The Long Way Down | Closed

[Havensky]

HRA Beast of Burden
Sidonia International Airport
0330 Hours Local Time

The Skyans received word late in the evening that they had received permission from the Allied Nations government to investigate the cause of the fire. The team had decided to leave early in the morning as to make as least fuss as possible. It would be an early morning for the fire crew and the engineering team. The Epiphany had travelled with the cargo hauler Beast of Burden in order to transport the fire engine and ladder truck. The engineering team would take that ship to Spreck while Sergio and the Epiphany would stay behind run diplomacy.

The Beast of Burden left Sidonia in the early morning hours and headed off towards Spreck. The plan was to land and then drive to the fire site in Firehouse 51's vehicles. Lady Regina "Glitch" Raven had arranged for a remote classroom of nearly one hundred oil refinery engineers to watch over the investigation so that they could come up with solutions to any engineering questions fairly quickly. The time difference wasn't too bad - but it would be lunchtime for the remote team by the time they arrived at the fire site.

On the trip there, Glitch and Sarah ran over blueprints of the refinery as well as notes about how the fire had traveled. It wasn't long before the airship came close to Allied Nation airspace.

Allied Nation Air Traffic Control - This is the Havensky Republican Airship ZR-303 'Beast of Burden' requesting clearance to enter Allied Nation Airspace as part of a diplomatic mission in accordance with flight plan. Over

Glitch, Sarah, and the rest of the team began to get ready for departure. If normal protocol was followed, then they'd meet members of the Allied Nation's diplomatic branch at the airport and then start their investigation.

[Nova Sylva]

Bear Force One
En route to Sidonia, Sylvan Airspace
2000 hours

First Minister Stephen De La Calle (pronounced Day-La-Kiy-A) shifted through the stack of briefings in front of him as he reclined in the office chair aboard Bear Force One, the presidential Concorde jet. Bear Force One was a marvel of engineering – using the chassis of a Concorde, Air Force engineers had revamped its electronics’ suite, its engines, and refurbished the supersonic jet to be more luxurious than it already was.

Stephen pushed the reading glasses to the edge of his nose as he read through the briefings. There was major unrest in the Sellenland, and Wankan mobilization. It was almost as if the Kingdom and the Volksrepublik were having another Sidonia. The Wankans had also announced an alliance with the United World Order – which troubled him. He had heard stories of the hyper-expanisionalist UWO and the way they treated newly enslaved countries and of their wars with the Aleckandorian Confederacy. Their involvement in Septentrion affairs was...troubling, to say the least.

Then there were the Skyans, who had invited the executives of the SL and the AN in an attempt to deescalate the situation in Sidonia, and to avoid all-out war between superpower blocs. De La Calle was thankful for the Skyans – they had always been good diplomats, and he would be in there debt if this could actually avoid war. He, unlike everybody else in the world it seemed, was the only one who didn’t want a war with the AN.

His Aleckandorian counterpart, a man by the name of Arthur Gelnikos, was a native Westronian whom he had never met face to face, but was supposedly a rising star within the Confederate government. But Gelnikos was a hothead – quick to action, slow to words – and therefore Stephen questioned his mission of diplomacy – did the Aleckanodrians really want peace? Or was Sidonia – and Sylva – just pawns in a bigger game to destroy the Allied Nations?

He looked at the file on the Allied Nations’ executive, President George Robert Kerman. Age 53. No children, unmarried, though has an ongoing affair with the Universal Petroleum CEO Lorraine Rubin. So the government and corporations are literally in bed with each other. He had been in politics since he was young, slowly rising up the ranks. Many friends within the AN military, including an african-american Colonel who served as his personal attache. Heavy drinker. De La Calle smiled at that. Weren’t we all, at this age?

He was first going to meet with the other SL executives in Sidonia's capital, Capernaum, to discuss policy - from there, they would arrange to meet the Skyans for a diplomatic mission. An aid had already relayed the SL's interest in such talks - now all they needed were for the AN to agree, and the negotiations could begin.

As Bear Force One began it’s descent, De La Calle just hoped he wasn’t wasting his time.

[Aemen]

Watchtower Eight
Aemen

“Sir! Sir!” shouted an Inspectorate MP, running up the concrete stairs of the army's mountain-top watch tower with enviable stamina before bursting into the tower's observation room. “Commander Folcwalding, sir! News from Krakenhof!

Niels Folcwalding was spearheading an investigation into the Weissman family killings by interviewing the Sellenland watchtowers' sergeants. They all kept logs of when their stationed troops had signed in and out of the towers' boundaries. if there were any abnormalities in absence to be seen, then they would be recorded for the Commander to scrutinise. Though they had heard of the riots, Niels and his Inspectorate agents had been away from the action at the time that it had occurred and were unaware of a great deal of the details. Niels turned to his subordinate, his interest piqued. “Sub-Lieutenant, what do you have?”

“Sir, the police have broken the protest, but multiple law enforcement personnel reported strange goings-on during the aftermath. Young Wankans appeared to have just vanished from their homes without a trace. Their family members have been brought in to be questioned, but they're being extremely uncooperative, sir. We didn't think much of it, until the Owl picked up these images.”

The Sub-Lieutenant handed Niels a small collection of images. The Owl was the nickname for the unmanned drone that had been deployed alongside the Inspectorate to solve the murder. Upon hearing of the riots and demonstrations breaking out around the Sellenland, the Ministry of Initiative authorised the drone's early use, so the local police forces could keep better up-to-date on the protest's development across the region. Though it only caught the tail-end of the main riot, it had kept a better eye on the smaller splinter protests that were birthed from it and inadvertently caught something else.

Niels took the images and studied them. They had been zoomed in and enhanced, though were still difficult to make out. Niels, however, could see what the focus of the pictures was; dark-suited men, who appeared to be doing their best to be hiding from the Owl, were snaking their way from building to building through each town and appeared to be leaving with young Wankans who matched the descriptions of some of those missing after the riots. Niels looked at the timestamp at the bottom of one of the pictures and checked his watch. “Six hours. Where could they have gone in six hours?”

Niels handed the photos back to his Sub-Lieutenant. “Send a report back to the Ministry and include these images. Request the allotted time for the Owl's patrols to be extended, address it to the High Minister only and mark it as Suspect: Anglerfish.”

“Yes sir.” The subordinate officer took the images from Niels before rushing out of the room. The Commander turned around to the observation room's desk and picked up his radio which he'd lain there upon arriving. After some tuning, Niels heard a female voice speak from the other end. “Commander, is everything alright?”

“Chief Anholts, order all Inspectorate personnel to report to Reiterhof Airfield and await further instructions. New evidence has arisen which may put us in a more active position than were were originally intended for.”

Ministry of Initiative
Erus

“...these are the images taken by the surveillance drone I was sent by the Inspectorate. As you can all see, the men depicted are clearly not a part of our forces or the protesting Wankans. Their awareness of the drone isn't concerning, everyone who looks at the sky would have seen it at this point. What worries me, gentlemen, is their reaction to it. They're keeping to the sides of the buildings and the blur in some of these photos suggests they're moving at some speed out in the open, perhaps darting in and out of cover.” The High Minister of Initiative, Augustus Folcwalding, had immediately called a meeting of the Ministry's top officials to inform them of the unfolding situation. The men were sat in the Ministry's top floor conference room, looking through hard copies of the Owl's images. “Commander Folcwalding had the message marked as Suspect: Anglerfish.”

Suspect: Anglerfish was code between the Inspectorate and the Ministry, it meant that the investigators had their suspicions that what had been seen at first glance wasn't the full story. Much like an Anglerfish lurking in the dark abyss of the ocean with its alluring light, the closer you get to the truth, the more ugly and vicious you find the creature to be.

Field Marshall Gilbert Bezuidenhout was the highest ranking military official in the room and was the first to speak. “Do we have anything else to support this, High Minister?”

“We received a message from the Achesians. We haven't yet replied because we wanted to be sure they were right, but what they're saying conveys a dire scenario. Their intelligence services seem to have uncovered a plot by Murovanka, our wonderful northern neighbours, to invade the country. I think it's safe to say that if you piece everything that has recently happened together, you end up with the Sellenland under Wankan occupation.”

There was muttering in the room. Whispers of panic, Augustus thought, even Aemen's top commanders weren't devoid of fear, the fear of surprise being the most dreaded of them all. “The Achesians, however, have deployed a fleet on standby just off of our coast. They have fresh soldiers ready to aid ours should the worst come to worst. I have a horrible feeling it will.”

Another general spoke up. “We must send them a message accepting their assistance.”

Augustus smirked, relishing the thought of being one step ahead. “I've already had a message drafted. It hasn't been sent yet because I wanted to see what the response from this meeting would be. It's safe to say that I don't need to keep it hidden from our allies much longer.”

Bezuidenhout spoke up again, he was the only military official in the room to remain calm. “Does His Majesty know about this?”

“The King is fully aware of the Sellenland scuffle and has already authorised the deployment of our own soldiers to the region. We'll be using the town of Reiterhof as our main command centre.” The High Minister exclaimed. “Inspectorate forces will also remain stationed there to act as wards of discipline. The Sellenland can be bitterly cold and morale can be beaten mercilessly by the weather, Commander Folcwalding and his lieutenants will ensure that our forces will not lose sight of their objectives.”

The officials nodded their heads, agreeing with Augustus, before Bezuidenhout rose from his seat, prompting the others in the room, apart from the High Minister, to do the same. “We'll leave you to your work then, High Minister, and mobilise the army for deployment. It would be my honour to serve His Majesty as the commanding officer for this campaign.”

“Your application is accepted, Field Marshal. In fact, you were the first candidate I had in mind. I'll include your name as a signatory for the message to the Achesian fleet. Your co-C.O. on the Achesian side will be their Crown Prince, the future husband of Her Royal Highness, Princess Roseanna.”

Ministry of Initiative
'His Majesty's Sword'
Classified Communications

To The Commander Of The Aequorial Carrier Battle Group, Crown Prince Julian Charles the VIII, Acklium of the Realm

After extensive investigation by His Majesty King Reginald the Second's forces, we have come to the conclusion that the Volksrepublik of Murovanka is plotting a takeover of Aemen national territory. As a result of these findings, by order of His Majesty, your armed forces are permitted to land at Reiterhof Airfield to support a defensive initiative should the Volksrepublik follow through with an attempted invasion.

In command of Aemen forces in the area will be Field Marshal Gilbert Bezuidenhout. The Marshal is extensively experienced in military operations and has worked alongside fellow commanders before, he will prove an invaluable asset towards cohesion and the securing of victory in the region.

Should the member ships of Your Royal Highness's fleet require repairs or supplies, His Highness The Elector-Margrave has permitted the use of Sarston, the Aemen Royal Ocean Defence Force's small archipelago of islands near your position, to be active and ready for this specific task.

Once again, His Majesty would like to thank you and your nation for your support in this time of need.

Signed,
Augustus Folcwalding, High Minister of Initiative
and
Field Marshal Gilbert Bezuidenhout, Chairman of His Majesty's Armed Forces Committee

Alongside the message from the Ministry of Initiative is a letter addressed specifically to the Crown Prince and sealed with the emblem of the Royal House of Olbridge. It reads...

The Royal Office
Branch of HRH Princess Roseanna

To Your Royal Highness Crown Prince Julian

Her Royal Highness Princess Roseanna would like to extend to you, her betrothed, her most sincerest and warmest greetings. The Princess understands you, like herself, no doubt have a schedule that is incredibly time-consuming from day to day and filled with matters of state and personal interests. Her Royal Highness would, however, like to invite you to Olbridge Castle in the capital city of Erus for an initial introduction. It is in Her Royal Highness's interests to meet her groom face-to-face before the date of the wedding.

Please reply to this letter with a response as soon as possible so arrangements can be made. Her Royal Highness Princess Roseanna very much looks forward to meeting you.

Signed,
Helen Coeman, Private Secretary to HRH Princess Roseanna

[United World Order]

THE ORDERNITE MINISTRY OF DEFENSE

"Prosperity in Defense"

RECIPIANT: The Peoples Republic of Wanka
SUBJECT: Military assistance
ENCRYPTION LEVEL: RED

---

Greetings,

The Ordernite Ministry of Defense has under the direction of the Fuhrer Richtofen and the Ordernite High Command issue a request for the deployment of military forces to the Wakan-Swellende border in order to observe and protect Ordernite interests in the Peoples Republic of Wakan and see that the People's Republic does not fall victim to unwarranted aggression by other nations such as the Global Sovereign Confederacy of Aleckandor and other nations in the region we perceive as threats to Ordernite interests in the People's Republic. It is highly recommended that this request be granted as the sovereignty of the People's Republic and the safety of it's citizens are in possible danger. As Wakan is a fellow Germanic nation we are obliged to assist the People's Republic in their current and future endeavors.

The deployment will consist of the following military units which will be deployed to the Wakan-Swellende border by the 3rd Ordernite Flotte of the Ordernite Navy.

KAMPFGRUPPE WAKAN:

- 12. Order-SS Ecalpo-Tarakic Gebirgsjager Division
- 20. Order-SS Ecalpo-Tarakic Gebirgsjager Division
- 4. Fallschirmjager Battalion

This will be a token force to safeguard the sovereignty of the Peoples Republic and Ordernite interests in the People's Republic. When proper bases are made and a official presence is made a larger force consisting of the Ordernite Army will be deployed for permanent stationing.

Sincerely signed,

Rupprecht Strobl - Minister of the Ordernite Ministry of Defense

[Achesia]

Aequorial Battle Group, Crimson Sea, 55 NM off the coast of Aemen

It was bright and sunny, the deck of the Aequorial shine brightly as you flew over it. It was almost blindly, but thankfully some genius invented sun visors for pilots helmets or Julian would have crashed smack dab into the flight deck thus marking the most tragic disaster in Achesian Naval history. But no accidents today as the Royal Monarch Aerial Systems .88 HawkGul Multi Role Fighter touched down on the deck of the Syzygy CVN, one of the older classes of aircraft carrier in the fleet, but still deadly in the modern world. The violet markings on the wings of the MAS.88 were in contrast to the typical grey and blue pattern scheme of normal Achesian Royal Marine aviation fighters that lined the deck. Overhead a squadron of red painted MAS.88s buzzed past the carrier, these were the Prince's aerial body guard during his flight to the Crimson Sea, members of the elite aerial order, the Order of Valkyrie. As the Crown Prince's fighter was towed into its parking area, the flight deck came alive as the company of Naval Infantry ran out and into formation to receive the Prince. Armed with the standard FN SCAR-H battle rifle, they stood at shoulder arms in a receiving formation with a path down the center for the prince to walk. The Ships Skipper, the Admiral in charge of the Battle Group, and several other high ranking officers stood at the end of the path on their knees in reverence to his majesty.

Julian climbed down from the cockpit of his fighter and took off his helmet. Handing it to an attendant who stood close by he walked down the receiving line, and no sooner than when he walked past the first soldier did the whole company present arms holding their rifle in front in respect. Julian returned the salute, palm facing down, with his arm arched widely. As he dropped his hand the whole company return to shoulder arms. The Prince soon neared the kneeling officers, and beckoned them to rise.

"It is a high honor your majesty for you to visit us here, welcome aboard the Aequorial. We are at your disposal." The Admiral addressed the Prince.

"Thank you Sur, You have a fine ship and fleet here. I am looking forward to seeing your men in action. A tense situation I am afraid, but it is time the world see the dangers of threatening our interests abroad.

"Indeed my Prince." He turned to his adjutants and waved his hand. They began to make their way back to the con tower of the carrier. "If you wish to join us in the command center it is prepared for your arrival."

Julian nodded and followed the admiral who made carful sure not to walk ahead of the Prince, less he offend his majesty.

They entered the con tower of the carrier and made their way down corridors until they came to the command center. Inside was a buzz of activity as seamen were busy updating reports and boards, and annotating the latest intelligence on maps and read outs.

"What is the latest information?" Julian leaned his head over the screen table, where a digital map was projected showing the Crimson Sea, and the Aemen/Wanka boarder.

"Your majesty. the UWO and the Volksrepublik have formerly made their military alliance known, while the UWO does not have forces presently in theater it is estimated it will take 72 hours for the first of their presence to arrive. This is all ahead of recent disappearances of ethnic Wankers in the city of Krakenhof in Sellenland. We have worked closely with Amenian intelligence and it is suspected that a ethnic uprising of sorts will begin soon in that reason. No formal connection between the Volksrepublik and these forces has been seen but it is obvious the suspect this is happening after we have already had reports of their military build up."

"So the playing field will be Sellenland?" Julian scratched his chin.

"It is reasonable to suspect but we have no reason to believe it won't go beyond that."

"How many troops are aboard the Battle Group here?"

"Only 500 Naval Infantry." The skipper replied.

"It is a shame that we were not able to arrange a propositioned force or supplies sooner with Aemen to avoid the logistical nightmare this will become. Send communication with Royal Forces High Command, and inform them of the urgency to have the Army units mobilized to Aemen immediately."

"Yes your Majesty." The skipper found one of the communication specialists and began hashing out a transmission.

"The Aemen military command has formerly accepted our offer of military assistance. They have given instructions of where we might land our forces. We hope to have Royal Army Units on the ground within 74 hours ideally. With further reinforcements arriving within a week."

"Our naval presence here is also not enough, we must request a battleship group be brought from the northern sea to here at once."

"Yes your majesty." The Admiral grabbed a piece of paper from the desk behind him. "We received this transmission as well from Aemenian Royal Office." He handed the letter to the Prince. "It seems her royal highness of Aemen wishes you to have an audience with her."

"Does she not know this is a time of war? What a naive girl." The Prince grimaced at the letter.

"If I may your majesty, she is your betrothed. And it is not a coincidence your father assigned you to lead this mission. It may be appropriate at this time to make yourself known to her?"

The Prince thought for a moment as he looked over the letter again and again. It may behove him to meet this girl now, at least the fighting has not broken out yet and it gives him a chance to show her his dedication to the protection of her father's kingdom. "Indeed Admiral." He folded the letter and placed it into his pocket. "Ready my fighter, I will fly to the capital at once."

"Aye my Prince." The Admiral bowed.

Transmissions were also sent to Aemen to prepare them for Julians arrival in Erus.

