The Occupation (Closed, Regional RP)

[New Edom]

Mossimo's, Izotza

"One of the things I like about guys like you," said Denisov with a chuckle after he had read the article, "Is that you actually go after the story. I know these editorials and blogs are influential, but hell, I can hear a one liner or byline and go on a tear about anything and bring up fragments in my memory from stuff I heard at the barber's, or overheard in a waiting room...and sound like I know what I'm talking about. You're not like that--you go for the actual info. Maybe I'm an old fashioned throwback?"

He shook his head. "Anyway, the Grand Duke is enthusiasitc about that. He wants this story told. It's a story about a family with power and influence from a country that's not used to democracy, that needs some kind of authority to lead it into the 21st Century. It's about that family wanting to do their duty, do what they should have done before, looked after their own people--that is ashamed of wrongs they did in the past and who know that they are the only ones who can right those wrongs--" he caught himself and smiled. "Listen to me. You need to hear it from him. And he needs you to be the one with the story--the one with regular access, the one who can show the world not just what he has to say..." his eyes gleamed. "But what he's gonna do about all this. How does this evening at 7:30 PM sound?"

[Ghant]

“Meeting in the Mountains”
Eastern Nekulturnya

Vladimir of the Cossacks had sent out a communique to the one they called Grishanov...the new strongman who answered to Melin. Vladimir wanted to meet with the man one on one in a discreet location, and was willing to relay that desire.

So he sat in the dining room of some house in a remote mountain village, sipping on some coffee at the table, waiting patiently. He was alone in the room, although he had friends posted all over the place not too far away from him. All he had to do was sit, and wait, and hope that Grishanov was interested in treating with him.

Arkady Fyodoryvich Grishanov arrived with a full complement of guards, not quite trusting a Cossack, of course. Granted, the Cossacks had their own sort of honor, but he didn’t know what their code exactly was, and he didn’t care to find out the hard way.

Vladimir took note of Grishanov’s arrival and that of his guards. “Mr. Grishanov, I bid thee welcome. Thank you for coming, it is a great honor to meet you in person. Can I interest you in some coffee?”

“Misha,” Grishanov directed his chosen victim, Misha, who poured coffee for him and took the first sip, just in case. When he didn’t die, Grishanov accepted it and thanked Vladimir.

“Thank you for your welcome and the kindness of coffee. Excuse the food-tasting, but this is a meeting between opposing sides, at least for the present. Let me ask you something. I know that you had it easier under the Tsar than the average serf, but surely you have noticed that indoor plumbing, water treatment, regular sanitation, a decent sewage system, central heating, insulated housing, public housing, full electrification, a modern education system, and modernized highways, railways, and mass transit have been legacies of the administration since,” Grishanov noted.

“These are things that should have happened long ago, yes. For the work that has thus far been done, the Cossacks and all the people of Nekulturnya are thankful. Unfortunately, Tsar Pyotr was a man stuck in the past. Thankfully, Nikolai is a man with eyes to the future. That is why I wanted to speak with you. We all want the same things, you see. Up to this point, there has merely been a failure to communicate.” Vladimir explained.

“You have grievances. I know this. The Occupational Administration was often callous and insensitive about the spiritual needs of the population, even as it attended well to their bodies. Well, let me be clear. The camps have been dismantled. The clergy are free to practice and teach again. The harassment of the Church is over. I know that was a major grievance, and rightfully so. I myself had to pay lip service to State atheism just to get by, something for which I trust that my confession and penance have absolved since, or so my confessor assured me. Bear in mind that I was initially a hostage and prisoner of the New Macureans, due to being Ambassador to New Macureus when the war broke out. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Grishanov admitted.

“You are a good man, Arkady, I never doubted that for a moment. You are a man of god, a man of Nekulturnya. That is why I beseech you to restore the Tsardom of Nekulturnya in the form of a Constitutional Monarch with ceremonial powers. One Nation, one Church, one Tsar. You have the power to do it, to set things to rights once more, and bring back dignity to our people and our country in a 21st century form.”

“Well, Vladimir, I think that both of us want assurances from the other. Let me also assure you that the language is to be fully restored. That has begun. Relics are being returned from New Macurean museums. Our culture is being reinstated, albeit slowly and steadily given 16 years of admittedly chauvinistic New Macurean policies. As to the Church being restored, I am fine with a state church, provided that attendance isn’t mandatory for all of our people. I do not wish to go back to heresy trials and people being tortured for suspicion of religious dissent. What say you to to this?” Grishanov proposed.

“All of those terms are agreeable, Arkady. What the Grand Empire lacked was balance, and freedom. Mistakes that can be remedied this time around.” Vladimir answered enthusiastically.

“And regarding the monarchy, there should be some guarantees that command of the armed forces is limited in effect. That would be the key issue, I think. If the command is more than merely ceremonial, such as Queen Mara’s of the Edomite military, it would raise some hackles in New Macureus City and Arod, to put it mildly, not to mention in Zurich. The key decision is war powers. Who can send troops and where? We have begun raising an army of now roughly five divisions. We want them in good hands. What I propose is that the Tsar command certain ceremonial units and the actual military powers be committed to the head of government,” Grishanov sighed as he conceded the basic principle of a monarchy.

“That is most agreeable as well. As commander of the Cossacks, my loyalty would be to the government and its directives, you have my word as a Christian man.” Vladimir answered.

“And I presume that you want a section of territory that would be your traditional community, given how you tend to live apart from the rest of us,” Grishanov got that out of the way.

“No, that won’t be necessary. We have our villages, our towns. We will want to return to them, be with our families, and return to work in the fields, in the factories and preserving order and justice.” Vladimir responded. “We just want to keep what is ours, for the benefit of Nekulturnya. We do, however, want assurances of protection.”

“Such as the right to keep and bear arms?” Grishanov wondered aloud.

“Yes. That right especially.” Vladimir answered.

“No grenade launchers, no tanks, no SAMs. No heavy machine guns. But you can keep rifles, hand grenades, sabers, pistols, shotguns, and knives. Even assault rifles, you can keep. Just no heavy, military-grade weapons. Agreed?” Grishanov hoped.

“Agreed, Arkady. Without hesitation.”

“So, you will be considered part of the Militia. Willing to be called up for military duty whenever required by the needs of the Motherland, agreed?” Grishanov proposed.

“Yes. Without question or second thought.” Vladimir reassured him. “And the same for all Cossacks.”

“And we are agreed, first and foremost, that the new Nektulturnya needs to renounce weapons of mass destruction, such as nuclear armaments. We can’t afford such things and still meet the needs of our people, anyway,” Grishanov suggested.

“I agree. We never should have had those infernal weapons to begin with. Never again.” Vladimir agreed.

“Our country and culture is still heavily agricultural, but we have industries now, more than we did before. We also need to make sure that our students can compete with others in terms of knowledge and skill in a global, information-based economy. That means free trade and improved education. Do you agree? I propose that we adopt the Lamoni Plan for our educational system, wholesale. That will require some sacrifices, but I agree that it will improve our lot overall. Nekulturnya should become a social democracy of sorts. A proper free market, but balanced with generous social services. To achieve this, we need to limit the size of our military, I think. This will also make others more comfortable with us. I favor a small, but well-trained, reasonably equipped military, on the Lazodirian or Grossprussian models,” Grishanov suggested.

“I find that agreeable...just so long as Church sponsored private schools can still operate.”

“Provided that they agree to testing, basic standards of teaching necessary skills and knowledge, that sort of thing. We might have to donate some computers to the Church schools, with the understanding that it is underwritten by some charitable foundation or generous individuals. Of course, good Christians could simply put more in their collection plates on Sunday during Mass, too,” Grishanov noted.

“All agreeable terms.” Vladimir nodded.

“Excellent. Now about the legislative process. What do you think of, say, a parliamentary democracy with an elected Duma. Can be unicameral in this case. I think that the people need to see that the nobles aren’t trying to control the agenda these days. They are free to stand for office or serve the public in other roles, anyway. A premier, a cabinet, an independent judiciary. The rule of law. An extensive bill of rights. In other words, responsible government in a representative democracy. Crowned liberal democracy, like what they have in Lazodiria, Free Garza, and Wielkilas.”

“That is most agreeable, Arkady.”

“Also, is the Tsarevich married? If not, will he be soon? If not, we need a system of succession to ensure that his successor is someone acceptable to the people and the Motherland, as well as the world,” Grishanov inquired.

“No, Tsarevich Mikhail is unwed. I think an Edomite lady would be a good choice.” Vladimir stated.

“Which Edomite lady? This concerns us all, of course. I have no objection to an Edomite, of course, provided that she is not hostile to our friends. If this business is resolved, after all, there is no need for animosity. Anyone in particular? Perhaps that Ava lady,” Grishanov thought of one, “I hear she’s divorced now.”

“Ava Shalmaneser. Her brother is the Admiral Prince Elijah Shalmaneser.” Vladimir said.

“Sounds like a good choice. If he’s a good man, as you say, then she’d be better off with him than that silly cadet guy from Darmen,” Grishanov smirked, “just keep her away from Titus Clemens, the Roman Caesar. Rumor says that he still holds a torch for her.”

“Aye. Another idea is a Roman lady...the power of Rome could prove most useful as well in helping to legitimize the restoration.” Vladimir offered.

“If so, that would be Sulpicia Liciniana, the niece of Thrax, maybe. Thrax never had any children until it was too late. His only children are too young to be of use for marriages yet,” Grishanov sighed.

“Perhaps we can cross that bridge when we get to it. I believe the Tsar will agree to these terms if you present them to him in person. The real question, is will Melin go for it?”


“I think that he will and so will the Old Macs, but only if it is clear that there is a favorable treaty dealing with them. Use of ports, free trade, anti-piracy, non-aggression, etc. Namin, by the way, is talking of a Northern Acheron customs union, including possibly both Macs, Vyrsar, Nekulturnya, Deadora, Grossprussia, Allamunnic States, Nordkrusen, Wielkilas, and maybe even Ghant,” Grishanov noted.

“...Will Vyrsar and the westerlings accept this proposal? I suspect that we will have to renounce claim to the western lands, aside from those border towns and villages that would join us willingly.”

“That is sadly so. They’re ethnically different from us, so I suppose that is a matter of old jealousies coming to roost,” Grishanov noted with regret.

“If we renounce claim to them and recognize their government, that could be helpful, yes?”

“Probably. I don’t see why not? That’s what they want, yes? An independent, friendly, western state called Austrania,” Grishanov chuckled a little.

“Aye, we should give it to them. Austrania and Nekulturnya can live side by side in peace.”

“A republic and a monarchy can co-exist, especially with the latter being a constitutional one. I suppose that the Council of Delegates can pass the necessary election laws to arrange the first Duma election and nominate an interim executive pending the election results, as well as a mutually agreed upon Electoral Commission to supervise the count, campaigns, and register the parties,” Grishanov thought aloud, “they can also formally invite the Tsarevich to act as a constitutional monarch.”

“I would encourage you to meet with the Tsarevich personally. I have an idea as to the locale...what better place to end the occupation than the place where it all began? Eltanland.”

“Very well, then. I will confer with His Imperial Highness there. The capital of Eltanland, then...Eltana, as I recall. Let His Majesty King Emmanuel III attend, so he can be sure that he’s not being hoodwinked. By all means, you can attend as well,” Grishanov suggested.

“I shall. Be sure to address the King of Eltanland and the Tsarevich, if you would be so kind.”

“That sounds promising enough. Sounds like we can work this out among ourselves, mostly among us Neks, without too much involvement by foreigners, the King of Eltanland aside,” Grishanov agreed.

It was in that moment that Vladimir began to cry, sobbing as tears started streaming down his cheeks.

“What makes you cry now, Vladimir?” Grishanov wondered, truly stunned…..perhaps he had just lived among the cold, distant New Macs too long….the Old Macs were a little freer with their emotions, but only by degrees.

“Do you have children, Arkady?”
“A son, Dmitri Arkadyvich. He was killed in Paulburg with his wife. His two children now live with me, Yevgeni Dmitrovich and Natalya Dmitrovna,” Grishanov admitted.

“Your grandchildren, like my own children, will finally know what it is like to live in a country that they can be proud of. I had long dreamed a dream of Nekulturnya for Nekulturnyans, free, strong and good...one that learned from its mistakes. That dream shall be realized...many times in the past sixteen years I had wondered if it would ever come true.”

“Yes, the nightmare that we have lived with since 1998 will soon be over, if this plan is carried out, Vladimir,” Grishanov concurred.

“Thank you, Arkady. God bless you and your family. This is truly a great day.”

“God and the Saints be with you, Vladimir Borisevich,” Grishanov blessed him as he left, feeling more at peace than he expected to be at first.

[Hittanryan]

Mossimo's, Izotza

"You know..." Jay said with a wry smile despite his stomach's grumbling addition to the conversation, "you don't need to be a journalist to write a letter to the editor. You'll probably never met one of those writers here in Izotza. Why it's so far away, and there's actually stuff happening here!"

As Denisov spoke, Jay's face kept calm but his heart started to pound in his chest. Tonight, meeting with the duke himself, exclusive access, and no horse-trading or anything. This was it! Weeks of the hunt was finally getting somewhere! Nothing like having the satisfaction of an idea coming to fruition, especially after enduring weeks of spinning your wheels in the cold.

Jay's stomach shared his excitement. Wincing ever so slightly, Jay continued to suppress the after-effects of lunch as he expressed his enthusiasm and gratitude. "From my perspective? That sounds like one hell of a deal, Mr. Denisov. To our new mutually-beneficial arrangement," he said, raising his glass. The instant he did so, however, there was a long squeaking sound capped off by a rather classic raspberry.

'I'm never eating any local Ghantish food again...' Jay thought bitterly, trying to hold a straight face.

[New Edom]

Mossimo's, Izotza

"You know..." Jay said with a wry smile despite his stomach's grumbling addition to the conversation, "you don't need to be a journalist to write a letter to the editor. You'll probably never met one of those writers here in Izotza. Why it's so far away, and there's actually stuff happening here!"

Denisov laughed, flashing teeth, from the belly. "You're so right! That's absolutely what I was thinking! I'm just imagining some soft assed academic in Nekulturnya, shitting his pants or wanting her mama! Ha!"

Denisov caught wind of his condition--literally--as he raised his glass for the toast. He couldn't help but expel air from his nose instinctively. Whew! "Our arrangement! Look--I've got to go--" get some fresh air "I'll settle the bill, hm? Again..." he offered his hand before he left, "Nice to have met you, Mr. Muro."

He went and settled the bill, including a tip, and headed to his next appointment, which was with some local television and radio executives to affirm good contacts and friendliness.

---

"...and Denisov is looking after the media matters for us, so that leaves going to visit Boris at this camp he's setting up," said Pavel, checking his tie in the hallway mirror.

"You look very smart in the uniform," said Sonia approvingly, stepping in to help him, smoothing his lapels fondly.

They walked together into a room where a number of senior officers were waiting--most of them, he felt, were on the other side of active service, but they'd be involved more with planning than anything. Many of them were on the liberal side of Tsarist support--for the sake of public relations--but Pavel was not sure really how good any of this was. He honestly didn't know.

They however all stood up, putting tea, wine and vodka glasses aside, put dainties down, and stood to attention. They thundered all at once "GOD SAVE THE TSAR!"

"Thank you, gentlemen, thank you," Pavel said, feeling deep down that lurch again. But he remembered that even all the exalted ranks and medals around him didn't necessarily mean field experience--but these men, his staff, were needed to organize his campaign. Particularly Prince Alexei Gordunov. Strong face. Dark bold eyebrows, a charismatic smile, broad shoulders.

"You have your mother's eyes," he said warmly to Sonia, bowing deeply.

"You flatter me, my mother is still I feel a great beauty..." Sonia said with a flash of a sweet smile.

"Ah, your mother, she broke the mold..." sighed Gordunov.

"Shall we look over the order of battle? You will give my wife too large a head, she won't be able to enter a dining room," said Pavel.

"Here we are," said his Chief of Staff, Major-General Prince Evraim Bagration, who was an old friend, a schoolmate, newly promoted. He looked very dashing in his uniform; Pavel knew from going to the club with him that he had a flat boyish stomach, the thighs of a professional runner.

"We have:
- two platoons of special forces
- four light cavalry regiments
- eight mechanized infantry regiments
- two urban mechanized infantry regiments
- four motorized infantry regiments
- four field artillery regiments
- two air defense regiments
- one air superiority fighter group
- one air support group
- one naval support flotilla
- one strike force squadron. Nearly forty thousand troops..."

"The composition of these troops are largely Nekulturnyans who had worked with CLI. We have therefore a fully professional force. A conventional one of course."

Pavel said, "I've been considering the problems--how will we deal with lack of ground support in Nekulturnya itself? I'm not sure about the Cossacks..."

"When the main body of equipment gets here we will have an operational plan for a naval and air supported invasion. Which could result in heavy casualties...." explained Gordunov, pointing to a map. "I'll get old Lupinsky there though, one way or another."

It sounded very thrilling, but Pavel was painfully aware that Gordunov had not commanded so much as a frigate in fifteen years. He would apparently be ably assisted by men who had served with the CLI naval military--but he had doubts he could barely put a finger upon...

[New Edom]

The Home of Grand Duke Pavel Zetksy-Orlov, Izotza

The the interior of the town house was decorated with a simple rather clear and yet warm design, with a large entrance hall, elegant furniture (most of it designed at a local carpentry shop), smooth neutral textures and artsy decorations. From artwork to furnishing details, everything was selected with care. Glass, metal and wood harmonise beautifully. Space was divided in two different areas: private and social.

A lady with attractive slavic features and her dark hair in a soft wavy bob welcomed Jay Muro at the door, wearing a black sweater and slacks. "Hello Mr. Muro," she said, as the valet accepted his jacket. "I'm the Grand Duchess Sonia. Welcome to our home. I hope you will feel free to contact either of us through Mr. Denisov. We're so glad that the New Laconia Times wants to cover our story!"

She led him into the spacious living room where Denisov was talking to a middle aged man with a prominent nose and amiable though rather plain features on close examination--his attractiveness more his friendliness and an air of charm than truly handsome features--wearing a light grey suit jacket and light brown sweater and slacks, who nodded pleasantly.

"Mr. Muro, I believe you know Mr. Denisov already--and may I present Mr. Jay Muro of the New Laconia Times," she said, gesturing to Pavel, who said, in a very accented but very clearly pronounced voice,

"I am Pavel Zetsky-Orlov, Mr. Muro." while he was friendly looking he did not smile--Nekulturnyans didn't really do a lot of social smiling. "I realize that this has all been rather mysterious, but I hope that I can clear that all up." he looked at the sleepy eyed valet, and then at Jay. "Can we offer you anything to drink, Mr. Muro, before we begin? And tell me, how much do you know of Nekulturnyan history? What confusions exist beyond this editorial by Mr...." he pronounced the word rather carefully, "Sunderland, that we need to clear up for your people of Adiron?"

