled amongst themselves, but in total, seemed to lay down their arms. That was ten years ago.

The developing situation involving the embassy attack in Yalos was nothing compared to the past atrocities committed by Al Hafa and its affiliated groups such as the long dead Beblian Democratic Liberation Front. Those groups had conducted long running guerilla wars and campaigns of terror against the Imperial Federation that caused millions of deaths across Sondria. Already, there were whispers about the supposed perpetrators of the attacks, although the Ministry of State had immediately released a statement urging calm and condemning speculation, stressing that the matter was being looked into. The Ministry of Defense had echoed their sentiments in a public statement, adding that Crontorians at home or abroad should not feel as if they were in immediate danger, but as always, exercise caution.

Many saw this as tacit acknowledgement that the Imperial Federation had been caught off guard, which was completely valid. No one within the Ministry of State or Ministry of Defense had even caught wind of unrest within Yalos. Behind the public statements, the morass of the bureaucratic machine was going to work, gathering, analyzing, and acting on information it was attempting, had, or wanted to collect. If there was one position no state wanted to occupy, it was that of an uninformed reactionary. The last time the Imperial Federation had been caught off guard was the Newcastle War and the scars of that had yet to heal more than twenty five years after the signing of the Treaty of Echeron.

Directly following the attack, the Ministry of Defense had ordered area deployments on alert, mostly Southern Command and Southeastern Command units based in Deusaeuri, New Samarinda, and the Crontorian territory of Bahren. A Crontorian Combat Fleet conducting maneuvers under SOUESCOM at Fort Bahren was discreetly ordered to make way for international waters off of Yalos, in preparation for possible extraction missions of embassy staff and foreign nationals in country. Information regarding federal government personnel and civilians traveling or working within Yalos was quickly passed from the Ministry of State to the Ministry of Defense and then disseminated to the regional Operational Combat Commands. In the event of chaos within Yalos, the Imperial Federation was committed to helping all foreign nationals, so long as the Crontorians were extracted first.

At Fort Cronmore, deep in the mountainous heartland of the Imperial Federation, the intelligence services of the Imperial Federation began to align their crosshairs on the nation of Yalos. From the archives of the Strategic Threat Analysis Agency (STAA), any and all relevant plans pertaining to the nation of Yalos and continent of Aerus were presented for consideration by Crontorian High Command (CROHCOM). STAA represented the premiere war gaming theorists of the Imperial Federation, bringing together experts from across academic, social, scientific, and engineering fields to collaborate in the construction and theorizing of strategy and plans of actions in response to a myriad of domestic, regional, and extra-regional threats and emergencies.

It was the job of STAA to have a plan available for any crisis, from a pandemic outbreak in a western province of the Imperial Federation to a coup d’état in a neighboring country to full scale regional nuclear war. For nations such as Yalos, STAA explored a wide range of plans concerning direct military interventions, peacekeeping, nation building, covert operations, and direct support missions. These plans were evaluated and tested for operational effectiveness and to work out issues concerning the various moving parts. In the end, all were graded and archived for consideration. They stayed there until a crisis necessitated contingency plans for coming operations. No STAA plan ever remained whole from the process of conception to implementation, but that was not the intent. As the old saying went, plans are useless, but planning is indispensable.

While STAA began digging through their archives, Joint Military Intelligence Operations Command or JOMINOC, tried to get a handle of what was going on within Yalos, peering into the black box as it were. Peeking in from above was the National Satellite Reconnaissance Agency (NSRA) who re-tasked their imaging satellites over Aerus to more closely examine Yalos. Images taken during orbits were compared to pictures taken over the last few weeks, months, and years of government facilities, military bases, and other points of interest. The NSRA employed tens of thousands of analysts, who spent their days pouring over satellite images looking for patterns. These patterns could be as benign as the construction of border fences or as blatant as the movement of armored units to a foreign border. In Yalos, the NSRA had seen little evidence of unusual military or government activity. The northeast of the country had caught their attention, as communes that had reportedly held members of a minority group had shown a spike in activity and then none at all, suggesting some sort of mass movement.

Attempts to corroborate this movement fell to the Federal Surveillance and Reconnaissance Agency (FRSA), responsible for signals intelligence. With the developing situation, the FRSA was hard at work trying to get a handle of the communications regarding the incident crisscrossing Yalos and Sondria. Joint Forces Stations (JOFORS) at the Barclay Island Naval Exclusionary Zone, Fort Clipper in Deusaeuri, Fort Falcon in New Samarinda, and at Fort Bahren were busy intercepting, decoding, and processing civilian, government, and military transmissions coming into and out of Aerus and whatever trans-continental information they could get their hands on. When it came to military and government communications, the FSRA was extremely aggressive in their attempts to crack and break encryptions and codes, hoping to gather as much information as they could regarding internal communications in Yalos.

Information gleaned from the collection efforts of the NSRA and FRSA were acknowledged and pursued by the Central Intelligence Service. By far the Imperial Federation’s most prestigious and respected government agency, the men and women of the CIS were responsible for the covert affairs and operations of the Crontorian Armed Forces and the Imperial Federation across Sondria. They were thought to operate in every Sondrian nation to some capacity, with a far flung network of contacts and operatives feeding the bureaucratic giant an ever growing wealth of information, ranging from municipal mayoral elections in small towns to whispers of coup attempts among Sondria’s more unstable states. They were often the first boots on the ground and the last to leave the fray, if they ever left. In this case, the CIS was desperately looking for a way to get operatives into Yalos.

While the arsenal of covert diplomacy went to work, the rest of government made their moves known in the public sphere. The Federal Security Agency (FSA) of the Ministry of Justice (MOJ) announced that it would send additional security personnel to the embassy in Yalos and work closely with local police forces and the Ministry of State to address continuing security concerns at Crontorian embassies and consulates. The National Investigatory Agency (NIA), also with the MOJ, announced that they would begin an investigation into the attack and ensure that all agencies involved followed proper security procedures before, during, and after the incident.

The Ministry of State immediately demanded an audience with the Empress of Yalos and dispatched the Under-Secretary for Aerian Affairs to discuss the incident with her. These attacks were not to be taken lightly and the Imperial Federation wanted to make that very clear. And in the off chance there was something else going on, they wanted to hear what the Empress had to say.

[The Greater Aryan Race]

Imperial Palace
Ju'tozzo

Reich Ambassador Kellermann glanced at his watch for the umpteenth time as he scanned the room around him for any appearance of a Yalosian courtier. His official motorcade had pulled up at the Palace grounds a while ago, from which he and his diplomatic entourage proceeded to enter the palace. It was a curious procession, the Reich Ambassador flanked by Colonel-General von Horstenau and leading the group of embassy staff, all the while escorted by their security detail of black-shirted SS men, sinister-looking men tasked with the protection of all GAR diplomatic staff as part of the SS's Main Administration for Protection and Security.

The group had been ushered into one of the larger reception halls of the Imperial Palace by Yalosian palace courtiers and had been told to wait while the Empress prepared to receive them. It had been a few minutes already and still no sign of the Empress Eyuka. Ambassador Kellermann could not help but feel rather piqued at being kept waiting. His counterpart General von Horstenau, a haughty and beefy veteran of the Wehrmacht, was more sanguine about the whole affair. The High Command of the Wehrmacht had given him this new reassignment as military attaché to the GAR embassy in Yalos, a posting which he accepted without any protest. He was a military man through and through, conditioned through his years of active service to accept all military orders to the latter.