To: The Royal Office
From: Admiralty, Realm of Achesia
Subject: Prince Julian the VII's arrival.
Encryption: Top Secret

Prince Julian the VII has gratefully accepted the invitation of the Princess Roseanna and is scheduled to immediately depart via his personal fighter craft and along with his escorts arrive in the capital there within 3 hours. He wishes to send his dedicated support to Aemen in this time of turbulence and thanks the Royal family for their hospitality.

Back in the Realm thousands of troops were massing to deploy to the Aemen theater via large cargo planes. Trucks, Supplies, Armored Vehicles, Ammo, Communications Equipment, and even MWR supplies were being loaded pallet by pallet and seat by seat onto C-17s that were begin prepped for the long trip to Aemen. Only light infantry would be able to make it to Aemen in the first wave as the logistical support to move a heavy armored division so fast into theater was not there yet. But preparations regardless were being made to get as many Achesian boots on the ground as possible to deter the threat of Wanker aggression.

ORBAT of Achesian Forces

In Theater:

Aequorial Battle Group

1x Syzygy CVN
-43 MAS.88As (1 Royal, 5 OoV, 37 Marine Aviation)
-15 AW101
-10 MAS.88Es
-4 SeeBird AWACS UAV
2x Adapt CG
5x Aeolian DDG
2x Aeon DDAA
2x Epoch DDASW
4x Aberrant FFG
1x Verve Tanker
A Company, Aequorial BG Naval Infantry

First Wave, Due to Reiterhof Airfield in 74 Hours:

I Legion of the Alpha Infantry Multitude, II Front, of the 62nd Light Order, West Army
III Legion of the Alpha Infantry Multitude, II Front, of the 62nd Light Order, West Army
I Legion of the Charlie Infantry Multitude, III Front of the 67th Light Order, West Army
8th Theater Support Group of the III Front of the 67th Light Order, West Army

All of these Organized under a Single Helix designated "Delphian"

Total Soldiers: Approx. 25,000[/list]

Second Wave, Due to Reiterhof Airfield in 9 Days:

IV Legion of the Alpha Multitude, III Front of the 120th Air Assault Order "Wyverns", Eld-Audian Army
III Legion of the Beta Multitude, I Front of the 120th Air Assault Order "Wyverns", Eld-Audian Army

Under a separate Helix designated "Rose of Honor"

Total Soldiers: Approx. 10,000

[Meinkraft]

ANAACCN
Allied Nations Anti-Air Control Center North
Town of Feldoro, 40 miles out of Spreck
Allied Nations

The technician sipped at his cup of french vanilla coffee as he stared at the green and black radar screen. He was a balding man, easily within his forties. Unmarried and without friends, the technician sat by himself in a small room, talking to no one but himself. Frequently, there were events and happenings on site, but this particular man was never invited, nor did he intend to go. He was nearly fired for being disagreeable with soldiers and a general nuisance to his colleagues, if it had not been for an officer taking pity upon the man. He preferred to stay in his own world, where everything seemed to be just right and no one would question his authority. Suddenly the phone on his desk rang. Hesitating, he picked it up, wondering who it was who was calling. Over the line came the answer.

"Hello, Mr. Smith, this is is Control. We'd like you to usher in a large aircraft from Havensky. We'll give you the controls."

There was a click as the line severed, and, on the speaker on the wall, came the request for entry from the incoming airship.
With a wavering, stammering tone, he addressed the craft.

Meanwhile, twelve computer guided .50 Quadmounts at the Spreck ANAF Outpost kept their guns trained on the landing airship, which was cleared to land at Special Dock 7. In the spot where it was to land, were several Messenger Humvees of the unarmed variety and a handful of MP Base Guards. These, and the highest authority present, Colonel Simon Maldonado stood at ease, waiting for the craft to land and unload.

Maracaibo Naval Yard
Maracaibo, AN

Against the backdrop of the skyline and the setting sun, the Naval Yard was not particularly remarkable or very noteworthy on first sight. The seventeen concrete piers of the yard were situated on the Amazona River side of the peninsula that was Maracaibo. At present, twelve of the seventeen wharves were taken up by various military craft, from older, diesel battleships, to the newest Takao-class Destroyers, one of which was painted crimson with decidedly motion-oriented amaranth streaks detailed at the bow. But these were not the source of the government attention that the Yard had gained in recent months. In the covered drydock, which dominated the yard, was a brand new ship entering service today, and the public was not to know. Even the engineers who worked on it were sworn to secrecy. This new vessel would bring an edge to naval warfare in the Strachan Sea, and, indeed, could change the course of these engagements henceforth.

The I-401 sat in drydock, supported by massive underclamps which held her in place. Several bright electric lights--in the absence of windows--reflected the shine of her fresh blue paint, which, in the same style as the prototype Takao, had sky blue streaks at the bow. The wide catwalks that spanned the building were chock-full of engineers and military officials, but still looked tiny in comparison to the vessel. With all of the people in the building, one would imagine a cacophony of sound--yet it was dead silent. In fact, everyone’s attention was on the man standing on the catwalk extension that approached the starboard side of the submarine. Recognizing his neat, navy blue uniform, and the four silver stars which adorned each shoulder, along with the kind eyes, laugh lines, and salt and pepper hair, this was none other than Admiral Gage Ponts. He had just finished delivering a riveting speech, which spoke about the new technological advances this craft had to offer. Ponts raised the large champagne bottle in his hands, and paused to look at the crowd.

“I hereby christen this submarine, and its unborn sisters, as the new I-4 series, and this the Iona!” he yelled aloud, his gravelly voice reverberating throughout the drydock as he brought the bottle down onto the metal. It shattered, as expected, and much green glass broke off in large pieces, falling through the metal grates and onto the concrete floor many hundreds of feet below.

Maracaibo Transit Authority Subway System
6 Second Avenue Line Express
Downtown Maracaibo, AN

This is, 33rd Street, chimed an electronic female voice over the loudspeaker.
The squeal of the brake system engaging.
An electronic male voice read:
Transfer is available to the four and five trains, connection is available to Intermodal Transit, transfer is available to the Airrail A to the International Airport.

This particular train lumbered into the station which was busy, as it always was 24/7. The station itself wasn’t particularly remarkable, or ornate, with the support pillars near the tracks wrapped with white subway tile, with the numbers 33 in black at eye level. Dozens of men and women, mostly in business suits stood leaning from the caution yellow section of the platform to watch the train enter the station. A spectacular blue light reflected off of the far wall as the shoe from one of the train bogeys temporarily left the third rail. The R142 slowed down to a complete stop, and its doors opened with a clatter. The railcars emptied as if they were holding their breath, and the population within decreased until unclaimed seats were in abundance. Few people boarded, but among them was a military recruiter. He was dressed in a regular dress shirt and slacks, which was not too different from much of the other straphangers. What set him apart was the large stack of laminated papers that he held over his arm. After the doors closed with the warning, he set to work replacing all the advertising spots on the train. The brakes disengaged and the R142 lurched forward, and away from the station, just as another, opposite-bound train arrived on the other side of the platform. Like this train, the other also had a man with a stack of papers waiting on the platform edge. On the paper read the following, accompanied by a triumphant Allied soldier:

RECRUITMENT NEEDED
To Fill the Following Regiments
148th Vol. Infantry
149th Vol. Infantry
3rd Vol. Recon.
12th Vol. “Stiffman’s”
13th Vol. “Purdy’s”
The Empire Needs You Now!

At the same time as these posters were being put up, another set were being posted on the support pillars by transit workers, which stated the curious temporary halt of certain bus services.

UP Drilling Post
Somewhere in Sylva

The Archer Guntruck started with a cough as its engine turned over and ignited, taking the four men sitting in it down to the dirt access road. Coming to a halt, the large black truck blocked the path, to form a roadblock, and the .50 caliber weapons systems mounted on its back swiveled to face the entrance. Ever since recieving word that UP was effectively, and rather rudely, kicked out of the stock market in Sylva, all of its mercenaries stationed at foreign rigs received clandestine orders to defend the assets to the last. On this particular one were 40 men, each armed with standard issue carbines, and three Archer guntrucks, with enough ammo for a three day holdout. The drills continued to pump, and technicians continued to monitor them, as they waited for an army to appear.

[Murovanka]

Wankan-Aemen Border
Operation: Rette den Bruder (Save the Brother)
02:00 Hours

Things proceeded rapidly. The Aemen reconnaissance UAV which patrolled the border area was well within Aemen airspace, and regularly patrolled to well within range of a FLAK-16 medium-range surface-to-air missile battery which had been delivered to Waldorf Air Base several days before. There would be no warning. On the expected accusations that the Wanker Air-Defense troops had shot it down, the Aussenministerium, the Foreign Ministry, would simply do the following: Deny, deny, deny. Two Wankan-made medium-range SAMs were launched right out of the blue, sending the drone spiraling to the ground.

On the Wankan side of the border, the barriers were lifted, and a pair of Schützenpanzer-10 infantry fighting vehicles rolled through the border, much to the surprise of the border guards on the Aemen side. The SPz-10’s crashed dramatically into the Aemen border, marking the beginning of the Sellenland War, also known in Wanka as the Sellenaufstand, the “Sellen-Rebellion”.

Without hesitation, the 30mm guns began chattering, sending high explosive rounds into the checkpoint headquarters. A platoon of Wanker Gebirgsjäger dismounted under the cover of the IFVs and ran to the building. Sporadic bursts of automatic gunfire was heard, then silence. Several minutes later, the platoon reemerged, quickly climbing into the IFV’s. The platoon leader pulled out his radio.

“Alles klar, Ziel vernichtet. Es gibt keine Überlebende.”

All clear, target destroyed. There are no survivors.

The message was acknowledged, and a long column of military vehicles emerged. A pair of Spähpanzer Fuchs armored reconnaissance vehicles overtook the SPz-10 pair, racing ahead. Behind them followed a long column of trucks, TTP-30 armored personnel carriers, Wiesel Waffenträgers of different variants and even groups of strange-looking box-shaped tracked vehicles officially called the GTW Husky. An armored personnel carrier specially designed for the Gebirgsjäger, to be used on the roughest terrain they would encounter. An entire regiment, the 75. Gebirgsjägerregiment, was on the move. Clad entirely in a new set of unmarked uniforms, although it wouldn’t take anyone much time to guess who they were. Still, if anyone asked, they would simply answer: SOAB.

Traveling along the rough Bregenzer Street, several trucks and vehicles would occasionally be left behind. These squads of engineers proceeded to improve and ready the bridges and roads to ensure that they would be capable of carrying at the very least a fully-loaded cargo truck. Later on, more extensive road work projects would be undertaken- even apparently a train network- but for now, it was just all about smoothening the logistical problem which the Wankan Armed Forces would be facing in these mountains. Bridgelaying tanks lead the way, replacing the fragile old bridges which spanned the numerous rivers and tributaries with solid steel ones capable of carrying a battle tank. Behind them, a solid stream of military hardware followed.

***

The Sellenland
Operation: Rette den Bruder
02:10 Hours

Operation: Rette den Bruder was carefully planned to perfection, and was executed to near perfection. In every Sellenland town and village (excluding Reiterhof, as it is not part of the Sellenland), on nearly precisely 2:15am, so-called Sellenlander Ober-Allgäuer Battalions sprang out of the cold darkness. Each town had been allocated a battalion, which was usually made out of men and women of the native town. The units were organized in the Wankan-army style, equipped with Wankan army weapons and munition. Numbers varied according to the size of the town. At Krakenhof, the regional capital, the so-called “Krakenhofer Battalion” numbered well over 1,000 while the Brenzlauer Battalion numbered merely 320. Officers consisted almost without exception of Abwehr and the 75. Sturmbatallion special forces who also took over the roles of radiomen, medics, mortar crews and engineer teams. So while the groups of Sellenlander men and women had down to only several days of training, some having fired their weapons only on three training occasions, they were ably (if rather frustratedly) led.

At Brenzlau, a small village close to the Wanko-Aemen border, no resistance was encountered. The police outpost surrendered after being surrounded, quickly followed by the tiny military garrison. A provisional Sellenwanker leadership took over, preparing the town for the arrival of the Wankan military assistance. Almost immediately, an open all-out recruitment drive for the SOABs was started to boost its numbers.

More or less the same thing happened in Siegen, Thüringen and Ellenburg. At some areas, the local police and military seemed to have had received word of the rebellion and had quickly fled. Sporadic exchanges of gunfire erupted, with no significant casualties on either side. The Ellenburg provisional government, at the advice of Abwehr representatives, began organizing the living spaces for Wankan military officers, as the town would be used as the main logistical and resupply base.

However, the story was slightly different in the two biggest, northernmost towns, located at vital crossroads which were crucial to the Sellenwanker war effort: Krakenhof and Echterdorf. At Krakenhof, all armed civilian or military personnel had already been alarmed and were rapidly evacuating, seeking to set up a more defensible position around Echterdorf away from the flat, resource-rich north. Fighting a small-scale rearguard action, the lack of discipline and training soon became apparent. The SOAB suffered its first fatalities, losing three men with another ten wounded when they attempted to pursue the officers. However, the town, the vital airfield and railway station was brought under complete control.

At Echterdorf, something akin to chaos erupted. The large Echterdorfer Battalion had suffered a roughly half-hour delay due to technical malfunctions, which resulted in the late arrival of several companies. This gave the Echterdorfer armed police and military garrison to organize themselves. Expecting a SOAB assault anytime soon, outposts and barricades were erected on the vital Highway 69-King Reginald Street junction, and on Highway 68. Within the town, alarm was raised; able-bodied Aemen men were handed technically easy-to-use weapons ranging from pistols to hunting rifles and shotguns. Meanwhile, much of the Echterdorf Aemen population attempted to evacuate, filling the roads of Highway 69. Aemen troops set up defensive positions on the mountains overlooking the town and junction, putting themselves in a uniquely advantageous position. They were soon joined by troops and armed police fleeing from Krakenhof.

And as expected, the assault on Echterdorf came. Several SOAB companies advanced onto the town from the south, along Highway 68; the rest aimed to capture the strategic Highway 69-King Reginald Street junction, and proceed to Echterdorf from there. The SOAB group at the junction were soon faced with a problem: the hundreds of civilian cars streaming through the road, and several snipers taking shots at the vulnerable rebels from the mountains. The present Abwehr officers decided to attempt to drive the apparently few Aemen troops from their mountain position overlooking the junction; with their numbers, it was surely possible. Several grenades sufficed to halt the civilian traffic. Cars and trucks veered off-road to avoid the burning wreckages of the destroyed vehicles, coming to a screeching halt. As screaming women, children and men began climbing out of their cars and making for whatever cover they could find, the Sellenwankers advanced. Guided patiently by their Wankan officers, the platoons went from cover to cover, in this case, vehicles and groups of Aemen civilians, who were used as pretty effective human shields. Machine guns came into range of their targets, starting to chatter relentlessly. Rocket-propelled grenades and 81mm mortars pounded the Aemen positions, out of which came a ceaseless stream of accurate, disciplined fire.

The assault on the junction was flailing, SOAB casualties were skyrocketing, the Abwehr officers saw. It was impossible to coordinate the Sellenwanker troops in their state of increasing morale depletion. Not that they were to blame for that. Hardly any of them were used to experiencing the brutality of open warfare and seeing so many of their friends, family and comrades lie dead or wounded in such a short period of time was too much for some. Wankan military medics were busy tending to the injured, the first trucks carrying the dead and the wounded began driving back to Thüringen. Traveling in the opposite direction were troops of the Thüringer Battalion, reinforcements to keep the pressure on the Aemen troops. They passed by a group of shivering, worried-looking men and women, prisoners and suspected “dangerous foreign elements” from Krakenhof and Thüringen, who were being marched by horse-mounted Sellenwankers through the Yellow Horn range, a series of over 5,000 meter high snow-topped mountains south of Thüringen. Not that it was planned to take the entire group of roughly eighty Aemeners on a long, cold trek to Ellenburg. No, it had been agreed beforehand by some lower-level Sellenwanker officers, acting contrary to the Wankan military’s strict order of not harming civilians and prisoners of war. High up in the mountains, the platoon of Sellenwankers, hand-picked for their hate of the Aemen authority, would ruthlessly machine-gun all prisoners to death and would return to Thüringen, claiming an avalanche had hit them.

It won’t be enough, one Abwehr officer muttered to himself frustratedly. The Aemen troops in the mountain possessed at least one machine gun, but not much other heavy weaponry. In the ideal situation, they’d have air strikes obliterate the enemy. However, the Wankan leadership did not officially want to look like they were invading their neighbour, so no declaration of war was given- and so no air support was possible. Or even, apparently, choppers to land regular Wankan infantry who’d give the bastards a serious headache. So, the only realistic option was the use of Wankan armored vehicles. Which were roughly several hours away. Unless, the Aemen troops would soon run out of ammunition? That was highly likely, given the amount of time they’d have to prepare, unless they were forewarned. Well, that remained to be seen. The Siegen Battalion, numbering around five hundred troops excluding the ones left behind to guard the small town, was navigating with some difficulty the rough high-altitude passes and paths in a mission to surround the Aemen troops on the mountain and cut off their link to Highway 69. However, estimates varied as to when they would arrive. Some said half a day; some said up to two days. The problem was the unavailability of accurate maps depicting the numerous paths through the mountains, in addition to the constant danger of avalanches and the difficulty of supplying and reinforcing them. Many newer Wankan officers, military or Abwehr, were also suffering from mild altitude sickness, having not been given enough time to acclimatize before being plunged into the Sellenland mess.

In the south, along Highway 68, the attack went much better. The defenses weren’t that spectacular, though, and with the assistance of RPGs and mortars, the Echterdorfer Battalion soon found itself fighting sporadic gunfights in the town center. In the brutal house-to-house fighting, casualties mounted on both sides, but the Sellenwankers had the upper hand. Soon, Echterdorf would be crawling with young, angry armed men and women. Behind them, along Highway 68, more reinforcements were being speedily rushed in along the rough roads from the Brenzlau and Ellenburg Battalions. Everyone had received the word: The liberation was a success, but the Echterdorfers were having difficulty getting rid of the imperialist ex-occupiers.

Meanwhile, at Highways 67, 68 and 69, small platoons of SOAB troops hid amongst the mountainous terrain. They were amongst several groups stationed along the highways preparing to ambush any Aemen reinforcements. All along the roads, pairs of lightly armed scouts watched the throng of civilian cars trundling away to Reiterhof. In Reiterhof itself, numerous Abwehr agents who’d arrived weeks earlier sat at their outlook positions, watching intently for any military activity. And finally, a demolitions team composed of 75. Sturmbatallion forces who’d set up camp next to their target days ago, blew up several large sections of the Trans-Sellenland Rail. The Aemen military would be in some difficulty if they’d try to recapture the Sellenland by rail.