[New Macureus]

"Approximately, 3 divisions so far of Ground Defense Forces, plus 2 squadrons of the Air Defense Forces, and a naval strike force from the Naval Defense Forces of 7 frigates, General. That is our present military strength in Nekulturnya, not counting 56,000 plus Nekulturnyans, mostly untrained, with only a brigade so far being fully trained. Roughly 5,453 fully trained Nekulturnyan nationals under arms as an auxiliary military detachment. The next brigade is undergoing training as we speak. Might I make a suggestion? They should be blooded as they are trained. Give them active combat experience. I propose that they be attached to a conflict at some distance from their homeland. Far from the region is best, if possible. I propose that these forces be assigned to the military operations in Delvian States, perhaps with the Imperial, Edomite, or Ossorian forces," General Ira Murayawa asserted, having been called in to brief the Supreme Commander....his language, as always less pedantic than was typical for a New Macurean, but then he was a Dengali by birth, a Kavo in fact.

"What of our Security Forces?" the General inquired.

"They are certainly of optimal value, Supreme Commander," Colonel Adza Marun of the Security Forces assured him, "at present, we estimate their personnel to be at 4,241 in Nekulturnya. Also near the Nekulturnyan border, we have stationed 2 divisions, 2 air squadrons, and 1 naval strike force of 5 frigates, plus 1 destroyer and 1 submarine. Also, there are 2,125 Security Forces stationed near the border as well."

"Excellent review then. We will continue to avoid any and all involvement in Dengali, unless either side can offer us something of value to our interests, naturally," General Melin remarked, "our national strategic interests preclude a decisive commitment to either belligerent at this juncture, Citizens."

"Nevertheless, we are willing to entertain the Edomites with their Delvian ventures? That might be construed as adversarial to Deadoran and thus Vyrsarian interests," Marun objected.

"It may be so construed, but that is mere conjecture, is it not? Does not our meritocratic and logical adherence to a classless society necessitate some investment in the pursuit of social justice in nations presently oppressed and exploited by chattel slavery? Does not the Ossorian state, a nation neutral in matters Edomite, have a significant role in this operation, as does our fellow socialist nation Schottia? It occurs to me that this Delvian matter is entirely separate from that of Dengali, though the Pahath-Moab regime is certainly at liberty to presuppose whatever they desire to assume," Melin overcame her objection in his cold, off-handed manner that was his usual style, "to protect both of our opportunities, we will also assign some, in fact the majority, to the Vyrsarians for their retraining if they co-operate and actual combat against the Cossacks. It is a high-risk scenario, but sooner or later, we must anticipate their loyalties."

To: Brigadier General Perrin Pahath-Moab; High Queen Tara Silven; Council Leader Amy Connell; Tsar Constantin III
From: General Ios Melin, Supreme Commander of New Macureus

Esteemed Colleagues,

It is in the general interest and collective welfare of the mutual struggle against the practice of chattel-bondage and its oppressive, feudal trappings, that I, General Melin, as Supreme Commander, hereby propose that a contingent of Nekulturnyans presently under training for combat service in the nascent Armiya Nekulturnya in the Protectorate of Nekulturnya, be assigned to service in the anti-piracy, anti-slavery forces in the Empire of Delvian States. As a socialist nation and a Slavic one as well, also noting the Slavic origins of the Nekulturnyans, New Macureus has concluded that such a force, a brigade in strength, would be of value to such operations against the pirates and slavers and would in turn develop valuable combat experience of the kind unattainable in most present conditions.

Permit us, then to refer to you the name of Colonel Anatoly Faber, a Nekulturnyan of mixed Slavic-Germanic origins, who would be the ideal commander of this detachment. He served for 8 years in the Imperial Nekulturnyan Army prior to the War in 1998, rising to the rank of Major just prior to the outbreak of hostilities, fighting valiantly during one of the few engagements following the detonation in Paulburg.

We hope that you concur as to his selection and assign him duties appropriate to his abilities, namely command of mechanized and light infantry.

Science and reason,
General Ios Melin, Supreme Commander

To: Chancellor Adenaeur of Vyrsar
From: General Ios Melin

Esteemed Chancellor,

Permit some candor at this juncture, if you will. Prior to recent events and crises, the anticipation was one of annexation, so the prospect of training an indigenous force in Nekulturnya was relegated to later opportunities. Regrettably, this has left our present recruits woefully unprepared for actual combat. For this reason, I propose that they be assigned to training centers in Vyrsar and then given combat duty against the Cossacks and other insurgents at the earlier possible moment.

If you are favorable to this proposition, would affect some 44,000 or so such Nekulturnyan recruits, I encourage your prompt response.

Science and reason,
General Ios Melin, Supreme Commander of New Macureus

[Hittanryan]

The Home of Grand Duke Pavel Zetksy-Orlov, Izotza

Thanks to the passage of time and a bottle of thick pink liquid he found at a foreign-run convenience store, Muro's stomach had calmed. He had to hope Denisov had not relayed the more embarrassing parts of their meeting to the Duke. Sure, he was suffering from food poisoning, but he had no idea how that sort of thing might be perceived. A foreigner too weak to handle the local cuisine? Wet-behind the ears kid?

He wasn't any less intimidated when a lovely woman in black opened the door for him. East Acheronian women...felt like so many of them were built just right. Even the Chancellor of Vyrsar was a statuesque woman, much like the Grand Duchess here. Something about her, couldn't place his finger on it...maybe it was the hips...or the voice...

Muro's other head abruptly forced him to stop fantasizing. Last thing he needed was have yet another meeting disrupted by an unfortunate physical reaction. "Your Highness, I am honored to be invited to your home today," he replied, bowing vaguely out of no other idea of how to respond. "I uh..." he started, suddenly blanking. Coughing a little to cover himself, he said "I hope I was not imposing on you."

'Imposing? They invited you here, you idiot,' his internal monologue quickly chastised.

The mansion seemed to defy Muro's preconceptions. He'd expected gaudy and ostentatious, fit for a family who had bilked its country out of millions to fill their own coffers. Maybe this was a second home? Plus, the Grand Duke wasn't the Tsarevich, after all. Upon closer inspection as Sonia led on, grateful for a suitable distraction, he noticed that the house was constructed of the finest materials, built for elegance and atmosphere, not a grand display. This was old money at work, not nouveau riche.

Eventually he came to meet the Grand Duke himself. Unfortunately, he found himself nervous yet again, this time for professional reasons rather than base instincts. 'Don't fuck this up,' he thought. "Your Serene Highness, thank you for meeting with me this evening on such short notice...I could go for a scotch, actually."

Pavel asked about his knowledge of Nekulturnya. "I'll be honest, Grand Duke, I'm just a reporter. We all take global history class in high school, but I'm certainly no expert on Nekulturnyan history beyond the basics," he said as his drink arrived and he sampled it. "I'm afraid I don't know much about your family beyond what I might find in a history text or in an online encyclopedia. I know the basics, but not the full story. I imagine most know less than that..."

Pavel had brought up the editorial. "...and some pundits have a great talent for oversimplification, as Mr. Denisov and I discussed earlier," he said, nodding to Denisov. "I hope you won't mind if I speak frankly on this matter, but your family has...something of an image problem. As indicated by Mr. Sunderland's op-ed, some Adirans hear the name Zetsky-Orlov and it immediately conjures images of a cigar-munching, womanizing Tsar Pyotr frittering away his treasury on his palaces and a nuclear pipe dream which would end in a horrific tragedy. It is synonymous to some with a corrupt, aloof aristocracy which abuses the privileges of its rank while ignoring its responsibilities."

"Of course, if people could see the real House Zetsky-Orlov, I imagine your image would improve. It would at least inspire discussion, rather than simply jumping to conclusions."

[Ghant]

“Old Friends and New Beginnings”
New Macureus City, New Macureus

Otho Odobas, Ghantish ambassador to New Macureus, was under instructions by Prince Mathias of Ghant, special emissary to New Macureus, to arrange a meeting with General Melin and Protector Grishanov of Nekulturnya. Mathias had been made aware of certain terms and agreements organized by Grishanov and the Cossacks that would restore the Tsardom in Eastern Nekulturnya...it fell upon Mathias’s shoulders to help convince Melin of the merits of this, and to bring the conflict to an end, once and for all.

Grishanov was more than a little nervous, in spite of his bravado, when dealing with the Boss. The General. The Supreme Commander. So many terms for the same guy, the same serenely ruthless man in the Nehru jacket and the bald head...a man who could coolly sign death warrants over his lunch of soybeans and black bread with herbal tea (often Edomite, as it reminded him of Sif Finnhald, but that was his personal secret). The man was an enigma to people, even now. He was an extremely hard-working, but physically fit man even now. He seldom had anything resembling a personal life whatsoever. He was known to live in his office, a very austere, utilitarian place with a shower specially installed so that he could maintain proper hygiene while staying there 24/7 and sleeping on the futon.

Prince Mathias was the fifth and youngest son of Emperor Albert and Empress Grace. A man of 47, he was of modest height and modest build. He had a pleasant, attractive round face with beady brown eyes and short black hair. He wore a court outfit to give away his position of a Prince of Ghant. When faced with security, he announced himself and showed the Imperial seal so that it was known who he was and what his business was.

“So, the famous Prince Mathias, I see. You are a most fascinating fellow, if I may so stipulate. What is your candid view of New Macureus and its logical socialist meritocracy?” Melin asked calmly, not a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Mathias gave a courteous bow. “It is different from what we know in Ghant, truly, but it is none the less pleasing. Our nations have made our friendship work for over a hundred years, made stronger by the differences which help to illuminate our strengths, and compensate for each other’s weaknesses.”

“And yet of late, the differences have been more prominent, have they not?” Melin raised the issue of Nekulturnya by degrees.

Mathias took a seat. “Only insofar as there has been a failure to communicate. That is why I am here. Would it not be most logical for our great nations to talk and treat in a way that would lend itself to understanding and productivity?” Mathias asked.

“Presumably, that would be most conducive to a mutually satisfactory relationship. However, we must also determine that our interests, nationally speaking, continue to converge in enough respects, must we not?” Melin responded.

“Certainly. There are things that you want, and things that we want, and it is with great respect for your needs that we are here.” Mathias turned to Grishanov. “Mr. Grishanov, would you be so kind as to present your proposal to General Melin?”

“Absolutely, of course. Here it is,” Grishanov handed over the proposed tentative agreement that Vladimir and he had worked out between them….rather anxiously and nervously, of course.

“Fascinating, yet what does this accomplish for the national interests of New Macureus, I must inquire,” Melin said as he finished reading and eating his dinner of stir fried vegetables, chicken, and rice.

Mathias nodded. “A fair thing to wonder, and one that I mean to leave you feeling satisfied with before this meeting comes to an end. Firstly, let me say that I believe that with the situation in Nekulturnya ended on peaceful and reasonable terms, not only will New Macureus gain an unwavering friend and partner in the Kingdom of Nekulturnya, but also it will allow New Macureus peace of mind and security on that border, while also giving it the opportunity to focus its attention and resources to other areas. Is it not a logical course to turn would be enemies into unflinching allies? Don’t take my word for it, see for yourself.”

It was then that Ambassador Odobas stepped forward from Mathias’s group of retainers with Vladimir in tow. Vladimir approached Melin and dropped to one knee. “Great General, it is I, Vladimir, Commander of the Nekulturnyan Cossacks. I beseech you to accept these terms for the betterment of our two nations. I swear to you now that as long as I draw breath, not only shall I be grateful for your mercy and compassion, but also shall risk all to keep the peace and protect and defend our friends and allies to the south.”

Mathias nodded, “you see, General? Running a simple cost benefit analysis will show you that the benefits of this arrangement far outweigh the costs. Having said that, I am not a man who likes to leave any room for doubt. So, being familiar with the basic principles of the agreement, I would ask if you have any conditions that you would like to make known.”

“Well, I would be remiss if I did not ask what precise benefits I derive that I do not already possess, both my nation and myself. What do you offer me that I do not already control in partnership with the Old Macureans?” General Melin asked the most obvious query.

“The Cossacks would be prepared to fully liquidate, there would be no longer any Tsarist threat, and you would have the unwavering loyalty of the Empire of Ghant at your disposal.” Mathias said.

“Which part of Ghant is this? Ghish? Gaemar? Dakmoor?” Melin naturally wondered.

“...Ghish, of course. Ghant as a nation has been made to feel insecure by the machinations of Vyrsar...and this would be something that would make us all sleep much better at night, you see. Ghant has done much and more on this side of the Sea to ensure as much, has it not? How much Ghantish blood was shed for your country in its defense during the Great War? Enough for the proverbial dog to be thrown a bone, I would think.”

“Let us talk practical realities, shall we? These Cossacks, would they be prepared to do some nasty work for me? Knife work, as it were. That might be an inducement of sorts,” Melin wondered.

“...Could you be more specific if you would be so kind, General?” Mathias asked.

“I have enemies, same as the next man. Sometimes, I have embarrassing obstacles to my purposes, same as the next man. If, for instance, some unsavory people were eliminated who were not of benefit to me, I might have cause to look more favorably and sympathetically on the Tsarist cause, at least in terms of considering such a plan more seriously,” Melin became blunter.

“Are you suggesting that in exchange for endorsing this proposal by Protector Grishanov, you would have the Cossacks engage in some clandestine activities on your behalf?” Mathias wondered with a raised eyebrow.

“That would certainly improve my view of this proposition. Take, for instance, key figures responsible for extra-constitutional actions in Ghish. A little too close to home? Malibar, for instance,” Melin raised an eyebrow and offered some herbal tea to his guests casually as he spoke of assassination.

Mathias’s eyes narrowed. “No...what you are suggesting there is most unsavory. Would it not be enough for him to return on his own to Dakar? I have reason to believe that Flavia Ahenobarba, as Imperial proxy, would send him packing back to Dakmoor. Him dying would be bad for our country, and I cannot be a party to that.”

“Alright, then, what of some other, also unsavory persons? Say, for instance, certain political figures in say, Dengali, or maybe Shrailleen. Governor Butler, for example,” Melin inquired.

“I don’t think anyone needs to die, General.” Mathias was firm. “This is about peace, about healing and about moving forward. Not about death and murder. Haven’t you had enough of that? Wasn’t that why Pyotr was brought down to being with...to prevent that?”

“Peace is the ideal. However, it is not always practical or logical. There are times when for the national interest, some drastic measures have to be taken. We’re not talking war. Just a few knives in the dark. Cloak and dagger, as you foreign sentimentalists like to say. Perhaps a useful kidnapping, then? Vair Padin? Get her out of the country. Safely, with no ties to me. Where her chances of ever resuming power are gone forever,” Melin raised the idea.

“So...I secure the transfer of Vair Padin to Ghant...would that be something you would appreciate?” Mathias asked.

“I hoped for something more secure than that. A psychiatric facility in say, Gaemar or Onmutu. Far away from prying eyes, naturally. Treated no different from the other patients, of course. Nothing to suggest that she is anything but another mental patient. Also….Dara Cavin. If you can grab her while you’re at it, that would help. Some retirees do not know when to stay retired,” Melin suggested regarding the former leader of Old Macureus, his neighbor….her successor seemed far more useful, after all.

“Alright...Vair Padin and Dara Cavin...securing them and having them transfered to a mental health facility in Dakmoor...I can do that.” Mathias responded.

“Why Dakmoor? Why not Onmutu?” Melin inquired.

“...Dakmoor is further away. Although, any place you want would be permissible.”

“And former Queen Denise of Gavinium Magnus. Get her safely out of Deadora. Only get her here. I have some inquiries to make of her. I believe that she had a hand in the Beck coup and if I can prove it, I have leverage over Deadora,” Melin added.

“Alright, that can be done as well. Anything else?”


“A sixty-year lease on 3 ports in Eastern Nekulturnya for use by the Naval Defense Forces. That would maintain and even increase our force projection, as some of these ports are presently controlled by Old Macureus.”

Mathias turned to Grishanov. “That is reasonable, is it not, Mr. Grishanov?”

“Yes...of course. What else do you want, Supreme Commander?” Grishanov asked nervously.

“Ah, yes, of course. I do seem to be in high fettle of late. Suddenly, people who didn’t have time for me yesterday are busy courting me like fortune-hunters with a wealthy widow,” Melin observed, “anyway, I also desire full free trade with Nekulturnya on the basis of a complete customs union. Up to and including a common external tariff and no internal tariffs whatsoever.”

Mathias once again turned his eyes to Grishanov. “Mr. Grishanov?”

“No objection, of course,” Grishanov gulped, utterly awed by Melin.

“And a common currency? The mac, of course,” Melin inquired.

Mathias turned to Grishanov again. “What about the ruble? It is a cultural institution.”

“To be frank, its value was something less than great at its heyday. I know from the outside it seemed like an institution, but try being a merchant or peasant using rubles. It sucked balls, to pardon the profanity,” Grishanov recalled quite sincerely.

“Well, that is up to you, Mr. Grishanov. Would you accept a common currency under the mac?” Mathias asked.

“I am not opposed, but I would propose that a branch of the common bank operate out of Nekulturnya, so as to employ plenty of Nekulturnyans seeking a future in high finance. Also, that some Nekulturnyans be named to positions on the central board of directors,” Grishanov countered.

“Agreeable in that respect, at least. More expansion of venture capital, an excellent chance to grow the economy in Nekulturnya and New Macureus at once. Anyway, I also favor a strong National Police in Nekulturnya. There must be such a police force, even if funds have to be diverted from other things. I want to be sure that organized crime, piracy, etc. are curtailed and continue to be after we leave.”

“That seems reasonable...don’t you think, Mr. Grishanov?” Mathias asked.

“Perfectly. What else, General?” Grishanov wondered.

“Anti-piracy, anti-digital piracy, anti-slavery, anti-human trafficking accords. Anti-whaling as well. Full power by the Naval Defense Forces to enforce admiralty law with slavers captured in the waters of the leased ports,” Melin insisted.

“That seems fair to me.” Mathias agreed, before turning his eyes to Grishanov.

“Only in the waters of the ports, as well as other areas under naval operation and command. No civilian areas on land and so forth. We need due process of law,” Grishanov begrudgingly concurred.

“A non-aggression pact for a minimum of 50 years. A friendship treaty. Extradition agreements. Student exchange programs. Cultural exchange programs. Sister cities,” Melin continued.

“Fair enough, General. Mr. Grishanov?”

“Accepted. What else, sir?” Grishanov truly wondered.

“The permanent guarantee, in the Constitution of Nekulturnya, that your country cannot wage war except when invaded, nor can it deploy forces outside territorial waters without the consent of the Five Powers. Also, the permanent agreement of the Cossacks that Mr. Grishanov’s life is inviolable,” Melin kept up the demands.

“Not the consent of the Five Powers. Just New Macureus, Old Macureus and Ghant.” Mathias countered for the first time. “The rest sounds good.”

“Excellent. I can agree to that,” Melin answered, “I simply wish to reiterate also that Nekulturnya is to become a peaceful, largely disarmed nation. No nuclear weapons. No chemical weapons. No biological weapons. No thermobaric weapons. No main battle tanks. No ground-attack aircraft. No cruise missiles or long-range artillery. No aircraft carriers or heavy cruisers,” Melin insisted, “light tanks are fine. So are IFVs, APCs, and multi-role fighters. No strategic or long-range bombers.”

“Seems agreeable enough. I doubt Mr. Grishanov would disagree.” Mathias responded.

“Nor would I. Like New Othman, Nekulturnya needs to prove her peaceful intentions. Perhaps more so, given our past,” Grishanov admitted.