It was also General von Horstenau who, unknown to the Yalosians and the rest of the world, had authorised the pacification of Krakow during his tenure as governor of that city. The Polish population had risen up in revolt against German rule, protesting the autocratic nature of Fascist rule from Germania. And it was General von Horstenau who had unleashed the Panzers of the city garrison onto the demonstrators, shooting them up or blowing them apart with tank shells. When the smoke cleared, some eight hundred Poles lay dead or wounded. Security forces proceeded to comb Krakow for any more dissidents in hiding, often finishing off any they spotted. It was this brutal policy that earned him the Grand Cross of the Iron Cross, the highest grade of award possible for the Iron Cross medal. It had also earned him the unofficial sobriquet of "The Butcher of Krakow". There were those who said so that his new posting by the High Command was meant to keep him out of any undesirable media scrutiny. Not that General von Horstenau cared.

Ambassador Kellermann for his part, was a typical bureaucrat in the Foreign Ministry; a competent and fairly articulate character but lacking in any colourful traits or mannerisms. Kellermann however was not enthusiastic about the ambassadorship. He had wanted the position of Ministerial Director instead but his masters in the Wilhelmstrasse had other plans for this mandarin of Hanoverian stock. And now, he was due to meet the Empress Eyuka in an audience to present his credentials as Reich Ambassador.

[Yalos]

Yalos, the Northern Plains
115km from Ju’tozzo

The night was illuminated by the shrieking of so many thousands of missiles as rebel infantry began to advance over open ground, waving their red banners proudly as they moved through the tall, thin grasses, occasionally firing off shots at random. Infantry Fighting Vehicles moved with them, halting every now and then to fire off bursts into the skies. Where the stars once hung, lazily for dreamers and lovers to marvel at, now bore the oppressive light of the streaming of gunfire and explosions, as piles of dirt were kicked high into the air, stained with the blood and flesh of an unlucky soul. This was no longer a simple insurgency—it was a war against a determined and well supplied foe. There would be no going back. Tonight was the night, especially as Eyuka prepared to meet her Rustonian guests. Any negotiations would be cut off by the news of a stunning rebel success, the Prophet had calculated.

Thousands of rebel forces had, without warning, seemingly just appeared from behind the rolling seas of grassy hills and the haze of the desert heat, in force, taking the Imperial Yalosii Army by surprise. The response was chaotic—somehow, the rebels were armed, trained and effective fighters. These were not the simple insurgent guerillas expected by Imperial Command—this was a full-fledged operational military force. And now, the Yalosii lines struggled to hold, creaking, straining and buckling against the sudden heave of external pressure. Entire companies began to stream back towards Ju’tozzo with fear pouring through their eyes. The Eyuka’s soldiers were accustomed to fighting low intensity counter-terrorist skirmishes and extorting civilians for “tax money,” and the presentation of an enemy that was competent was a shock, a massive shock.

Dkkt’s phone buzzed, insidiously as he sat, taking tea. Glancing at the message, he peered over his shoulder, and silently moved to delete it. No need for the Eyuka to know. In fact, it would be best if nobody knew—for now. Later. It would do no good for the Eyuka to make a poor decision, after all. He frowned and shook his head.
Upon receiving the Crontorian request for an audience with the Empress, Dkkt absentmindedly signed the approval forms. The Crontorian representatives could have a meeting scheduled as early as the next morning night, if they so desired.

“Dkkt, sir,” an agent of the Kutiomaya entered the room in his dark red robes and conical helm. “There are some Germans, demanding audience with governmental representatives. Misters Kellerman and Horstenau demand audience with the Eyuka.”

“Oh. Have them brought into the palace, and inform them that we shall meet with them as soon as possible,” Dkkt shrugged.

“We’ve already had them waiting in the main hall—and they’ve been told to wait.”

“Then have them settled in some palace suites—do I have to deal with your damn incompetence?” Dkkt snapped, hurling some pencils the man’s way.

The man nodded obediently, backing out of the door wordlessly.

A few moments later, a young Yalosii woman approached the esteemed German guests, bowing deeply and smiling a massive, wide smile that was obviously contrived by years of practice and indoctrination.

“Welcome to our wonderful city,” she giggled artificially, “You are now guests of the Great Empress Eyuka. Please, allow me to take you to your temporary lodgings within the Royal Palace, and please exercise patience. The Empress is a busy woman, and unfortunately, will be occupied for a few hours.” The guidess motioned towards a door. “If you’ll follow me—my name is Juna--, I will now take you to rest your things. And do not worry.” Her head cocked slightly towards the side. “Everybody is safe in Ju’tozzo.”

With the cooperation with Ghant!

The Palace, Just Prior to the Meeting with Rustonia
The Eyuka Empress’ Personal Chambers

Yunskattatta was fresh from a bath of imported salts and ivory soaps, feeling fresh and clean. Her eyes, usually narrowed and furrowed with concerned now lay, restful and unstrained—a rare condition for her. Mkkhibhi’s teas had an almost enchanted aspect to their rare aromas, and she had often interrogated him for the recipe, to no avail, of course. It was a jealous secret of his, a guilty pleasure.

She had a new guard, some foreigner brought to her by Mkkhibhi. He didn’t seem to be talking a lot as of the present moment, but that’s how they all were, she supposed. And it was a shame, really, she thought, that he was likely to be taken from her service and pressed into work for the Kutiomaya. That’s how they all were-first, Mkkhibhi found a solid applicant or serviceman for her Izewaya Imperial Guards corps, and eventually, Dkkt would steal him from her for his little pet project—the Kutiomaya—with some shallow promise of fortune, glory or who knows what.

“Hello,” she broke the silence, as she fitted an ornamented jade head band to the top of her head, daintily. “What is your name?” Eyuka didn’t remove her gaze from the mirror.

Enki thought that Eyuka was a mesmerizing woman, a great beauty that he was truly honored to guard. When she asked him for his name, he dropped to one knee. "My name is Enki of the House Erruko, if it pleases your majesty." He avoided eye contact as he spoke, rather focusing on the ground in front of him.

In truth, Eyuka had seen too many people who acted in such an overly formal and devout manner. In many ways, Enki mirrored the thousands of soldiers and servants that had appeared in her life since her coronation so many years ago. Still, something felt different in the way he bowed. It felt genuine—not like the usual contrived show of shallow loyalty.

“Haha, lighten up Enki—was it?” She reached for a comb on the far end of her dresser. “I just asked for your name.”

Enki rose to his feet, and then addressed the Empress, this time making eye contact. "Forgive me, your majesty. It is just that in the company of the most royal of persons, it is best to air on the side of formality, lest I incur the wrath of thine misfavor." He said. "I mean to establish a positive rapport with you, as I have sworn to you my sword and if needs be my life." There was certain calmness to his words, albeit serious at the same time.

“You’d love Dkkt, then.” Eyuka brushed her hair methodically. “He’s always speaking about loyalty and service, and formality-” She paused, stopped brushing for a few moments, and lay her comb down, staring intently at the pinewood floors. This man and his formal tone…he reminded her of…

“But you’re not Dkkt.” She continued suddenly. “You’re my new guard; at least, before Dkkt grabs you, so I thank you for your oath. And rest assured—I believe you’ve already a positive rapport with me. Now, seriously, dude,” she playfully threw the comb at him, “I command you to speak to me normally. I get enough of this formal speech during court sessions.”
A grin slowly crept upon Enki's face. It was a long time since he could be loose and act like himself in the service of another. He caught the brush, and brushed his own hair with it, even doing a little pose.

"Whatever you say, tuts." He responded playfully. He was unaware of this was some kind of a trick or a trap, but the vibes he was getting was that this was what the Empress wanted. Enki had three rules...serve, obey, protect. It was time for him to obey, and to serve as she saw fit.

“That’s much better,” Eyuka beamed. She stared into Enki’s eyes for a few moments, then pulled herself away as if nothing had happened.

“Anyways,” she continued, “I have that meeting with the Rustonians soon. But it was great chatting with you,” she turned to face away, with a small smile on her face. She liked this guard…he seemed like somebody she could be friends with. And that was what Eyuka needed most, now. People to trust.