***

Nürnberg
Volksrepublik Wanka
03:00 Hours

In Nürnberg, and a neighbouring town of Kalkuttendorf, the inhabitants were awoken to a loud commotion. On the streets, an army of men were preparing for the arrival of two divisions of UWO troops which were to be stationed in the relatively peaceful southern Wankan district. In addition, this was to be the place for the Nürnberger Allianz für Zukunftsgerichtete Interregionalkooperation, consisting of the Volksrepublik, the United World Order, and Erquin, the result of several weeks of intensive discussions for a pan-Germanic economic and military alliance.

Military vehicles began rolling into the city. The minor military base had already been enlarged to accept the larger Wanker troop presence, in addition to a large integrated stationary air-defense system to protect the Nazi leaders from air and missile attack. This consisted of several radars, several batteries of strategic FLAK-16 long range surface-to-air missile systems, several batteries of mobile FLAK-13 short range surface-to-air missile systems and several units of Mantis close-in-weapons-systems, one of which was stationed on top of the Nazi HQ building. Within the headquarters, Air, Land and Sea Armed Forces officers of the Streitkräfte der Volksrepublik, had already begun to make themselves at home. Only the officers of the UWO and Erquin were now missing.

[Nova Sylva]

PRO-WANKAN INSURGENTS SIEZE THE SELLENLAND
Unrest in oil-rich Aemen region ignites rebellion

SELLENLAND, AEMEN – Hundreds of heavily armed insurrectionists evicted government forces across Aemen’s northern region, seizing vast swaths of territory in the name of autonomy for the disputed territory. At approximately 2:30 this morning hundreds of heavily armed and well organized Sellenwankers attacked unprepared government positions throughout the region, with large success. Rebels have supposedly seized control of Brenzlau, Siegen, Thuringen and Ellenburg though heavy fighting continues in the crossroads of Krakenhoff and Ellendorf, where government forces seem to be holding the line. There are also unconfirmed reports of massive civilian casualties along the Aemen Highway 69 and the Trans-Sellenland Railway, which was apparently sabotaged during the heavy fighting that started last night and continued into this morning.

It is unclear whether or not Murovanka is directly supporting the rebellion, though sources on the ground have reported mortar and light artillery fire being used to support the Sellenwankers. It is extremely likely that the insurgents are being armed and trained by the Wankan government, though any direct involvement is either being done under a clever facade or not at all.

The Sellenland region is vital to the Aemen energy industry with its largely untapped reserves of uranium, coal, and oil, and some suspect even precious metals such as diamonds and gold. If Aemen were to loose the Sellenland it would leave a heavy blow on their economy. The Kingdom, which already rations oil due to the cessation of imports from the Allied Nations after the Spinelli Refinery disaster, considers the defense of the Sellenland its number-one strategic priority.

The Aemen government has yet to release a public statement regarding the attacks however there are reports of massive mobilizations of army and air forces in and around the Reicherhoff area, possibly for an armored counterattack by Aemen army forces. In addition, an Achesian Royal Navy battlegroup has begun making headway towards Aemen.

Sylva’s only statement regarding the rebellion was from the Foreign Minister, who said that the Coalition State recognizes Aemen sovereignty over the region and dissuades any foreign intervention in what is and should remain a domestic affair within Aemen. No word was given on how Sylva would react if the Sellenland was invaded by Wankan or otherwise foreign troops.

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[Havensky]

Special Dock 7
Allied Nations

Special Envoy Regina "Glitch" Raven and the crew of Firehouse 51 stepped off the Beast of Burden and was met by the Skyan Ambassador to the Allied Nations Juan Genoa. Lady Raven approached Colonel Simon Maldonado and gave a quick salute and exchanged pleasantries as the fire trucks were being offloaded.

Once the fire trucks had been offloaded, they proceeded directly to the remains of the refinery. Lieutenant Stacy Detek was riding in the front looking over pictures of the wreckage. Glitch was riding in one of the first seats in the back.

"Lady Raven, I thought you were a robotics expert? Why did they send you to an oil refinery fire?", asked Derek Redtalon.

Glitch rolled her eyes and pulled a dragonfly helicopter drone from her bag and replied sarcastically, "Oh look, a robot!"

Glitch had brought along about a dozen drones that had been set up to link up to various classrooms back in Havensky. The rooms were filled with engineers and oil refinery staff who would provide expertise in case the team had questions.

As they drove into the ruins of the refinery, there was an audible gasp from the truck. Even for these experienced firefighters, the size and extent of the damage of the refinery fire was surprising. It took a good fifteen minutes to get to the fire's point of origin.

They exited the truck and Stacy got to work looking around. Glitch opened her bag and began to launch the drones one by one. Once she finished, she looked around the area. It was evident that the initial blast had gone outward instead of up.

Why didn't the flare system work? I mean, when something goes wrong these things are supposed to burn the gasses off to relieve pressure., asked Glitch.

Stacy looked concerned as well.

This doesn't make any sense. Everything in this place is supposed to direct pressure and any potential fire UP and not out. Even if something had gone seriously wrong, it should have only burned this unit down - not the whole damn refinery.

* * * *

HRS Friendship
1st Humanitarian Fleet
International Waters

The white HJ-1 "Vexillarius" helijet landed on the deck of the Humanitarian Command Ship Friendship with a solid thud. Ambassador Sergio Vitier stepped off the helijet and was greeted by the commander of the Skyan First Humanitarian Fleet Mohammad Moonwing.

The Friendship was a converted amphibious assault ship that served as the nerve center for the humanitarian fleet. She was painted bright white with large encircled red crystal on each side designated her role as a non-combatant vessel. She was flanked on each side by two hospital vessels, four amphibious aid vessels, and a host of cargo ships carrying an assortment of medical, food, and other relief supplies. Helijets, also painted bright white with red stripes, were flying to and from different vessels making supply runs.

"Quite an operation you have going here Oathkeeper.", remarked Sergio.

In other countries, Moonwing would probably be considered a Muslim Chaplin. Skyan Oathkeepers often held additional duties as diplomats and humanitarian aid workers and it was true for Moonwing as well. Moonwing was a tall thin bald man in his sixties and had a gentle sense about him. This gentleness carried through even as he wore the black military uniform of the Skyan Armada. In addition to the single red star on each shoulder, a Moon and Star symbol was affixed to his high collar. Several rows of white ribbons were on his chest - signifying humanitarian campaigns rather than military ones. Below the Skyan flag on his right shoulder, was a bright red crystal symbol which all staff assigned to humanitarian units wore.

Moonwing frowned a bit at the ambassador's remark.

"Needed preparations I'm afraid. This nasty business in Aemen in addition to the military buildup between the Allied Nations and the League is just adding more fuel to the fire. I have faith in your abilities Ambassador, but I have seen this play out too many times. If called for, we'll be ready to help the more innocent victims of this conflict."

Sergio nodded, "At the very least, both the Allied Nations and the League have agreed to peace talks. I've sent messages to all nations involved inviting them on board the Friendship tomorrow at noon. I've given them instructions as per your advice. No weapons on board, notice of armed security personnel, instructions to bring a helicopter for ease of landing, and have sent a proposal in advance of the talks. I also owe you and the fleet a big thank you for letting us host."

Moonwing shook his head, "It's no trouble. If you're successful, it will prevent a lot of unneeded bloodshed. It saddens me to think this whole ordeal is a result of oil and greed. I doubt many of those making these decisions have even seen real combat nor it's effects. Homes burned, lives ruined, an entire generation of children growing up without their fathers, and all of that for some black goo that makes cars go.

"Well, hopefully it won't come to that. I've proposed that the parties involved agree to arbitration in terms of the refinery fire. The party responsible must pay for damages and repairs. Meanwhile, Havensky will provide a million credits worth of oil so long as peace holds out - and after that will sell oil to the region at a steep discount until the refinery is rebuilt. Unfortunately, we're still investigating the situation in Aemen so I don't have a proposal for that situation yet. We have alerted the leadership of both sides that are aid services are available to them. Hopefully, they accept."

[Achesia]

Erus, Crown Guard Barracks, Aemen

The profile of the MAS.88 made it look like a violet dragon swooping in on its prey. The stealth features of the aircraft looked fearsome enough but in edition its four wingmen in red MAS.88s looked like the harbingers of the end times cometh. As the landing gear of the violet livery fighter jet sat down on the blacktop it wheeled around and taxied to its designated position on the flight line. Acklium Julian immediately opened his canopy to take in the sights of his betrothed country. It was a splendorous Realm that would be a great asset to his father and in turn to him when he ascended to the throne.

His four guards pulled behind him on the flight line and descended from this cockpits first. They did not look like the typical fighter pilots garbed in flight suits but rather knights dismounting their steeds. They are wore matt red kevlar plate body armor that resembled the traditional martial uniform of a knight. On their chest plates was the symbol of the House of Requient with opposite the flag of the Realm. Their shoulder plates each had the emblem of the Order of Vanguard, the mort feared Knightly order of the Realm, known for producing the most talented warriors. Unlike a normal pilot as well they did no remove their helmets, but rather the optical apparatus on their helmets changed from flight position to that which behooved more aid to ground combat: night vision option, x3 magnification, target acquisition, and rifle mounted camera displays. At their side the carried the standard FN-SCAR-H which specialized optics that fed into their helmet displays. On their belts was the famous Achesian blackened steel combat sword, and edged weapon made famous during the Sun Offensive in 1953 when Auck Derral Seplich ordered his company of 100 knights and soldiers after 3 days of endless fighting to conduct the first sword charge in modern history. The Seplich Hundred killed over 350 colonial combatants during this charge and won back a key supply depot for the Realm.

The four knightly guards donned their black shoulder capes and formed up around Julian's fighter. In one of their hand was Julians own cape, black with gold trim and the house of Requient's coat of arms on the back. As he stepped own he wore similar garb but rather colored in a deep purple, his cape extended to the ground and as he walked to the cars waiting for him he handed his helmet to one of his guards. He approached the vehicles waiting for him and his guards ushered him into one of the parked cars.

Reiterhof Airfield, Aemen

The sky was filled with C-17s waiting in patterned flight to land at the Aemenian airbase. The dark gray aircraft bore the flag of the Realm of Achesian and there rondel of the Royal Army Air Corps. The planes landed one by one and as they arrived they taxied to a special section of the flight line that was designated for the offloading of equipment. The first few aircraft carried the soldiers, three maneuver brigades, and one Theater Support Group. These soldiers were quickly ushered into containment areas where they received their in country briefs from their chain of command, received a hot meal, and were issued equipment such as ammo. Each brigade then were taken to their own separate holding areas where they would await their equipment to be offloaded.

Second off the aircraft was the air defense artillery: Machbets, and POPRADs rolled off quickly and assumed defense positions around the staging area to provide any air cover incase of attack. Along with the ADA several already loaded and equipped M1117 Armored Security Vehicles rolled to the perimeter of the staging area to provide ground defense as the Helix formed and prepared to move out.

As all the other equipment was begin fielded off the aircraft and formed into rank with the rest of the Helix, the command team prepared the movement of the "Delphian" Helix as it had been named. This combat helix was formed around three infantry brigades which were the quickest to deploy to theater. Supporting the three brigades would be the aforementioned Theater Support Group, and several squadrons of helicopters both attack and utility. The naval battle group off the coast would provide air support as needed as well. The primary means of movement for the infantry Helix would be motorized in their MRAP MaxxPros. This makes them soft targets for any armor but means for defend against any metal behemoths have been taken with both handheld anti-tank weapons, attack helicopters, and field artillery.

"Wankan militia have moved to take these towns here an here." An older man dressed in Achesian battle dress pointed towards a couple clusters of populations on the map of the Sellenland. "At the towns of Krakenhof and Echterdorf they are encountering more resistance than they expected, and the battle wages on there.

"What is our first move M'lord." A more junior officer who stood at rest near the map enquired.

"We wait for the word from the Aemenian army to make our move." The senior answered. Almost instantly the previous more junior officer scoffed. The older man took an aversion to this outburst and stood up from the map he was previously bent over. The young Knight Captain snapped to attention as his senior approached. The older man- a Rector by the clasp on his shoulder- stood with his face uncomfortably close to the young mans. "I do not like waiting on the eve of battle any more than the next man young Sur, but I will not be questioned by a junior so green that his face still reeks of his mothers placenta!" With the last lash of his words the Rector's fist raked across the Knight Captain's face. The young man lay bleeding on the deck before he sprang to his feet quickly not wanting to show weakness or pain in the face of his peers. "Now, we wait for the word of these Aemenians to move, but when we do your Battalions better be beside me, or I will bring your head back to the Ackular in shame, and I will ensure your families labor as drudge for the rest of eternity." He sat down in a chair that was set up within his command tent, he pulled out his nickel plated M1911 and polished it with his handkerchief from his pocket. "Go and prepare your men, may you honor the Ackular's name." Rector Nickolaus Leopold leaned back in his chair and stared at the map as if he was in a daze. But before he could slip into oblivion and leave this world behind to its devices his aide de camp ran in with a SAT phone.

"M'lord, Acklium Julian the VII wishes to speak with you." He held out the phone.

The old rector swiped it from his hand and cleared his raspy throat before addressing his Prince. "Yes my Prince."

On the other end of the line Prince Julian was driving to the Aemenian castle. "Rector Leopold, are our forces landed?"

"Yes my Prince, we are staging now, will be combat ready in four hours. Do we have word on our mission."

"The mission is the same as always Rector, filling the soil with the blood of those who go against the Dread Lord. The specifics will come soon, I am due to meet with the King of Aemen shortly."

"Of petty Kings I am not concerned my prince, just the glory of my lords of Requient."

"Indeed, but do not undermine our Aemenian allies Rector, it is not your place."

"My apologies my Prince, it was above my station to make such a statement."

"Indeed Sur, ready our troops, do not contact me until I contact you." And with the last words of the Prince the line went dead.

Flight Deck of the Aequorial, Achesian Sea, Off the Coast of Aemen

It was a surreal sight, hundreds of men on their knees with the dark moon above their head. Through them walked two Praetors, each chanting the same chant, in their hands different parts of a goat. One held a leg of a goat fresh cut, the other a half of a goats head by the horn his fingers grasped. Each chanted the following sacred prayer as they spread goats blood on the foreheads of the knelt worshipers.

"Blessed is this sacrament on our placid island of ignorance, thankful are we to receive the apathy of the Elder... May the Dread Lord smile his summer upon our voyage on the black seas of infinity... We were not meant to sail so far, but through your clemency we continue... On this day in thankfulness we bind ourselves to your will... to this end we bout with those who you shall one day banish to oblivion... Let this blood be an addendum to our fury."

As the last sliver of blood was spread on a kneeling man the two Praetors walked to the front of the formation of men. There they knelt to the deck of the carrier and began to draw in blood a symbol. In mortal words this symbol is hard to describe, only the truly touched or unfathomably mad could grasp its curves or breaks. But as the last of the blood was spread in perfect symbolism the two Praetors leaned back and in the most unnatural of ways pressed their necks backwards to their eyes truly looked to the heavens. And to the unaccustomed eye their bodies trembled in what could only be deaths embrace, but soon they became still and chanted for all of the ocean to hear.

"Xalafu...Xalafu...Xalafu...Xalafu...Xalafu...Xalafu..."

Only a Praetor could say that name when invoking him, the name of God.

The energy was palatable, and the men who were once on their knees stood with a ferocity only recognized in history. They screamed at the top of their lungs as the energy passed through them, and as it settled they looked around to each other with a tenacity. They were ready for battle.

The MAS.88 Lindworms soon lined the deck of the Aequorial, each prepped for launch armed with all sorts of missiles and bombs, prepared for the first Achesian strike in this war. The attack would be lead of with the 10 MAS.88E Electric Lindworms, the Electronic Warfare variants striking any enemy radar outposts located in or around Sellenland with HARM missiles. This would mask the main assault by 34 other MAS.88A Lindworms who would attack any Wankan militia positions within Sellenland starting with those outside of the main population centers (but not excluding them). Targets in and around Krakenhof and Echterdorf would be prioritized with armored targets meeting the brunt of JDAMs and other smaller bombs, infantry targets would be met with cluster bombing, and large masses of enemy targets would be met with a cruse missile.

The fighters launched at 1am in the morning on the day after the original Wankan assault. They flew low over the water until they reached the land when they transition to weapons altitude, trusting their stealth to keep them away from prying eyes. This is when the 88E's launched their HARM missiles at the radar targets within Sellenland. As those missiles went to target, the rest of the main assault began to break off into flights and carry our their individual mission packets. Bombs, missiles, and even the occasional 20mm guns roared through the air over Sellenland that night, and the skies ran red.

[Aemen]

Olbridge Castle
Erus

“Yes... in a fighter jet...? He likes to make an entrance... yes... thank you Lieutenant.”

The Heir Apparent, Prince Alexander, finished speaking on the phone to one of the officers at Seghers Moore, the Crown Guard Barracks that had just received the Crown Prince of Achesia. The Prince was sat on the leather dark green sofa in the splendid antiquity of the castle's Hyrian Room in his formal military uniform with full honours and medals. Upon receiving word that Julian had accepted Roseanna's invitation, Reginald had set to work a plan that would familiarise the Crown Prince with the more immediate members he'd likely be dealing with; Prince Alexander was to meet Julian on the castle's steps and stroll with him up to the King's Study, showing off the interior of Olbridge as he went and making various attempts at small talk. Reginald would then greet Julian once he and Alexander arrived at the Study, where Alexander would leave the two to discuss the Sellenland war, the Sidonia conflict, the two royal families and, of course, the marriage. Finally, Reginald would escort his soon-to-be son-in-law to the Olbridge Estate Gardens, where Julian would meet Roseanna for the first time. Even the weather was permitting as a cloudless morning had given way to a beautiful blue sky with the sun illuminating Erus and all of its brilliant colours.

On placing the phone back on to the hook, Alexander stood up and turned to see his father looming in the doorway of the Hyrian Room, also dressed in his formal military attire. Alexander was startled but quickly regained his composure, bowing to the King. “Father. Crown Prince Julian arrived at Seghers Moore an hour ago. He's been ushered into a car and is on his way to the castle, he'll arrive imminently.”

Reginald nodded, his facial expression unchanging. “Excellent. Are you prepared to receive him?”