“These are some good amendments to the initial set of terms.” Mathias commented. “Was there anything else, General?”

“The soldiers that you are to use will be those currently on loan to various assignments. You will not call them back until ready. In effect, you will be a demilitarized zone until then. Can you accept that? By then, they will be trained and ready to fight,” Melin informed them.

“That seems fine to me. Would Nekulturnya be free to apply to the CPO or to NCTO?” Mathias asked.

“NCTO might be construed as adversarial to New Macurean interests. We would need to verify that this is not the case first. CPO, however, is not an issue. And would there be an option for New Macureus’s new private firms to expand into Nekulturnya and thus increase their market share?” Melin demanded.

“I would assume so, General, but I would elect to defer that to Mr. Grishanov.” Mathias responded.

“Naturally. I know how crucial the privatization program is for New Macureus in your transition from a command economy to a market one,” Grishanov answered.

“Also, would there be an opportunity for a pro-Intellectual party to be registered for elections? Would the Tsar also agree to uphold the Protector’s authority during the transition?” Melin kept asking.

“...I don’t see why not. If there is a demand for a certain party, then surely such a party would exist and be registered for elections. And from what I have gathered, the Tsar would personally recognize and confirm Mr. Grishanov as Lord Protector of the Realm.” Mathias explained.

“Lord Protector? The Tsar would be aware that the sovereignty is not transferred until he is installed in office, yes?” Melin asked.

“Yes, that would merely be a formality, General. My apologies for the confusion.”

“And the Tsarevich would marry a candidate acceptable to New Macureus, yes, to ensure that no enemies of New Macureus ever rule Nekulturnya?” Melin insisted.

“Yes. Some current candidates include Princess Ava Shalamenser of New Edom, Sulpicia Liciniana of Rome, or any other such Edomite or Roman.” Mathias answered.

“And this would be done before the sovereignty is transferred, but after the Protector is confirmed in office. Call him Premier instead, just for clarity,” Melin proposed, “also this monarch is to have no political role. Is that clear? Strictly a figurehead.”

“Correct, General.” Mathias answered, matter of factly.

“I can agree to that, with one last caveat. You must get Pavel and Sonia to accept it. If not, this is all academic. They are the strongest champions of this whole Tsarist movement, you know,” Melin insisted.

“I plan on getting Nikolai, Pavel and Sonia to accept these terms.” Mathias answered. “Were there any other terms or conditions you wished to add as amendments?”

“Oh, yes. One more. No public subsidy of the Church. The Church might be a nominal state church, but must be funded entirely by offerings and voluntary donations,” Melin spoke crisply.

“Seems fair enough, don’t you think so, Premier?” Mathias asked.

“Works for me, friends,” Grishanov had misty eyes. He knew full well that this might still have obstacles, being a realist, but the patriot in him wanted badly for it to work. Not to mention that this would make him the real ruler of the Motherland.

Heady wine for the son of a haberdasher instead. Well, a haberdasher and the Countess who dumped him on her lover’s doorstep as an embarrassment. That affair had ended poorly indeed.

“So, General, since we have reached an accord, I would ask that you sign and endorse these terms, and I would have a copy sent to Izotan for Nikolai to review and accept...for himself, Pavel and Sonia to sign.” Mathias said.

“Very well, then. Done and done,” Melin signed the protocol, smiling only a little out of character for him.

“Thank you General. These terms shall be transmitted posthaste. And as a man of my word, I shall remain here in New Macureus until both Vair Padin and Dara Cavin are in my possession, and once you have been delivered Queen Denise. ”

Vladimir was misty eyed. “Thank you, General. You truly are a great man, merciful and just. Your generosity this day will not be forgotten, and Nekulturnyans shall sing praises of you for many years to come.”

“That is good to know. In any case, I seldom drink, but on this occasion, some vodka is in order. A shot each?” Melin offered a shot to each.

“Why certainly, General. You are most generous indeed.” Mathias complimented as he took a shot. Vladimir took one too. “I would like to propose a toast then, to old friends and new beginnings!”

“To old friends and new beginnings. Also, to peace and prosperity for all of us,” Melin noted, as while he was still a socialist in many ways, he was architect of the recent market reforms under the Reorganizing Initiative, New Macureus’s version of glasnost and perestroika.

Old Friends and New Beginnings indeed, Mathias thought as he took the shot. The taste was somehow sweet.

[Deadora]

TO: Citizen Dir Datin, Commissar of Foreign Affairs of New Macureus
FROM: Dezsheveir D'Veir, Ambassador from the Feminist Empire of Deadora
ENCRYPTION: Hand delivered in sealed diplomatic pouch

---

Commissar,

I find that we are in agreement regarding the condemnable behaviour of such nations as the Ghantar and Garzans, with their blatant and, frankly, irresponsible rhetoric. It is the duty of lawful nations to stand for order and stability, not undermine it at every turn. I am therefore available at your earliest convenience to discuss in depth how Deadora can support your efforts to resist Ghantish meddling in eastern Nekulturnya. After all, they are an isolated and backward people, not of North Acheron proper.

Yours,
Dezsheveir D'Veir
Ambassador to the Scientific State of New Macureus on behalf of the Feminist Empire of Deadora

[New Edom]

A Training Field, Izotza, Ghant

Before the young man had come into the town house, they had received information about the outfitting of the mercenary force they had hired beginning. Lupinsky was to head out soon to take command, speak with the already pleasant leaders, make plans and connections with them along with the Grand Admiral. Supplies, ammunition, radio equipment, the main body being loaded up somewhere in Common Territory.

But in the meantime the Brigade of Guards had been reformed and were being put through their paces.

Exhausted soldiers in winter coats and battle dress marched along a country road after dark, moving their feet in unison, breath puffing out around them. They moved in companies and in battalions. Some were young, many mature to middle aged among them.

They moved their eyes around as their officer snapped "Eyes--right!" as they passed the group of staff standing near an idling land rover. The officers raised their hands in salute, and the company commander snapped, "Eyes--front!"

Looking at their faces, like those of done in animals exhausted to near mindlessness, General Lupinsky shook his head. "The Timeon Guard! Reduced to this," he remarked to his staff. "Blown after PT and obstacle training! Mind you--" he patted his stomach. "Who am I to judge? Still, how many other units are like this, Arkady Efremovich?"

His chief of staff, Major-General Arkady E. Starukhin, said, "Unfortunately a lot, sir. We have of course our boys who've been working in the CLI, but God knows what their actual morale is like, or their...well...moral fiber, come to that..."

"What are you talking about, Arkady Efremovich?" demanded Lupinsky.

"Well...you know what the Commoner soldiers are like, and it's a Commoner company. They've been mercenaries, no doubt they are all a bunch of butchers and ready to shout sauve qui peut..."

"Maybe. But what choice have we other than going back to jobs that we don't want? Die in some cheap bed with debts to give our children and no honour?" said Lupinsky, staring at him.

"I take your point, sir...here come the Tsarsko Guards..."

Lupinsky watched them. This was a little better--keen eyed, straight backed, rhythmic clean breathing--but they were all boys. Little more than. He realized that the oldest was early twenties, the rest barely shaven. Kids. Officers, NCOs and men all. He wondered if any had ever mounted a woman or shed anything's blood bigger than a rat in their lives. He returned the salute of the proud company commander--no doubt the relative of some colonel or general--and saw the clear gaze of a boy who thinks himself immortal, and felt an old shudder. He had buried a number of boys like that. May this one be luckier.

---

The Home of Grand Duke Pavel Zetksy-Orlov, Izotza

"My family. Yes. I don't recall the Tsar Pyotr smoking a cigar--he was a pipe man--but he had a deal of difficulty listening to people. He tended to trust only high ranking military officers and senior members of the aristocracy with military experience. In short, he was a soldier, but...a monarch must be more than that, even an absolute one.

"I think that it was this that led to our nation's demise--a failure to heed counsel and consider alternatives. What I hope for for our country, it's very different. What I hope for is that we can have a constitutional monarchy, like that of Wielkilas or Lazodiria--where the monarch has executive power but it is agreed with by the consensus of our people, and where our judges are appointed by a process where both take part, so that there is some balance to government. I honestly believe this would have prevented the war and the nuclear destruction that followed."

Pavel suddenly smiled for the first time, and shook hi shead. "Mr. Muro, I have talked on! You no doubt came with questions for me--please ask."

"Er...just fifteen minutes, Mr. Muro," said Denisov politely. He looked at the Grand Duke.

"Hm? Oh yes...just fifteen minutes," said Pavel. "And do sit down, Mr. Muro, make yourself at ease. No ceremony." Sonia sat elegantly to the other side of Pavel on a chair, crossing her legs gracefully, watching with her slightly sloe eyes with a faint smile on her face. Denisov got up an got himself a drink of tea from the servant who also gave Muro his and then withdrew.

[Vyrsar]

The indoor underground club was open and still chilly, but what heat circulation there was and the sheer amount of people made up for it. Most of the light was granted by fires and the bright strobe and neon lights around. The room was massive. A former underground bunker from the war days that had been turned into an underground club. Tonight, though, the attendance was exclusive. Projected, massive on one of the concrete walls, a red iron cross with Variscii lettering underneath it. That was a sign to everyone.

The equally big speakers maintained the dominance in the room, blasting electro house. The noise of the crowd- populated by newly christened Templar members celebrating their passage of their final tests- was similarly deafening. Madaleine von Braun- or, by her Variscii name, Sahvenah- found herself in this absolute mess and was loving it. On her upper right shoulder, a fresh dark red Vyrsarian Templar Cross tattoo was still slightly sore as it had only been a few days. On her other arm, a swirling tribal tattoo pattern ran in a sleeve down to her wrist in interlocking graceful lines of red and black. On the backs of her hands, the Vyrsarian Templar Cross were tattooed in very dark red. The one on her left hand was made to look as though it was coming from the tribal pattern. The one on the back of her right wasn't as intricately integrated, only leading into a pattern similar to the left that ended at just above her wrist. All blatant and open symbols of her affiliation. Her bright blonde hair hung down straight and free to just below her bust. Despite the cold outside, she wore a plain bright white tank top that hugged her figure and a pair of relatively loose red jogging pants- pulled up to her knees- with a pair of flat black extra-grip padded cross training shoes. Normal clothes. Not that anyone would pay much attention to what she was wearing. Most of the attention was drawn to a clearing in the middle of the crowd in a circle, where two other new members were displaying their pride. Behind them in the crowd, on poles, two people flew both the Vyrsarian and Templar flags. The two young men in the actual circle were busy waving around a dirty Nekulturnyan flag. As another man stepped out of the crowd with a folded up piece of fabric, they promptly threw the flag on the hard concrete ground. The man unfolded the flag, revealing it to be a Ghantish flag. The crowd gave a loud 'boo' that resonated. Then, when he tossed it to the floor and planted his boot on it, the booing switched to cheering. He then picked it up, and one of the other two picked up a Nekulturnyan flag. From somewhere in the crowd, someone's shout was heard, speaking in Variscii.

"Ag!"

The shout was echoed, and slowly turned into a chant.

"Ag, ag, ag!"

Burn, burn, burn. One of the men smirked and obliged, producing a silver lighter from his pocket. He flicked the cap open and set open the flame. The other two set one of the corners of each of the flags next to each other, and the man held the flame to it. Madeleine couldn't draw her eyes away from the sight of the flames as they enveloped the flags. She found herself cheering with the rest of the crowd. The noise, the lights, everything was overwhelming. She found her eyes drawn to the flames themselves. With 6/3, or what other countries called 20/10, vision, she was blessed with near-perfect eyesight. Something she was grateful for. The rest- her extreme athletic ability, reflexes, and superb education- was a product of the Templar Order of which she had been inducted into. And she couldn't possible be more grateful to anything or anyone else.

She could already see phones out, taping the flag burning. It was a symbol, no doubt, and she was sure it'd be all over the internet before the hour was up.

-

The Next Day...
Linköping, Outside of Zürich

If there was one thing that Madeleine found more annoying to wake up to than her alarm clock, it was her older brother and training partner.

"Hey, Newblood, time to get your lazy ass out of bed!"

Madi's response was to roll over onto her stomach and promptly cover her head with her pillow. That didn't seem to bother Mathias. He still pulled out the chair from her desk and sat down, coffee in hand, swiping through his phone.

"So, flag burning? That's one way to send a message. Already all over the net." He took a sip from the steaming mug of coffee. He was shirtless, which put his tattoo-covered arms on display. His tattoos were nearly identical in design to Madeleine's, the crosses all in the same place and the only difference being the tribal pattern. On his
upper left pectoral, he had tick marks tattooed onto his chest. Twenty-five thus far. The red ticks, made to look like they were cut into his skin by claws, displayed an obvious meaning. "Get up. We're heading to Katrin's in fifty."

"Fifty?"

"Mhm."

"Why wake me up now, then?"

"Because it takes you that long to be ready to go. Now, get some wind in your sails and get to it, Templar."

[Ghant]

“Listening”
Nikolai's Estate
Izotan, Izotza

When Nikolai received the communique from New Macureus City, he damn near pissed himself after going numb for a few minutes. He had to take this to Pavel, immediately. No time could be wasted. So the first thing he did, with noodle like fingers, was pick up his cell phone and call Pavel. Please answer, please answer…

A voice answered the phone, a rich and pleasant female voice. “Hello?” said Sonia’s voice.

“Sonia...this is Nikolai. I need to speak with Pavel. It is as urgent as urgent can be. Please, pretty please.”

There was a pause, and Sonia said, “Of course, sire. Just a moment.” After a few moments Pavel came on the line.

“This is Pavel,” he said.

“Pavel, this is Nikolai. Listen...you need to come over now.” Nikolai responded eagerly and nervously.

Pause. “We’ll be there as soon as we can. Is that all?”

“Yes...bring Sonia too.”

About twenty minutes later, dressed as though they were going to their usual table at Mossimo’s, he in a dinner jacket and white tie, she in an embroidered dark green wool dress and fox fur shawl arrived at the home of the Tsarevich, discreetly, to present themselves.

The home of the Tsarevich was essentially an estate, fit for any lord of Ghant. There was a hefty fountain in the front, and two stories with bay windows and a six car garage. Nikolai was waiting for them in a robe and a coat, and he was jumping with excitement when he saw Pavel and Sonia pull up. “Cousin, and Sonia, welcome. Please, follow me straight to my lounge!” Nikolai’s voice was shaky.

Sonia had begun to deeply cursy but was stopped by the Tsarevich’s urgency, widening her eyes she hurried after along with her husband. Pavel was sure it was bad news--God, he needed a drink now. His stomach dropped from him as he came into the lounge. Nikolai hadn’t even bothered to dress--what was going on?

Nikolai led the way back to the lounge, a cozy room with bookshelves, furniture and a wide fireplace that burning bright and hot. There on the table sat a fat envelope with a packet inside of it. “There, Pavel...read that. I got it today, from Prince Mathias of Ghant...who is in New Macureus City.”

Pavel took a deep breath and opened it, and began to read it. Sonia craned her head to see what it had to say. He realized his mouth was dry. All for nothing...jig is up… he was sure of it…

Nikolai ahemed. “These are terms and conditions negotiated between Prince Mathias and General Melin...an agreement in which eastern Nekulturnya will be restored as the sovereign Tsardom of Nekulturnya. Our dreams have finally come true, cousin! We can go home and rebuild our country!” Nikolai exclaimed, even doing a little dance.

Pavel kept reading and at first was smiling, and Sonia threw her arms around him and hugged herself to him. “Oh how bloody marvelous, that’s wonderful!” she cried. “Oh, sire, you have envision--”

“Wait a minute,” said Pavel with a frown. “This doesn’t mention a lot about what authority we’d have, and doesn’t mention us controlling the armed forces. Am I missing something?”

“Yeah...it’s in there, cousin. We would be a constitutional monarchy, one with reserve powers...kind of like Alizeria or Lazodiria. And I would still be Commander in chief of the armed forces...nominally anyway. But these are minor sacrifices to pay for the restoration of our nation with the air of legitimacy. We need only go to Eltanland to meet with Premier Grishanov to discuss the terms in greater detail before agreeing.”

Pavel was apprehensive about this. “Llike Alizeria or Lazodiria? They’re both very different, sire. Do you know which it would be?”

“Oh Pavel, we have hope again, why do you doubt the Tsarevich?’ exclaimed Sonia.

“Why? Because our lives depend on this. He’s not the Tsar yet. Sir, do you know?” Pavel insisted.

“...A crowned liberal democracy, like Lazodiria. Can we go to Eltanland and meet with Premier Grishanov at least?” Nikolai asked.

Pavel felt his mouth finding itself hard to close. Sonia squeezed his arm, looking at him. He felt a sense of horror--not in his worst nightmares had this happened. God, he wished he’d taken a leak before he’d come. He’s asking me? he thought in panic. “I...you want my counsel, sire?” he managed to get out.

“Sure, cousin...your counsel.” Nikolai responded.

“Then...then we should plan to go. But you know, cousin, we really ought to have something resembling plans and policy first, oughtn’t we?” Pavel said, staring at him. “Do you have a plan, sire?”

“Yes. My plan is to accept these terms, convey that to Premier Grishanov when we meet with him in Eltanland, and from there return to Bastyak with him and declare the Tsardom of Nekulturnya restored. From there we can all work together for the betterment of our country. For that, I need you with me, at my side. I would expect nothing less of a Grand Duke.”

“No strong tactical weapons? No tanks? No fighters?” exclaimed Pavel. “No declaration of war without the consent of these nations? But sire, this will virtually make us into a colony.”

“I don’t intend on making my fathers mistakes, Pavel. The Old Empire was far too focused on war, instead of taking care of its own people. Most of these terms and conditions have time tables, and I mean to spend that time repairing the country and building it back up, restoring the dignity and confidence of our people, and providing them with resources that they have been denied for so long. I say we take the deal, and go from there. Do the work, and earn our stripes. Premier Grishanov can explain more of what we can do with our country once we get there.”

Pavel said, “Sire, what about all the military forces we have hired for the liberation of Nekulturnya?”

“We don’t need them, for the cause has been won via peaceful means. Let the fat lords of Ghant eat that bill, it is the least they could do. Any who feels the need to grumble about it can be compensated by myself and Minka.” Nikolai answered.

Pavel said, “Might I suggest that we keep them for the time being?I mean we don’t have to actually bring them to Nekulturnya this minute--we couldn’t anyway--but sire, it might give us well, something to back up our negotiations.”

“Sure, that seems reasonable. If you and Sonia are ready, I would suggest we take the next flight out to Eltanland and meet with Premier Grishanov.”

Pavel felt that somehow the Tsarevich was as happy as he was distressed. But Sonia, radiant eyes alight like Christmas tree candles, fell to her knees and in a choked voice, kissing Nikolai’s hand, said, “Sire--you are restoring the greatness and freedom of our Holy Motherland!”

“Yes,” said Pavel, forcing a smile, covering the forced nature of it with closing his eyes and sighing. “You have done a great deal. I am sure God smiles upon this.”

I hope He does. Are You listening?