Enki nodded, and took a step forward. "I want to be there with you when you meet these Rustonians. Maybe not beside you, or in a prominent position. But I want to be there. Would you do this knight the honor of letting him be present for such a function?" He smiled, hoping that she would say yes.

“Yes.”

Enki smiled. "Great. I will see you in the audience chamber, tuts." He took a step back and gave a courteous, yet playful bow.

[The Greater Aryan Race]

Imperial Palace
Ju'tozzo

"Busy eh? Well the Eyuka Empress must surely have a good reason for keeping foreign guests waiting I suppose." Reich Ambassador Kellermann replied sardonically. His counterpart General von Horstenau said nothing, opting instead to fiddle with his Grand Cross medal as he took in the news silently.

"Herr Reich Ambassador," called out one of the aides who had been assigned to the new German embassy in Yalos, a bespectacled and impressionable young man eager to impress his superiors, "I think you should look at this first."

The young aide walked up to the ambassador and proceeded to hand over his portable tablet computer to Ambassador Kellermann for him to read. The screen was set to the Sondrian News Network, in particular an article from The Eyuka's Triumph, a Yalosii newspaper. Kellermann's eyes shifted from left to right as he scanned through the article, which was dedicated to covering a recent attack by Zeiklan insurgents against the Yalosii armed forces. The report added that the insurgents appeared to be well-organized, even capable of launching assaults on the Imperial Yalosii Armed Forces. Kellermann could not help but swallow nervously, for no one had told him that the situation was this bad. A few sporadic rebel attacks yes but nothing amounting to all out war. The Hanoverian began to feel slightly unnerved at the prospect of being caught in a civil war in Yalos, so far away from his beloved GAR.

"What should we do about this Herr Ambassador?" queried the aide. Kellermann thought for a few minutes before giving his response.

First the attack on the Crontorian embassy and now this. It's like bloody Afghanistan all over again...

"We will do nothing yet. I will raise this issue with the Yalosii government once I manage to meet them. I am confident however that there is nothing much to worry about, these are just simple rebels who will be sorted out." Kellermann's words sounded hollow even to himself, for in truth, there really wasn't anything Ambassador Kellermann could do. No doubt the Führer and the Reich Government would have already heard about the rumblings in Yalos. Perhaps they were already engaged in conjuring a response to the situation. He, Kellermann, on the other hand, would probe into the matter before submitting his report to the Foreign Ministry.

Turning to the young Yalosii woman who had come to speak to them, Kellermann bowed slightly and stiffly in return, a mark of common courtesy, before replying.

"Thank you Frau Juna, I do hope Her Majesty the Eyuka Empress isn't inconvenienced by our visit. You may direct us to our lodgings in that case."

With that, the German contingent set off to follow this strange Palace courtier, flanked by their ever-present SS bodyguards who continuously scanned their surroundings, as if even here in the Fortress Palace, they were not safe from any threats.

[The Nuclear Fist]

EYUKA'S GARDENS, IMPERIAL PALACE OF JU'TOZZO
JU'TOZZO, EMPIRE OF YALOS

"Greetings Eyuka, Empress of Yalos!" The voice of Ambassador Urukzi Ambirekngash boomed through the open doors and to the Yalosii's ears. The man himself, tall and gaunt to the point of appearing emaciated, with wire framed spectacles that balanced on a sharp, knifelike nose and features even sharper. An impossible wide grin, filled with pearlescent white teeth filled up a good portion of his face, and black hair that formed large, thin curls, elegantly oiled backwards. He wore a white, three piece suit, exquisitely tailored to fit his body snugly and accentuate, rather than conceal, his "natural endowment", so to speak. Uruksi strode in through the doors that previously blocked him with catlike grace and his long arms spread fully outwards, as if he intended to meet the entirety of the room in his embrace.

A second man, far less grandiose in his entrance and far less noticeable, entered in behind the striding ambassador. This was Major Maxim Kaarkoraam of the Special Security Apparatus Second 06 - Foreign Intelligence and Espionage. He was considerably shorter than Urukzi, standing at a mere one hundred seventy centimeters, and with a slight paunch signifying his advancing age. His features were average, though his eyes were nearly black in hue, a natural wateriness giving them a vague sense of sadness to those who did not know the man himself. His head was entirely shaven, with his only hair being the thick, drooping moustache that graced his top lip.

Kaarkoramm himself was dressed in a uniform befitting his rank: simple pants with the customary violet stripe going down along the side of his leg, tucked into a pair of immaculately polished jackboots. A simple, short sleeved tunic with his rank insignia displayed prominently on his shoulders. A peaked cap, again displaying his rank on a violet stripe, topped his head.

Ambassador Urukzi bowed with theatrical flair, his body inclining itself at a nearly ninety degree angle. His arm stretched out, a hand sweeping over the entire area.

"My esteemed host Empress Eyuka and her retinue, it is very much our deepest honor and pleasure to be granted an audience with such nobility as yourselves." Urukzi rose to his full height, that bizarre smile still plastered across his face. Kaarkoraam merely frowned and nodded politely in the Yalosii's direction. It was an open secret in the Special Security Apparatus, as well as the embassy staff themselves, that he nursed a distinct dislike for the Yalosii. Urukzi pointedly ignored the other man's slight and walked towards the empress, removing a small bottle from his pocket and offering it to Eyuka as he dropped to one knee.

"Empress, please accept this brandy as a gift. In 1883, when the first of our noble Rustonian revolutionaries razed the Shaman-King's palace and strung up the royal family, his private wine cellar was raided and nearly fifty thousand individual bottles were pulled from it. This was one of them. It is a perfectly aged fruit brandy, and I am sure you will find it rather pleasing to your palate." Urukzi rose as the bottle was taken by someone he wasn't particularly paying attention to. He clasped his hands together and spoke, that bizarre grin never leaving his face and the giddiness never leaving his voice.

"And now that the formal pleasantries have been concluded, your Empress, I was perhaps hoping that we may discuss the matter at hand. That matter is, rather unfortunately, the nature of your brewing civil conflict, and the role my own nation, as the bastion and vanguard of revolutionary socialism, shall play in it." He said, his eyes taking on an almost predatory glint.

Major Kaarkoraam stepped to Urukzi's side.

"My name is Major Maxim Kaarkoraam, Empress. Are there any questions you may have in regards to my nation's potential involvement before I speak what I am to speak?" He asked, his voice betraying no hint of emotion.

[Ghant]

”The Garden”
Eyuka’s Gardens, Imperial Palace of Ju’tozzo
Ju’tozzo, Empire of Yalos

Ser Enki of the House Erruko smiled, for the first time in a long time. Oh how he enjoyed meeting the Empress, so down to earth, so pleasant. So beautiful. Enki was afraid that she might be cruel, might be malicious. Might be like Lord Jehan. Yet she was not like him, or his son...the one that killed Selenia. He tried not to think about that…about her. It filled his heart with grief.

Now there was a new purpose in his life, a new sense of purpose. Eyuka. The sound of her name echoing in this mind was like the sweetest song, like the sound that a bird makes upon the morn, when the dew lays fresh upon the tender blades of the grass come spring.

Enki knew what his mission was, what his objective consisted of. Serve. Obey. Protect. He would gladly die for this girl he barely knew, as he was not only sworn to her service, but also enchanted by her. He wanted very much to be by her side, and not leave her alone if he could avoid it. He would feel better if he could keep her within his sight, so that she might feel a bit safer perhaps, and that Enki could feel a bit more secure.

Enki looked ever the dignified knight in his armor. Enki was dressed in armor provided to him by General Mkkhibhi, while his head remained uncovered, revealing his dutiful face, chiseled jaw, blue-violet eyes and raven hair that seemed to glimmer as the sunlight hit it. He kept a hand on his sword, the one that he had possessed since his days in Jehenna.