“Yes father. I know my role.”

“Good. Wait downstairs in the lobby so there are no delays. Once the car pulls up and the staff open the door, greet him warmly. I will be in the study reviewing this Sellenland debacle until you arrive.”

“Of course, father.” Alexander said, bowing again in respect. As Reginald turned to leave, the Prince spoke up once more. “Father, if I may ask...” the King stopped and looked back, not with frustration or reluctance, but with an inquisitive and expectant air. Alexander continued in his thought. “Why not simply have Prince Julian meet with Roseanna? What's the purpose of the rest of these... theatrics?”

The King chuckled, a rare moment of relaxation for anyone, even his children, to witness. “To comfort, to placate, to distract. The Crown Prince has come directly to us from his troops. Pulling a commander prematurely from war will leave him agitated and frustrated, he hasn't yet achieved what he set out to do. Though if he did not meet Roseanna now, then he wouldn't until the wedding. Today's introduction to me and you will give him, and us, a chance to find common ground.”

Alexander nodded slightly, acknowledging his father's words. “I understand.”

Reginald's expression changed back to what he was infamous for; that stern and authoritarian glare. “You will only truly understand when I am buried beneath the ground and it is you who occupies my throne, wears my crown and rules my kingdom. Now, we've delayed long enough. Go to the lobby and await the Crown Prince.” Reginald turned, walking down one of the castle's goliath and extravagant corridors towards a gilded staircase leading to the ancient structure's upper floor. Alexander, now left to his own devices, vacated the Hyrian Room and made his way towards the lobby, planning out the most impressive route he would take the Crown Prince along to reach the Study.

Afkomst Park Way
Erus

Two unmarked black cars made their way through the city streets, the lead one contained Crown Prince Julian whilst the one behind it transported Inspectorate agents who had the Crown Prince's protection in mind; though Erus was the centre of all things Aemen, the King wasn't taking any chances after becoming aware of the Wankan rebels within his own borders. The Crown Prince, however, would see that if there were any foolishly brave or fanatically dedicated militants with his death at the forefront of their mind in Erus, the Inspectorate car behind him would be the least of their worries.

As his car drove through the winding streets, over battered road tarmac and the cobbles of the city's historical quarter, the Prince would notice the incredible number of armed Crown Guardsmen that seemed almost out of place in such a vibrant and colourful city, especially on a day like today, where the clear sky and the unobstructed sun emphasised Erus' semi-olde world charm. It wasn't until he reached Afkomst Park Way, a street which skimmed the edge of the city centre's park, that he realised how jarring Erus could truly be. Looking out across the park, Julian would see Crown Guard initiates and their supervisors doing physical exercise and sports on one side of the park specifically reserved for them on their training days, whilst on the other were shoppers carrying their full-to-the-brim bags, workers on their lunch break, children enjoying the sun with their parents and teenage couples spending time together. To most outsiders, putting such a normal seeming life side-by-side with an extremely regimented one would seem incredibly odd, but not the Aemen, they were used to it after forty one years of Reginald's rule.

As the pair of cars left Afkomst Park behind, they came upon an increasingly affluent looking neighbourhood. Regular citizens decreased in number, being replaced by Crown Guardsmen equipped with bigger and deadlier firearms. Finally, the cars stopped outside a pair of enormous golden gates with spotless white concrete pillars and white cinderblock walls stretching in both directions out of view. The Guardsmen on the gates pushed them open, keeping their eyes on the car before saluting as it passed on to the estate's grounds. Meticulously trimmed grass, elaborate stone statues of different men wearing the same crown, squads of heavily armed Guardsmen on patrol and the imposing gargantuan visage of Olbridge Castle. The two cars pulled up on to the white gravel outside of the castle's main entrance. Prince Alexander stood at the top of the small flight of marble steps that led up into the lobby with his personal armed escort standing alongside him. As the driver the Julian's car opened the Crown Prince's door, Alexander's escorts saluted, whilst the Heir Apparent smiled and strolled down the steps of Olbridge to greet his equal.

Krakenhof
The Sellenland
Two hours after Rette den Brude

“My God!” shouted Jerome Korst as a spray of concentrated fire pinged off of the gravelled street he was running down. The detective had been reviewing evidence from the Weissman killings before the deafening noise of fighting made him jump out of his seat. Rushing to the police station's entrance, Korst caught sight of armed militants firing their weapons and running down the Krakenhof roads. The rest, from there, is a blur of blood, bullets and the screams of innocents caught up in a very different world than what they're used to. Korst and what remained of Krakenhof's police officers had tried to evacuate the civilian population to the neighbouring town of Echterdorf with varied success, though they themselves were now stuck amongst an army of angry Sellenwankers, determined to eradicate King Reginald's grasp on the region and anyone who supported it.

Korst, armed only with an empty standard-issue handgun and his own wits, had become separated from the rest of his colleagues after encountering a group of SOABs setting up a mortar. Several of his fellows had been shot dead and now he was in danger of falling to the same fate. Though the sun's rays were beginning to shine over the horizon, it was still dark and the attack had knocked out the power running to some of the street lights, all Korst could see as he sprinted for his life were the black silhouettes of unidentifiable houses, some already bearing the scars of fighting. Eventually, Korst hit the wooden gates of a larger house at the end of the street, separated from the rest by two dozen metres. He looked over his shoulder to see the bobbing of torches attached to the barrels of assault rifles chasing him, coming ever closer with their bearers shouting aggressively in Wankan.

He had no choice. Out of ammo and options, Korst scrambled over the wooden gate, hoisting himself up and over the top and continuing his run down the short driveway. It wasn't until he reached the front door that he realised where the rebels had cornered him at; the Weissman residence, where this had all started. Desperate to escape, Korst began smashing the heel of his foot against the sturdy door, hoping that once he was inside, he could use the house to hide in and possibly even subdue his attackers. That, however, was not to be the case.

Two gunshots rang through the air, pinging off of the house and leaving clear, visible holes in its brickwork. Korst spun around to see four of his attackers shining their torches in his face. Rather than shooting him on the spot, one of the Wankans smacked Korst across the face with his rifle butt, sending him tumbling to the ground. All four men then ganged up on the detective and began kicking and punching him into submission. Korst tried to protect himself in the best way he could, but the pain of being assaulted from all sides was starting to become unbearable. Suddenly, as Korst began to feel himself losing consciousness, his attackers became distracted, yelling in a frightened tone at something in the distance. Korst didn't look, afraid it was a trick to get him to expose his face, but his limited knowledge of Wankan meant he understood some of the words they were saying.

“Bombs! We're being attacked by jets!”

After an exchange of words at a rapidly fast and panicked pace, too fast for Korst to decipher, the Wankans picked Korst up and dragged his bruised body unscrupulously away from the Weissman house and into the street. As he looked towards Krakenhof's centre, Korst saw enormous explosions and bursts of flame accompanied by the sound of engines soaring overhead. As he was being taken towards his unknown destination by his new captors, Korst wondered if they knew the sort of horrors the King would subject the Sellenwankers to should they lose, because if they didn't, then the Royal House of Olbridge would ensure that they would always remember what happens when you defy the monarchy.

Reiterhof Airfield
Aemen
Eight hours after Rette den Bruder

Despite it not being a part of the Sellenland region, Reiterhof's proximity to the fighting had changed it dramatically; the army had built barricades and checkpoints, renovated buildings were being used as outposts and command centres whilst the town hall had become the sleeping quarters for the city's newly created military garrison. On the town's outskirts at the even-more fortified airfield, the Aemen Air Force was hard at work trying to get a grasp of the situation. The highways had been temporarily buzzing with activity from fleeing civilians who were desperate to escape, some with bullets lodged into their cars' chassis and their tyres flat on one, or even both, sides. It was a wonder that some of the Sellen-Aemen had ever managed to escape the Wankan advance at all.

Commander Niels Folcwalding and Field Marshal Gilbert Bezuidenhout had commandeered the airfield's control tower along with a flurry of operators, radio experts and technicians all monitoring the situation. Both men and their subordinates stood looking over a map that had been rolled out over the top of a dis-used control terminal. Bezuidenhout turned to Niels, rubbing his chin. “You're telling me we have no military personnel around this area...” Bezuidenhout circled the area from Krakenhof down to the Elbe River with his finger. “...at all?”

Niels didn't answer. He'd been wondering how this had all happened so quickly without the Ministry knowing a single detail about it. It must have been on the cards for the Wankans as soon as the oil crisis started. “I'm not sure Field Marshal. The Wankans shot our drone down right before this entire mess unfolded and all radio frequencies to any of our watchtowers have been cut. Much of the Sellenland is shrouded in the fog of war to us. However, we do know that Echterdorf is barely holding out. Earlier Aemen and Achesian airstrikes on occupied territory near the town reported that fighting still lingers on, though unless we send aid to them, we can expect the position to fall entirely.”

Bezuidenhout raised an eyebrow at the Folcwalding. “Shot down? They have that kind of hardware?”

“We know Murovanka is supplying them with military grade technology. They're denying it, of course, but it's painfully obvious for all to see. Diplomatically the Wankan military isn't involved, their government hasn't issued a declaration of war, there's nothing to suggest to the world we're fighting the soldiers of another nation.”

The Field Marshal rubbed his forehead. “So they've riled up the Sellenwankers and are giving them the means to take the region from us.”

“That's the only conclusion the Inspectorate can come to, sir.” Niels explained. There was a moment of silence as Bezuidenhout and his commanders looked over the map before a soldier entered the room, marching up to the group of officers and saluting to the Field Marshal, taking Bezuidenhout's attention away from the map.

“Sir! Our armoured columns have just called in. They and our mechanised infantry regiments have arrived just north of Reiterhof. They're awaiting orders.”

The Field Marshal nodded, “Thank you, Lance Corporal.” before returning to the map. After a moment of silence longer, Bezuidenhout stepped forward, his subordinates all watching to see his strategy unfold. He pointed along the line representing Highway 69, running his finger up to Echterdorf. “Send the armoured columns and mechanised infantry along Highway 69, we need a stable foothold in the Sellenland so we can bring this conflict to even ground. Echterdorf is still resisting, so we need to relieve it as soon as possible before the Wankans can fortify their position.”

The commanders surrounding the Field Marshal nodded in synchrony whilst Niels looked on at the battle plan Bezuidenhout was laying out. “Krakenhof and Thüringen will be the next objectives. With Echterdorf secure we can focus on splitting their territory and advancing on a position they can't reinforce. We'll secure both towns, the regional airport and the oil fields. With the airport, we'll have a strategic advantage. It means we can resupply without having to trek up from Reiterhof. There are reports that the railways have also suffered significant damage, so we'll deploy combat engineers to repair the tracks once both towns are secure. With the airport and the railways, we can consolidate our hold on the northern half of the region and sweep south towards Brenzlau.”

Bezuidenhout's entourage muttered their agreement before Niels interjected. “And the Achesian helix, sir?”

The Field Marshal's lips curled in distaste as Niels mentioned the Aemen allies. Bezuidenhout came from an old family with traditional, and in some cases xenophobic, ways, but his career as a military officer and his duty to the King and his country came before his prejudice against foreigners, which was something he intended to use against the Wankans. Bezuidenhout swallowed his pride and replied without letting his stance on the issue run away with him. “I'll talk with their commanders, but the main priority for the Achesians is to support us. I'm going to be sending fresh airstrikes ahead of the advance to soften any major resistance on 69, I'd like some Achesian fighters to support us on that whilst their troops and vehicles stay behind our armoured columns. Ideally, we can split off and have them attack Echterdorf whilst our forces assault Krakenhof.”

Bezuidenhout turned to his subordinate officers, making some of them snap up to attention out of a force of habit. “Make no mistake, gentlemen, the Sellenland will be in His Majesty's hands once more. This war is a sleight to the King's hospitality, so if these terrorists aren't happy with that, perhaps they will be more swayed by the wrath of His Majesty's Armed Forces instead.”

[Achesia]

Olbridge Castle, Erus

It was a beautiful country Aemen, the sites and sounds were a far cry from the loud, metallic, and engrossed city of Imperium. There in the mega city he spent most of his adult life tirelessly for the Realm and his subjects. Amen reminded him of his days in the countryside at his families estate of Drachall in the east of Imperium province. There he grew up around most of what he saw now, the wind, trees, the nobility flaunting around in the gardens and meadows. It was a beautiful place, a place he cherished growing up with his mother, he lived there until his father summoned him at the age of 11, when he began his lessons of how to be a just Ackular.

He remembered his mother recollecting the story of when she first learned she was the marry Julians father, and the angst she felt, being taken from Knightglen in the Avonhold and whisked away to Imperium to marry the crown prince. She always impressed upon Julian that as royalty it is not our right to marry for love, but rather to marry for the betterment of our families, and subjects. That was something Thelicity always taught her children as they relaxed in the gardens of Drachall: duty, honor, family. The three pillars of Achesion life. She was the best of mothers: graceful and kind. Julian was saddened by his mothers current melancholy. Since Auck Jacob Avondale his grandfather died she had not left Drachall, Its been four years. He only got one day with his mother before he left to fight in Aemen, she remained him of the strength that he had within him, and that no matter the circumstances, one day he and his new wife would love each other as all others do.

The cars soon drove past more familiar and comfortable sites, men with guns. Presumably they were getting close to the castle, it would be time to impress upon his new in laws the dedication both he and the Realm had for their house. He was soon let out of the car by one of the Aemenian guards. His knight guards got out first and scared the area, Julian however stepped out before he was told it was ready, not paying any mind to the overcautiousness of his retainers. As he returned the salute from the Aemenian guards handed his own guards his pistol, Keeping only his sword at his side. As he stepped up onto the steps of the castle his guards went to follow him but he held his hand out and commanded they stay. He made his way to the door of the lobby where his Aemenian counterpart waited for him.

"It is a pleasure to finally meet you Prince Alexander."

Reiterhof Airfield, Aemen

The radio set crashed to the ground with such force that its remaining bits bounced into the air taking out a workstation across the command tent. A radio technician jumped up from that very station to attention, joining the other Knight Captains who stood like statues as Rector Leopold threw a box belonging to a radar set to the ground.

"Those bastards expect me to follow BEHIND them into battle?" He grasped the communique in his hand as he then flipped the table and map over. "These Curs wouldn't know how to even begin to win a war, I have lived in constant glorious combat for the Realm since I was old enough to fuck and make more warriors. Those bastards now even carry guns of their own, yet these Aemenians expect me to follow behind them in battle?! No it won't be so..." He collected the mess of ma and table from the ground, his commanders huddled around to view the masters mind at work. ..."We will make our own front, here down route 68. We will take the this shanty town called Siegen and raise the banner of the Realm over it, then we will take the fight down south to the boarder where we will drive out the Wankers and make them want in their own lands. The Aemenians can cry in the north as we take the glory." He shoved the map into one of his Captians chest and took in a deep breath. "Txomin, you will take your Legion in the vanguard, clear the route of any swine as you move. Izotz your Legion will be the center, and I'll be damned if your families reputation holds I will ensure this is the last command you all will receive and your family will be reduced to the Efficat and unclog my shit from the privy." The Knight-Commander slumped his head as he acknowledged. "Aleksandr, take what helicopters you have in addition to the Naval Air Wing helicopters and ferry your legion here..." He pointed to a location in the mountains slightly to the north of Seigen." You will lay in wait there for the main assault to begin, then we will catch them on two fronts...." He looked around at his commanders as he let it sink in. "Begin." He barked and they rushed off to drive their legions into position.

Both of the legions moving down route 68 mounted up on their MADS.1128 "Mora" MRAPs accompanied by several units of M60A3 light tanks as well as interspersed M1117 armored cars. Leading the formation by several miles would be recon units consisting of Fennek Recons scoping the route as well as overhead ARH-70 recon helicopters. Air defense and field artillery would follow within the convoy and provide support when needed. Close air support would be provided by AH-1Z Vipers operating out of Reiterhof Airfield and off of the Aequorial when appropriate. Aleksandr's Legion, the I Legion of the Charlie Infantry Multitude, III Front of the 67th Light Order, West Army would immediately load up onto Army NH90 utility helicopters and Marine AW101 helicopters to prepare to move to their flanking position. In the air high above all this the MAS.88As after the air assault would provide combat air patrol.

All of this movement would come at a loud and sudden surprise to the Aemenian allies who expected to have the Achesians safely at their back where they could be controlled. However Rector Leopold had another thing in mind. He was a man of pride, and those types of men follow behind no one.

[Meinkraft]

Maracaibo Naval Yard
2100 hours
Allied Nations


The echoing, rhythmic thunder of the nearby subway train on the General Carmona Bridge could be heard from the yard, which was almost directly under it, among the ever-present traffic and the occasional motorboat. The time was around nine o'clock in the evening, and the sun had been down for hours. Tonight was a full moon, and it did a good job of illuminating the harbor water in a ghostly light. Besides the ubiquitous activity in the city, down in the Naval Yard, there were also men and women stirring about. In the military ports, there were now fewer spaces available for parking; about 5 piers. Down the long concrete strip that was the Allied harbor came lumbering a two and a half ton truck, which was painted light gray. On both front doors, a round decal was pasted with the Department of the Navy emblem. The truck rumbled to a halt and cut off its engine immediately after, arriving at Building 041, a large, warehouse-looking building, which had sidings made of corrugated steel and a sloped roof. Directly in front of the building was a manmade inlet, which connected the building’s colossal front doors to the harbor. There was a drawbridge which ran across it, where a vehicle could cross to continue to the rest of the Naval Yard, and pass under the General Carmona Bridge. Military Policemen, in khaki uniform with white helmets patrolled the docks, toting M4 Carbines, with orders to shoot trespassers on sight. What was taking place within Building 041 was revolutionary to naval science and modern warfare, and it was to be kept secret. The driver exited his truck and walked around to the back, beckoning those inside to exit as well. Ten men jumped down from the back, all wearing navy “relaxed dress” uniform. Following the driver’s lead, this convoy reached the side door, where the standing guard saluted, and then requested ID cards. Providing one for each, the driver then handed these out to the correct person, who each pocketed them. Feeling satisfied, the guard took one hand and opened the door for them, it shutting behind them when the last man passed through. Inside, gasps were stifled and men pointed up, as they were greeted with the sight of a shining, new submarine, which sparkled with blue paint. It sat in drydock, the clamps supporting the vessel so that the base of the craft was level with the eye; the drydock floor in the basin was 150 feet below.