[Hittanryan]

The Home of Grand Duke Pavel Zetksy-Orlov, Izotza

Taking his tea and sipping it tentatively, hoping his stomach would at least tolerate if not be soothed by it, Muro got to work. Checking the clock on his phone, he thought 'OK, fifteen minutes,' before turning to address Denisov and Pavel and holding the phone up. "Would you mind if I simply recorded our interview? There's a speech-to-text program that'll generate a transcript as we go, it'll be done as soon as we finish the interview. I can email it to you or even send it in a text message. Should warn you, the program's not perfect, but we'll be able to catch any errors."

With that, he set his phone down and started the interview. He spoke clearly, waiting to make sure Pavel was finished speaking, but he still tried to move efficiently. To an Adiran mind accustomed to schedules and time management, it would be rude to go over time. "Grand Duke, the Tsarevich's declaration to the international community called for the end of the occupation of Nekulturnya and the reestablishment of Nekulturnyan self-rule under a constitutional monarchy. I was wondering if you might be able to clarify what form such a government would take? What short- and long-term policies would this government pursue? Would all of the old Nekulturnyan nobility be restored, and if so with what titles and privileges? Would the Tsar be purely ceremonial or would he hold executive power?"

Muro continued once the Tsar was satisfied with his answer. "In some circles the Tsarevich's declaration has been denounced as wildly inflammatory, especially from Vyrsar in the wake of a series of cross-border rocket attacks and ambushes on Five Nations occupation forces. Since these attacks took place immediately following the Tsarevich's call for independence and were committed by known nationalist groups, Vyrsar and other Five Nations members allege that the remarks were indirectly responsible. How do you respond to that criticism? What is House Zetsky-Orlov's position on these nationalist groups?"

Taking a deep breath, he decided to brooch a possibly sensitive subject, but one whose answer could be useful to Pavel. "Some groups in Nekulturnya are strongly opposed to the restoration of House Zetsky-Orlov, particularly amongst the Germanic Vytich minority concentrated in the western provinces of the country. Although the Tsarevich has effectively renounced the absolutism of the Grand Empire, groups who faced persecution under the old regime, especially those who were cooperative with occupation forces, are opposed to the restoration of your family due to fears of reprisal--not necessarily by your family, but by mob justice or militants. Will the government seek reconciliation or even reparations with these groups?"

It had been a pretty heavy discussion so far, and now Muro was pressed for time. That meant he had to simplify now. "One big question foreign policy experts ask back home is about Tsarevich Nikolai's level of experience, especially in the wake of the diplomatic spat over his statement. It isn't exactly clear what his duties and upbringing have entailed here in Ghant. Could you comment on His Imperial Majesty's experience with matters such as government policy and diplomacy?"

Keeping an eye on the clock, he realized that was about all they had time for in terms of policy. "You've been a rather private figure in this whole affair so far, Your Highness. What would you say is your primary role in the monarchist cause? For the benefit of our readers, could you explain your family's duties and position within the old Grand Empire?"

"And you, Grand Duchess, how do you feel about all of this?" he asked, his expression softening just a bit into a light smile. Didn't have time for anything else.

[New Edom]

The Home of Grand Duke Pavel Zetksy-Orlov, Izotza

Checking the clock on his phone, he thought 'OK, fifteen minutes,' before turning to address Denisov and Pavel and holding the phone up. "Would you mind if I simply recorded our interview? There's a speech-to-text program that'll generate a transcript as we go, it'll be done as soon as we finish the interview. I can email it to you or even send it in a text message. Should warn you, the program's not perfect, but we'll be able to catch any errors."

"That's fine, we've agreed to that, though I'm going to be doing the same thing," Denisov said, holding up his own phone with a smile that approached but was not quite a sassy grin.


With that, he set his phone down and started the interview. He spoke clearly, waiting to make sure Pavel was finished speaking, but he still tried to move efficiently. To an Adiran mind accustomed to schedules and time management, it would be rude to go over time. "Grand Duke, the Tsarevich's declaration to the international community called for the end of the occupation of Nekulturnya and the reestablishment of Nekulturnyan self-rule under a constitutional monarchy. I was wondering if you might be able to clarify what form such a government would take? What short- and long-term policies would this government pursue? Would all of the old Nekulturnyan nobility be restored, and if so with what titles and privileges? Would the Tsar be purely ceremonial or would he hold executive power?"

"What a number of us are leaning towards, influenced by the Tsarevich's own beliefs, is the Lazodirian model, where the monarch has executive powers. where his own family at most play the role of appointed staff to the monarch directly and are in a sense 'in waiting' or in training for his own position. Where the elected legislature of the nation establishes laws, taxation and major policy trends which the executive deals with in cooperation with them, and where the judiciary is jointly appointed."

Muro continued once the Tsar was satisfied with his answer. "In some circles the Tsarevich's declaration has been denounced as wildly inflammatory, especially from Vyrsar in the wake of a series of cross-border rocket attacks and ambushes on Five Nations occupation forces. Since these attacks took place immediately following the Tsarevich's call for independence and were committed by known nationalist groups, Vyrsar and other Five Nations members allege that the remarks were indirectly responsible. How do you respond to that criticism? What is House Zetsky-Orlov's position on these nationalist groups?"

"Fanatics and murderers are fanatics and murders," said Pavel, his lips tightening with distaste."People who murder noncombatants, who attack peacefully traveling civilians were probably going to find some excuse to do so anyway. They might find it in anything--a book, a film, some political remarks. The Tsarevich did not ask anyone that violence should be done in his name."

Taking a deep breath, he decided to brooch a possibly sensitive subject, but one whose answer could be useful to Pavel. "Some groups in Nekulturnya are strongly opposed to the restoration of House Zetsky-Orlov, particularly amongst the Germanic Vytich minority concentrated in the western provinces of the country. Although the Tsarevich has effectively renounced the absolutism of the Grand Empire, groups who faced persecution under the old regime, especially those who were cooperative with occupation forces, are opposed to the restoration of your family due to fears of reprisal--not necessarily by your family, but by mob justice or militants. Will the government seek reconciliation or even reparations with these groups?"[/i]

"We want to see order restored. The Five Powers have had their chance for fifteen years to do so, and what we have is soldiers openly in the streets of our cities and towns forcing order on people. That's not what they need--it may be what is necessary at the moment, but people have to believe that their civilization provides these things and that it is best to cooperate for the good of all--not have to do it at the point of a gun," Sonia said passionately.

"Yes, but the fruits that the troubles have borne must be accepted," said Pavel. "There is a lot of anger and hatred. A combination of strength and compassion--reconcliation, and open airing of grievances will be the best way to handle that, i feel."

It had been a pretty heavy discussion so far, and now Muro was pressed for time. That meant he had to simplify now. "One big question foreign policy experts ask back home is about Tsarevich Nikolai's level of experience, especially in the wake of the diplomatic spat over his statement. It isn't exactly clear what his duties and upbringing have entailed here in Ghant. Could you comment on His Imperial Majesty's experience with matters such as government policy and diplomacy?"

Do you count him holding his own dick when he goes to take a piss? thought Pavel with a faint despair. He wondered the same thing himself. Maybe an Alizerian model was best...in this case. A weak Tsar could lead to a tyrannical Tsar in a generation, he knew this.

Keeping an eye on the clock, he realized that was about all they had time for in terms of policy. "You've been a rather private figure in this whole affair so far, Your Highness. What would you say is your primary role in the monarchist cause? For the benefit of our readers, could you explain your family's duties and position within the old Grand Empire?"

"Normally, my family has supported the Tsar's government by accepting roles in government which range from research to acting as personal staff and aides, and sometimes in appointed government positions. That is likely to change once there is a constitution, though as with the Lazodirian constitution the monarch may appoint who he wishes to certain executive positions with the agreement of the elected legislature--after vetting and examination and questioning by them and so on. Currently I am acting as a sort of Minister of Defense in exile, preparing our policies for when and if we take on government again is one of my chief duties at the moment. I have been examining how this functions in a number of different nations and weighing them according to our country's needs. Of course as I speak with other political leaders in Nekulturnya I am sure that they will have their own views."

"And you, Grand Duchess, how do you feel about all of this?" he asked, his expression softening just a bit into a light smile. Didn't have time for anything else.

"Just as my personal role is focusing a great deal on improving our public relations," she said with a smile, "I will also be examining how to be an example of women's changing roles in the new Nekulturnay. It's very exciting, and I'm greatly looking forward to it."

[Ghant]

“Meeting at Eltana”
Eltan Palace
Eltana, Eltanlurra

The King of Eltanland really didn’t want to host this meeting, but Prince Mathias of Ghant forced his hand on the matter. Funny thing how Mathias himself wouldn’t be in attendance, but rather the Nekulturnyans and a New Mac representative, as it were.

The conference room within the palace was large enough, with a large sturdy wooden table in the shape of a circle, set in an intimate room of patterned wood walls with an ornate chandelier hanging above the table. There were plenty of refreshments and food items all around, and it was a rather comfortable setting conducive towards business.

Nikolai was the first to arrive, dressed in a finely tailored suit. The second to arrive was Vladimir of the Cossacks, who immediately went to one knee upon the sight of Nikolai.

Pavel observed this silently. He was also wearing a personal tailored suit, after a long discussion with Sonia about it.

“Tsar Nikolai...it has been too long. You have aged gracefully. I am Vladimir Borisevich, Commander of the Cossacks, and long have I been your faithful servant.”

“Thank you Vladimir, you may rise.” Nikolai answered with a smile.

The arrival of Premier Arkady Grishanov was followed by that of the New Macurean Consul to Eltanland, Salir Ralen. The Premier was accompanied by his grandchildren, strangely enough, though they were very quiet and didn’t disturb anyone, just in awe at the sight of their future Tsar. They didn’t understand fully what this would mean for their grandfather, but they knew the Tsar was a sort of father of the nation, so that was important indeed.

Ralen, a woman in her early forties, had the typical pageboy hairstyle of a female citizen of her nation. She wore the usual Nehru jacket and slacks, of course and absolutely no cosmetics whatsoever, nor any jewelry of any kind. Her slightly graying brown hair and dark brown eyes looked very carefully at everyone and waited for the right moment for her to strike.

Nikolai approached them both. “ So you must be Premier Grishanov and consul Salir Ralen. A pleasure to meet you both.” Nikolai offered a handshake. “This is my cousin Pavel and his wife Sonia.” Nikolai gestured towards them.

“I am delighted to meet you,” said Pavel with a quietly friendly manner.

“As am I,” said Sonia nodding politely. They stood near to one another, and seemed very much a close pair.

“It is naturally a noteworthy moment that we have conferred in person,” Ralen nodded politely and calmly.

“It is a great honor, of course,” Grishanov even kissed Sonia’s hand, a custom Ralen considered bizarre, of course.

Sonia dimpled with a smile. “Such a delight Premier, I can see your trustworthiness and honour just by looking into your eyes!”

Pavel had trouble not rolling his.

Nikolai bowed his head. “It is a great pleasure for us all to be gathered here...should we get started?” Nikolai asked, as he took a seat at the table. Vladimir took a seat as well.

“What precisely was the nature of your intended discourse?” Ralen probed.

Grishanov, for his part, smiled at Sonia a little, trying not to be obvious in his desire. That would be impolitic of him, after all.

“Pavel and I wanted to go over the terms and conditions of the agreement and get on the same page.” Nikolai responded to Ralen politely.

“I was unaware of there being any distinctions between the Grand Duke and the Tsarevich in terms of state policy. Is there such a difference?” Ralen inquired, repressing her surprise.

“No, there isn’t. Although, as I am sure you may be aware from the negotiations, Pavel and Sonia’s signatures are required.” Nikolai answered. “The Grand Duke is an important member of my court, therefore I want him to have an understanding with Premier Grishanov as well.”

“I am currently acting in the role of Minister of Defense,” explained Pavel. He didn’t trust the New Macurean--but it might have just been the haircut. He was not however going to blame her for carrying out her country’s policy. It was Grishanov who concerned him now. “Premier, one of the things I am concerned about is our sovereignty. I wonder if you considered the idea of stronger guarantees but perhaps a modification of what we would be able to have as defense. There is insurgency, there are nations that are hostile to us. We are not Lazodiria, a nation with generations of neutrality. We must consider a more balanced approach.”

“You mean less of a restriction on the military establishment? Tanks permitted, for instance. I am open to that, but I would naturally wish to make clear to the world that we will not behave like we did before. The point to the enforced disarmament idea was to prove to the region, especially Eltanland here, that we are no threat anymore. What guarantees would be strong enough for that, if Nekulturnya has tanks, ground-attack fighters, and other things that are banned from, say, New Othman?” Grishanov wondered.

“What can be presented to the appropriate councils of government, but most particularly the Supreme Commander, is an arrangement to ensure that Nekulturnya is prevented from waging aggressive action by some means. Tanks, artillery, and ground attack fighters can reinstated, but there must be some mechanism to prevent Nekulturnyan revanchist conduct, especially in view of such armaments that are offensive rather than defensive in nature,” Ralen replied.

“Well, for a start there could be a ban on all purchase or development or possession of any weapons of mass destruction, nuclear, biological, chemical,” said Pavel, glancing at a notebook he had with him that Dmitri, Denisov and Lupinsky had advised him to be ready with, and had advised him about what to put in. “That’s the great specter is it not? The nuclear attack that failed and harmed our own people? And we could limit the numbers somewhat, so that we could ably defend ourselves without having the ability to project any force beyond our borders in a threatening way. How would that suit you, Mr. Grishanov, Ms. Ralen?”

...This was the part of the conversation where Nikolai sat back and listened. For Nikolai, was, admittedly, not a man well versed in the nuances like his cousin was. Pavel was, for all intents and purposes, the brains behind the outfit. Nikolai was merely an idealist...someone with a vision. But it was Pavel that had the mind to turn that vision into a reality. This was one such situation where it was best left to Pavel to iron out things with Grishanov and Ralen. Nikolai was content to look at the different people around him and drink some tea...it was quite sweet, quite tasty.

“Without question, the main issue is the nuclear, biological, and chemical side of things, as well as thermobaric weaponry. It is useful to keep a ban on those things. The more I think of it, the less this situation resembles New Othman. New Othman was guilty of a conventional war of aggression, so that is what its victims have reason to fear. In the case of Nekulturnya, it was more a matter of strategic weaponry, of course. I am prepared to favor the idea of permitting more conventional weaponry myself, though only Consul Ralen here can speak for the New Macurean Government, naturally,” Grishanov agreed….he was a Nekulturnyan himself, after all.

“The initial estimation was predicated upon the assumption that where strategic offenses occurred, conventional ones were a foregone conclusion. It appears that this presupposition might have been erroneous and the Supreme Commander has instructed me to prepare for a potential reconsideration of this prior policy,” Ralen answered.

“There is also the potential value of such forces to the common cause, of course. To any alliance, that is. Conventional armed forces could be of benefit in the event of a crisis,” Grishanov continued, privately pleased...he would take a weaker Nekulturnya over none at all, but a stronger one strengthened his own hand internationally.

“What I am envisioning, if it is acceptable, would be a small navy, perhaps no more than two squadrons, with no carriers but with cruisers, destroyers, and frigates as well as some support ships. Perhaps two submarines, attack only. A single fighter group, no bombers; a single helicopter and fixed wing support group, no dedicated ground attack fighters; a division of mechanized, armoured, engineer and support troops. As you see--enough to defend ourselves, enough to maintain our borders and support civil order in case of a disaster, but nothing we could actually attack anyone in a seriously intended way with,” said Pavel, who was actually reciting from memory what he had discussed with his advisers. “Would that be reasonable?”

“This is an acceptable array of conventional military strength from the tabulation that has been proffered, certainly,” Ralen concluded, unable to present any effective rebuttal off-hand.

“I would agree with that. Small, but effective military force for defensive role. All-volunteer, of course,” Grishanov replied as he drank some tea doctored secretly with vodka, “the Grossprussian policy, minus their nukes, of course.”

Pavel clapped his hands. “Exactly,” he felt relieved, “Like Grossprussia or Lazodiria--self defense is the main motive here! Well put, Mr. Grishnakov. I can see we are going to get along well. If that is the case, then our loyalists would be cooperated with and we could have established communication in your zone so that we can bring exiled forces back with us?” he said to Ralen with a smile.

“These expatriate personnel are those with established allegiance to the former monarchy, I presume? They would then be prepared to transfer that adherence in favor of the provisional government to be established in the transition in Nekulturnya?” Ralen insisted.

Pavel considered what had been discussed among the other expatriates before. With liberal exiles and people still in Nekulturnya, the ones who remembered at least the clear authority and law and order. He felt his mouth drying again and felt Sonia pressing his hand gently. His strength, his courage. At that moment he wished their positions were reveresed--but no. It was not that she was a woman alone--Sonia was a fiery passionate person, unwilling to compromise. And she came to his rescue now. Their partnership came to fruition.

“We cannot have that, Ms. Ralen,” she said, her brilliant eyes meeting those of the other woman. “The Tsar must be the Commander-in-Chief. But just as in countries with constitutional monarchies this is held in check by the laws and balances that the people provide, so it will be here. The Tsar will not be exempt from the law, but will actually be held to the highest standard of all.”

“So, what power do you envision for the Premier, madame?” Grishanov objected, “bearing in mind that Vyrsar might well oppose any kind of monarchy that isn’t purely ceremonial. There must also be a transitional phase. We cannot have two military forces with rival commanders-in-chief during a transitional governance stage. That would be a recipe for anarchy.”

“The Citizen Premier has stipulated a reasonable and lucid objection, which to my present assessment, would be rather difficult to counter logically,” Ralen backed Grishanov up.

Nikolai tilted his head just a bit. “I was under the impression that I would be nominal Commander-in-chief, as a purely ceremonial post, while Premier Grishanov would have de facto control of the armed forces...surely that is not an unreasonable arrangement that can be expounded upon in legal documents?”

“I got a somewhat different impression from the Grand Duchess’s choice of words, but that was the initial thought, yes. That was the basis of the understanding with the Cossacks, for instance, along with the Supreme Commander himself,” Grishanov observed.

“Well, the way I explained it would be adequate for me and my son.” Nikolai stated. “Would Pavel and Sonia find that a reasonable arrangement?”

Pavel said quietly, “I am willing to accept that. I think it would be an excellent gesture of cooperation if I were then to continue to act as Minister of Defense, and Mr. Grishanov could choose his own Chief of Staff--though I have a list of recommended officers of proven ability and concern for Nekulturnya and her people.” In this he felt absolutely firm. Grishanov had the Cossacks--which everyone had told him were a joke militarily; he had an actual army, navy and air force, however small. His gaze was clear and steady, not hostile but calm as he looked at the others.

“I have no difficulties with such an arrangement, as that would protect the interests of the Provisional Government and the Crown alike. Granted, there are forces presently undergoing military training and preparing for combat, as well as roughly a brigade in strength currently under arms in Nekulturnya already. These can be combined effectively with said forces in time, as events develop. A list of acceptable candidates for Chief and Deputy Chief of Staff to all parties would make sense. Ultimate war-making power should remain with the legislature and the cabinet, however, particularly with the Premier, would you not agree?” Grishanov noted.

“That is a position that would be permissible to the appropriate command authority in New Macureus, provided that no notorious criminal factions are represented in this regime’s general staff. Furthermore, the Premier and the Tsar must both concur to impose sensible travel and shipping regulations, inspections, and other controls that would represent compliance with the same policy imposed in New Macureus, Old Macureus, and Vyrsar,” Ralen added her two macs in.