He strode through the Palace, without a thought much to the scenery, the architecture, the people. No, there was only one thing on his mind. That was to get to the gardens to be present for when the Rustonians met the Empress. He didn’t know much about Rustonia or its people, but he could imagine that after this audience, he would become much familiar indeed.

Then he emerged into the gardens, and just in time at that. Eyuka was there, as were the Rustionians in their approach. Enki flashed a smile at Eyuka before coming to a standstill in the back ground and stiffening his back, ready to observe and listen.

The presumably Rustonian Ambassador spoke first. "Greetings Eyuka, Empress of Yalos!" Enki got a good look at this man. He was tall and thin, with glasses and a hooked nose. He was grinning, and his voice was booming when he spoke. He had curly black hair, and it was slicked back. He was wearing a white three piece suit as well. Enki got a very bad vibe from this man, and Enki tensed up under his armor.

The second Rustonian followed not too far behind the second. This one was short in comparison, with dark eyes, a shaved head, and a large mustache. He was wearing pants, boots, and a tunic, along with a cap upon his bald head. This one seems as odd as the other, Enki thought. Enki did notice that second man frown and nod towards the Empress, in a way that conveyed a degree of distain. Enki didn’t like that…at all. Do these Rustonians not know respect? He thought regarding the short man’s discourteous gesture.

Then the tall one spoke. "My esteemed host Empress Eyuka and her retinue, it is very much our deepest honor and pleasure to be granted an audience with such nobility as yourselves." He then walked towards the empress, and as he was dropping to one knee in respect, removed a bottle from his pocket and offered it to the Empress.

"Empress, please accept this brandy as a gift. In 1883, when the first of our noble Rustonian revolutionaries razed the Shaman-King's palace and strung up the royal family, his private wine cellar was raided and nearly fifty thousand individual bottles were pulled from it. This was one of them. It is a perfectly aged fruit brandy, and I am sure you will find it rather pleasing to your palate."

Enki’s first thought, naturally, was that it could be some kind of poison, a trick. What a pig, Enki then thought to himself. This talk of stringing up the royal family and looting their wine cellar…such disrespect, these ingrates. Enki didn’t trust these men, and the vibe they gave him in conjunction with the words the tall one spoke was enough to arouse suspicion. Not wanting to take any chances with the Empress’s life, and deciding that it would be keen to have the brandy tasted before the Empress might be inclined to take a drink, Enki strode forward and took the bottle. With bottle in hand, Enki stepped back into the background, as to not be a distraction to the meeting.

After Enki took the bottle and stepped back, the man continued to speak. "And now that the formal pleasantries have been concluded, your Empress, I was perhaps hoping that we may discuss the matter at hand. That matter is, rather unfortunately, the nature of your brewing civil conflict, and the role my own nation, as the bastion and vanguard of revolutionary socialism, shall play in it."

The other one stepped forward to stand beside the tall man. "My name is Major Maxim Kaarkoraam, Empress. Are there any questions you may have in regards to my nation's potential involvement before I speak what I am to speak?"

Choose your next words carefully, Rustonian. I won’t hesitate to assert the Empress’s security should you decide to test me Was what Enki thought to himself. He got the sense that whatever these Rustonians were going to say, might be said in a manner that he wouldn’t like. Enki wouldn’t stand for Eyuka being pushed around or bullied by the likes of these.

Although, he would only do so upon the command of the Empress herself. Twas not Enki’s duty to make judgment calls, nor was it his place to address these men out of order. He only had to worry about three things. Serving. Obeying. Protecting.

Enki was content to do that standing tall and proud in his freshly polished armor, with a hand on his longsword resting comfortably within its sheath, like a snake lurking in the tall grass, ready to strike if needs be. A snake in the garden.

[Yalos]

The Garden, Ju'tozzo,
Of Rustonians and Tea

Dkkt frowned, silently hissing at this shameful display of bluntness and implied. His fist began curling into a hammer under the sleeve of his robe. The General took several deep breaths to prevent himself from tearing out in a thunderous diatribe of outrage and wounded honor. The Rustonian diplomats needed to be taught a lesson. His neck veins pulsing, Dkkt closed his eyes, imagining striking these disgusting men with deft strikes of his rapier, imagining their blood running freely, tainting the crystalline pond waters. Mkkhibhi flashed the general a knowing glance, shaking his head decisively, and Dkkt, adhering to the wisdom of his elders, felt his heart cool and his emotions begin to solidify and harden, no longer magma pools of rage and fury. He could punish these bastards later, when the Phoenix land was not in such grave peril.

“Well,” Eyuka began, in a professional manner, her trepidation of a few moments ago vanished, “We could spend hours simply trying to play cat and mouse. We could skirt our desires and speak through intimation, suggestion, and implication.. However,” she gestured for all present to raise their glasses of tea, “this is my palace, and I do not wish to engage in such trivialities.”As Eyuka drank, Mkkhibhi and Dkkt followed her lead. Allowing the tea to run wordlessly down her throat, Eyuka continued, “I want to know what exactly it is that Rustonia desires from this conflict. What does Rustonia seek to secure from our catastrophe, and how can we help Rustonia achieve these goals?”

Dkkt’s eyes narrowed in anger, once again. He had not instructed her to say any of those things. The foolish girl was taking...matters into her own hands? Half tempted to shout her out, even in front of the Rustonians, Dkkt rose from his seat, bowed semi politely, and made as to leave the tabled setting. It appeared as though Dkkt was leaving, but such was not the case. As the tea server passed Dkkt, he tossed her a wink, and she nodded almost imperceptibly, confirming that she indeed had something concealed under her sleeve. A mic. As Dkkt’s flowing robes slid through the garden gates, the tea servant curtsied genially, and tucked her head to the side in the customary Yalosii manner.

“Would our Rustonian guests enjoy some tea?” she giggled, interrupting the conversation for the few moments necessary to present her pot of tea like a trophy.

---

The Zeikla Mountains, The Night Before
Selos, Self Contemplation

Selos sat atop the lonely mountain, smoking a joint. It reminded him of the old days, partying back in Ju’tozzo, smoking, drinking and getting laid with the other heirs of noble titles and shit. All of the nobles sent their adolescent children to Ju’tozzo to be “educated,” but what truly entailed were long nights out of chaos, wreckage and binge...everything. Learning about Crontorian foreign policy in the morning, Delmontese wine crafteries in the afternoon, and acting with total abjection and debauchery at night, Selos and his friends had become infamous in the palace city. To be honest, though, that lifestyle had sickened him.

Eyuka had been the one good thing about his life, but then she became anointed Empress, and that all fell to shit. And from then on, Selos had nothing to live for. He spent the next years growing increasingly agitated and increasingly compassionate of his fathers’ serfs. And one day, he had exploded. He remembered the day.

Driving home in a fine, blue Gristol-Serkononian sports car, Selos came across a mound of rotting corpses. Of peasants, with glazed eyes, rotting scent and bloody, torn bodies. His fathers’ peasants. Parking the blue car with his collection, a vast garage of dozens of like vehicles, he came across his father, flanked by a retinue of guards, passing by with rifles.

“Father, what is the meaning of this?” he whispered. “What happened?”

“Selos, silence,” the imposing figure of his austere father demanded. “Go inside. I’m dealing with an adult matter right now.”

“What happened? Why won’t you tell me?" Selos whined.

“I had to teach them a lesson. It was but a simple punishment.” Selos’ father tried to shove him out of the way. When he saw that Selos wouldn’t let him go, the man motioned for his guard to go ahead without him, sighing as they dissipated off through the trees.

“For what?” Selos insisted, frightened that some sort of uprising had occurred.

“They demanded wages,” he laughed. “Imagine. Peasants being paid to work.” the colour drained from Selos’ face. “Now, move it , you.”

“No.”

“Hmm?”

“You shouldn’t have shot them,” Selos felt the anger rising in his chest, “You should have at least let them repent.”