“That, men, is the Iona.” came a voice from a higher level behind the group. They all turned around just in time to see a man of a Captain’s rank ride in on a counterweighted block and tackle, his dress cape flowing behind him as he clutched the chain with one hand and kept his foot firmly placed on the hook. He landed with a clank, hopped off, and the hook sailed back, high up into the rafters. This was a fine, masculine specimen, sporting a blonde mustache, which matched his short, curly blonde hair. Everything about him screamed adventure, and he had a funloving look in his eye. The only thing dressy about him was his cape; everything else was of the standard issue variety, and he wore an aviator jacket with his ranks pinned on haphazardly, despite being in the navy. Peeling off his leather gloves, he surveyed his new subordinates. Noticing that they were now ramrod straight at attention, he called “At ease!” and stood before them.

“Gentlemen, I am Captain Flashheart, and I have been appointed to commandeer the vessel displayed behind you. Weeks ago, I called for the best of the best, the brightest of the bunch, and the youngest of the batch, and you are it.”

A couple of the recruits shifted in their stance, growing more fond of Flashheart by the moment, as their previous commanders had been undesirable.

“At the briefing, you may have heard passing references of a certain Project Arpeggio. Well, as you can see, the first stage of that project is complete!”

The Captain raised an index finger.

“As we speak, you are making history. You are history. You are the first crew of a rocket-powered submarine, and I her captain. But not only that. This ship also has new weapons technology, which can be used to supremely deadly effect against the Empire’s enemies!”

He paused to review his men. Most of them were at or under the age of 25. Only one of them had achieved the rank of an officer, the rest were higher-up NCOs.

“She’s also been fitted with--oh, blast it, I can show you! We’re going anyway!” bellowed Flashheart, and, turning, motioned for his men to follow him up the nearby steel staircase. Upon reaching the second landing, the Captain led his subordinates to the intersecting catwalk, whereupon he turned right, soon approaching the top deck of the sub. Their boots clanking down the fresh metal, they reached the rather large hatch. Pressing a heavy-duty button on the deck, the hatch popped free with a hiss, and Flashheart yanked it open the rest of the way. Each of them clambered down the wrought iron ladder into the rather spacious control room.

The layout was a departure from contemporary submarine layouts. The control deck was expansive and sterile-looking, with its smooth white paneled walls. In the center, directly aft of the ladder were the command chairs--two helm seats, built into the floor, which were white with black leather on the inside. Each had a control pad and touchscreen on the armrests, and they were separated by a curious mirrored platform, which reached the same height as the armrest. On the opposite side of the room, immediately behind the group as they descended down the retractable ladder, was an Ultra-High Definition 60 inch monitor, mounted on the wall. Currently, it displayed the ship’s position on GPS, the current weather outside, and the outboard camera. Flashheart sat in the starboard seat and inserted a special keycard into a slot on the arm. The monitor took on a red overlay, with white text in the center that read ‘LOGIN’. Punching in a set of numbers onto the keypad, the Captain--and his crew--watched as the prompt disappeared, and the main screen was replaced with a set of options. He moved his joystick twice down and selected the option that read ‘Activate Mental Model’. Immediately, the mirrorlike surface came to life, brightening, and then forming a rectangular beam that reached the ceiling. A hologram appeared, reading ‘Loading…’

Then, as the sailors watched, an image slowly rendered into view. On the platform sat a short-statured animated girl. Her outfit matched up perfectly with the AN standard submariner uniform, except with longer sleeves, and a large red tie, with the text ‘Iona’ embroidered in white. Her eyes were a sea green, and her hair was as white as the walls around her. Due to the limitations of the technology rendering her, she was completely still, kneeling, with her arms to her sides, head straight ahead. In speakers that seemed to relay through the entire control room, a monotonous, though identifiably female youth, voice said, “Good evening, Captain….” the machine paused, as it deciphered the Captain’s registered last name off of his keycard, “Flashheart. How may I serve you today?” The sentence and query went smoothly, without mechanical pauses, like one would hear from an automated answering service, or a text-to-speech program. Despite its seemingly singular pitch, it sounded like a normal human voice. The sailors looked speechless, as this, previously, would have been considered science fiction by their lot. Their eyes demanded an explanation. And Captain Flashheart was going to provide.

“This, gentlemen, is one of the scientific advantages I was talking about!” he exclaimed with a huge grin. “It’s the hologram! Been in top secret R&D for a decade! Of course, normal holograms are common in civvy recreational events, but this one is special.” He pressed a green button on the armrest. Immediately, the light reflected and the hologram’s head snapped to the side, in the direction of the Captain, and addressed him through the speakers in the room.

“Your orders, captain?”

Its mouth synchronized with the words perfectly.

“Iona, check status on hull.”

Iona, nodding, then proceeded to sit properly, placing her hands on her feet, and moving them slowly up, across her torso, and finishing at the top of her head. If one would listen closely, they would hear a faint whirring in the walls of the submarine. Upon completion, her stance reverted to her default kneel. Her head snapped to the side once more.

“Hull check 100% complete. Structural integrity uncompromised. I am currently depressurized.”

Flashheart turned back to the group, who were clustered under the open hatch, watching with amazement. Flashheart then leaned down to the voice input detector and pressed the button, Iona again addressing him.

“Iona, enact emergency drill number 112.”

Instantly, an emergency siren went off, and a rotating red light went off on the ceiling. Iona went on in her monotone voice.

“Fire in torpedo room. This is a drill. This is a drill.”

She repeated this twice, and then returned to default posture. After a few seconds, Flashheart pressed a red button and the simulation ended, the lights and siren ceasing.

“Iona here is a human anthropomorphisation of the submarine for which she was named. We call her a ‘Mental Model’. If the submarine gets damaged, her body will show it, and she will tell us where, due to special sensors on the hull and key areas in the craft. Being connected directly with the ship, she can do things remotely that would normally take manpower. If I ask her to load a certain type of torpedo, she will do so with a robotic apparatus. She will also attempt to repair herself, particularly in the engine room. If the damage is too extensive, or if her robotic parts are compromised, a manned reparation is needed. However, I am confident that that will not happen.”

Flashheart paused in his explanation, rubbing his temples.

“Her ability to look after herself, with little interjection from the crew enables us to have far less personnel than a conventional sub. A full boat is about 15 men, but we can run smoothly with 12, which is what we have now.”

The Captain hopped up and grinned, stretching.

“I’ll explain the rest on a tour! What say we get underway first?”

Later that night, the floodgates to the drydock had opened and completely filled the area, and the clamps that held the Iona in place were retracted into the walls. The aforementioned ship was already underway, moving silently with its water jet engines under the lifted drawbridge. As soon as the sub pulled into the Amazona River, it dove to the floor, waiting for a time to engage it’s hydrogen rocket engines. Once the fuel was fully engaged, it ignited, sending the ship out of the harbor and into the Strachan Sea at 66 knots. Truly, wargames had changed, and may have shifted the playing field into the Allied Nation’s favor, at least in the ocean.

[Havensky]

HRS Friendship
Skyan First Humanitarian Fleet
International Waters

When the Coalition State Maritime Forces Naval Aviation helicopter landed on the Skyan amphibious humanitarian ship, Stephen De La Calle was relieved to see that an identical model helicopter with AN markings and the classic cerulean paint job (though ironically of Sylvan manufacture) was already on the AAS’ emptied flight deck.

A Skyan naval officer and four Skyan Legionnaires greeted them on the flight deck as he stepped onto the deck. The naval officer wore a jet black dress uniform with red trimming and a white armband emblazoned with the humanitarian red crystal. The Skyan Winged Lion flag was on one arm and the colors of the Texas Defence Forces were on the other. The Legionnaires were wearing their white dress armor with their distinctive ‘Gallic’ style helmets containing various cameras and electronics. From this distance, Stephen could clearly read their nameplates and rank on their chest.

The officer saluted, "Welcome aboard, this way please."

Stephen said a silent prayer to a god he didn’t believe in before being escorted by the Skyan Legionnaires through the winding twisted metal corridors of the vessel and finally into the officer’s mess, where a the negotiating table had already been set up. AN President Kerman sat opposite his Sidonian counterpart, Matthew Lancemen, who sat alongside an Aleckandorian diplomat by the name of Arthur Gelnikos.

The Skyans had removed the normal rectangular dining tables and had set up a large round oak table. This was pretty common when the Skyans hosted diplomatic talks as a sign of equal status among participants in the room. It also prevented the some of the awkwardness of the five SL diplomats (of which there was one from each of the five signatory nations – Sylva, Sidonia, Aleckandor, NSR, and Mozria) on one side and the lone Allied Nations diplomat on the other.

The officer’s mess was quite a bit nicer than the utilitarian look of the rest of the vessel with oak wood paneling, comfortable chairs, and large windows looking out onto the ocean. From the table, the participants could see a good view of the hospital ships Mercy and Comfort floating by.

Once everyone was seated, several naval personnel began to bring out plates of tortillas, grilled steak, chicken, chorizo, slow roasted pork, cheeses and an assortment of vegetables to the table for everyone. Pitchers of water, coffee, tea, and soda had also been placed on the table. Small menus had been placed at each seat telling guests what everything was as well as instructions on how to access the onboard wifi.

Once everyone had their meals served, Oathkeeper Moonwing welcomed everyone aboard. During the pre-meeting brief, it had been explained the Oathkeeper should be treated like a high ranking chaplin. Oathkeepers in Havensky were chaplains (Moonwing being an Islamic cleric), but had additional responsibilities - one of which was often running diplomatic talks.

Moonwing was a bald slender man with a grandfatherly look about him, even in full dress uniform. He wore round gold rimmed spectacles and had the been allowed the privilege of growing an impressive beard which showed streaks of grey. His voice was gentle as he opened up the meeting.

"Good afternoon, my name is Oathkeeper Mohammad Moonwing and I’m the commanding officer of the Skyan First Humanitarian Fleet. It is my honor to welcome you all aboard the Friendship. Our chefs have prepared a variety of options for you for lunch this afternoon with peppers, chorizo, steak, and chicken. Feel free to ask any of our staff if you need anything.

For our opening, we have put together a set of proposed peace terms for you to consider.
Havensky be allowed to continue it’s investigatigation into the sabotage of the Spreck Refinery. The conclusion of the investigation will be considered final. Havensky will draw upon a panel of independent experts from non-aligned nations to verify the results of the investigation.

In the event that a non-state actor is responsible for the sabotage, home country will allow extradition into Allied Nations to face criminal charges. Home country will seize all assets from company and use the funds to pay monetary reparations towards repairing the damage.

In the event that a governmental body was responsible for the sabotage, said officials will resign immediately and home country will pay monetary reparations towards repairing the damage.

Havensky will provide up to one million Skyan credits worth of oil aid to the region and then provide additional shipments at cost. This clause will be rendered null and void if fighting breaks out between participants.

And with that, I would like to go around the room and here counterproposals or concerns at this time."

De La Calle gave a silent nod to his SL counterparts and shot a look at Kerman, who sat reclined in the chair with a confident smirk on his face.

"Before we begin,” Kerman said. “I see the fact that the AN is even [i]negotiating with these…dogs to be a concession within itself. As such, before talks continue I must have the assurance of all SL nations that no further troops will enter Sidonia.”

“There will have no such agreement!”[/i] Gelnikos roared in return. “The SL has every right to deploy troops to counter your aggression!”

“Now now, just a moment please.” interrupted Moonwing in a grandfatherly like tone as he gently tapped a gavel onto the table with a stern stare across the room.

“I should remind everyone that decorum must be maintained. There will be no raised voices at this table. You are all professionals representing your respective peoples. The fact that these talks are taking place aboard a flotilla of vessels which will be required to aid potentially hundreds - if not thousands - of casualties if these talks should fail should impress upon you a sense of responsibility. As agreed upon, I am facilitating these talks. I am perfectly willing to let things happen free-form, but I will resort to having to call on speakers if we can not keep a civil tone. Understood?”

"Very well," Kerman said, almost sarcastically, and staring directly at Gelnikos.

“Mr. Kerman, you are about to bring full scale war to Septentrion,” Stephen said. “Sylva does not want war. Sidonia does not want war, and neither does Mozria, or Aleckandor. The Septentrion League’s formation was for the purpose of defending Sidonia from what we think is an inevitable AN invasion. If we are wrong, please, tell us – please, do not bring war to this region.”

“The Allied Nations requires additional resources. Additional resources require expansion –“

“Bullshit!” De La Calle roared, smashing his fist into the table, much to the surprise of everyone in the room. So the cool-headed Sylvan had a dark side after all. “The Skyans have made an extremely generous offer of oil to the AN government – and yet you still call for the formation of fresh regiments to fight in Sidonia, and continue moving men and material across the St. Michael’s Strait onto Casaterra!”

”Mr. De La Calle.. language please.”, interjected Moonwing in a sterner voice. He then looked across the room and spoke again.

“As a reminder, the offer of oil aid expires after the first shot is fired. It will take time for the shipment to reach the Septentrion. Obviously, the buildup of troops on both sides has made the situation much more volatile. The Skybound Republic has analyzed the situation and we understand that for the Allied Nations economy to function, it needs oil. However, we strongly caution that war is prohibitively more expensive than what we can negotiate here as part of a lasting peace.”

“Si vis pacem, para bellum.” Kerman replied.

“Oh yes,” Lanceman said, speaking up for the first time, “Because the Republic of Sidonia would launch an offensive against the Allied Nations, outnumbered nearly twenty to one. Yes, because we’re all a bunch of fucking psychopaths!”

“Nobody is questioning that,” Kerman shrugged.

“Everyone please, perhaps if would be more productive to listen to the counteroffer from Allied Nations to the peace plan that is currently on the table.”, replied Moonwing in a gentle voice steering the conversation back to business.

Kerman rolled his eyes. “I’m not even sure why I came. So let’s get this over with, shall we? Currently a million – that’s six zeroes – soldiers of the Allied Nations Armed Forces are ready to storm across the Sidonian border at the snap of a finger. They will cross that border. The only difference will be if the SL is there to combat them, or if they will decide to save themselves, and let Sidonia be absorbed peacefully into the AN. My reports suggest your League has less than a third of my total force deployed – tell me, from what position of strength could you negotiate from?”

Moonwing tapped his gavel again.

“I think it’s a good time for a break.”, he said gently as he raised his hands to stop the inevitable protests.

“Mr. Kerman, it’s a very nice day out. Perhaps we should take a walk out on the deck.”, said Moonwing. Despite the grandfatherly tone, it was clear that this was more of an order than a request.

“I suggest we meet back here in fifteen minutes.”

* * * *

Moonwing stepped out onto the deck of the Friendship along side Kerman. Two Skyan Legionnaires escorted them from behind staying silent. Moonwing let the sound of the waves calm his thoughts before beginning. Two helijets flew over their heads and landed on one of the cargo ships nearby.

“Mr. Kerman, I understand the predicament your nation faces. However, your threats may not be quite as effective as you think. Men are prideful and nobody imagines themselves losing a war. Let us be honest with each other. Why don’t you tell me what your nation really needs to survive.”

The president stretched, his arms once again coming to his chest in a folded position. “Sir,” he addressed the mediator, “What our empire needs is living space. Along with this space we need a means to grow, and prosper. This is besides my personal reasons for gaining fuel for ourselves. We needn’t go into a war if they’d lay down their arms.”

“I’m afraid that isn’t an option. You can’t expect Sidonia to simply give up their own nation willingly. No amount of negotiation will change that. Even if you succeed, you will find conquered people to be unfriendly neighbors. Occupations have a way of being more trouble than they’re worth. Surely there are easier ways to grow.”

“Ah, but we don’t intend to occupy. We will let Sidonia continue their governmental practices, as long as we are supplied with all of their oil. A protectorate, if you will.”

“It appears that the only thing they need protecting from is you. They seemed to have gathered quite a few allies in order to keep their oil. And besides, war is expensive. After you lose all your trading partners and spend the money to subdue them, you’d be worse off even with their oil”

“The empire is self sufficient, Mr. Moonwing. We can recover from a speculated downturn quicker than most.”

“The world’s not like that anymore. No nation can cut itself off from the world and thrive. If you continue your aggression, you will find an increasing amount of closed doors Let us try and at least come up with an alternative plan. Please, if you will.”

Moonwing gestured back inside. As they walked back inside, the Skyan Legionary stayed behind and tapped a message to the Investigation team.

Diplomatic situation unstable. Leave as soon as possible.

* * * *

A Skyan Legionary held the door open for Moonwing and Kerman as they walked back into the room.

“Now then, does the League have any objections to the peace plan laid out?”, asked Moonwing.

"To the Sepentrion League, the Skyans plan seems fair and sound." The Mozrian diplomat said.

Moonwing nodded, “Alright then, Mr. Kerman - Does the Allied Nations have any objection to the peace plan as written?”

"Yes. That plan doesn't give us control of Sidonia."

"You won't have Sidonia!" President Lanceman of the Sidonian Republic said.

"And what position of strength could you possibly argue that from?"

“We burn the oil fields,”Lanceman said, almost nonchalantly. “You cross that border, I give the order to burn all of your precious black gold and destroy all your precious drilling rigs.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Kerman said. For the first time yet, the AN President seemed visibly distressed.

“Call my bluff, you imperialist bastard. Call it!”

“That’s enough!!”, shouted Sergio.

The Skyan Ambassador to Sidonia rose and looked at the room sternly only to be interrupted.

“Never mind the rigs.” Kerman said, adjusting his tie graciously, rising from his seat. He rolled his shoulders and appeared to relax more, although a cooler tone overset him. In a monotone voice, he stated his next sentence, staring directly at Lanceman. “Have you seen what Sarin gas does to the human body? It is really quite ghastly.”

”Mr. Kerman”, came the gentle but stern voice of Moonwing.

“Need I remind you that the use of chemical weapons is prohibited by World Assembly Resolution #272. It should also be noted that Skyan policy on the matter is quite clear. Not only would all aid immediately cease, but the Allied Nation would be subject to strong economic sanctions that would reverberate to the large regions of Texas and Gholgoth. Given the already rocky state of your economy, it would be ill advised to utilize such measures. Additionally, the People of Havensky will not tolerate actions against civilians populations. The consequences of an attack on a civilian population using chemical weapons would be quite...severe."

Moonwing paused a moment to let gravity have an effect on his words.

"Now then, given our generous offer of aid, the Skyan government would like you to provide a counter-offer that does not include the complete annexation of Sidonia.”