“No criminal factions?’ said Sonia, raising her eyebrows. “My husband, Madam, and his friends are not criminals!”

“I do not recall your husband being so labeled or defamed, madame. I do not recall any inference implicating anyone in this room, on the part of the consul. I believe that she was only reinforcing the same points that the Supreme Commander, the Supreme Magistra, and the Chancellor of Vyrsar have all already determined. Sensible security measures, which would protect Nekulturnyans as well as the Five Powers and even Ghant,” Grishanov assured Sonia.

“That is precisely the circumstance in this context. There was no inference, intentional or otherwise, predicating any manner of terrorist or criminal conduct on your husband’s part. Your husband commands a regular military insurgency, and that only until such time as the reunification of the chain of military command is reinstated. At that juncture, he will be an internationally recognized cabinet minister,” Ralen assured the Grand Duchess.

“It’s not an insurgency,” she insisted. “It is the armed forces of Nekulturnya in exile.”

“I think we all get the idea, but of course we would not want that language--insurgency for instance--in any documents,” said Pavel.

“Nor will it be, Your Highness. I assure you that there is no need for recriminations or pejorative verbiage at any juncture,” Ralen continued calmly, limiting her reaction to Sonia. She had been trained to keep her cool and that she would.

Sonia nodded graciously in response. Pavel said, “I’m glad we are in agreement about this part. I think that the next thing then is how we arrive in the country. Premier, what were your thoughts?”

“I would assume that your papers are going to be prepared in advance, so that customs can easily permit you to enter the country by normal means. Your armed forces can begin to take up positions along the coast first and foremost, I imagine. You would probably want a military escort from their ranks to join you as you take up offices in Bastyak, in the old Summer Palace there. I presume that is where the Tsarevich would take up his post. The Minister of Defense, meaning the Grand Duke, would naturally be given offices there if he wishes, or alternatively, the current office of the temporary Defense Minister in the Provisional Government. Any other ideas?” Grishanov wondered.

“And the New Macurean Ministry of Defense’s forces would open passage for us by air and sea?” asked Pavel of Ralen looking from Grishanov to her.

“Those of the Scientific State of New Macureus would certainly cooperate as stipulated in our international agreement herein. Nevertheless, there must be communication with the Old Macurean Government as well, to ensure their concord with this arrangement. As they have indicated, however, that they are favorable to the principle itself of an allied sovereign state, it should not be implausible to expect a desirable outcome of this proposition,” Ralen answered, as her government had been talking to the Old Macs about just such an issue.

“It should be presumed that a continual state of alliance will be not discontinued, then?” Grishanov remarked, as this was a major point for the New Mac/Old Mac/Protectorate side of things.

Pavel said, “Before that is answered, sorry to interrupt--there is another concern: there are militias in the region of Nekulturnya New Macureus has been...operating in...that have their own ideas about independence including possibly their own mini-states. And there’s Vyrsar. I think that we are counting our chickens a bit too fast here. What preparations exist in case they oppose us?”

“An excellent question. I think that this is a reasonable fear. Concerning Vyrsar, we must tread somewhat lightly. We do not wish to risk invasion in our infancy as a nation. Or sanctions, for that matter. Concerning the other militias, we should call for them to disarm, but if they refuse, the only response to lawlessness is force. A government that permits a series of secessions will die by a thousand cuts,” Grishanov warned, “however, we should offer to let them become political parties and have a chance at representation in a future Duma.”

Sonia said sharply, “What if they don’t? What if they insist on standing against us, against their rightful Tsar and the union of your followers with the lawful government of Holy Nekulturnya? Do you think if you tell them to disarm that they’ll touch their caps and click their heels? What preparations do your people have?”

“We have a National Police force that is composed of the former local police forces, which we are retraining in counter-terrorist measures and giving sensible weapons for paramilitary operations,” Grishanov noted, ignoring Sonia’s “lawful government” nonsense, “we are not just naively trusting that they will disarm. Also, again, we must follow the protocols laid out for inspections, customs, etc. New Macureus is doing it. Vyrsar is doing it. So is Old Macureus. These must be carried, to prevent smuggling of arms, for instance, into the country.”

“I’m sure you are doing your best, Premier,” said Pavel politely and calmly, putting a hand over Sonia’s. “Cooperation is the key. I think we are generally agreed, are we not, and need an operational plan now. May we put this together as a joint proposal,” he said, looking at both Grishanov and the New Macurean, and the Tsarevich, “And then make clear our intentions?”

“Certainly, cousin...that sounds good to me.” Nikolai said in agreement. He had a few concerns of his own, but they could wait until after Pavel was done with his bit.

“And the proposed alliance? That is a major issue here. Alliance with both Old and New Macureus, that is. Something bilateral, or should I say, trilateral,” Grishanov asserted.

“That is, conclusively, the principal stipulation of my superiors in the supreme leadership of the State. Without an essential accord on this matter, it would be contrary, even adverse, to the national security and national interests of New Macureus,” Ralen persisted.

“I am agreed on that principle as well,” Pavel asserted. This almost seemed too good to be true; he glanced at Sonia who nodded and then he smiled slightly. “I think we are in agreement on this too.”

Nikolai nodded his agreement. “I am in agreement as well.”

“So, we are also agreed with the new security measures, with the idea of anti-piracy efforts, and with other such reasonable steps to behave responsibly as a newly restored nation?” Grishanov added, “plus the Council of Delegates to provide a governing board to regulate the elections? An elected constituent assembly could then draft a sensible constitution, I would think. These would go a long way toward reassuring Vyrsar and gaining their recognition, I believe.”

“Then the next parts of this” said Pavel, feeling relief at last. “Are in the hands of lawyers and bureaucrats. May I suggest we toast the New Nekulrunya?”

Nikolai voiced one of his concerns at that point. “...One thing that did concern me is the institution of the Mac as the official currency of Nekulturnya...I am not sure I am entirely comfortable with this, not out of practicality sake, but as a matter of principle...it doesn’t look that good. I would like to see the reinstitution of the ruble, perhaps in such a way as to be relative to the Mac, but distinct enough to be suitable for Nekulturnyan pride.” Nikolai explained.

Saints preserve us thought Pavel as Nikolai seemed to fail to grasp the significance of what they were talking about. Well, perhaps not--his sole concern was going home and being recognized as Tsar--he didn’t seem to care how it happened.

“The ruble in exchange for agreement to the new security measures and the anti-piracy campaign, that sort of thing. Still, we should have a customs union with New and Old Macureus, should we not?” Grishanov proposed a compromise.

“That sounds reasonable to me...what do you think cousin?” Nikolai asked Pavel.

“I agree, Sire,” replied Pavel, inclining his head and half closing his eyes.

“And the National Police will answer to the Minister of the Interior, of course, who will be a woman that I trust. Natasha Semyonova. She is a highly respected former police chief and served prior to the war, as I recall,” Grishanov stipulated.

“I would consider this a matter of minutiae that could be addressed at a later juncture, yet I have no particular objection to this. My superiors will presumably, based upon their prior indications, regard this accord as more than tolerable to their expectations,” Ralen interjected.

“I agree...now, how about that toast?” Nikolai gestured with his glass.

“To the new Nekulturnya indeed, a free land of free people under God! The Holy Motherland!” Grishanov waxed poetic.

“As a New Macurean, I do not practice this notion of a toast, yet I favor the sentiments expressed therein,” Ralen simply drank her vodka straight up.

‘The New Nekulrunya!” cried Sonia passionately, cheeks flushing.

“The New Nekulturnya,” said Pavel, flushing himself, tears coming to his eyes.

[New Macureus]

Grishanov read the latest report about activity since the crackdown by the New and Old Macurean authorities at the airports, seaports, and borders and smiled.....a bit like a predator, really. The terrorists were not making it so far past the net. Not in the least. 76 nabbed in just the past week or so. 43 already...."liquidated", of course. Now to see what else to do while waiting for the Tsarevich to arrive. So much to do as Premier, so little time. Already, the Militia were on high alert.

"How is Purple Maze going?" Grishanov demanded to know.

"Excellently so far, Citizen Premier. Everything should be in place for the Tsarevich's arrival. The Militia will be in place as planned. The Vyrsarians and Austranians have been notified. If all goes well.....," Citizen Colonel Grigori Yureyevich Pedachenko of the Militia reassured the Premier.

"Then we sit tight and wait for the Tsarevich, don't we? We lay out the red carpet, of course. How is Red Carpet going, anyway?" Grishanov smiled again.

"Not to worry, Vozd. The future of Nekulturnya will hinge on this and it will hinge our way. The Communists are thankfully getting the business end of our crackdown for now, of course. Can't have them complicating things, of course. I think that from our contacts with the relevant coalition partners, Old and New Macureus and Vyrsar, we are very much on the same page. It all boils down to the right moment, of course. ETA for the Tsarevich has yet to be confirmed, of course. We need him here to make history, do we not?

"That we do, Colonel. For the red carpet, of course, da? For the Rodina. For Mother Nekulturnya!" Grishanov chuckled.

So much to do....so little time.

[New Edom]

Izotza, Ghant

The winter valley was full of the whisking whispering sound of skis on snow, and in the crisp air orders were shouted as units of the Imperial Army were on maneuvers. General Lupinsky rode an ATV looking like a polar bear in winter cammos; in the distance the cracking sound of soldiers at firing ranges echoed.

"Skiing," Pavel mused. "We should do some skiing, Sonia and I, when this is all over. She loves skiing."

"With all the bigwigs in Alizeria, we should do some more press releases," said Denisov, shivering beside him in his fancy blue Gore-Tex, rubbing his gloved hands together. "Can't we go back into the lodge?"

Pavel smiled. "Soon enough, my friend." He moved forward and accepted a pair of binoculars from a uniformed ADC nearby. "Lupinsky sure loves his job. Look at him out there like a sergeant-major!"

"What about this deal the Tsar is trying to strike?" Denisov asked him softly. "Look,all this war games stuff is all very well..." he flinched as they heard a series of whistling booms. "God! What's that?"

"Mortar fire," said Pavel with a laugh. "Relax, Denisov. We're far out of range. You don't think I'd let you get hurt do you?"

"Very droll, sir," Denisov said, shaking his head. "But when will the convoy get here? What will you do when it does?"

"You know, there you have me. My cousin Nikolai wants me to disband them so he can go home. All he wants is that piece of paper saying he can do that. Maybe he's right, Denisov...maybe I'm being stubborn...I don't know. I just don't trust that bald devil eyed logician down in New Mac. I am not a statesman. Not by choice. I never wanted to be. I just..."

Want to make my wife happy.

He smiled ruefully. "It was all just a game at first, you know. Now it's real. Now I just have to play my part. But Denisov, I'm not going to tell anyone when the convoy will be here, or where it is, not even you. It was the plan anyway. Without Nikolai backing me, it's all rather a joke, isn't it? I mean what is this force for?"

Denisov shivered. "Restoration of Mother Nekulturnya."

Pavel felt very glum about the whole thing; in fact watching the Guards at drill made him feel even more depressed. Boys of ancient lineages dreaming of a glory they had only read about or seen in movies; middle aged and old men trying to relive those glories. It would really depend on the mercenaries--who had been Nekulturnyan.God knew what they were like now, working for the Commoner Inc. Corporation...

Once at home, he went in, discarding outerwear, feeling like a fraud as he caught his reflection in the mirror. In uniform. Binoculars. Watching field exercises. He barely knew what the terms meant...and as he came into the bedroom, he found his wife wearing black lacy stockings, a garter belt, black panties and matching bra that barely stuffed her in, the curves of her wide and shapely derriere nearly escaping as she leaned over her writing table in the sitting room adjoning their bedroom. "Did you see where i put the tickets for the opera?" she demanded.

Then she turned and laughed. "Oh! Pavel, I thought you were the maid--" she waved a hand as the motherly plump middle aged woman came in with a dress fresh from the cleaner's.

"Here it is, Your Serenity, and the Ghantar didn't wreck it as we feared!" she said. "Oh, Your Serenity is here too--we missed you at the door--"

"No, no, I said I don't want much," Pavel said.

"Annuskha, leave the Grand Duke and I alone, please, thank you dear!" said Sonia. She came to him, her cheeks and eyes glowing, her high heels making an already viola curved hip and waist sway like a bell, and kissed him as though it was a romantic drama's climax. "Oh my love, my soldier love, my warrior love! I'm so proud of you! You look so handsome, out in the field drilling with your glorious warrior sin the service of the Holy Tsar! Oh my love!" she pressed her supple body against him and he felt his senses go insane with desire.

"How fares it all..." she sighed, looking up at him with adoration. "I can't believe how much I love you...will your gallant exiles return soon?"

"I...cannot tell even you, Sonia...security..." he managed.

"Oh...military secrets! My Pavel! Not even the Tsar knows does he?" Sonia's eyes glowed.

"I'm worried about that. About the Tsar. He seems to just want to go home.." Pavel said, distracted as she fussed with his lapels, and moved his hands.

"No, don't take it off...leave it on...you should wear it out tonight..." she sighed, her melting eyes looking from his gold buttons up to his face again. "What about the Tsar, darling? Oh he's poorly advised and stubborn! You have to show him the man of iron you truly are!"

I am? he wondered.

She moved her hand downward and gasped. "A man of iron indeed...you have no idea what I would do...for such a strong man as you...oh darling, I used to...I admit it with shame...fantasize about Dmitri...be he only has the appearance of manliness and greatness...with you it burns inside like a lantern that bursts into flame...oh Pavel...I yearn to see Mother Nekulturnya in the right hands...with our flags flying...oh Dmitri...it's so...firm, and strong, determined, hard as ice your purpose...I can feel it against me..."

He couldn't think anymore. Suddenly it all made sense, especially when she gave delighted exclamations of delight, protests that were also squeals of excitement. "But...oh Pavel--you're wreck my hair! Oh my makeup...oh my love, you're a wild animal aren't you, all that time with soldiers...oh you're a conqueror...unstoppable! I surrender! I surrender Pavel!"

[Ghant]

“Meeting at Bastyak”
The Palace of Bastyak
Bastyak, Nekulturnya

Ivan Pechenga was a Nekulturnyan in exile, serving in the diaspora community in Izotza. He was a diplomat once, proud and accomplished. He hoped that he would be again. Due to his closeness with the Royal Family, he was selected by Nikolai to be his emissary to travel to Bastyak with a group of Ghantish diplomats to meet and finalize the terms ot the agreements made between Grishanov, Melin, the Cossacks and the Tsarevich. As it were, Nikolai chose not to attend upon Pavel’s advise, which consisted of the following:

1. There was no agreement with Vyrsar, and there had to be given that Vyrsar would probably be the most powerful treaty power that could prevent Tsarist forces from landing in the country, let alone letting the monarchy be restored. Ivan wasn’t particularly concerned about them...they would learn to deal with it if the outcome was reasonable to the rest of the international community.

2. There was no guarantee of Melin or Grishankov supporting the Tsar as of yet; it was not official and the policy hadn't been publicly declared. There were still reasons why either of them might change their minds...which was why Ivan came, to reach an agreement based upon the three previous negotiations. In addition was the possibility of a trap, which could be thwarted if Nikolai didn’t come in person.

3. Grishankov might be loyal--but he in fact would lose nothing but not supporting the Tsar. There was actually no reason to trust him yet at all...at least not until something substantial was signed, sealed and delivered.

Also in Bastyak was Prince Mathias, who had been working out of New Macureus City to see to his end of the deal. Apparently he had already contacted Deadora regarding Denise...how that situation would unfold remained to be seen. Vladimir Borisevich of the Cossacks was also present.

Attending this meeting, unexpectedly, was several members of the Council of Delegates, the interim consultative body of Nekultrnya, some sixty members strong. Not surprisingly, more than a few represented more or less pro-New Macurean factions, but others were Socialists, Separatists, and pro-Old Macurean Feminists. They had some queries of their own. There were even members of the small Radical party, which favored a democratic republic modeled on Adiron. The Radicals were not keen on the idea of a monarchy restored at all.

Into the mix emerged the Supreme Commander of New Macureus himself, General Ios Melin, his familiar egg-shaped head, Nehru jacket, and gray slacks unmistakable to all and sundry. Alongside him, a real surprise….Antil Surin, Special Envoy of the Grand Coven of Old Macureus. Following her was Arkady Fyodoryvich Grishanov, Premier and Protector of Eastern Nekulturnya. Natasha Semyonova, Minister of the Interior and Commander-in-Chief of the Militia (police/security troops) was also present. Even Dir Datin was there, the Foreign Commissar of New Macureus himself.

Mathias bowed, as did Ivan. “Greetings your excellencies.” Mathias smiled. “Thank you for coming to Bastyak to continue this process. At the present time, I have successfully extracted Vair Padin and Dara Cavin to Ghant, and I have contacted the Deadorans about Denise...I am confident in my ability to acquire her and deliver her to you, General. In addition, the protocol that you signed and approved has been relayed to Nikolai, Pavel and Sonia in Eltana as per your instructions, and they agreed to the terms presented, with some minor adjustments compliments of Salir Ralen, New Macurean Consul to Eltanlurra. Naturally, the Eltana version is here in this packet for you and Special Envoy Surin to review, despite Ralin acting on your authority. Premier Grishanov can provide you with additional details as to this, and Nikolai is available to speak to you via a video chat.” Mathias explained, courteously. The youngest son of Emperor Albert and Grace of Langael was dressed in court uniform as befits a Gentry Prince.

“The Tsarevich is not present?” one of the Delegates asked angrily. It was Yuri Stepanov, a long-time critic of the old Tsars from the past, who had spent 9 years in prison prior to the war when he was released by the New Macureans, “I demand to know why he has opted to withhold himself from a key summit held in his name, supposedly to form a government in his name, if that is indeed best for the People. Frankly, the People need a government that views them as sovereign, not someone who claims power based upon his pedigree.”

“That is a particularly substantive complaint rendered herein,” noted Dir Datin.

“Not to mention the Grand Duke’s refusal to decommission his mercenary forces,” added Antil Surin, speaking for the Grand Coven.

Mathias grinned. “Fear not, for another has come in the flesh on his behalf.” From behind Mathias stepped a young man with sky blue eyes and dark brown hair the color of mud. Tall and skinny with a young face, the young man bowed, as Ivan introduced him. “Maybe I present Tsarevich Mikhail, eldest son and heir of Tsar Nikolai.”

They young man smiled at the group of people. “Please forgive my father for his absence. I hope that my physical presence here can serve as a reassurance of my family’s commitment to this process.”

“He is not yet Tsar, you know,” Stepanov objected again, “that remains to be confirmed with all parties.”

“Forgive me, please...a poor habit.” Ivan reassured them.

Mikhail was ever polite. “My grandfather believed that ruling was his right. My father believes that to be a ceremonial Tsar would be a privilege and a duty. He is not alone in that conviction, for I feel the same. I want very much the chance to be a part of a new, peaceful and productive Nekulturnya that has learned from its mistakes, and I want the chance to help reinvent my family...from something foul to something fair.”

Mathias nodded. “A careful process without a doubt, and one that will require cooperation and trust. We all want the same thing, I believe.”

“Do we, Prince? In Ghant, the ceremonial power of the Emperor is often a bit more than that, due to the high level of deference, some would say undemocratic level of it, of the elected government to the monarchy. Are we sure that these bad habits will not rub off on the Tsarevich?” Semyonova now objected.