“They were scum. Now, don’t force me to beat you-”

"Scum? They just asked for fucking money! Why couldn't you just tell them no?" Selos roared, his body quivering without restraint. "Why did you have to shoot them?"

"Selos. No more. This is done. You are just a foolish boy, like your damn mother was."

Selos wrestled the rifle from his fathers’ hand, his voice ripping out in a cry of fury. The father, angry, tried to wrestle it back, but felt the force of Selos’ righteousness bearing too strongly. For the first time in his life, the father was afraid, and fear shone in his arrogant eyes, past his hawkish nose in a repentant wail as Selos stumbled back, rifle in his hands.

“You don’t do this to people!” Selos screamed, “You don’t do this to people!”

“Selos lower the gun-"

“No! No I won't!”

Two cracks, a thump, and the pattering of frightened feet.

[Libraria and Ausitoria]

Alexandrino, Sebvorsca

Morning Prayers.

That was the irreverent but culturally sophisticated name for the pre-breakfast Intelligence Briefing Committee of the powerful Ministry of Intelligence and Statistics; the bastion of technocracy and kingmaker of the Ausitorian bureaucracy (and it revealed a lot about Ausitoria that the word 'bureaucracy' was considered a neutral word). Those who met earliest in the day set the agenda, and the technocrats had no wish to let the politicians decide what to talk about - good grief, have you seen politicians kissing babies?

There were many things that were decidedly exotic about Ausitoria. The skies above the verandah were filled with swirling clouds that signalled the arrival of yet another jet stream from yet another direction, for Ausitorian weather was decidedly exciting. The pre-breakfast breakfast was delicious, filled with everything from dragonfruit to silver-lined nutty sweets to crunchy cinnamon-dusted insects. The committee was dressed in flowing robes, dresses, turbans, tricornes, tunics, feathers, horns, and scabbards as befitted Rajearls and Grand Duchesses; the more outrageous and colourful the better. The floor, table and walls were bedecked and draped with extravagant silk cushions, tapestries, jewels, statues, gold, columns, orders, tracery; the works. It was a picture of stunning self-confidence in their peculiar cosmopolitan prosperity; and that was perhaps the most exotic statement of them all.

Yet we cannot go around thinking of these as decadent dandies. They were clever: they knew perfectly well just how little their surroundings really mattered, but how important such symbols were to an Empire that was held together by little else. And they knew, with awful self-introspection, that the Empire was held up not by them but by the millions of clever analysts and statisticians that allowed the Empire to go on trading. It was said that a roomful of average Ausitorian technocrats could improvise a successful government anywhere in the world with one of the Ministry's special-issue fountain-pens (that, amongst other things, vibrated if they misspelled a word) and the Ausitorian fleet on hand. And the vast edifice of state was always accumulating knowledge, for what should you do with your fleets without knowing what is going on?

And that was the purpose of morning prayers: to decide what to tell the politicians.

There was, as was invariably the case in these mornings, more trouble being reported in Firmador, Heilanor, Tethys, Atlas, The International Congress, in Astyria, and in the hundreds upon hundreds of other places that Ausitorian trade reached out too. But now, to add to Ausitoria's orchestra of intelligence, there was a new tune to worry about. Dischordant, melancholy, and fading rapidly.
For somewhere in the depths of the Profligate Pandas, a humble office had collated human intelligence, satellite intelligence, and signals intelligence from Yalos with the finest analysis that Ausitoria could provide, and then gloomily recalled an even more serious document from the Foreign Policy Planning Office on the Maritime Choke-points of Sondria.

Choke-points, as every self-respecting maritime Empire knows, are the key to everything. Without the seas, you cannot trade; and without trade, you cannot exist; and Yalos was the northern key to the stretch of water that linked Western Sondria with Eastern Sondria. Yalos must not fall into a potential enemy’s hands, so Yalos must not fall, Zeikla tribals be damned.

And, in a world where symbols meant everything, one of the most extravagantly decorated turquoise peacocks, also known as His Grace the Rgt. Hon. Foreign Secretary Richard Terefort, arose from his seat (incidentally reminding a nameless Secretary to purchase some peacocks to make the lawn more interesting).

“I am minded to recall a certain Admiral’s memoirs on the subject of gunboat diplomacy,” he said to the ensemble.

Good naval powers know that sending a fleet is often unnecessary. For the important and often overlooked idea in gunboat diplomacy is the word 'boat'. It is not 'fleet', nor 'battleship'. It is 'boat', a puny little naval vessel, seemingly all alone, flying the flag valiantly.

For a small boat is not there to fire shells or bullets. It is not there to fight courageously, blindly, or stupidly to its end against insurmountable odds. It is there as a manifesto: a simple, terrifying, "Hello".

And our fleet was a small fleet, rather like a tiny gunboat next to the vast hinterland to the north; but our tiny little boat had a nation behind it, and we didn't let anyone forget it.

"Flags and Gunboats", Admiral Lord Arthur Lea

“You know, of course; that I am referring to another friendly goodwill visit: an exercise in symbolism. And that is what we should do: stand by Yalos if we can thus preserve their safety and integrity. It is time, therefore, to return to coalition politics to avoid fighting, and, again, time to concentrate a fleet.”

And that, as far as the Committee was concerned, was that; for trade was the symbol of Ausitoria; and Ausitoria was nothing more than a collection of symbols. The Foreign Secretary was frightfully good at taking a lead on stating the obvious course of action.

And so, the millions of civil servants ran around around to rally the nations of the world to support it.

[Crontor]

Sondria;
Alkharania;
Empire of Yalos;
Ju’tozzo:

The sun was just beginning to rise, casting long rays over the dark and empty airport. Not too many people traveled at this time. As always, the airport of the capital of a country was the busiest, and there was still plenty of activity. But for the heavily armed security detail of the Federal Security Agency patiently awaiting the arrival of the Crontorian Director of Alkharanian Affairs, the less activity, the better. Clad in armor and helmets with FSA patches, the detail were all carrying Echeron A5 Battle Rifles which glinted in the morning sun. Traditionally, such excessive security was not allowed in Yalos, however, the recent embassy attack had prompted the deployment of a Crisis Response Team of FSA agents, bringing the total number of embassy security staff to forty from the previous ten.

The Ministry of State was still trying to establish if additional security measures were necessary, so for now, the three Armored Cadillac Escalades and two Armored BMW 7 Series were the only vehicle assets for the embassy here. All were lined up on the tarmac, waiting to whisk Director George Vadeer from the airport to the embassy as smoothly as possible. Here, the Imperial Federation was walking a very fine line. Obviously their officials were targets, yet, there was also a need to show the Empress that the Imperial Federation cared about the issues afflicting her country and were more than happy to help her deal with these issues. As soon as the Ministry of State jet was parked and the ramp lowered, FSA guided Director Vadeer and his assistant to the waiting cars and piled in.

Seated in the car, Director Vadeer found himself next to the Crontorian Ambassador to Yalos, Vince Joby, who greeted him with a handshake and warm smile, “Welcome to Yalos Director. We do apologize for any convenience caused by security, things have been pretty shaken up…anyway there has been a slight change in plans.”

“Well it’s nice to see you too Vince, but what’s wrong? Another security issue?” Director Vadeer mused as he watched the convoy pull out of the airport, “If its security you want, I think you need to talk to Carter right away, this might require CAF involvement if things get too out of hand.”

“Well. Well…I mean…that’s just the thing Director,” began Ambassador Joby, tugging at his tie, “things do seem to be getting out of hand. According to the CIS report we saw just a few hours ago, there is growing unrest and opposition to the Empress and her government. They wouldn’t say much else. But then the local media reported it too…whispers of armed conflict...”

“So we are heading to see the Empress. Great. Well, let’s hope her brain is less rattled than yours. Seriously Joby, take a fucking vacation. You almost died the other day.”