"Mr. Kerman," De La Calle said, [i[ "Any use of chemical weapons in conventional warfare will result in grave consequences - I can assure you, Sylva will respond in kind. And I must ask - why must war be the answer? Must we resort to force of arms? The Skyans have promised you your oil, after all."[/i]

The President chuckled at this, turning his attention to De La Calle and leaning on the desk in front of him with his elbows. “Oh, I was implying nothing, I assure you….In any case, the Skyans’ deal is not permanent. Our solution is this; We do not want a war. Simply fall back, and there will be no hostilities.”

"What if," De La Calle said, "What if the Skyans could export fuel to the AN in exchange for a pact of non-aggression signed between the AN and the SL?"

Kerman rubbed his cleanly-shaven chin in thought for a moment, then looked to the Skyan man orchestrating the meeting, as if expecting him to answer on Kerman's behalf.

“The Skyans are prepared to offer fuel at a discounted rate until the Spreck facilities are repaired even after our one million credit offer is depleted and all other aspects of our peace plan are agreed upon - including the end of military buildup on both sides."

“Perhaps you have a good plan, but the Allied Nations and her Outlying Territories are committed in liberating the people of Sidonia, in exchange for their cooperation. Besides, we can then be self sustaining.”

"You're insane if you think we will agree to that, Kerman," De La Calle said, before standing and turning to the door. "If you are not willing to negotiate, than it seems war is the only way to settle this."

Without another word, the Sylvan Head of State turned and left the conference - for all intents and purposes the long descent into war had finally completed its course.

Kerman sat back in his chair, looking appalled at the turn of events. “Well, then, looks like he wasn’t too happy to have peace in our time.” He paused to take a sip of the drink in front of him. “We do, however, remain open to any additional offers the Skyans have. War is an inevitability now, and we’d hate to crush those in line with the SL, but we do what we must to restore liberty. Can we count on you to provide support, logistical, military or otherwise?” He looked to Oathkeeper Moonwing.

Moonwing frowned. When he spoke again the gentleness of his voice was gone.

“The Skyan People are willing to give for the Cause of Peace. If there is no peace, there will be no aid. The Skyan People remain neutral in this conflict so we can continue to act as diplomats and negotiators. However, make no mistake. The Skyan People do not support the acquisition of resources through force of arms. If you will not be dissuaded by carrots then perhaps you will respond more to sticks. Understand, that severe economic sanctions will be placed on the Allied Nations if they invade Sidonia. We will exercise our considerable diplomatic influence to have nations of the large regions of Sidonia, Texas, and Gholgoth to have them pass sanctions as well. You will find yourself quickly isolated. The lack of trade will slowly strange your economy. Yes, take the oil in you can - but the fuel alone will not save your economy from collapse.”

Moonwing rose and looked Kerman square on.

“Also...the Skyan People are not amused by your insinuations of using chemical weapons on civilian populations. If I hear such talk again, you will be summarily dismissed from my ship. The consequences of the use of chemical weapons will be swift and severe. Mr. Kerman, you will find my people to be both kind and fair. This should not be mistaken for weakness. Do you understand?”

“Why--Oathkeeper, do you realize what you’re saying?” Kerman sat back into his chair, suppressing a chuckle. “You intend to make this regional conflict into a [i]world war? You, the peace loving people? Do you realize what a position you’re in to make such a threat? You’ve valuable employees in my country, and, as I’ve observed, these ships are unarmed.” He spoke with authority, but a level tone. “Now, I am fully willing to continue the peace process, but it must come with the conclusion that I take Sidonia. It is necessary Provide….appeasement?”[/i]

Moonwing was non-pulsed by the veiled threat. Without the slightest hint of a raised voice or anger, Moonwing spoke very plainly.

"Mr. Kerman, the medical staff aboard this vessel have personally treated victims of chemical warfare. While those in the room may have only read reports, the people on this ship are fully aware of its effects. I am making no threat, but merely reminding you of Skyan policy on the matter. The Skyan People take the use of chemical weapons very seriously. It would behoove you to refrain from their use.

As I see you are not to be dissuaded on the matter of Sidonia, I will have SGT Asher escort you back to your aircraft,

Thank you everyone and have safe travels back."

The Legionnaires snapped to attention and the one next to the door opened it. Moonwing turned around and left the officers mess through the door signaling the end of the talks. Once he had gotten to his cabin Moonwing typed a short message to the Skyan High Council.

1st Humanitarian Fleet requesting additional escorts. Peace talks appear to have failed. Possible chemical weapons use. Possible hostage situation. Evac of diplomatic team required. Please advise.

OCC:

This post was collaborative written by thread participants.

[Nova Sylva]

SYLVA WALKS OUT ON SIDONIAN PEACE TALKS, PREPARES FOR WAR
Septentrion League envoys leave after AN’s “unacceptable demands.”

HNS FRIENDSHIP – Negotiations between the Allied Nations and the Septentrion League ended abruptly today when the SL diplomats walked out on the conference following what they called “unacceptable demands” made by the AN President, George Robert Kerman. The Skyan diplomatic mediators confirmed that Kerman issued the SL an ultimatum to leave Sidonia within one week or go to war against the Allied Nations, after which the Sylvan head of state stood and left, followed shortly thereafter by the rest of the SL delegation.

Upon returning to Chandler De La Calle gave a short speech on what this meant for Sylva and the world, outlining that the SL would not back down, and that Sylva would fight until the end. “There is only one way this will end,” he said. “With Sidonia independent, and the Allied Nations humbled. President Kerman has made it clear that there cannot be peaceful solution to this conflict, and as such, has dug the grave for him and his war machine. The Coalition State will stand firm, alongside its allies in the Global Sovereign Confederacy of Aleckandor, the New Sylvan Republic, and the Republic of Sidonia, and ensure that the coming battle ends in nothing short of complete, and decisive, victory.”

The Skybound Republic of Havensky has voiced its commitment to neutrality but applauded the SL’s efforts at peace. Furthermore it warned the Allied Nations that an invasion of Sidonia would result in the AN being completely ostracized from the international community – not just in Septentrion, but in Sondria, Gholgoth, and Texas. In an unofficial statement it also said that the Skybound Republic and countries aligned with Havensky would place heavy sanctions on the already struggling AN economy.

“If the Allied Nations are unable to take Sidonia completely and force to SL to capitulate, it will be destroyed,” Lt. Colonel Bernard Fawkes (Retired), a strategic analyst for the Acropolis Journal, said. “Nothing short of complete victory can save the AN. It’s economy is already shaky – war, and the international community’s sanctions, will further dismantle it. I dare to say, as a number of economic and military analysts, myself included, believe, that under wartime conditions the Allied Nations’ economy can survive for roughly sixty days before the economic structure, and thus the government, will completely collapse. Even with the Rupee being a fixed currency, the stock market and the very basis of the economy will likely be destroyed, even if the government deflates the value of its currency.

“But I also believe that it is entirely possible that the Allied Nations could seize Sidonia and save their economy. They have nearly a million men arrayed along the border, while the Septentrion League has amassed a mere 300,000. Though SL reinforcements are arriving by the day from Aleckandor, and Sylva, it is unlikely the will be able to bring the full weight of their armies against the AN by the time the deadline is reached.”

De La Calle is scheduled to present Parliament with a proposal to call up all of Sylva’s reserves and expand funding to the military, perhaps even instill a draft. Recruitment numbers are up nearly a hundred percent but it still fails to meet the COSAF’s goal of raising an additional 50,000 soldiers to fight in Sidonia. The Nationalists and the Federalists are for once united in their belief that Sidonia’s war is Sylva’s war, and both have promised support for the De La Calle’s National Defense Bill. With both major parties in agreement on its contents it is likely that it could be signed into law in as early as two days.

Connor Smith contributed to this article.

JOIN THE DISCUSSION | REGIONAL HEADLINES | ABOUT APJ |

[Murovanka]

Official Press Release of the Wankan Foreign Ministry

The Wankan government urges the Septentrion League and the Allied Nations to reflect on the numerous lives they are putting at risk as a result of their selfish greed and back down from their aggressive warmongering and military build-up in Sidonia. We also demand that the members of the Septentrion League call a halt to the belligerent economic warfare waged on the Allied Nations, lead by the Coalition State.

Us Wankers learnt the hard truth of war; we are still suffering from the scars of endless, pointless conflicts which has torn Wankan society to shreds. Consider the hundreds of thousands of innocent civilian lives you are putting at stake; consider the lifelong damage and trauma you will cause to the people of Sidonia and your own countries. Rise up from the primitiveness of the barbarian, and settle your disputes peacefully, on the negotiation tables. Life, even without war, is already too short.

- Foreign Minister Heinrich von Preisen

Outskirts of Echterdorf
The Sellenland
ca. 06:00 Hours

Abwehr officer “Hauptmann Sikovsky” studied his map of the Sellenland as he sat next to the driver in a truck carrying troops of the third company of the Ellenburger Battalion. He hated this assignment. He’d barely had several days to acclimatize before all hell broke loose, having vomited nearly a dozen times already. Ceaselessly training the SOAB recruits in altitudes averaging just under 2,500 meters high had taken his toll on him. Sikovsky was originally the 3rd companies radio operator, taking control of the company after its commander and second-in-command had been hospitalized a day before the liberation due to a severe case altitude sickness.

After around three hours on the road the truck finally rambled onto the deserted streets of Echterdorf. The town was still pretty much in one piece. However, signs of the raging conflict were everywhere. Bullet holes pockmarked buildings wherever one looked, the occasional dead, both Wankan and Aemen, lying in pools of blood. Knocked-down lamp posts, electrical wires, glass and other debris littered the streets. In the distance, one could hear the machine guns barking, the grenades going off.

Sikovsky helped the driver navigate his way to the drop off point. At their assembly area, he was met with another exhausted Abwehr officer who held a cigarette in his mouth. His breath reeked of Schnaps.

”Hauptmann Sikovsky? Leutnant Astkoff”. Both men saluted. Astkoff pulled out a crumpled map, pointing to a red line close to where they currently were. The lieutenant explained gruffly.

“We got news that Aemen and Achesian reinforcements have started to land in Reiterhof. We’re running several hours behind schedule- we need to kick them outta the mountain, and establish our planned defensive positions as soon as possible or we risk losing what we gained today.

Here’s the plan. The Aemeners up there are clearly running outta ammunition. We’ve gathered a shitload of smoke grenades which we’ll use to get close to the foot of their positions. Your men will lead the assault on the west flank. Wait for my signal. Remember, no matter what, don’t turn back. We’re committing literally every man and woman in the area to this fight. Viel Glück!”

With that, the lieutenant ran off. Sikovsky gathered his platoon commanders, briefing them of their upcoming task. Barely fifteen minutes later, white smoke formed a neat screen, shielding Sikovsky’s path from the Aemen gunners.

”KOMPANIE, AUSSCHWÄRMEN!”

Bullets randomly passed through the smoke, punching dirt up all around his men. However, the smoke did work as planned. Sikovsky joined the first wave that reached the foot of the hill, watching the first men negotiate their way up the rocky pathway. On other parts of the mountain, the Sellenwanker militiamen and women streamed up the slope. SOAB casualties were heavy, but for the first time, they were in a position to dislodge the Aemen defenders.

Indeed, the situation looked grave for the Aemeners as the fresh Sellenwanker reinforcements battled their way up past a dwindling number of bullets. Grenades cleared once-solid defensive positions. Now it was the Aemen troops turn to retreat further into the unwelcoming terrain. Taking cover beneath a several rocks, Sikovsky paused and coughed loudly. He struggled up, setting his Gewehr-74 sights on an Aemen position just a hundred meters away. Two bursts of gunfire forced their heads back down. The captain half-collapsed to the ground, physically exhausted. His eyes wandered up to the sky, where several black birds appeared, flying in perfect formation towards them…

At that moment, his radio crackled.

”Alle Achtung, feindliche Kampfjets! Feuer frei, Feuer frei!i!”

Wankan Abwehr officers and military personnel, along with a small number of trained Sellenwankers, stopped in their tracks, staring in horror at the sky. Quickly, “Pfeil” (Strela-3) MANPADS were brought up, their crews standing ready.

From the air, Aemen fighter jets swooped down dangerously low, dropping their payloads onto the Wankers, sending missiles exploding amongst their midst. Cannon fire roared in tandem with the engines as they assaulted the Sellenwankers with gunfire. Meeting them were small numbers of Pfeil heat-seeking surface-to-air missiles which attempted to pick the warbirds out of the sky. While the airstrikes didn’t actually produce massive numbers of casualties, due to the proximity of the fighting which made friendly fire very likely, it was the psychological impact which left its mark. To most of the ground troops in the dust, surrounded by blood and bodyparts, the aggressors had escaped unharmed and gave them a sense of helpless vulnerability.

And so, despite the encouragement and threats by their officers, the Sellenwankers abruptly halted their assault. On some sectors, troops began pulling back. Soon, the battle had been reduced to one of occasional exchanges of gunfire as the Wankan military leadership attempted to regroup the militia. Gained positions were consolidated. The wounded and dead were carried off, the tired and exhausted deployed to “home guard” duties. Their day definitely wasn’t over yet.

As the hour ticked by, more and more Wankan Army troops from the 75th Mountain Regiment arrived, replacing the depleted SOAB units. Wiesel Ozelot armored weapons carriers provided air defense around the area with their short-range air-to-air missile launchers, occasionally engaging harassing groups of Aemen fighters. By 1000 hours, 8 hours since the start of the rebellion, an entire reinforced battalion numbering around 600 combat troops had arrived in addition to hundreds of support personnel and were establishing positions at the intersection. An hour later, at 11am, light artillery and mortars rained shells on suspected Aemen holdouts, followed by a cautious advance of the trained and experienced Wankan Gebirgsjäger. Box-shaped armored personnel carriers, the GTW-Huskys, lead the way upwards, followed by the mountain troopers. Not only were they better trained; they were far better equipped than the SOAB militiamen, their bulletproof vests providing protection from the varied small-arms fire of the Aemen troops. There would be no more delays; the Aemen troops would have to be cleared off this mountain, or the entire operation would be put in severe danger. At the intersection behind them, troops of the remaining two regiments of the 75th sped by to prepare defensive positions around Krakenhof.

***

Ellenburg
ca. 12:00 Hours

The cold morning had arrived, and the newly-established Sellenpolizei made of primarily men and women not fit for combat quickly went to work. Police cars, taken from the Aemen police force, drove slowly throughout the “liberated” Sellenland towns, loudspeakers droning ceaselessly in Wankan.

”DAS VOLKSRAT ORGANISIERT EIN REFERENDUM! BÜRGER DES SELLENLANDES, KOMMT ZUM RATHAUS UND STIMMT AB!”

The People’s Council is holding a referendum! Citizens of the Sellenland, come to the town hall and vote!

Soon, the first Wankans arrived. They found that they had three choices: a) Incorporation into the Volksrepublik Wanka; b) Return to the pre-1970s status (semi-autonomous state of Wanka); c) Remain with Aemen; d) Declare independence

Particular care was given to where the referendum posters were hung up, and where the police cars drove through. The sectors heavily populated with Aemeners, which were now guarded closely by SOAB militiamen, were completely avoided. Everything was in Wankan, as a result, only those who spoke and understood Wankan knew exactly was going on. Still, quite a few Aemeners caught the gist of it and attempted to get to the town hall where the voting was taking place. Those who did found themselves facing SOAB troops who gruffly shouted in broken English that “Foreigners are not allowed to vote”.

Meanwhile, the Ellenburg population was subjected to a constant show of power; unmarked military vehicles contained with grim-looking Wankan troops ceaselessly streamed through the little town toward the front. The roads connecting the Wankan town of Waldorf to Ellenburg was filled to the brim with grey Wankan armor, heavily interspersed with mobile FLAK-13 short range SAM systems. Ellenburg itself was temporarily guarded by a battery of FLAK-13’s while engineers set up the components for the immobile FLAK-9 surface to air missile system which would provide defense not only against enemy aircraft, but also incoming missiles. So paranoid was the Wankan command of the Aemen air threat that hundreds of mobile SAM vehicles (SA-series) were being pilfered from existing divisions to provide security for the thousands of Wankan troops secretly invading their neighbour.

***

Mountains along Highways 67, 68, 69
ca. 13:00 Hours

Spread along the entire lengths of the three main highways connecting the Sellenland to Aemen were hundreds of hand-picked groups of Sellenwanker troops. This force was called the Sondereinsatzkräfte Sellenland (SEKS, known colloquially as SEX), who would wage a campaign of guerrilla warfare on the Aemen army. The basic unit consisted of eight men. Two carried Uran-7 (RPG-7) rocket launchers, one carried a machine-gun, one carried a “Pfeil” short-range MANPAD, and another four were riflemen (including the commander). Dozens such squads lined, along the three highways in well-prepared ambush positions. These teams were instructed to target lightly armed vehicles or transports, as the rockets were unlikely to penetrate the armor of the Aemen MBT’s. Their instructions were to harass and delay approaching Aemen military convoys, fleeing when attacked only to resurface later on to continue the fighting.

In addition to that, sniper teams consisting mostly of Abwehr and Wankan Army personnel were spread mostly at random throughout the the mountains. They would do as much damage as they could with the puny bullets of their sniper rifles; for example, targeting the drivers of supply vehicles or any exposed infantrymen. Connected via radio to the Wankan military headquarters in Ellenburg, they would also double as the eyes in the field. Both the guerrilla forces and sniper teams had prepared an extensive network of resupply bases within the mountains which was sufficiently stocked to last these units, numbering just under 700 men altogether, several months.

At a point along Highway 68, a sniper team overlooking Reiterhof and a long part of the highway listened in closely to their radio. Abwehr agents had reported of the quick departure of several Achesian formations via road but also via choppers; the sniper team was instructed to observe and report on the enemy movement. Soon enough, the vehicles and choppers landed in the sights of their crosshairs and binoculars. The sniper pair reported in, and were ordered to stand by and continue observing.

In the headquarters of the SEKS based in mountains around Brenzlau, Sonderführer Henning took a careful look at his map of the Sellenland, placing the plastic piece representing the 77. Gebirgsjägerregiment west of Siegen. Highway 68 was long and not very well-maintained, which gave him enough time to prepare operations against the oncoming enemy. At Ellenburg, his Wankan military superiors had informed him that elements of the 77th Mountain Regiment had already established defensive positions around Siegen and would be reinforced with the entire regiment, in addition to a battalion of Füsiliers from the 7th Füsilier Division (Mechanized). What they needed was time to bring all the units in place and the knocking-down of AAA troop morale. And so, Henning went to work. His operations staff gathered around him as they discussed possible plans for ambushes as they held constant radio contact to the numerous units in the field who suggested possible points of contacts.