“My father gave his word on that in Eltana...to be content with his purely ceremonial position and to recognize that Premier Grishanov and his democratically elected successors as Premier would have power over government, in conjunction with the Duma. I give you my word to that as well, as a Christian man.” Mikhail said with a hand on his heart.

“And what of Pavel and Sonia? Still possessed of a sizable private army of insurgents and mercenaries that he refuses to disband, and yet to be appointed Minister of Defense? This is the fox guarding the chicken coop, is it not?” Semyonova now asserted.

“Pavel will be placated once we have an agreement in place and things are more firmly established. You need not worry about the mercenaries. As it happens, should a final peace be decided here today, I will personally see to it that this force of his is rendered neuter. For they are in Izotza, and I can easily have them dealt with and liquidated.” Mathias asserted. “Our goal is the peaceful creation of a democratic constitutional monarchy under the framework that has been extensively negotiated. Any obstacles to that will be addressed, one way or the other.”

“My goal isn’t a monarchy, sir. It is a democratic republic called Nekulturnya, land of social democracy and reformed capitalism that adheres more to the interests of the nation. That is my goal, sir,” Stepanov interjected…..he wasn’t leader of the Socialists for nothing….the only difference with the radicals was that he supported more Gylian levels of state intervention, or was that Grossprussian, “I did not endure the massacre of my brothers and 9 years of rotting in a Tsarist prison to work toward restoring such a regime to power.”

“I am sorry for that...my father is sorry for that. For all the suffering that my grandfather has caused.” Mikhail said.

“You see, you can have all of that, Stepanov.” Ivan said. “It is called a crowned republic. The Tsar would thus be a symbol of unity for the country. The difference between a republic and a crowned republic is that a crowned republic would unite all factions of the country together in peace, while under a republic, the monarchist and religious elements would still be unaccounted for. Remember, even the Grand Patriarch is in favor of a ceremonial Tsar.” Ivan explained.

Mathis echoed that sentiment. “And there is already a commitment from the Tsarist camp to stand beside Grishanov and to support the democratic government. It is a win-win for everybody.”

“And this business of a publicly sponsored, taxpayer-funded State church? What next? Inquisitions? Compulsory attendance? What of atheists like myself?” Daniel Federov, head of the Radicals, complained…..he didn’t add, Jewish atheists….he didn’t have to…..he was patently obvious as a Jew.

“The agreement reached in Eltana placed stipulations on the church, namely that it would not be taxpayer funded and it would allow itself to be taxed in the event that the monarchy is restored. That would be a good revenue source for the new government, would it not? The church coffers run deep, you know this to be true.” Ivan stated.

“A state church dispensing funds rather than collecting revenue? This is news to me. It’s never happened that I’ve seen. Are the Grand Patriarch and the Holy Synod truly behind this? What of the bishops?” Federov expressed surprise.

“The bishops obey the Patriarch, and the Holy Synod itself is attempting to incentivize support for the restoration, calling it integral to the unity of the state.” Ivan responded. “Think about it...the Cossacks and whoever else supports the Tsarevich, would merely lay down their weapons and retire to a life of peace knowing that he has returned. A ceremonial monarchy has that ability.”

“Including Grand Duke Pavel and Grand Duchess Sonia?” Grishanov demanded to know.

“That is a perceptive stipulation, I must conclude,” said Melin at last.

“What must be noted here is that promises are being made for people who have opted to absent themselves from this summit, so such should be our inference from this decision,” Dir Datin observed.

“Regrettably, that is my impression of this particular arrangement at this juncture as well. It necessitates some degree of caution and suspicion under such circumstances,” Melin added.

“Naturally, I agree. Rest assured that once a lasting agreement is made here, and should Pavel attempt any maneuverings with his mercenaries, that such an action would not only make him a traitor and an enemy of the state, but also an enemy of Ghant...which is where he and his forces are currently based. He will be given the chance to disarm and accept his position as Minister of Defense...but should he neglect the opportunity to do so, my brother Albert will pay him a visit.” Mathias said.

“What benefit to his dissolution of private military resources, should he utilize the public ones to his ends at the expense of the State?” Melin inquired.

“Another relevant query, I would agree,” Grishanov added.

Mathias contemplated that. “Well, perhaps for his indiscretion, we can always remove the stipulation in the agreement in regards to naming him Minister of Defense. After all, I agree that in such a position, you need someone who is undeniably loyal to the state first and foremost.”

“That would be more positive from our end, but what if he takes this as a pretext to attack the new regime? His army is loyal to him first, I believe. He hired them, after all,” Semyonova noted.

“And they were bought and paid for by my brother, his friends within the nobility and by Diego...not only can funding be withdrawn from them, forcing them to disband, but they can be...attacked before they have a chance to attack the new regime.” Mathias grinned.

“This presumes that Grand Duke Pavel does not possess the financial means to sustain continued payments on his own, a prospect that does not seem entirely implausible,” Dir Datin observed.

“Correct. Remember, that venture was initiated before it was understood that there would be a willingness to talk and reach a peaceful resolution. He is relying upon financial support that can easily be withdrawn upon my brother’s command, which I can deliver. And should one be made, Ghant would be more than willing to deal with Pavel and his forces on your behalf, as a token of friendship and good will towards our old friends of New Macureus, Old Macureus and the new Nekulturnya. For Ghant has always been willing to pay for its friendships in blood, and would do so again if needs be.” Mathias explained.

“As it did during the Great War, when it became largely irrelevant during much of the Eastern Front against Nekulturnya, Grossprussia, Nordkrusen, and Vyrsar?” Melin pointed out, “New Macureus was forced to shoulder much of the burden itself, assisted primarily by Old Macureus and Ceti alone.”

“This is true, I believe. Only the weakness of the Tsars prevented disaster for New and Old Macureus in the East. Well, that and the primitive state of Nekulturnya itself at the time. A land of peasants and boyars back, as I recall from the history books,” Grishanov observed.

“Aye. My role is to hear your concerns, and then make good to eliminate them.” Mathias pointed out. “Pavel will be dealt with as needs be.”

“Would that not cause disaffection in the Tsarist ranks? What of the Cossacks?” Semyonova asked.

“The Tsarist ranks, cossacks included, are loyal to the Tsar. If the Tsar is loyal to the government, which he would be, so would they. Make no mistake about it, the government would possess the unwavering loyalty of the Tsar’s supporters.” Ivan insisted.

“That is reassuring, of course. What in respect to the most recent measures proposed by Vyrsar and accepted by New and Old Macureus to increase border, airport, and seaport security? We have conducted many raids of late. What is the Tsarevich’s position about this?” Dir Datin demanded to know.

“...That such efforts are reasonable in order to protect the people. This is all about the people, their security, and the future of Nekulturnya. So he is in support, and I personally don’t see these efforts as incompatible with the previously agreed upon arrangements.” Ivan said.

“...I agree.” Said a man, stepping forward from the back of the crowd. Twas none other than Nikolai himself, who came discreetly, as his son did, although neither was aware that the other had come. Nikolai dropped to one knee. “I had to come personally, albeit not without discretion. For the future of the nation is at stake, and I wish to be a loyal instrument for the public good.”

“And you understand the obligations stipulated regarding your proposed position, which are starkly contrasted to those of the Emperor of Ghant?” Melin probed.

Naturally, your excellency.” Nikolai said on bended knee, before rising and bowing slightly. “I want what makes sense for Nekulturnya...which isn’t that. I value democratic principles, rule of law and reservation.”

“How do you propose to reassure the Vyrsarians?” Grishanov noted, “the Austranians, too. Especially regarding the Cossacks, whom they do not trust.”

“I will issue a public apology to the Vyrsarians and the Austranians for crimes committed by my father, grandfather and great-grandfather in their capacities as Tsar. I will condemn any and all terrorists who carry out violence in the name of Nekulturnya, I will publicly renounce all claim to Austrania, and I will publicly command all Cossacks to lay down their weapons and swear loyalty to the new government on pain of treason.” Nikolai offered.

“I see. That is an interesting offer. Do you anticipate that this proposition will mollify such anxieties and objections?” Melin wondered.

“It is my hope that it does. If the Vyrsarians and the Austranians wish to treat, they are welcome to. My goal is peace and harmony, and I will work towards that end in my capacity as Tsar, God and people willing.” Nikolai answered.

“Public declarations will certainly aid things, but so will a clear understanding of the necessity of co-operating with all of the interim regime in the transition. Perhaps a speech to the Council of Delegates will assist with things,” Grishanov suggested, “especially if televised.”

Nikolai nodded. “I agree, Mr. Premier. An excellent idea.”

“And what of those who favor a referendum to resolve this matter of monarchy?” Federov asked, quite keen for such a vote, as he was convinced that no monarchy was legitimate unless elective.

Mathias raised an eyebrow. “Then I would suggest to them that they give the new government some time, to see how it works out with a ceremonial Tsar in place. Should there be demand for a referendum after a certain period of time with the Tsar in place, then by all means, that would be reasonable.”

“So, you are not in principle opposed to it, but only after you’ve managed to get your Tsar entrenched in power?” Stepanov spoke up again.

“Power? He would hardly have any, and what power he did have would be the power that the democratically elected government lets him have, i.e. the Premier and the Duma, which would be you. What I want is for the people to actually see that it wouldn’t be so bad. They wouldn’t have that opportunity otherwise, and let’s be honest here, there is a very strong possibility that such a referendum would go against the monarchy, based upon not only old biases, but also out of fear of what a Tsar could do. I want those fears to be mitigated by actually seeing the Tsar in place under the agreed upon framework established first in New Macureus City and then again in Eltana. I believe that once it is established, that no one would even feel the need for a referendum, but then even if one was had, people would better know and understand the nature of the Tsardom.” Mathias explained politely.

“And the Constitution will be devised when and where? The Council of Delegates? The Ghantish Parliament? Some collection of boyars back in Northern Ghant, half of them with Ghantish wives?” Stepanov kept it up, being personally a Ghantophobe.

“We can do it right here.” Mathias said. “We can sit down as a group and devise one, with New and Old Macurean oversight. Right here in Bastyak, with the Council of Delegates serving as the ‘founding fathers’, if you will. To hell with the boyars and my countrymen...this should be by Nekulturnyans, for Nekulturnyans.” Mathias said.

Nikolai nodded. “I believe that the Council of Delegates, the Premier, and myself should devise a constitution, and that maybe this constitution can be put forth to the people upon completion.”

“What of the protections of minorities? What of the rights of women? What of land reform? What of social justice?” Federov spoke again, “fuck the issue of where the Constitution is written, as long we have a role in making sure that it serves the People.”

“I believe that all of those things are important.” Nikolai said. “Is the general consensus here that all of those things should be protected and guaranteed by a liberal constitution?”

“I propose that Nekulturnya enshrines in its Constitution a peace policy, one that renounces aggressive war forever and agrees to wage war only in self-defense,” Stepanov added.

“I concur with that,” said Ludmila Asanova, a prominent Feminist Delegate.

“As do I.” Nikolai nodded.

“And what of the role of the central government versus the lower levels of government? Should not the central government have more power to ensure national cohesion and stability? I also believe that this will mean measures to prevent abuses by corrupt local bosses. We should also prohibit soft money, permitting only personal donations to political parties,” Stepanov stated.

“And a national health-care system, would you disagree?” Federov stipulated.

“Due to exposure to hazardous wastes and fallout, I believe that a universial health-care system would be a good thing for our country. I would be willing to devote a large portion of my personal wealth towards such an end as well, considering my father is responsible for the medical needs of many people.” Nikolai said. “As for the role of central government versus lower levels of government, I believe that a strong central government is needed in the beginning, and devolution over time can be considered by the Duma as needs be.”

“So, what is Ghant’s motive for this?” Stepanov inquired.

“Yes, what does a patriarchal collection of feudal kingdoms want with Nekulturnya?” Asanova wondered.

“To help be a part of the solution and to make new friends. Isn’t it enough that we want to do some good and create lasting peace?” Mathias asked, politely.

“New friends, against Vyrsar, you mean? Will not Vyrsar object to this?” Asanova continued.

“We have no wishes to conflict with Vyrsar, despite their attempts to goad us into it.” Mathias insisted. “Despite that and her rhetoric of late, I believe that Adenauer is reasonable. She will see what is being done here and come to appreciate it, I believe. What she cares about is security, and what is being done here is working towards that end, is it not?”

“That would be the inclination of this administration, though it should be stipulated that the participation of Vyrsar in training Nekulturnyan armed forces would be beneficial as well. Naturally, therefore, we wish to avoid causing them any injury,” Melin observed.

“Why not invite the Edomites or the Romans to train Nekulturnyan armed forces in addition?” Mathias asked curiously.

“Interesting query which you pose herein, yet howbeit I would also propose that the militia be given primary responsibility for law and order in the Motherland,” Grishanov suggested.

“That sounds reasonable.” Nikolai agreed. “I believe that if we dedicate ourselves to security, and we ourselves take a stand against terrorism, insurgency and extremism, that such would go a long way in earning the faith and confidence of our neighbors.”

“How popular would you think that the monarchy is with the People, Your Highness?” Stepanov wondered.

“In all honesty, I would imagine that as is, it is not much so, on account of what my father did. Yet, I believe that with what we have discussed, the monarchy would become very popular, especially in light of what I would like to do as Tsar, which is respect a ceremonial position, support the government, and champion peace, healthcare, and security. I would also like to promote charitable organizations as well which could be kickstarted using some of my personal wealth. It would be my way of giving back to the people.”

“Any other questions?” Antil Surin asked, feeling the need to speak up...and then she asked one herself, “what of the rights of women in family and divorce law? How do I know that Nekulturnya will not revert back to patriarchy, even in areas formerly occupied by Old Macureus. This is a very real concern for us, you see.”

“Well, if the Council agrees, I think that can be stipulated and protected in the Constitution.” Nikolai offered. “I believe in the fundamental rights of women and in the ability to divorce. Does everyone else agree?”

“As long as the rights of men are protected, too, of course,” Federov noted as well, “and what of the anti-Semitic sentiments of the nobility and church? How do we deal with that?”

“The nobility will exist at the pleasure of the government and the people...they would be wise not to incur their wrath.” Ivan pointed out. “And the Church will obviously do whatever it can to avoid scandal for the sake of national unity, and as a token of appreciation for restoring the Tsar.”

“So, what role would you envision for yourself, Ivan Yevgenovich?” Grishanov probed.

“Ambassador to Ghant, with you approval that is.” Ivan said, lowering his head.

“With Consul Ralen promoted to Ambassador to Nekulturnya, I think,” Melin proposed.

“An excellent choice. I have heard it said that Counsul Ralen has represented your well, your excellency. I know this to be true of the Eltana meeting specifically.” Mathias said to Melin.

“Her continued excellence would advance her prospects, naturally. She is widely regarded as deserving of such high esteem. Incidentally, I just received correspondence from Everton. You would be well-advised to discourage any further Shrailleeni meddling in this affair, if that is conceivable, sir,” Melin reacted to the text from Anu Namin, the First Commissar, who was attending the CPO summit in Alizeria.

Mathias cocked his head. “What are the Shrai trying to do, and how can I discourage it?”

“They are contemplating several new CPO regulations and I would simply reiterate that it is vital that they do not propose anything that could contradict the interest of Old and New Macureus alike,” Dir Datin spoke this time, as Melin had shown him the text.

“And what are these interests of yours?” Mathias asked.

“Continued alignment of Nekulturnya with the pan-Macurean bloc, if that is clear enough to you, sir,” Melin spoke more plainly.

“Precisely,” stated Antil Surin rather crisply.

“...And can I count on continued friendship between the pan-Macurean bloc and Ghant?” Mathias asked.

“Friendship to consist of friendly relations, certainly. Did you also intend to stipulate anything anti-Vyrsarian, that might not be so positively viewed,” Dir Datin warned.

“Like I said, we are not interested in anti-Vyrsarian overtures. Rather, merely the pursuit of doing the right thing. In any case, consider it done. My Uncle Edward is in Everton...I will see to it that he is informed of the situation here.” Mathias said. “Now, was there anything else?”

“Anti-piracy, anti-banditry, that sort of thing. No mercenaries permitted to travel from Ghant to Nekulturnya. Agreed?” Antil Surin spoke again for the Old Mac side.

“Yes, of course. The first two were stipulated in the Eltana modifications to the New Macureus Protocols. And the latter will be rather easy to see to, I would say.” Mathias explained. “Now, I am assuming you all have read the revised Protocol...Grishanov was there and surely he conveyed those terms. If at this time there are no other revisions to be made, signatures from all concerned parties might be in order to make it official...and then everyone can go from there with the formulation of the new Constitution.”

“If the Vyrsarians object, how do you plan to persuade them?” Melin asked, “there being no love lost between Ghant and Vyrsar.”

“Force their hand...what is the worst they can do? We make these protocols official, and then we work with them until they accept it.” Ivan said. “The protocols have all been agreed upon and worked out vis-a-vis several negotiation sessions. So I say we sign, seal and deliver it and move from there. Let the good deeds and the good intentions of this group of people convince them.”

“Very well, then,” Melin agreed, signing for his part.

Antil Surin, surprisingly, signed with relative ease.

So did Dir Datin, following the boss’s orders...and Grishanov himself.

That was when Anatoly Bogdanovich Rimsky pulled out a knife and lunged at Nikolai. The Delegate had somehow avoided detection and Grishanov hesitated for a split second before pushing him to the ground.

“Assassin! Dishonorable man! What in God’s name would motivate you?” Grishanov told Rimsky, but then Asanova joined in with a stiletto, trying to kill Nikolai herself.

“Sexist pig! Patriarch!” Asanova cried out, “Mother Nekulturnya for the Mother Goddess!”

“Guards!” Mathias shouted. His men drew their swords. “Subdue them.”

“Capitalist lackey!” Rimsky screamed at Mathias, “no capitalism and Tsars for Nekulturnya! Socialism for the workers and peasants!”

No one saw the grin on Grishanov’s face, despite the failure of his plot. No one would know that he had used the two of them as pawns, would they? Dmitri might yet be avenged.

The guards flocked around Nikolai and Mikhail both, while Mathias stood defiantly. “What manner of treachery is this? Disarm them and arrest them...but do not kill them.”

That was when Nikolai stepped forth from the guards, much to Mathias’s surprise. “You want me dead? Then kill me. I am ready and willing to lay down my life for my country and for everlasting peace.”

“Do not be stupid. No murders will take place in the Palace. Guards, take custody of these….thugs. Make sure of their questioning….whatever must be done,” Natasha Semyonova ordered the Militia.

The Militia prepared to take custody of Rimsky and Asanova now, much to everyone’s shock, even Melin’s and Antil Surin’s.

“That was most detestable conduct, Prince. It is not acceptable, and I certainly recommend execution for the both of them after their proper questioning,” Melin declared.

“What about mercy?” Nikolai asked. “Others like them could be emboldened by executions. If we are merciful, then we disarm them, do we not?”

“Mercy has its place, but if we do that, then what? Perhaps exile to Deadora, since they seem to admire their system of government so much?” Grishanov proposed, thinking…..so close….so close…..if he hadn’t lost his nerve….if only. He would just have to try again. More vodka in the veins next time, to screw his courage.