Sondria;
Lutherian Ocean;
East of Yalos;
ESCOM;
Crontorian 34th Combat Fleet:

With the arrival of the Crontorian 34th Combat Fleet to the Lutherian Ocean, the Imperial Federation was displaying genuine interest into the internal affairs and growing unrest in the nation of Yalos. It did not take a doctored professor to figure out that the Crontorian Navy was there to perform a variety of possible missions ranging from evacuation to strikes to full scale combat. But it also provided a deterrent against enemy fleets that may have considered this an ample time to stick their noses into Yalos. The Imperial Federation just wanted less noses crowding the prize, preferably one nose at most, that being their own.

Eastern Command had mobilized most of its easternmost positions and units including air and marine assets numbering in the hundreds of thousands. The general air of instability was unsettling among the CAF. The Central Intelligence Service and their friends the NSRA and the FRSA simply refused to disclose any of their information to the wider CAF. All of those that were privy to the knowledge were equally light lipped and simply refused to pass onto Field Marshalls or lower any information pertaining to the debacle. The 34th Fleet had been given special permission. Namely mission briefs that the CIS had prepared on the groups and planned to continually update them.

The CIS, meanwhile, was trying to find a way into the rebels groups now rallying against the government. The rest of JOMINOC did their best work in the office. The CIS did their best work in the field and this should have been no different. Once they had acquired enough information about the group, they would try and place agents on the inside, hopefully working with them to achieve high level positions within the groups and gain valuable intelligence that could help fight any number of radical groups posing a threat to the Imperial Federation. There was never a shortage of those.

[Yalos]

Waters outside Kyoto-Lkai
Yalos, Alkharania, Sondria

A sole ship loomed on the horizon, seeming to eclipse the sun itself in its display of harsh iron, and indomitable will. It's hulls, worn and rusted over time, had been recently repainted, with a fresh layer of solid ebony, and its powerful guns heralded colossal shells that fell upon the city's roads and shipping center. With the single red sickle and hammer draped off its command tower, and staffed by a crew of ruthless, heartless Zeiklese and former Imperial sailors. It was the pride of the revolutionary fleet, an anachronism of warfare, but a symbol of power. Where the Empress had ruled Kyoto-Lkai with the eternal mandate of heaven, now the rebels ruled the city through fear and shell. In the city, civilians attempted to depart in their droves of personal cars, carts and with rucksacks of family heirlooms slung over a shoulder, but they found the city surrounded by irregular fighters. There was no escape, no escape from the shrieking of shells and rifles of the rebel besiegers.

"Persephone", a shapely young woman with black, faultless hair, erect supple breasts and a powerful posture, emerged from her command tower, the characteristic wooden mask of the revolutionary cause planted firmly against her eyes and face. Nodding to a pair of Zeiklese sailors, she stalked towards the prow, step by step, leaning against the foremost railing of the ship, looking down upon the massive Twenty-inch guns and fanatic crew. Glancing up at the billowing clouds and baby-blue sky, Persephone sighed dramatically, perhaps overly so, and reached into her pocket with a single deft hand. Her fingers emerged with a small electronic device, a smartphone, repurposed as an instrument of revolutionary communication and unity.Taking the few moments to press in the according digits, Persephone waited for her call to make it through, whistling a Yalosii nursery rhyme.

Rise ye children, of the sun
Do not fear, for our enemies run
Join your hands, for the sky
And permit our foes to die!

"Yes?" came the eventual response through the bastardized speakers. The phone had been picked from a dumpster some miles from Ju'tozzo, and the quality was sub-par, hissing with static and buzzing. Nevertheless, the response was intelligible, so it wasn't such a catastrophe, after all. "This better be important, Perseph," the voice continued, "I'm in the middle of something."

"The siege has begun, Leonidas," she responded in kind. "There are, however, reports of a Crontorian naval forces approaching Yalosii shores. Should I instruct our naval assets to engage?"

The voice was silent for a few moments.

"I have consulted Duke Knnkai," Leonidas began, hesitantly, "and he said that we may do with his private fleet, what we wish. However," there was a short cough, "I do not wish to squander our naval superiority in an engagement that we might not be able to win."

'I will guarantee our victory, " Persephone declared, waving her fist as though her conversational partner could see her over the phone. "I want to engage them, and crush their pathetic fleet. I want to watch the smoldering ruins of their shattered hulls, and massacre the survivors as they bob in the water like so many corks. If I pool both the Duke's, and all captured vessels, we have something amounting to a decent carrier group. I can have the super carrier repaired in two days. We can destroy them."

"Do not engage," Leonidas sighed, "Let's exercise caution." Prophet Leonidas, once known as Selos, had spoken.

"Fine." Persephone scowled, cut the connection, and turned to her expectant aide. For a few moments, Persephone thought, stroking the mask's chin as she stared at her feet. Deep in thought, the young Admiraless shrugged and turned to face the aide.

"Well?" Persephone hissed, her eyes burning through their holes in the mask, "Instruct all naval assets to prepare for combat. We depart in two days."

"But Madame," the aide protested. "We have no permission to engage."

"I gave us permission. Well, why are you idling here? Go contact the rest of the fleet."

[The Nuclear Fist]

EYUKA'S GARDENS, IMPERIAL PALACE OF JU'TOZZO
JU'TOZZO, PHOENIX EMPIRE OF YALOS

Ambassador Urukzi Ambirekngash watched Marshal Dkkt rise in anger and leave, his catlike eyes never losing their glint and his cheshire grin never dropping. But for the briefest fraction of a second, an abnormally astute observer would have noticed the edges of his perpetual smile twitch ever so slightly. It was the closest a man such as Urukzi ever came to a frown, though whether this was because he was constantly happy or he merely seemed that way was anyone's guess. Kaarkoraam himself had read reports suggesting the ambassador's face was partially paralyzed, and as a result was stuck in mock joy as a result. But having had a chance to observe the sick bastard in decidedly less diplomatic and far more compromising environments, the Major believed it was likely some of each.

"How rude," Urukzi let slip in his native Rustonian tongue, before seamlessly slipping back into Yalosii at the offer of tea from the servant girl. "Oh why yes, thank you." He said sweetly, taking a steaming cup and nodding politely in her direction. Kaarkoraam merely frowned deeper and shook his head.

"I wouldn't suppose you have any coffee?" He asked. Rustonians were known as particularly avid coffee drinkers, and indeed the stuff had a certain amount of cultural importance. Tea was typically more popular in the southern Timarian province, where the local conditions of the desert made growing coffee beans rather difficult, to say the least. Kaarkoraam himself was an enthusiastic drinker of the stuff, even for a Rustonian.

Quickly, though, the moment passed and Urukzi finished his cup, seemingly unfazed by drinking tea that was hot enough to be producing rather a lot of steam. He himself preferred the cat-and-mouse game of subtle implications and veiled threats that normally made up political jockeying such as this. Though if he was taken aback or surprised by Empress Eyuka's bluntness, he utterly failed to show it. His characteristic giddy, saccharine sweet demeanor never stumbling, and his expression betraying no other emotion.

"As perceptible and direct as you are beautiful, I see." The ambassador began. "And you are very beautiful. Very well, though. As I am sure you and I are both more than aware, your nation is going through a tad bit of a civil spat. And I am sure that you and I are both equally aware that our two nations have not always maintained, how should I say it, particularly warm or jovial relations. This is regretful." Urukzi's tone suggested that it was anything but.

"But we live in a new world, in a new age; perhaps less cursed by the Flayed God's insane wrath than before," he said, moving his index and middle finger down his forehead and then across his eyes in the Rustonian equivalent of crossing oneself, "and it is perhaps time that for us to act as rational adults would and move past that. Rustonia would like nothing more than to cast aside our differences and begin anew, maintaining friendly and mutually beneficial relations for both the Phoenix Empire and the Socialist Republic."