It was decided to let the Achesian formations bypass numerous pairs of units (known as RAPide Einsatzgruppen, or RAPE, pronounced rah-peh in German) who would pull back into safe hiding to avoid detection and contact. The main ambush would be conducted two-thirds of the distance between Siegen and Reiterhof where the mountains came especially close together and the highway itself was pretty narrow. The plan was to have a RAPE on the overhead bridge which spanned over the highway disable surprise and disable leading armored vehicles, blocking the path of the column. Roughly two kilometers down, an Abwehr demolitions team would detonate a vital bridge over the Donau river to block the Achesians rear. The trapped Achesian units would then face fire from two or more RAPEs stationed on elevated positions on either side of the mountains, who would fire their RPGs on the weak top armor of the enemy vehicles and cut down alighting infantry with their machineguns.

The upside was the potential of dealing a significant amount of damage, as a result of the excellent ambush location provided by the terrain (which also had enough hiding places to provide cover from the choppers). The downside was that the RAPEs were spread out all over the highways, and getting the required units would be a race against time. The demolitions team was already on the way from Siegen, pilfered from the Pionierbattalion of the 77th Regiment. A pair of RAPEs were already at the ambush location. Henning would’ve liked five more RAPEs, which would surely maximize the damage done to the Achesian forces. Three available units were ordered to rapidly move to the ambush site, dubbed the “Kessel”, or the cauldron. One was a short ride away with their land rovers, another two would speed down Highway 68 to the Kessel. The 77th had also, at Hennings request, created two RAPE-like units who would be brought via civilian cars toward the ambush site. However, Henning doubted these would arrive on time, primarily due to the fact that there was a heavy jam leading out from Siegen. Well, what will be will be, Henning thought. The two RAPEs at the Kessel were ordered to look for the best ambush locations for the arriving RAPEs and a pair of snipers started trekking toward the site to provide support. All troops involved were ordered to hold their fire and avoid contact; for the ambush, they were instructed to ignore the forward reconnaissance units and attack only when the two kilometers were filled with enemy targets. All in all, if all went according to plan, he would soon have at least forty seven men (he was pretty sure there were nearly no women amongst them) ready to hopefully give the Achesians and nice warm welcome to the Sellenland homeland.

Leaving the finer details of the operation to his officers, Sonderführer Henning moved on to prepare other ways of delaying the approaching Achesian force, in addition to prepare more similar ambushes along Highway 69, along which it was reported that Aemen armored columns were moving. It was crucial that the Aemen formations were delayed long enough to allow the 75th Regiment time to clear the mountains of Aemen resistance and then to consolidate its position on the mountains overlooking the vital Highway 69 junction, which would give them a significant tactical advantage over the approaching enemy.

---

Summary

• ~11am: 1. Battalion, 75th Mountain Infantry Regiment starts clearing Aemen resistance on the Highway 69 junction after SOAB attempt is foiled by AAA airstrikes
  
• ~12am: Abwehr-dominated Sellenland provisional government organizes referendum to determine the districts future; further elements of the 7th, 22nd and 26th Divisions enter the Sellenland
  
• ~1pm: 75th Mountain Infantry Regiment sets up defensive positions around Krakenhof (incl. Highway 67); 76th Mountain Infantry Regiment sets up defensive positions around Echterdorf; 77th Mountain Infantry Regiment sets up positions around Siegen and Highway 68; Schwarze-Kavallerie-Jäger-Regiment sets up positions around Ellenburg, Brenzlau and key positions along the Donau and Elbe rivers
  
• ~2pm: SEKS units prepare to ambush Achesian forces on Highway 68
  
• ~3pm: Call-up of the following reserve formations: 13th, 14th, 15th Divisions (all mechanized, for build-up on Wanko-Sylvan Border), 27th Division and 28th Division (both Mountain); start of mountain combat training operations of the 8th Division (Mech) and the 9th Division (Mech)

Disposition of Wankan Armed Forces units at ca. 3pm




Note:

• Red areas mark the regions the allocated battalions are in charge of defending
• Most battalions are understrength with units still in transit.
• Cut off from the picture in the north (but still seen as a small red shaded area) is the 3rd Btn/75th Rgt tasked with protecting Highway 67 (unlabeled), Krakenhof and the Railways
• In the mountains, SAM protection is only offered by the Pfeil MANPAD and Ozelot SR-SAM due to terrain difficulties (poses no threat to high-altitude flying aircraft)
• 1st Battalion of 75th Regiment (Mountain) is still engaging in combat at the point marked “Contact” and have not set up in their planned positions (3rd Btn/76th Rgt still in transit).

Apologies for the distasteful acronyms. Some additional information has been added in the summary as I couldn’t find suitable spots in the storyline to mention them)

[Nova Sylva]

Official Statement from the Coalition State of Sylva

The actions undertaken by the Volksrepublic of Murovanka constitute a grave threat to peace in our world. The invasion of one sovereign nation by another for the purpose of securing additional resources who outright unacceptable by modern geopolitical law, and outlined in the World Assembly Border Standardization Act of 2009. As such, the Coalition State promises that such unwarranted aggression will not go unanswered.

The desire of the Wankan government to turn so quickly to aggressive military action is troubling; furthermore, in its fool-hearted quest to bring full-scale war to the Casaterran continent, it will find that it is alone. Not only will any other just and free nation not support their endeavor, but the Free World, particularly the nations of the Septentrion League, will take direct action if deemed necessary. As such, with the desire of keeping this tentative peace in Casaterra and all of Septentrion, the Coalition State hereby demands the following of the Wankan government:

• The removal of all NAZI troops from the Sellenland within 24 (TWENTY FOUR) hours.
• The immediate cessation of hostilities between all parties.
• The promise of no interference to diplomatic personnel from a neutral country who will observe the demilitarization of the Sellenland.
• An official recognition by the Wankan government of the Aemen ownership of the disputed territory.

Failure to comply with these points will result in serious consequences for the Wankan government. Additionally, the Sylvan delegation hereby calls for an immediate emergency meeting of the Septentrion League to discuss possible economic and military responses to Wankan aggression.

GOD SAVE THE KING

Calisto Palace
Near Chandler, Coalition State of Sylva
1500 hours

Princess Mariana approached her father as any daughter might do, regardless of the fact that he was the King of Sylva. Perhaps the most powerful office in Septentrion, with one of the region’s largest economies and most powerful militaries at his disposal. He could overrule the power to overrule Parliament, even the First Minister. His rule was so respected it could, and in history had, bended the wills of foreign nations – yet Silus VI, King of Sylva, sat idle.

No, Silus VI was not a ruler. He was a monarch, yes, but not a ruler.

His royal prerogatives were extensive yet they had solemnly been used in Silus’ forty-year rule of the Coalition State and her commonwealth, something that Mariana did not understand. How could he sit idly by as conflict engulfed the region? How could he let his people go to war without so much as lifting a finger?

It was probably because of Salvador, she thought. The Crown Prince was essentially running the country anyway – Father sat in the palace, obsessing over frivolous things like poetry, literature, history and art while the world collapsed around him. For all of Salvador’s bellicosity and belligerence, at least he was a man of action. Nevertheless there were things she would change about Salvador, just not as many things she would change about Silus.

Silus was sitting in a rocking chair overlooking the palace gardens, just as he did every afternoon. Seeing him, Mariana had to smile; he was so…innocent. So oblivious to all the evils in the world, Silus simply fretted over his literature, without a care or purpose. Today, he was writing a poem - one of thousands he had written, nonetheless, that crowded the extensive Royal Archive and the Great Library.

“Father,” she said gently, sitting down in a chair adjacent to the King. He looked up from his poem and smiled at his daughter as a priest would smile if the heavens had suddenly opened.

“Mariana, my love,” he replied, with all the grace of a father and all the dominion of a king. “How nice of you to visit me. I was just finishing a new poem,”

“That’s fantastic, father –“

He interrupted, seemingly without noticing that his daughter had even spoken. “Read it, please,” he insisted.

How could you believe
That the life within the seed
That grew arms that reached
And a heart that beat
And lips that smiled
And eyes that cried
Could ever die?

It was another poem about Mother, she decided. She had died giving birth to Mariana – she had no real idea what she was like, only what she looked like.

Photographs could say a thousand words but love could speak a million, she had always said. Or at least, that’s what Salvador and Silus had told her she always said. Mariana had never known her mother aside from the few minutes post birth of which she had actually been with her. And of course, at 26 she could not remember the first few minutes of her life.

“Father…”

She signed, and straightened her dress as she took a seat next to Silus. “I know your love lies in the arts. But the country needs you. As we speak the region is finishing it’s plunge into war. The AAA is fighting NAZI, SL is fighting the AN, yet we sit idly by. Sylva, now more than ever, needs her King.”

“And what,” Silus asked, setting down his poem and pen reluctantly, “What would you have me do? I may have power over this country but I do not have control over it’s people. It is not so much the country as the people that are preparing for this coming storm. We are defending Sidonia just as much for the oil as we are the are the people – they are Sylvans, after all.”

“But, the war…”

“It is inevitable. If it doesn’t happen now it will happen later – history attests to that. Better to wait out the storm instead of praying for it not to come.”

“If it is a storm,” Mariana replied, “then the house must be prepared. You do not simply ‘wait out’ a storm; you fortify your house, defend it.”

Silus looked at his daughter with a new eye. “But in some ways it is better to preserve what we can, and accept that what is going to be destroyed is, well, doomed.”

“No, father. That’s when you gather your neighbors, and your family, and double down. You cannot simply submit.”

Silus sighed, and smiled. He moved a strand of blonde hair that had fallen over her face, folding it back. “I wish I retained your youthful optimism, and your stubbornness. I do hope it lasts you through your life.”

Silus stood, walking to a small fountain in the central courtyard. Mariana did not follow him. As he approached the marble waterwork, deep in thought, he suddenly turned and faced his daughter once again.

“Perhaps you are right,” he said. “Perhaps…perhaps it is best we ask for our neighbors’ help. Of whom do you think we can call upon?”

Mariana smiled. “Thank you, father. And I would like to ask the Kingdom of Aemen for support.”

“Aemen...” He said. “I was hoping you wouldn’t say Aemen. Our families have been on bad terms for centuries. How do you expect to overturn eight hundred years of schism?”

"With my wit and charm,” she said sarcastically. “I am planning to make a surprise, but official, visit to Aemen tomorrow. I will request to meet with both Reginald and Crown Prince Alexander, as well as wish Roseanna the best in her engagement to the Achesian prince.”

“I will send a telegram ahead of you, alerting them of your visit. Godspeed, my love.”

From the desk of King Silus IX

To His Excellency The Most Honorable Lord King Reginald II;

My daughter the princess Mariana will be arriving in Erus tomorrow at 1300 hours local time on official state business, as well as for her own personal reasons. She would like to discuss with you the Aemen support in the war against the Allied Nations as well as possible SL support in bringing down the Sellenland insurrection.

Please accept this gracious extension for a future friendship between our two nations. The War of Sylvan Succession is over; it has been for eight hundred years. It is time that our two houses put their differences aside and work together for a better future – not just for our countries but for the world.

Warm regards,
Silus Caliphus IX, King of Sylva and all her Domains

[Meinkraft]

Allied Nations Cross-Channel Provisional Railroad
20 Miles from St. Michael’s Strait


The waning moon shined down upon the hilly, forested landscape, barely illuminating its numerous features. A fox could be seen, barely, dashing through the trees and into the darkness. Here was miles from the nearest town. Cutting through the seemingly picturesque image was a bare strip of land, covered in gravel, overlain with concrete ties and steel rails, stretching on over the horizon. This was the provisional Military Railroad, built in 1956 to supply bases and troops in the north of the AN. It fell into disuse from 1972 to 2006. Refurbished in 2007, it was now ready to make its next big contribution to the Empire. In this scene, a single semaphore home signal kept watch on the section of track proceeding it. The LED light from it could be seen for over two miles. Right now, it displayed a clear aspect, with its reflective arm positioned upwards. This was the only manmade structure, besides the railway itself and other signals, for over 10 miles. Despite the overall loneliness of the scene, this was a highly traversed route, as it had been for months.

The sound of a deep whistle resonated across the hills, and leaves rustled as nearby animal scattered. The ground began to tremor, as if it were an earthquake. All of a sudden, a bright white light appeared at the southern stretch of the track. Another whistle blew, and a deer scampered across the shiny rails, into the brush. Faintly, then growing increasingly louder, in a crescendo, the sound of a locomotive grew clear. Then, finally crossing the point, such a vehicle did appear, in a flurry of white smoke, loud chugging, and hot steam. This was one of the Challenger engines, of the steam era, brought back from the museum to help combat fuel consumption. Extra armored plating had been added to it, painted jet black, to prevent destruction of the main boiler. On the smokestack was more plating, housing the scrubber system, which cut down immensely on the remnant harmful fumes emitted from burning already hyper-clean coal. The arc light mounted in the front was extremely powerful, as if it were a searchlight.

Crossing the block, the signal was triggered, and the LED flipped to red, lowering the arm to a level position. Travelling at 60 miles per hour, the train would reach its destination by dawn. The first railcar to appear behind the locomotive is the expansive coal tender, with the words ‘Allied Nations Supply Corps.’. Immediately following it are several 50-foot boxcars, blue with the state emblem painted on the doors. These contained rations, small arms ammunition, and replacement clothing. Behind these were two black tanker cars with the white UP logo on it, filled with the precious lifeblood that kept war machines going--oil and gasoline. Coupled to these were two passenger cars, attended to by a detachment of IV Corps infantry to protect against an ambush by Sidonian nationalists. After this were several more passenger cars, containing the crew to the Regimental Railway Artillery. This train carried their equipment. Behind them was a pattern of flatbed, railroad crane, and long range gun, repeating eighteen times. The artillery mounted on the train was of the 240mm variety, able to traverse 360 degrees, and deliver a shell up to 18 miles away. The flatbeds had large tarps covering the ammunition for these guns, which could be loaded into the breech of the cannon via crane. The train ended with a flatbed, with a Mantis Light Tank positioned on it, black with UP markings. On the very last coupler was a luminescent red lamp, designating the train’s end.



Strachan Sea
40 Miles off the Coast of Sylva
International Waters

The Strachan Sea was as calm as it would get this time of year, with its choppy whitecaps subsiding into nothing more than high swells. The nighttime background gave the heavens a time to burst forth, the millions of distant stars twinkling brightly. Across this expanse of sea, the tranquility was interrupted by the rocket submarine Iona erupting from the depths. A huge titanium monolith appeared in the open sea, its figure--the hull of the submarine--blasting up through the surface. 60% of it was above the waterline, poised at an almost vertical angle, and seemed to suspend itself in that way, until gravity acted upon it, bringing the craft down onto the underside of its hull with a loud parting of the waves, causing ten foot sprays of water to jet outward on impact. The Iona had just completed a rocket-assisted emergency blow. Water was still emptying off of the deck, onto the stabilizers, and into the sea below. The submarine was designed like one of the diesel-electric era, and, surfaced, looked like a ship instead of a sub. The deck was steel, but was tailored to look like wooden slatboards, even glossed over with staining. In the night, her outer armor shone with lines of light, placed in certain areas along her body. These lines were a lighter blue than those on the sub itself, and, at the bow, a symbol of a longtail--national bird of the Empire--outlined in these lines. Reflecting against the oceanwater, this was the only manmade light in miles, as far as the crew knew.

The hatch topside hissed and depressurized, being pushed open by Captain Rik Flashheart. His blonde hair whipped through the wind as he climbed onto the deck, placing his fists on his hips, his stance powerful, admiring the stars as the engines shut off, simply having a moment of solidarity alone. His vessel had just received its inaugural mission: Sink any Sylvan Navy ships attempting to threaten the St. Michaels Strait or damage Allied shipping. A secondary clause was to attempt reconnaissance on the coast of Sidonia. Being the fiery, brave, 32-year-old soul he was, Flashheart was up to this challenge put forth by the Navy Department. Clambering back down into the heart of the submarine, the Captain was greeted by his First Mate, Ensign Raymond Hughes.

“Welcome back sir. Our drill was successful, and we are now forty miles out from Sylva.” The young man was in charge of navigation, and could pilot the craft well if Iona ever went awry.

“Well done, then! Have the radar masts been raised? I want to see if there are any Syllies, so I can blow them out the water!” bellowed Flashheart jovially.

The Ensign sat in the portside helm chair and inserted his ID card into the slot on the arm. Repeating the practice that the Captain had done the day before, he was soon logged in and synced up with Iona.

“Iona, perform a radar scan of the area. Use Long-Range.” recited Hughes, confidently.

The Mental Model took on the animation of looking around, as if someone was behind her. In front of her, a red triangle appeared, suspended in the prism of light the hologram was formed in. She leaned in, focused on this new item, as if curious.

“Radar scan reveals at least one ship--Military--about 30 miles Northeast.”

Iona looked neither elated or angered at this development. Her face showed no emotion whatsoever, and neither did her tone of voice.

“Well, I’ll be damned! Closer than I thought! We’ll be heroes before breakfast, boys!” exclaimed Captain Flashheart, who had now found his way over to the Ensign’s chair, and leaned on the back of it. A resounding ‘Hurrah!’ was given off by the rest of the crew. Everyone had changed into their standard submariners’ uniform, with the ship code name and emblem on it. Everyone, that is, except for the Captain, who had only changed his underwear. His cape rested at his sides, and his uniform--navy blue slacks were at least visible--was pressed, his aviator’s jacket unzipped a couple of notches.

A voice called out from the torpedo control compartment. “We can use those new torpedos you've been talking our ears off about?” This was Chief William Runyon, weapons expert aboard the Iona.

“You’re goddamn right we will! Make ‘em sorry they ever threatened us!” responded Flashheart, pounding the head of the chair.

He reached over and pressed the green input button on the starboard seat.

“Iona, seal all compartments, and quickdive. Head full speed towards the target. I will give further instructions later.”