“Life imprisonment, perhaps?” Mathias suggested. “If not that then the death penalty might be in order, I agree with his excellency.”

“Exile for life. Rimsky to Valik, Asanova to TECT. See what they think of that life,” Grishanov decided at last, not wanting to reward either of them….Rimsky would hate life in capitalist Valik and Asanova would despise living in Franklin State, “loss of office and citizenship as well. Apologies, Your….Majesty.”

And when I get another chance, you pampered expat buffoon, I will have you killed for real this time. I will not lose my nerve again, Grishanov thought…..Dmitri will be avenged…..and his pregnant wife.

“That sounds well and good, Mr. Premier.” Mathias said. “Now, as for those protocols. Thank you for signing, your excellencies. Now for the rest of you, go on.”

Ivan signed the protocols, followed by Vladimir, then Nikolai and then Mikhail. Mathias also signed, as a witness.

Dir Datin, for his part, looked just a little too calm, given the close brush with death that several had that day…..even Melin noted that in his head…..was Datin a sociopath? He was icy even by New Macurean standards, practically a machine.

“Alright, so his excellency General Melin, Surin, Datin, Grishanov, Yevgenovich, Borisevich, Nikloai, and Mikhail have signed in addition to myself. Natasha Semyonova, Yuri Stepanov, Daniel Federov, would you be so kind?” Mathias asked.

“Me first,” Stepanov signed it first.

Federov and Semyonova signed as well, but four members of the Council delegation stood stonily…..separatists….dreamers of a Balkanized land.

Georgi Aleksandrov, Pytor Vastutin, Nadia Romani, Ilya Kuropatkin, of course….the same four that always preached disunity and division. For Romani, at least, it made some sense. She was traditional queen of the Roma tribe near Bastyak. No Romany in her territory dared to approve of such a deal. Alexandrov wanted to carve up Nekulturnya into city-states, as part of his dream of minarchist rule. He was nearly an anarchist in sentiment. Vastutin wanted to separate Germans from the Slavs and get rid of the Jews while he was at it…..and Kuropatkin….well, he was in favor of Catholic autonomy, as leader of the small Catholic minority.

“Well, thank you all for signing, and for those of you that have not...know that your input in the constitutional process will be appreciated.” Ivan said.

“I will, if able, remain here in Bastyak at the Palace with Nikolai and Mikhail, and provide security for them for the time being. I would ask, your excellency, that you allow Nikolai to form a personal guard for security purposes...possibly comprised of cossacks under Vladimir. In addition, there is the matter of finding a Tsarevna for Mikhail, and an Edomite or Roman seemed a solid choice, as both could provide useful connections to either country. Do any of you have any input on that?” Mathias asked.

“Yes, let me suggest perhaps a Wielkilasin bride, if the Grand Duchess approves. That would perhaps reassure Vyrsar of our peaceful intentions. Perhaps,” Grishanov suggested.

“Or maybe a couple of Draconian ladies,” Natasha laughed.

“Anyway, by all means increase your security. Evidently, not everyone can be trusted, sad to say,” Grishanov feigned sorrow.

“One could always match him up with a Thrall,” Federov joked, privately hoping for castration in that case.

“Mathias nodded. “A hundred men for starters, perhaps might be in order for security at the Palace.”

Nikolai agreed. “Vladimir, can you secure a hundred cossacks to form security at the palace? I would have you be the captain of the guard.”

Vladimir bowed. “Yes, your majesty, of course! I shall summon them to Bastyak right away!”

“I will depart, then. No further need of me,” Antil Surin curtsied to the Tsar….newly minted, of course.

“My personal suggestion for Tsarevna would be a Roman...Sulpicia Liciniana or Claudia Procula. If not that then an Edomite...Princess Ava Shalamenser being the natural choice.”

“Or a Vyrsarian,” Melin proposed calmly.

“That might be helpful. I will let you propose that to them...they might be more inclined to listen to you, your excellency. Also, it is my hope that some official announcements and declarations are made reflecting the new situation.” Mathias offered. “If there is nothing else, I shall assume quarters in the Palace here and retire for the evening. There is much work to do in the coming days, and ample rest will be required.”

“You all are certainly welcome to remain and stay.” Nikolai smiled. “And thank you, General Melin, Mr. Premier, Delegates and envoys. Let us work together for a better Nekulturnya, starting now.”

“I work toward this, you Gadjo prince. A curse. May you die of the most painful death possible,” Nadia hexed him, spitting on her hands.

“Out! Now! That will be enough of that! You will keep a civil tongue, or you will be thrown out on your scrawny ass!” Semyonova called for the Militia to remove the Romany queen.

“Apologies, my Tsar,” Grishanov stammered, “that was unexpected, I assure you. She might be ninety, but that doesn’t entitle that old crone to hex anyone, let alone her Tsar. She lost her husband, the late Romany king, to radiation sickness.”

“This is understandable. There is much resentment for what my father has done...I have much penance to undergo to wash away those stains.” Nikolai conceded. “In any case it has been a pleasure. I should retire so I can be ready to be a part of the constitutional commission.”

“I should as well.” Mikhail bowed before the group.

“I would rather die than live under another Tsar,” Vastutin announced, drawing a .38 special revolver and putting it to his own head, squeezing the trigger immediately afterward…..a single shot and he fell to the floor dead.

Grishanov involuntarily crossed himself at witnessing this suicide. He was very dizzy and faint now, so he sat down and drank a little vodka with some black bread. Semyonova chose that moment to order the arrest of Kuropatkin and Aleksandrov for questioning….just for that, right?

Mikhail jumped, and Nikolai flinched a bit. Mathias stood and watched. “Might as well call those growing pains, eh? How unfortunate.”

“Vastutin’s father was a serf. Not surprising in his case,” Grishanov said as he steadied himself.

“Aye, hence why I will remain close to the new Tsar during the Constitutional formation process, as that might serve as a deterrent for would be assassins.” Mathias offered. “And don’t worry your excellency, I will get Denise from the Deadorans, rest assured,” he said to Melin.

“I do hope so, Your Highness. For my sake and that of the Cossacks,” Melin remarked coolly, the threat implicit here, “rest assured that we will tighten security. We cannot have more attempts on the life of an allied sovereign, can we?”

“No, indeed, that would be tragic and despicable,” Grishanov concurred.

Mathias understood that well enough. “Aye. Again, thank you all. I should be retiring if there is nothing else.” Mathias bowed and began to walk away slowly. joined by the new Tsar and Tsarevich, and his men.

[Ghant]

“The Messenger”
Grand Duke Pavel’s Estate
Izotan, Izotza, Ghant

Lord Prince Albert had never been particularly fond of his youngest brother Mathias, but he did respect him...to an extent. He had a sharp mind and a certain devotion to duty that Albert could appreciate. Needless to say when the newly minted King of Ziri received details from Mathias in Bastyak, Albert knew that it was for the good of the state to make good upon the terms of it. The task seemed simple enough…stop the mercs, don’t let them leave, and convince Pavel to disarm and if possible return to Bastyak. Naturally, Albert came prepared...with a thousand men, possibly expecting trouble. He had informed Izolde of the situation as well, and had her close the port, and gather some forces of her own in case things got ugly. Deputy Prime Minister Kattalin Eguskine was briefed on the situation as well, and had prepared not only to mobilize the Imperial Fleet, but also the Imperial Army if needs be. Albert wanted to avoid all of that if he could, naturally...settle it like men if he could. let’s hope he isn’t as mad as his uncle, Albert thought as he approached the estate with two dozen armed guards.

The estate had an iron spike topped gate--certainly not fit for a siege but a deterrent to casual interlopers--as well as an eight foot bricked wall also topped with iron spikes. The inner driveway was full of cars. There was a sound of music coming from inside the handsome town house that formed the center of the estate. Unlike many of the exiles, Pavel had been careful with his money, was a local taxpayer in good standing and avoided depending on foreigners for help more than he could avoid. Around the cars were drivers, many of them either uniformed in black or else in old fashioned Nekulturnyan army uniforms. They were having a snowball fight, laughing and joking.

Albert spied the men as they approached the gate, and he nodded towards one of his guards, who handed him a loudspeaker. “This is Lord Prince Albert of Ghant...open this gate at once.”

The snowball fight stopped--a few of them fell to the ground with a soft noise; the various men in the courtyard around the various cars looked surprised, but one of them approached, a strong featured middle aged man, who stood within two feet of the gate, and said, “Prince Albert. May I ask what your business is here, Your Highness, so I may inform His Serenity of your arrival?” his eyes took in the sight of the armed men warily.

“Imperial business that demands an immediate audience.” Albert said, dryly.

The man tightened his lip tensely. “I’ll have to inform His Serene Highness, sir. Please wait here.” He turned away; the other men could see a vein appearing at his temple, he walked briskly, stiff backed, towards the door.

“You do that.” Albert responded as he handed off the loudspeaker and waited, grinding his teeth.

Heading inside, he first encountered an ADC, who he was polite to but ignored, and then saw the glittering assemblage of people who were celebrating the arrival of their fleet--though it had not yet crossed into Ghantish waters and was still in an international sea lane, it was on its way. They were all in evening dress or full dress. Sonia, in a dress the colour of a pink diamond, her delicate straps making her upper body look nearly naked, bosom smooth and white as a swan’s, looked at the driver with a frown. However they were clearly concerned, all of them, about the loudspeaker they had heard.

“There is no way,” announced General Starukhin with a worried frown, “That this is good.”

“How dare he come in this manner?” said Sonia, but it was clearly a reflex, she was worried too. Albert’s name was a feared one in this country.

Pavel felt sick. The time had come at last. Maybe it was better taken out of his hands. Maybe. He said, “I should go out.”

Sonia hissed, “No, are you mad? Albert makes people disappear. You cannot.”

Pavel looked at her. He felt afraid, yes, and felt he had to set an example he had never wanted to set. However he kissed her hand. It was all such a joke in a way--and yet the joke had become serious. There was, in all the world, only one person allowed to push him around, and he was looking at her. “I’ll deal with it. Driver, what are they armed with?”

“Kalashnikovs, Your Serenity,” the man said.

“Call Boris Lupinsky, have him informed of the situation, and have him bring the Guards here. Tell him that the fleet is in reach.” Pavel said firmly. “And Starukhin...from me...immediately respond again to Alexei--to Admiral Prince Alexei Gordunov--tell him if he doesn’t hear from me in five minutes he is to make all despatch for Izotzan and attack the city.”

There was a gasp from the others in the room, but Sonia’s eyes shone and glittered. Pavel felt his heart soar at that. Then he marched from the room, down the hall, smoothed his jacket, waited for his greatcoat to be put on, put on his uniform cap and stepped outside. He walked through the drivers, who stiffened to attention as he walked, back and eyes straight, and stood where the driver had stood.

“Prince Albert. This is an unexpected surprise. I would invite you in, but you come to my door not in a friendly way but with armed men and with shouts and demands. I perhaps have misunderstood this but I do not accept it. So I stand at my gate and ask: what can I do for you?” he said. Albert was a man of terrifying reputation--but Pavel had a strong sense now of not merely being himself.

Albert grinned. “I was hoping we could treat as men...hard to do that with a gate in the way, don’t you think?” Albert asked.

“Treat?” said Pavel, cocking his head. “Are we at war?”

“...No. I come bearing news, though.” Albert offered. “Perhaps you have heard it already.”

Pavel’s face gave nothing away. “News?” he asked.

“The protocols negotiated in New Macureus City and that were refined, agreed upon and signed in Eltana have been signed and approved by all parties in Bastyak. By Melin, the Old Mac envoy, Grishanov, Nikolai, the Council of Delegates, and my younger brother Mathias. The Tsardom is restored, and Nikolai is now Tsar. He has taken up residence in Bastyak Palace with his son and my brother, and they have a personal guard comprised of cossacks. It is done, and your home has been delivered. The Tsar requests that you and Sonia return to Bastyak at your earliest convenience and dismiss these mercenaries, if you would be so kind.” Albert explained.

Pavel felt his stomach sink again. Damn NIkolai to hell he thought, almost shocking himself. He kept his face still and said, “I see. I’m surprised he did not deign to tell me himself. I’m also surprised that you have come here with armed men to tell me by loudspeaker. That seems…” he took a deep breath, as his anger began to chill something in him, “Very offensive to me, Prince Albert. To be told in this manner, to have it presented in this manner.”

Albert nibbled on his bottom lip. “I meant no disrespect...I merely wished to get your attention...I heard loud music, after all. And besides, I take my security very seriously these days. Anyway, you will have plenty of time to talk about it in Bastyak, no? All of the expats are welcome to return as well, hassle free. Go home, assume your post as Minister of Defense as stipulated in the protocol, and live happily ever after. Let me handle the mercs...me and my friends paid for them, after all.”

Pavel inclined his head politely. “Of course you meant no disrespect. However this rather irregular way of giving me my instructions...from the Tsar...are not really ones which I can act upon right now, as welcome as your advice is, Prince Albert. I have yet to hear about the reaction of the Confederation of Vyrsar, and I do not agree, and have not yet agreed that the Tsar should have no control over the armed forces. I have yet to have a serious conversation with him about it. You of all men should know whereof I speak...a king without the will to draw his own sword is no true king. My apologies, but I cannot do as you ask. However you are welcome to come in and have a glass of champagne or several--we are celebrating the arrival of our navy outside of Ghantish waters. They will be here soon.”

Albert looked at the sky for a moment, grey and cloudly as it was, before looking back at Pavel. “I wasn’t asking, Grand Duke. Not only will the ships not be allowed to dock, but the Imperial Fleet is not far away. Neither is the Imperial Army, or the Izotzan militia. So here is what I would suggest. Go to Bastyak, sit down with Nikolai, Melin, Grishanov and whoever the fuck else is involved, and talk things over and work out some kind of mutually beneficial arrangement. Otherwise you won’t have a pot to piss in come nightfall.”

Pavel said, “If you had come in another manner, politely, or made a phone call, or anything other than coming here with such obvious disrespect, I would have given very serious consideration to agreeing. However since you have done this, and taken this further tone, I’m afraid I’ve got to tell you that I’ve given orders to the fleet that they should advance on Izotzan regardless--come hell or high water--if I do not confirm that they have permission to proceed peacefully in the next five minutes. If I do not communicate with them after that, they will presume that I am dead and will act vengefully in response. They will endeavor to pick up General Lupinsky and surviving forces--which are on their way here now--and take them to Nekulturnya and if need be blast their way in. Now, prince Albert, I suggest that you advise your government that this be a point of negotiation, and that we reason about this. I will not be ordered around by you.” He paused for effect. “I await your answer, sir.”

Albert sighed. “Then by all means, let’s reason, shall we? Over champagne, if it pleases you.”

Pavel said, “Please hand your AK to one of your men. Have them sling their arms. Then you can come in. I give you my solemn word that you will leave my estate freely once we’ve finished our discussion.” he remained formal, quiet and almost rigid.

Albert handed his firearm to one of his men. “I fucking hate guns anyway.” Albert stood and waited in his court dress and thick fur coat and cloak, waiting for the gate to open.

The gate opened, Pavel gestured and walked with him up into the house. “I don’t know if you’ve met my wife, I’m sure she’ll be delighted to meet you. We’ve been having a little party, I hope you don’t mind if we talk a bit in private after we get in.”

“I met her in Garza...remember...King Diego doesn’t like it when I call him ‘my boy’. He might be a grown man now, but he will be that little boy that pissed his bed when he had nightmares, to me.”

Pavel smiled. “Interesting,” he said. As they went in to the rather modern, sleekly decorated house, Sonia came into the corridor and said, “Oh, Prince Albert what a delightful surprise! Haven’t seen you since we were in Free Garza, won’t you have a glass of champagne, or perhaps some brandy?”

“Some champagne would be nice...and some bread and salt, if you would be so kind.” Albert feigned a smile.

Sonia laughed, her eyes glittering. “Oh Prince Albert, you are our honoured guests…” she said to a nearby servant, “Champagne, and a plate of bread and salt.” the valet hurried to get them, and came back with a small loaf of bread and a plate of coarse salt, and a bottle and glasses of champagne on a tray. They could hear piano music coming from the main sitting room now.

Sonia and Pavel each took some bread and salt as they also offered it to Albert. “Let the peace of our house embrace you--and take it with you when you go,” said Sonia sweetly.

“Aye, may peace be upon us.” Albert said as he ate the bread with a pinch of salt and downed it with some wine. “Almost like taking communion,” he said as he took a nearby seat and stretched out in it.

Pavel sipped his champagne. “I dont want to cause anyone trouble. However at the sametime, my cousin seems to just want to be called a Tsar no matter what it costs. He hasn’t taken into account the concerns about property the pro-Tsarists have, he hasn’t taken into account the desire for vengeance some have towards us, he hasn’t taken into account that we would be entirely dependent on New Macureus for protection. He doesn’t want to consider these things. And something that concerns me even more--his whimsy is no different from that of his predecessor. It merely seems harmless at the moment. One moment he wants to raise an army--the next he wants to get rid of it without even considering the advice of those he has delegated responsibility to. I don’t even know if he’s safe, if he’s being coerced or what. And my final reason is this: any time someone says “remove all protection from yourself--without guarantees…” he raised his champagne glass at Albert, “Then I’m suspicious.” he held up a hand, picked up the phone, and said, “Prince Alexei Gordunov, please...yes...Alexei, I’m fine. I’m just talking to Prince Albert about foreign policy. Could you please hold your current position and wait for further instructions? Thank you.” he looked at Albert. “I’m so sorry. A detail I had to look after. Were you going to say something?”

“...Thank you. You are a man of your word...a man of honor. I can respect that, Pavel.” Albert said as he raised his glass for a drink. “The pro-Tsarists are under the protection of the new government now, from what I have gathered. In addition, The Edomites and the Romans both have been invited to help train Nekulturnyan forces. And of course, Nikolai was allowed to create a personal guard out of Cossacks...Melin is even there, being guarded by those same men.” Albert sipped on his wine. I get it...you don’t think its safe there. But I can promise you it is. My brother is there with the Tsar and Tsarevich, staying close to them, guarding them with his own men. So far there have been no traps. You could go too, leave your wife if you would like...but the situation is delicate and can be resolved easily by talking. Wouldn’t you say? After all, look at us...just a failure to communicate.”

Pavel said, “I agree with you in principle. That is why for now I will keep my forces until I am satisfied.” he smiled almost boyishly. “I’d also like to see how well my cousin has been received by the public, back home. This is all going so fast, and I’m really just a member of the Imperial Family...hardly a professional politician like Grishanov. I’m surprised by him having such great concern about this. After all--these forces would be a great asset to everyone concerned. It would save New Macureus money, and would deal with both internal and foreign security concerns, and they are enough to defend our country but not seriously threaten another.”

Albert rubbed his chin. “I see. Well...my brother is with Melin as we speak. Perhaps if I gave him a call...you could speak to Melin yourself. What say you on that?”

Pavel laughed a bit bitterly. “I see...so one minute your government backs Nekulturnyan independence, completely, and I’m told that your Prime Minister and Lord Malibar are going to insist upon it, even take risks for it--then I find that you and your brother are suddenly backing this new initiative. What will be next, asking my wife and I to trade clothing?”

“I am just a soldier. I have my orders, and I carry them out. So you want to wait and see how the people respond to Nikolai, eh? And if they receive him well, then what?”