Urukzi tossed the teacup into the air with one hand and caught it in another, before letting it fall and catching it on the top of his foot and setting it gently down. This was a parlor trick he'd learned several years ago in training, an equivalent of a slight of hand to help diffuse tension.

"That being said, there is the issue of your continued mistreatment of the Zeikla, which includes forced mass relocation and constitutes ethnic cleansing, which is a grave crime against humanity condemned by my own nation. As such, the issue of the Zeikla situation remains a stumbling block in the normalization of Rustonian-Yalosii relations. And to make matters perhaps more difficult, it would seem now that the Zeikla have risen up in response to your continued maltreatment. This is, again, regretful if not unexpected." Kaarkoraam handed the ambassador a small folder containing several files.

"The Socialist Republic, being the stalwart vanguard of human rights and egalitarianism in the modern world, naturally stands behind the Zeikla's right to self determination, especially in the face of such a history of persecution. I believe that, as the first act of bringing us all closer in this modern age of peace and love, a gesture of good will and reparation is due. In the spirit of such things, my government has put together a fourteen point plan to solve the current crisis. A similar fourteen point plan will be presented to the Zeiklas by one of our representatives soon.

At that, Urukzi cleared his throat and opened the file. "One. An International Committee for the Establishment of Peace in Yalos and Zeikla is to be formed. It is to be made up of professionals with relevant experience in negotiations and diplomacy, and is to be given by the Yalosii government full administrative authority on peace as it relates to the Yalosii-Zeikla civil conflict.

Two. A unilateral ceasefire must be declared and respected by both sides for the purposes of laying the groundwork for peace. Yalos is not to violate this ceasefire, except when a clear and present danger to peace in the form of a violation of the ceasefire by Yalos' opposite parties as determined by the International Committee for the Establishment of Peace in Yalos and Zeikla. An unsupported violation of the ceasefire by Yalos is to constitute a rejection of the peace process and shall necessitate immediate and severe repercussions at the hands of the international community.

Three. The Phoenix Empire of Yalos shall enter into negotiations with representatives of the Zeikla nation for the purposes of establishing a beneficial peace. These negotiations are, at their culmination, to be binding. The International Committee for the Establishment of Peace in Yalos and Zeikla is to be given full authority in observing these negotiations, and shall act as a negotiator and moderator in these negotiations.

Four. Upon the culmination of the peace process, Yalos will agree to a mandatory peace that shall last for at least thirty years.

Five. A demilitarized zone extending at least fifty kilometers from the newly formed Yalosii-Zeikla border shall be established. Should Yalos be found to be in violation of this demilitarized zone by the International Committee for the Establishment of Peace in Yalos and Zeikla, it shall be considered a rejection of the peace process and shall necessitate immediate and severe repercussions at the hands of the international community.

Six. All Yalosii military units shall be removed from the newly formed Zeikla nation in a period not to exceed one year, unless previously negotiated otherwise.

Seven. Wholly one third of all military equipment, munitions, and hardware as defined by international law shall be left in Zeikla and gifted to the newly founded government as a gift and expression of good will.

Eight. Yalos will renounce any previous claim on any part of Zeikla territory, and will respect Zeikla territorial integrity.

Nine. As an act of good will, Yalos will offer any Zeikla still within Yalos free passage to Zeikla to any who wish to be citizens of the newly founded state.

Ten. The nation of Yalos, as reparations for its historical mistreatment of the Zeikla, will provide an annual payment of fifty billion klibra to Zeikla for the purposes of establishing a national infrastructure.

Eleven. Zeikla shall have established a territorial water zone of fifteen kilometers from Zeikla coast, to be respected by Yalos. Yalos shall not enter these territorial waters under any circumstances, unless otherwise negotiated by the respective governments of Zeikla and Yalos.

Twelve. A Yalosii embassy shall be established in the Zeikla capital as a means to facilitate diplomacy between the two nations, and likewise a Zeiklan embassy shall be established in Ju'tozzo.

Thirteen. Yalos shall be allowed to remove all sensitive state assets from the newly formed nation of Zeikla without harassment, but shall do so under supervision from the International Committee for the Establishment of Peace in Yalos and Zeikla.

Fourteen. The government of Yalos shall issue a formal apology to the nation of Zeikla for the generations of mistreatment of Zeiklans, and shall formally condemn any human rights violations committed against the nation of Zeikla or the ethnic Zeiklan people in the past, the present, or the future."

Having finished reading the plan, Urukzi placed the file back into its folder and handed it off to Kaarkoraam. "Now all that being said, I want to remind you that the eyes of the international community," by which he meant Rustonia, "are upon you." Urukzi's voice never lost its giddiness and cheer, but a vague iciness could be detected in it.

"You are at a fork in the road, so to speak. One path," he began explaining, holding out his left arm and extending his palm, "leads to condemnation from the international community as unrepentant monsters. It leads to utter ruination and further pointless bloodshed. It is the road to perdition. The other path," he said, holding out his right arm and extending his palm, "leads to peace. It leads to prosperity. It is the path of redemption and righteousness."

The ambassador placed his hands behind his back. "Now, I cannot force you to chose either path, but I implore that you walk the righteous path. I implore you to walk the path of peace and cooperation. I would hate to see Yalos torn asunder by its own demons, to see its hate and anger turn to ashes in its mouth."

It was at this that the ambassador's cheshire grin dropped into a slight smile, the corners of his mouth upturned. His expression changed from its familiar giddiness to a somber, almost fatherly one.

"Please, my friends," he said, his voice seeming somewhat sad, "do what is right."

[The Nuclear Fist]

[REDACTED], PHOENIX EMPIRE OF YALOS

The hot sun was beating down upon the heads of the sweating locals, scurrying to and fro' in their mad dash to make enough that day to feed themselves and their families. And indeed, many would succeed. But some would fail, and their families would go hungry. They would suffer for a reason that did not extend beyond simply being poor and unlucky. Such is life in another bastion of capitalism, the man thought. He wasn't a particularly tall man, though he also wasn't particularly short. He was neither noticeably fat or thin, his hair neither to long or balding. He wore simple robes not unlike what the locals were wearing. Indeed, nothing about this man seemed to stick out, as if he was assembled by some god entirely for the purpose of being perfectly ordinary.

But this was not an ordinary man. He was not even a Yalosii, though his papers spelled out very plainly that he was. No, this was Paedra Jaomvesk, a Rustonian and a member of the Special Security Apparatus Section 06 - Foreign Intelligence. And as he strode through the winding, filth-caked streets of a dusty Yalosii city that looked more like something out of a bad movie about medieval times, he couldn't help but wander what he was doing there. Had things not turned out well in his career? Had he attracted the attention of Suthaak, his peoples' cruel and insane god? No, it was just the bad luck of the draw. Bad luck is how he ended up where he was, wearing ill fitting robes and carrying a suitcase with sensitive information he could be executed for having.

Wiping sweat from his brow and squinting to read the name of the sign, Paedra nodded to himself, it was the right tea house in a long line of restaurants and tea houses. The building was a squat, old hovel that looked like a reasonable government would have condemned it to demolition long ago. But this was not a sensible country, and it lacked a sensible government. Which was, curiously enough, why Paedra found himself there. He was to meet with representatives of the Zeiklan rebels, to discuss the terms Rustonia would be supporting their bid for rebellion and secession. He entered as casually as he could manage, quickly finding the elderly hostess.

"One table, madam," he began, being very careful to maintain his proper Yalosii accent in the Yalosii tongue, "I believe I have some guests waiting for me."

The woman didn't even nod in his direction, and merely pointed at a random table. Paedra quickly sat down and placed the briefcase on the table. It would serve as a sign for his friends to know that he was here. He had no doubt they were already present, and likely watching his every move. The Rustonian agent leaned forward, placing his forearms on the table as if he was inhaling the rich aromas of the cup of steaming, cheap tea that was placed in front of him. In reality, it was a cover. His hand was near his side, where the automatic pistol he kept was held in a shoulder holster. It was a nervous habit, and he knew it wouldn't do much good. But still, it was better to have it and not need it, than need it and not have it.