Sonia suddenly said, fiercely, her nostrils flaring, “What we want, Prince Albert, is to properly rule Nekulturnya. We are willing, as we have said to the press, to do so in compromise, as Prince Nathaniel Victor VII or King Diego do--but that is as far as we will go. Anything less is shit.”

Pavel felt a surge to his groin. His beautiful wife rarely used foul language; when she did it made him intensely aroused.

“They are writing the constitution now. Why don’t you join them and say that? You are preaching to the choir, woman. I would like the Grand Empire restored with some maniac with his finger on the red button. But we don’t always get what we want. The key is getting the Tsar in a position where he can build influence again. He is trying to do that, and he has the chance to do it. These mercs...it would backfire. Destroy the credibility of the House for good. If you want what my cousins have, go convince them of it.”

Pavel stared at him. “Since this information came from you--since my cousin the Tsar and the Chairman saw fit to ask you to be their envoy--you can tell them then that my answer is: when the compromise I proposed in Eltanland is given serious consideration and is to be discussed, I will talk about it again then.” he felt bleak about this though; his cousin had screwed him over. A strange and desperate thought came to him...and he all but squelched it, but it was starting to burn in him like a flame. “as a gesture of good faith from your own side...perhaps you might consider letting my fleet through to arrive here in Izotza.”

Albert mulled that over for a moment, rubbing his fingers together while looking at the wall. “Alright, here is what we can do. The fleet can anchor at port. I will also convey these terms to my brother to bring up to all concerned parties. If they say they are willing to talk, would you then go?” Albert asked.

Pavel smiled. “Yes. I will be willing to go then.” Sonia opened her mouth, and to her surprise Pavel held up his hand and looked at her sternly, and she subsided. “Will that be satisfactory, Prince Albert?”

“Yes, consider it done.” Albert nodded, drinking some more wine. “They will entertain it, rest assured.”

Pavel got up. “I must return to my guests. It has been such a pleasure to have received you, I hope we will see you again soon.”

“Such a pleasure,” Sonia agreed, rising as well. They escorted him to the door and bowed him out.

“Thanks. And remember, Grand Duke, I might be an asshole, but at least I am not a fucking asshole.” Albert said, before finishing his wine and setting down the glass down. Then he approached his men outside again. “Let’s get out of here...I need to call my brother and get this shit straightened out.”

[New Edom]

Ghantish EEZ, Approaching nautical limit

Soundtrack

Upon the freezing rolling white capped waters moved the lean shapes of the naval battlegroup that surrounded the convoy carrying supplies and troops for Ghant. 10 Karzelek class Guided-Missile Destroyers, 8 Alkonost class Strike Cruisers, and hidden below the waves, two Iain class Nuclear powered guided-missile Submarines. They formed a wide circle, nearly a hundred kilometers around, of defense around the fleet, warning of any possible incursion, the cruisers a shield against any attacks by missiles or planes.

Sailors worked on the decks, spray now and then striking even as high as the rails on these great ships as their bows speared the waves. Helicopters seemed to almost hang in the air, their fluttering beating the air as they moved to dip sonar buoys or scan the waters around them from the air.

Two more of the surace warships each immediately protected within sight the precious convoy of ten vessels and the two logistics ships carrying nearly 30,000 troops and support personnel, most of them Nekulturnyan exiles, the rest mercenaries from Azurlavai, the Common Empire, and other areas. Down below the decks, machinists worked the machines, kept the power plants going, kept sewer lines flowing. Galley floors were mopped of spilled food and vomit. Soldiers, sailors, airmen were occupied by prepartions and instructions.

Weird to think of going home, for the majority. They had lived hard, brutal lives in the service of a PMC, now they would possibly have homes again. They were not the men they might have been before; they had many of them jobless and all but homeless signed up for another life. What the hell--it was their job anyway. The senior officers who had worked among them were hard men too--this was their job. The speeches of the Tsar meant little to them. But even hard men can dream of home and hearth. Even hard men are sometimes moved by glory.

The holds were also full of planes, helicopters, tanks, APCs, trucks, rifles, artillery, shells, ammunition, fuel, and food.

All they waited for was the clearance to proceed. Prince Alexei Gordunov, who as the Admiral of the Fleet now, on the flagship, the cruiser Jarilo, waited with as much patience as he could summon for that clearance. He was tempted by an excellent bottle of vodka in his cabinet, but stuck to tea and coffee. The time was ticking. He knew it would build more tension and worry. There had been discussion about where to go. Their only choice would be to go in if they were not given the clearance--to go in to Nekulturnya--or go back to the Franklin Colony, where they would at least be received...and could continue to wait. And stagnate...

[New Edom]

To: The Office of Chancellor Alexandra Adenauer
From: Matthais Canto, Director of Manna Developments, Nass, Teman Province, New Edom
Subject: Investment Proposition
Encryption: Moderate (delivered with the assistance of the New Edomite Consul-General)

---

Dear Madame Chancellor,

I do not wish to presume upon your time, so I will be brief.

I am an investments broker from the Allied States of New Edom. As you can see from my credentials I have largely been involved with property and financial development. I have recently been working with the exiled Nekulturnyan gentleman, Grand Duke Pavel Zetsky-Orlov. I realize that this is a name which your countrymen have little love for. The Grand Duke himself recognizes this, however I would like to turn your attention to a news interview he did recently in which he stated his views on the past regime.

I do not know if you are aware, but his cousin, Nikolai Zetsky-Orlov, has been meeting with Chairman Ios Melin of New Macureus with the intent of establishing what could best be described as a puppet monarchy under New Macureus. A number of potentially dangerous elements are believed to be likely to be tolerated under this regime, such as communists and radical socialists. It is expected that in the agreement that follows that these militias along with New Macurean troops will form the basis of that area's military strength.

I would like to request a meeting with you or anyone you would appoint to explain in greater detail Grand Duke Pavel's proposed plans to help prevent the anarchy that would follow the plan that Nikolai Zetsky-Orlov has put together. You of course are aware of the violence that followed his recent speech. By contrast in response to Grand Duke Pavel's remarks, there has been no reaction at all. He has told me he is reluctant to speak further about actual intentions without your agreement.

I hope that you will in some manner grant me a meeting and enable me to make the case of a re-established Nekulturnya as a constitutional monarchy which would only be established by agreement with its neighbors, not as the result of meetings behind closed doors of hidden agenda.

I am, sincerely,
Matthias Canto

Matthias Canto had gone to school with the Consul-General, who had grumbled that he was owed a favour for this. Even if this was a return for a favour, technically. He knew how the man felt. Officially it was simply a message expedited that the New Edomite government knew nothing of. It could potentially be awkward.

And Pavel...you owe me too...

He looked at himself in the mirror. Minister of Finance. Why not? he laughed at himself. Exiled as a boy, managing to grow to success in a nation struggling out of chaos--he knew how a man could rise. Or did he want to be one of the soft faced men who benefited quietly? Either way...this was a big gamble. But damn...damn! He felt excited as he sent the message off to the consulate, and then poured himself a large vodka on the rocks, and hummed the old national anthem to himself. It had been a good day.

[Hittanryan]

Izotza, Ghant

With the interview for Pavel Zetsky-Orlov written and published, Jay Muro was looking for another story. His stomach was even accommodating him now, though he felt it turn whenever he saw bloody red meat again. He ventured a guess that the Ghantish had built up some kind of resistance to the volcanic mayhem which had afflicted him over the past week.

Now that he was better, he approached his assignment with renewed vigor. Events were in motion about Nekulturnya. The CPO had gathered its leaders in Everton, Alizeria, which he found out thanks to the hotel's satellite TV. A meeting had taken place between the Tsarevich and New Macurean officials, circumstances vague and mysterious. And he was here, practically in the center of it all, before damn near everyone else! Even that smug rich prick Donaldson.

His cheery attitude lasted until he was about halfway to the Grand Duke's Estate. As he came to a corner, he turned to one side and froze. At least two sections worth of armed personnel were marching down the street armed with assault rifles. There had been nothing in the news, no warning, no emergency declared. Though a bit stunned, Muro managed to keep his cool, even as his only thought was a panicked 'What the fuck?!'

They appeared to be surrounding a severe-looking old man. He was important, but why were they walking in the open? Their attention hadn't shifted to him yet, so Muro hastily fished his phone out of his pocket. Making his way to a bench, he sat down and acted like he was making a call or sending a text message. He was actually lining up a photo of Albert surrounded by troops. Click. Click. Click. He snapped several in rapid succession.

He waited for the troops to pass before he took off at a brisk walk. Looking behind him to see if the soldiers were gone, he broke into a jog, mind filled with all sorts of questions. "A contingent of armed troops just walked down the street with not such much as a whisper from the police? Should I call the police or what? Wait, who are all of them?"

Once again, Muro froze in his tracks, figuratively, despite the weather. More troops moving down the main street in Izotza. A lot more. Hundreds. Who the hell was this? Was martial law declared?

Hastily fishing his phone out of his pocket again, he leaned up against a wall and started snapping pictures everywhere. The police weren't stopping them. Nobody was. Who could he tell that could give him a bit of refuge? Or at least give him some answers? He didn't know too many people here, but he did have contact information for someone who would like to know. Once he was back to his hotel and presumably not long after Pavel concluded his meeting with Albert, Muro called Denisov.

"Mr. Denisov, Jay Muro here again, how have you been? I was wondering if you were aware that there appear to be troops all over Izotza?" he asked, his voice calm but his hands shaking just a bit as he fumbled with the cap of a water bottle.

[Vyrsar]

Everton, Alizeria

Always glued to her work (which, as a Foreign Affairs Secretary, was plentiful), Vanessa Adler had her tablet and her phone up and powered at all times. She didn't expect much to come through during the convention, as representatives from most nations were there, and so she was surprised when not just her's, but Mathias', Adelaide's, Alessa's, and Jonas' phones all went off at the same time. Pulling it up, Vanessa quickly opened up the message with a quick finger scan, passcode, and a few taps. The message had been forwarded from Schröder, who had included his own personal input.

Ich mag es nicht.

I don't like it. Joachim's opinion was clear enough, then, and it further piqued Vanessa's interest. Her eyes scanned over the message, her eyebrows raising slightly at the sender. The message had been translated into German.

Bis: Das Amt des Bundeskanzlerin
Von: Matthais Canto, Direktor Manna Developments, Nass, Teman Province, New Edom
Sorge: Investitionsvorchlag
Verschlüsselung: Mäßig

---

Liebe Madame Kanzlerin,

Ich möchte nicht nach Ihrer Zeit voraussetzen, also bin ich kurz.

Ich bin ein Investitionsmakler von den verbündeten Zuständen von neuem Edom. Wie Sie von meinen Bescheinigungen mich sehen können, sind in großem Maße in Eigentum und Finanzentwicklung miteinbezogen worden. Ich habe vor kurzem mit dem verbannten Nekulturnyan-Herrn, großartiger Duke Pavel Zetsky-Orlov gearbeitet. Ich stelle fest, dass dieses ein Name ist, den Ihre Landsmann wenig Liebe für haben. Der Großherzog selbst erkennt dieses, gleichwohl ich Ihre Aufmerksamkeit zu einem Nachrichteninterview drehen möchte, das er vor kurzem tat in, welchem er seine Ansichten über das letzte Regime erklärte.

Ich weiß nicht, wenn Sie bewusst sind, aber sein Vetter, Nikolai Zetsky-Orlov, hat Vorsitzenden Ios Melin von neuem Macureus mit der Absicht der Festlegung getroffen, was als Marionettenmonarchie unter neuem Macureus gut beschrieben werden könnte. Einige möglicherweise gefährliche Elemente werden geglaubt, um wahrscheinlich zu sein, unter diesem Regime, wie Kommunisten und radikalen Sozialisten zugelassen zu werden. Es wird dass in der Vereinbarung erwartet, die folgt, dass diese Milizen zusammen mit neuen Macurean-Truppen die Basis der militärischen Stärke dieses Bereichs bilden.

Ich möchte eine Sitzung mit Ihnen fordern, oder jedermann, das Sie ernennen würden, um großartigen Duke Pavels vorgeschlagene Pläne in allen weiteren Einzelheiten zu erklären, um zu helfen, die Anarchie zu verhindern, die dem Plan folgen würde, den Nikolai Zetsky-Orlov zusammengefügt hat. Sie berücksichtigen selbstverständlich die Gewalttätigkeit, die seiner neuen Rede folgte. Durch Kontrast in Erwiderung auf großartigen Duke Pavels Anmerkungen, hat es keine Reaktion überhaupt gegeben. Er hat mir gesagt, dass er widerstrebend ist, über tatsächliche Absichten ohne Ihre Vereinbarung weiter zu sprechen.

Ich hoffe, dass Sie auf gewisse Weise mir eine Sitzung bewilligen und mir ermöglichen, den Fall von einem wieder hergestellten Nekulturnya hinter verschlossenen Türen zu machen als konstitutionelle Monarchie, die nur vertraglich mit seinen Nachbarn hergestellt würde, nicht als Ergebnis der Sitzungen des Hintergedankens.


Ich bin, herzlichst,
Matthias Canto

To: The Office of Chancellor Alexandra Adenauer
From: Matthais Canto, Director of Manna Developments, Nass, Teman Province, New Edom
Subject: Investment Proposition
Encryption: Moderate (delivered with the assistance of the New Edomite Consul-General)

---

Dear Madame Chancellor,

I do not wish to presume upon your time, so I will be brief.

I am an investments broker from the Allied States of New Edom. As you can see from my credentials I have largely been involved with property and financial development. I have recently been working with the exiled Nekulturnyan gentleman, Grand Duke Pavel Zetsky-Orlov. I realize that this is a name which your countrymen have little love for. The Grand Duke himself recognizes this, however I would like to turn your attention to a news interview he did recently in which he stated his views on the past regime.

I do not know if you are aware, but his cousin, Nikolai Zetsky-Orlov, has been meeting with Chairman Ios Melin of New Macureus with the intent of establishing what could best be described as a puppet monarchy under New Macureus. A number of potentially dangerous elements are believed to be likely to be tolerated under this regime, such as communists and radical socialists. It is expected that in the agreement that follows that these militias along with New Macurean troops will form the basis of that area's military strength.

I would like to request a meeting with you or anyone you would appoint to explain in greater detail Grand Duke Pavel's proposed plans to help prevent the anarchy that would follow the plan that Nikolai Zetsky-Orlov has put together. You of course are aware of the violence that followed his recent speech. By contrast in response to Grand Duke Pavel's remarks, there has been no reaction at all. He has told me he is reluctant to speak further about actual intentions without your agreement.

I hope that you will in some manner grant me a meeting and enable me to make the case of a re-established Nekulturnya as a constitutional monarchy which would only be established by agreement with its neighbors, not as the result of meetings behind closed doors of hidden agenda.

I am, sincerely,
Matthias Canto

"Aw, Mathias, er hat deinen Namen," Adelaide chuckled (Aw, Mathias, he has your name). She nudged the older man with her elbow, who grumbled and looked up at Vanessa, Alessa, and Jonas.

"Vanessa, Jonas. Bring diese an den Kanzlerin. Sehen Sie, was sie denkt," he told- no, ordered- Vanessa and Jonas (Bring this to the Chancellor. See what she thinks).

They both nodded without question. They didn't question something like this, they just did. The two immediately stood up from their seats, Vanessa grabbing her tablet, and set off towards the leaders table with a sense of purpose. Both of their strides were deliberate- Vanessa's slightly more careful and graceful, because heels and not watching your step did not mix well together- and purposeful. They walked around the head of the table, around Ashton and DeGroot, to reach Adenauer.

Reaching her, Vanessa tapped her twice on the shoulder. Adenauer turned to look up, and Vanessa leaned in.

"Es gibt etwas, was Sie brauchen, um zu sehen," Vanessa told her (There's something you need to see). She said it in a relatively low voice that could still be heard, but wasn't announcing to the rest of the table. She then handed the tablet to Adenauer, who read through the message for herself. Once done, she motioned Jonas and Vanessa forward again, and they both stepped slightly closer.

"Sagen Joachim an der Sitzung zu akzeptieren. Sagen Alessa, dass sie auf der Platte für diese ein. Ich werde mit ihr später zu sprechen. Ich stimme Joachim in diesem Fall. Ich mag es nicht, aber ich werde nicht es vorbei rutschen ohne einen zweiten Gedanken zu lassen. Verstanden?"

"Tell Joachim to accept the meeting. Tell Alessa that she's on the plate for this one. I'll speak to her afterwards. I agree with Joachim on this one. I don't like this, but I am not going to let it slip past without a second thought. Understood?"

"Jawohl." Vanessa and Jonas said. Adenauer broke a smile.

"Jonas, erhellen. Sie sehen aus wie Sie einen Geist gesehen," she said with a wink. (Jonas, lighten up. You look like you've seen a ghost.)

"Ja, Frau," Jonas replied, nodding. His expression visibly brightening up as it turned from a concerned look to a much more relaxed one. He gave a genuine smile back to Adenauer, and Vanessa placed a hand on his shoulder and the two walked away. The Chancellor turned back to the table.

---

Büro des Exekutiv

To: Mr. Matthias Canto, Director of Manna Developments, Nass, Teman Province, New Edom
From: Office Of Alexia Adenauer, Chancellor of the Vyrsarian Confederation
Subject: RE
Encryption: Maßig

Dear Mr. Canto,

The Chancellor has accepted a meeting of an appointed official and yourself. It has been requested that Pavel Zetsky-Orlov himself be present. She has appointed Ms. Alessa Kolt as the official to be present at the meeting. The meeting itself is agreed to on certain terms, those being that the meeting be confidential and within Vyrsarian or Austranian territory.

Grüße.

[New Edom]

To: Office Of Alexia Adenauer, Chancellor of the Vyrsarian Confederation
From: Matthais Canto, Director of Manna Developments, Nass, Teman Province, New Edom
Subject: Investment Proposition
Encryption: Moderate (delivered with the assistance of the New Edomite Consul-General)

---

Dear Madame Chancellor,

I am deepy grateful for the positive response.I would be delighted to visit Vyrsar for the meeting. However I am regretful to say that Pavel Zetsky-Orlov will not be able to attend due to pressing responsibilities, though he sends his deepest regrets.

I am, sincerely,
Matthias Canto

[Vyrsar]

40nm from Ghantish EEZ
VKS Ven
VDF Navy Type-726 Destroyer

Sitting in his command center, Captain at Sea Adrien Stauffenberg sat watching the horizon of the sea with eyebrows furrowed in concern. They'd already relayed what had tripped their radar to the command back in-country. 6 surface vessels, traveling in what appeared to be formation. Joining and painting a picture with other radar reports from other ships, as well as one of their own Type-225 submarines, they had counted a total of just a tad of over 30 unidentified surface vessels moving in formation, and the Type-225 had detected at least two unidentified submarines below the surface. For now, the orders were for all surface vessels to organise and standby, and for the two on-station Type-225s that were in the area to move to trailing ambush positions. As hunter-killer submarines, the Type-225 'Sachsen'-Class was bred for, well, hunting and killing enemy vessels. The diesel-electric sub, built with an AIP system, gave it the stealth abilities that could sink even Ossorian aircraft carriers. And, in that respect, it was perfect for this task.