[The Greater Aryan Race]

Reich Security and Defence Commission
The War Room
Reich Chancellery

Amidst the myriad government ministries and bodies, Party agencies and organs of state which make up the executive branch of the Reich Government, almost none is more secretive or powerful than the Reich Security and Defence Commission. Created as part of the Führer's drive to centralize all leading organs of the State pertaining to national security matters into one extraordinary agency, it came to encompass bodies from all areas of the GAR, most notably the SS (the Party's paramilitary force), the Interior Ministry and Police, the State Security Ministry, the Wehrmacht and representatives dealing with public utilities, the national economy and agriculture, amongst other things.

Prior to the Commission's establishment, there had already existed several such agencies each with it's own sphere of activities and each seeing itself as the paramount authority responsible for the security of the Reich. The SS for one, prided themselves as being the forefront of the new Fascist Order, ready always to crush those who dared to stand against the Party and the Führer. In competition with it stood the Interior Ministry and it's more insidious rival, the Reich Ministry for State Security. Then there was the Wehrmacht with it's core of officers who long saw themselves as the traditional guardians of national security, reserving for themselves the monopoly on the use of force. Internecine rivalry between these groups was fierce, leading to many Party and government officials despairing at this bitter infighting which consumed much-needed resources and attention away from more pressing issues.

The ongoing deadlock was more or less resolved when the Führer intervened to curb the machinations of his subordinates. The new Reich Security Act promulgated the creation of the Commission, thereby tying all the various groups into one super-organization under the Führer with himself as the Chairman of the Commission. The Reichsführer-SS, Reich Ministers for the Interior and State Security, as well as the various heads of the branches of the Wehrmacht were all accorded membership in the Commission, along with designated Party and Government representatives. Yet the new body's existence remained a closely-guarded secret, with all official references and mentions of the Commission kept to a minimum. News articles only made mention of the Reich Security and Defence Commission on rare occasions when they were permitted to. Within the Reich, it was referred to only as The Commission or in French, Le Pouvoir (The Power).

And so it was that Le Pouvoir began meeting in the Reich Chancellery today to discuss specifically, the ongoing civil conflict in Yalos. The reports coming in painted a bleak picture of a government tied down in fighting the Zeiklan insurgency, it's soldiers in disarray and rebel forces growing stronger and more confident with each attack on the Yalosii government. And there was still no word from their man in Ju'tozzo.

"Why hasn't Ambassador Kellermann reported to us yet?" snapped the Führer, who was not in a particularly happy mood today. Woe to the unfortunate soul who incurred the Führer's wrath.

"In accordance with standard protocol, Reich Ambassador Kellermann did deliver a cursory report to us when he first arrived, indicating that he had touched down in Yalos safe and sound. As to his second status report, which would only come after he had met with representatives of the Yalosii government, we have had no word so far. The Foreign Ministry can thus assume that he has not been able to present his credentials yet." replied Reich Foreign Minister Balck nervously.

"The Yalosii Empress is apparently busy with other commitments, which explains her being unable to meet our representative."

"What's the situation on the ground anyway?"

"Mein Führer, as of now, the Imperial Armed Forces of the Yalosii Empire are attempting to hold their ground but it is quite frankly, a mess. The Yalosii Army has been in retreat since its humiliating trouncing at the hands of the rebels in the Northern Plains. The city of Kyoto-Lkai has fallen to the Zeiklan rebels who, as you all have seen, have begun implementing a cruel regime of terror by executing Yalosii soldiers who surrendered to them including government officials and agents of the Empire." interjected Field Marshal Alrdrik Bergmann, Chief of the OKW (Supreme Armed Forces High Command) and second-in-command to the Führer as chief commander of the Wehrmacht.

As the Field Marshal spoke, a large television screen was broadcasting footage of the Yalosii conflict. The scenes constantly changed, first featuring Yalosii government soldiers firing their weapons at some unseen enemy, then footage of rebel Zeiklans in the city of Kyoto-Lkai firing their weapons in the air as they celebrated the capture of the city, then another video of unarmed Yalosii in army uniforms being mowed down by machine-gun fire followed lastly, by footage of one of the many refugee convoys filled with civilians desperately seeking to flee the fighting.

"To compound this problem, the Abwehr reports that the Crontorians have dispatched a naval fleet to Yalosii waters in response to the rebel assault on their embassy. No doubt other nations are also closely monitoring the situation in Yalos, if they haven't begun intervening already. The situation in Yalos is increasingly deteriorating, approaching all-out catastrophe."

"What are our options?" queried the Führer, a tinge of weariness in his voice as he contemplated the warnings sounded by Field Marshal Bergmann.

"Well, aside from the typical statements of diplomatic and moral support, the only way to halt the advance of the rebels would be through more concrete measures. The Yalosii army for one, is grossly incompetent and the rebels for their part, are steadily gaining the upper hand. They have managed to get their hands on advanced military equipment including tanks and self-propelled howitzers, making them much harder to dislodge. Defections from the Yalosii army to the rebels have further bolstered their ranks. Quite frankly, the Yalosii are in severe need of 'stiffening'. I would recommend immediate deliveries of vast quantities of arms and munitions to the Yalosii."

"Why not send in the Expeditionary Force?"

"We could Mein Führer but the Wehrmacht is still not ready for a deployment of ground forces." said Field Marshal Bergmann. "Our military reforms under Project Condor are still undergoing and we're in the midst of one of the biggest reorganization of the armed forces. Not to mention the Yalosii would have to consent to our actions."

"Their government is isolated and there are few nations actually willing to help them," added Reich Minister Balck, "I'm sure they would leap at the carrot if we dangle it close enough in front of their faces."

"If you think so Herr Reich Minister Balck, then have your representative in Yalos convey our intentions then to the Empress Eyuka. Make sure the Yalosii recognize the severity of the situation they are in and that they need us."

---

Imperial Palace
Ju'tozzo

"Offers of military aid?" exclaimed a surprised Kellermann.

The German delegation had been housed in some of the many Palace suites that had been prepared for their temporary stay, seeing as the Empress was still unable to meet them. They were spacious and no doubt, elegantly designed, but they did little to ease the concerns of the Reich Ambassador.

He had been ensconced in his own suite joined by the German military attaché, Colonel-General Von Horstenau and a few of his closest aides and secretaries, busily engaged in a phone call to the Foreign Ministry. Much to his surprise, his masters in the Wilhelmstrasse had called him to demand an update on the situation, before delivering their latest instructions for him.

"That is correct Herr Reich Ambassador, you will convey the government's offer of military assistance to the Empress and the Yalosii government. Make sure they accept it, they have no choice but to do so or the Empire will face complete disintegration." The voice of the Reich Minister on the other side of the line spoke.

"Forgive me Sir but the situation here has gotten steadily worse. Surely a more decisive response is needed?"

"Unfortunately Herr Kellermann, the generals are holding off any deployment of German troops into Yalos. No doubt they're more concerned about their reforms of the Wehrmacht but I wager they're just waiting to see what changes there will be to the situation in Yalos."

"What are we offering them?"

"Food supplies, medicine, military equipment including just about everything we can offer and ammunition."

"And on whose orders did this come from?"

"The man to whom you gave your oath to. I trust that clears up everything Herr Reich Ambassador."

The man...the Führer. So he has already decided what the Reich's response will be.

"I understand Herr Reich Minister. I will certainly carry out my tasks to the fullest." replied Kellermann. The phone line was cut off, indicating that the conversation, in fact no the instruction had ended. The Ambassador thus began a deep and intense discussion with the military attaché and the rest of the assembled staff in planning out their intended proposal to the Empire and the Yalosii government.