The Mental Model nodded, and one could hear the top hatch close and pressurize, the submarine taking on ballast and sinking below the surface. The powerful electrolysis engine turned over and started, splitting the seawater into Hydrogen and Oxygen, flooding the thruster turbine with the former, and the crew cabin with the latter. Once there was enough to muster, the rocket engines ignited, propelling the vessel at an unprecedented speed of 67 knots. The fire from the thrusters emitted a ghostly blue light, heating up the water around it. Tonight, the Iona was going to get its first combat maneuvers.

[Havensky]

Spreck, Allied Nations

Glitch's watch was buzzing as they walked through the burnt out shell that used to be the Spreck Refinery.She turned her watch to see and read the following.

Diplomatic Situation Unstable - Leave immediately

Glitch stretched out her arms and yawned.

"Ok y'all, I think we've seen just about all we're going to see. I'll take the camera footage and the blue prints and helped Stacy here with the investigation. Something clearly went wrong and it's going to take some time to understand it. Colonel Maldonado, it has been a pleasure to meet you. I'll send an email once we're back in Havensky with some preliminary results."

"Heading back to the airship?", asked Stacy who had come back from inspecting some equipment.

"Yes, but first I'm going to drop by the duty free export shop. I promised my niece some candy and mom a nice bottle of wine."

* * * *

HRS Tyrant's Bane
95th Expeditionary Fleet
International Waters

The submarines departed first.

The moment that Oathkeeper Moonwing requested additional escorts, the Mako-Class hunter submarine pack had left the 95th Expeditionary Fleet and began to move towards the 1st Humanitarian Fleet's position.

They would soon be followed by four Vangard-class Amphibious Assault Carriers loaded with their own Accipiter Interceptor Aircraft and HJ-1 Helijets along with 1,500 Legionary troops. They'd be accompanied by a dozen fast attack frigates, a dozen missile frigates and various support vessels.

It would take the group some time to arrive in the region, but the Skyan High Council felt that the situation was unstable enough to warrant an additional military presence. Particularly, with the threat of chemical weapons being branded about.

[Nova Sylva]

CSS Kingfisher
Strachan Sea, International Waters

"What the fuck is that?”

Commander Lynch stared at the anomaly on his radar screen. He was being pinged by an active radar signal – one from a submarine! Did they have a death wish or something? Already, the Kingfisher’s ASW Vertibird had been deployed, approaching the target armed with torpedoes and sonar buoys.

“I can…I can see her lights,” the radar crackled. “She’s got running lights on…oh, no, she’s going under. Looks intentional, too.”

“What the fuck are they doing?” Lynch inquired. “Coms, hail that ship. And someone get me a P8 over here, now. Hell, get MARCOM on the line.”

The ASW teams worked in twos – you had the ship, in this case the nimble Kingfisher, and an aircraft. In this case they had two planes in the sky – a P8 Poseidon ASW aircraft and a modified Vertibird helicopter. Both were especially designed to hunt submarines, and tonight they would be doing just that.

“Dropping buoys,” the helicopter pilot informed Lynch. A second later Operations informed him of a contact. “Got her,” the Sonar operator said. “She’s moving fast…really fast…but she’s loud too. Doesn’t sound like a Victor…or a Charlie…maybe an India?”

”Iona,” Lynch corrected him. “She was just launched last week. They had this whole ceremony when it was commissioned…but I didn’t think they would deploy her this fast. I just wish we had some details on how she works.”

“We can talk to National Intelligence when we get back – in the meantime, do you have torpedo lock?”

“Yes, sir.”

He threw his hands in the air. It was too easy. They’re captain must have been insane, surfacing the ship like that – and then turning on active radar? What was he thinking?

“Load tubes, and hold fire,” he ordered. If they had been in Sylvan territorial waters he would have fired on it. But he couldn’t do anything but wait for the AN commander – as strange as we was – to do something. Lynch wasn’t going to be the one to fire first, and start a war.

[Meinkraft]

Bridge of the I-401
International Waters

“Cut the engines, Hughes.”

“Sir?”

“Cut the engines! And the lights!”

Ensign Hughes quickly requested Iona to shut off the electrolysis generator. She did so, without question, the vessel coming to a stop rather quickly. The outboard design lights shut off as well. Iona blinked, and a white Wi-Fi symbol appeared, floating above her head, and spinning lazily around. She looked up at this, quizzically, cocking her head.

From the communications compartment:

“Sir, incoming transmission from Sylvan ship! Shall we respond to it?”

The voice belonged to Chief Esmé Devan, in charge of basic comm, and a member of the mechanical team to tend the engines.

“They’ve spotted us? Already?! Blast!” Flashheart slammed the chair he was leaning on once again with his leather gloved fist. Stopping to think for a moment, and considering his options carefully, he decided to answer to the hailing call.

“Open the communication line, Devan. Let’s see what these bastards want.”

A couple button clicks later, Flashheart was now connected with the commander of the adversary ship. Leaning down over the mic, he let loose in his usual fiery nature.

“Goo~ood morning, you nautical sons-of-bitches! The name’s Flashheart, and my laughter is the last thing you’ll hear before you slam to the ocean floor! Now, my question is this: Where is your ugly bucket of bolts headed?”

His crew sniggered, awaiting a reply.

IV Corps Base Camp Classification Yard
Northern AN

The Challenger and tender sat at the end of one of the tracks, the cowcatcher just barely touching the yellow-painted wooden bumper. Steam hissed out the bottom, enveloping the nearby early morning air with the foggy superheated water. This was the classification yard, a railcar sorting facility, built in two months by AN ACE. The sun had not yet risen, and already the cars were sorted, and beginning to be unloaded. Nearby, the railway artillery was being set up, next to those who were already in place, jacks being positioned into the ground to brace the traversing carriage. The crewmen were still asleep in their tents, tired after a long train ride, on which they shared stories over a few drinks, and the setup was being done by base artillerymen. Within the camp itself, hundreds of troops did many different things, such as patrol duty, preparing the mess hall, sleeping, and general preparation of materials for war.

In the center of the camp was the Army HQ, where the top brass housed itself. It was a meager building, more of a glorified tent, octangular in shape, sort of like a circus tent. The fabric was camouflaged, with military netting draped over top of it. Hanging from the pinnacle was an oversized AN flag, the edge of it hanging off of the roof. Messenger SAM trucks sat outside of it, surveying the airspace. Within the tent, several monitors and computer cabinets sat at the far wall, and a few members of the 112th Infantry patrolled around and inside. Near the coffee machine stood the man entrusted to direct the ANEF to victory. Here, sipping a cup of black with two sugars, was 47 year old Cole Phillips Welch, an Allied Field Marshal.

A genius tactician, Welch was commanding a division by the time he was 28. Despite claims that he allegedly committed savage human rights violations in the places he occupied abroad, Welch remained calm in the face of heavy criticism, and was promoted to his current position when President Kerman came to power, in 2006. Of course, he knew the strategic importance of liberating Sidonia, and he had come to terms with his time constraints. In his mind, he had a bait-and-switch plan set up and ready to go. Of course, he had to rely on that dolt Pontz to keep the Navy in line for this one.

Moving over to the window, the five-star general peered through the plastic, and stared at the horizon, into Sidonia.

Yes. he thought, This will be an interesting conflict indeed.


Spreck Airfield
Special Dock 7

Colonel Maldonado bowed to the departing Skyan diplomats. He had attended the ride back to the airfield, but now he was going to have to break the news to them. Currently, behind him, MPs in white helmets were arresting the crew of their Beast of Burden, and impounding it; a wall of men in khakis, armed with M4 Carbines surrounding it. Two of these appeared behind the Skyans, rifles slung on their shoulders.

“I am sorrei Mademoiselle.” spoke he in his accent, “I’m afraid orders have come down, and I am not allowed to let you leave ze country.” His tone was definitely sincerely apologetic.

“However! Zey did not tell me what to do with you two! So! I am arranging for you to...eh, do a backpacking trip around our glorious Empire! Look!” The colonel produced a wad of paper Rupees from his coat pocket and held them out to Glitch.

“I am giving you these personally! Off zhe books, as zhey say! Of course, if you try to leave zhe country…” Maldonado’s tone grew a tinge darker, “..we will find you. And zhey will not be as pleased with you as I am. So! Do you accept?”

To: The Skybound Republic of Havensky
From: The Allied Nations Diplomacy Department
Encrypt: Impossible

Dear whomever it may concern,

Due to a recent breakdown in communications, your diplomatic crew are now considered illegal aliens within empirical borders. As such, they are being detained with just cause, and, we assure you, are being treated well. We ask that you come again to the diplomatic table, to discuss terms of release.

The Department of Diplomacy,
John Cleese

[The Vyssian Chapel]

Cathedral of the Most Holy Saint Hillta
Wicsdæll, Munweald Governate
Sovereign Temporal Dominion of the Vyssian Chapel

The Archatrix, while technically leading the Vyssian faith from Saint Hillta's Cathedral, in all truth was not there often. When she was, it was usually to bestow blessings upon the throngs of believers seeking to throw themselves before the Four-in-One; not to contemplate during the quiet times when mass wasn't being held and the holy building was closed off for clerical use only. Potentate Chlodisig Bertimaux considered her as he made his way down the aisle to where she stood, alone, before the altar, head bowed in contemplation, red and white robes flowing down to the cold floor. Seven years he'd spent as Æthelind's chief advisor and still the lady was often intimidating to speak with. He wondered if today would be different.

Chlodisig arrived at her side and came to a stop silently. She knew he was there, certainly. He would not interrupt her prayer until she was done. Surprisingly her head immediately shot up and she turned to him, two icy blue eyes staring into his head from a tired, hooded face.

"Potentate," she stated. "I have been expecting you. I feel the warmth of Aerti and the Gods strongly today."

Chlodisig bowed his head in respect. "Yes, Archatrix. The chief members of the Priories have approved of your motion to send out a request for calm and peace. So too has the Emissariat, in particular. Only minor edits were made to your draft," he said, politely.

The Archatrix nodded, pleased, before speaking again. "Excellent. I have been praying to Thric in particular. The God of Eloquence, I can feel, is pleased with us."

There was a short, uncomfortable silence between them, then she spoke for another time. "I realize this was unexpected, Potentate. I'm glad that you have been on my side through this."

"It is my duty to the Chapel, Archatrix," Chlodisig mumbled back. Yes, she was right. It was unexpected. This was the first time the Chapel had taken action to make a political statement- however minor it was- in years. The Temporal College was delighted at the Archatrix's decision, but the isolationists within the Clerical College were murmuring in dissent. As for the rest, him included?

The will of the Gods is to be done, and the Archatrix is that will.

A PUBLIC MISSIVE FROM THE VYSSIAN CHAPEL
FROM THE TONGUE OF THE ARCHATRIX,
BLESSED IN HER FAITH,
WITH THE APPROVAL OF THE COLLEGES,
THE EMISSARIAT,
THE PRIORIES,
AND THE GODS:

By Aerti, the One God of Everything, and the Four, Thric, Rotha, Hinn, and Ohna; I, the Archatrix of the Vyssian Chapel, Æthelind XVI, as the voice of the Gods, do request with humility and hope that the nations of the world will abstain from conflict and turn back to the light of diplomacy and dialogue. This is my will as it is the will of Thric, God of Art, Speech, Diplomacy, Thought, and Eloquence. To shed the blood of your brothers and sisters in mankind is to detract from our ultimate goal of redeeming ourselves in Aerti the Mother-Father's eyes, and drives us only further from joining in her-his most favored heavenly realm. Please consider this plea for calm and find the peace of the Gods within yourselves. It is never too late.

May you be eternally blessed by the Four-in-One.

[Murovanka]

Official Statement of the Wankan Foreign Ministry

The government of the Volksrepublik Wanka would like to remind the simple-minded leadership of the Coalition State of the fact that an armed conflict between the Volksrepublik and Aemen does not exist . This brash, baseless and proofless accusation of warmongering from the Coalition State is not only, with regards to Sidonia, contradictory, but also clearly a direct result of the Volksrepublik not cooperating on the aggressive economic warfare that the CS is waging on the Allied Nations as part of its principle strategy to attain world domination.

The Wankan government calls for an immediate meeting of the Nuremberg Alliance for Future-Oriented Inter-regional Cooperation (NAZI) to prepare a strategy to counter Sylvan aggression and warns fellow nations to remain on guard against the increasingly imperialist nature of the Coalition State.

The Volksrepublik reiterates that it will remain strictly neutral in the Sellenland insurgency and will only provide humanitarian assistance to the Sellenland civilian population, regardless of race or gender. Furthermore, the Volksrepublik will recognize the results of the region-wide Sellenland referendum, which has so far been carried out in a free and fair manner.

In addition, the Volksrepublik offers to hold peace talks in Kronstadt and mediate negotiations between the opposing parties to curb the escalating violence in the Sellenland and to protect the thousands of innocent lives at risk.

Kronstadt
Rote Quadrat

”NIEDER MIT SYLVA! NIEDER MIT DEM SEPTENTRIONBUND!”

The repeated accusations by the Sylvan government branding the Wankan state as a “threat to peace”, and the Wankan medias reporting on the Sellenland conflict brought a whole lot of people together on the Red Square. The main anger was channelled at the Sylva; it seemed that that was one thing that everyone agreed upon. Banners with “Death to Sylva!” and “Sylvans- OUT of Wanka!” were extremely common. Some even chanted for war with the Septentrion League; others attempted to attack ethnic Sylvans, whose neighbourhoods were protected by several battalions of riot police. Nevertheless, Kronstadt became rather unsafe for Sylvans, with thugs actively seeking out the lighter-skinned Sylvans and beating them up in broad daylight. Sylvan shops were looted. But those activities were quickly stamped out by the police who rounded up the criminals, which often included Sylvan youths who’d seeked revenge.

However, more interesting to note was that many were frustrated at Meinhof for not helping the Sellenwankers. The Wankan media, which was to some degree independent, had painted an evil picture of the “Aemen oppressors”, showing footage of Aemen war crimes back in ’72 and their illegal annexation of the Sellenland.

”Tretet dem Freiheitsbund bei! Hilft unseren Brüdern im Sellenland!”

Join the League of Freedom! Help our brothers in the Sellenland!

The blood-red words hung over a military Biwak situated on the pavement. There, men and women in black busily recruited numerous volunteers for the fight in the Sellenland. It was one of several independent battalions organized by primarily by Sellenwankers, Abwehr agents and former soldiers and officers who were the casualties of the downsizing of the Wankan Armed Forces several years ago. Police officers wearily watched over the recruiters, who made no attempt to hide their presence and purpose. However, they were clearly instructed not to “interfere” with such “lawful activities”. Camps located in southern Wanka were already busily training their new recruits. Participants noted a surprisingly large number of modern Wankan Army equipment…

At the same time, the demonstrations grew ever larger. By the evening, 500,000 men, women and children had gathered and were demanding that Meinhof liberate the Sellenland and take a strong and assertive stance against Sylvan aggression… and Sylvans in general. In her office overlooking the main square, Ulrike Meinhof fought with conflicting feelings. On the one hand, it was great to know that the population was on her side if she ever decided to officially go to war with Aemen. On the other hand, this increasingly anti-Sylvan atmosphere would almost certainly provoke an angry response by the Sylvan population both in Wanka and Sylva, something which might lead to unnecessary and complicated long-term problems. Maybe it was time to reign in the press? She had good contacts; they would be able to sooth the xenophobic feelings toward the Sylvans. Meinhof picked up her phone, dialing a number.

***

Southeast Wanka
Near Wanko-Sylvan Border
13. Füsilierdivision, 14. Füsilierdivision, 27. Gebirgsjägerdivision

”FEUER!”

As one, the self-propelled artillery battalions opened fire, raining shells on the opposite side of the river. Explosions dotted the mountains as Wankan vehicles streamed down the hills toward the Seine river. Panzer-88 main battle tanks stuck their turrets out from behind the hills and sent rounds slamming into the steel targets some three thousand meters away. High above, Gallen-23 multiroles and -27 ground attack aircraft criss-crossed the sky, sending missiles and rockets toward the earth, sending smoke and dirt billowing high up into the air.

Panzerschütze d. R. Gerhard Hintner trained his 35mm cannon on the enemy defenses protecting the river. The whistle of missiles and artillery shells, accompanied by the regular explosions and cannon fire made him wonder whether he would suffer from any long-term hearing loss. The noise was truly deafening; he wondered what the Sylvans across the border were thinking. Upon reaching the Seine, the Schützenpanzer-12 came to a screeching halt; seconds later, the engineers in the back jumped out to assist in the bridgelaying. Hintner sent another burst of cannon fire toward one of the steel targets; it collapsed back down, only to reappear seconds later.

He truly enjoyed this live-fire exercise and counted himself lucky in that the regiment was not sent to the high mountains in the south. While the mountain ranges on the Wanko-Sylvan border did have several peaks reaching 3,000 meters, the ground was on average only several hundred meters above sea level. It was so low that tanks were able to maneuver on its hilly-marshy terrain, albeit with some maneuver constrictions. Still, that was better than the Sellenland, where tanks and many armored vehicles were restricted to the main roads, thus rendering them pretty much useless. And the weather was simply so much better. Almost no fog, no snow, temperatures going no lower than 10 degrees at night. Apparently, rumor had it that many vehicles operating in the Sellenland were suffering from recurring mechanical failures to their old engines.

However, while the 30-year old reserve soldier was enjoying himself training to defend his country, he didn’t realize something else. While the defense minister had declared the commencement of “defensive live-fire maneuver exercises”, the maneuvers were anything but defensive. In fact, in case of an invasion into Sylva, the Wankan ground forces would have to cross several rivers very similar to the Seine river in Wanka- which was what the three divisions were rehearsing right now. If the mobilization and stationing of several divisions near the Wanko-Sylvan border hadn’t irritated the Sylvans yet, this orchestra of the music of war surely would. And this was only the start of a series of exercises which would keep the Sylvan neighbours on edge, designed to be a response to the Sylvans increasing tendency to meddle in Wankan affairs and in particular, their attempt at trying to seek a closer relationship with the AAA.

Meanwhile, following several minutes of delays, the “Armored Quick Bridges” finally finished their work, having laid six steel bridges across the Seine river. The engineers climbed back into Hintners Schützenpanzer as the latter watched the Gebirgsjäger battalions rush across the bridges, leading the assault onto the opposite side of the river. Artillery fire was directed further up the mountains as the three regiments of the 27th Mountain Division assaulted the enemy defenses. They were followed by Hintner and his 13th Division, along with the 14th Division. The three-hour live-fire exercise would end soon, and the 30-year old teacher looked forward to relaxing in the cool mountains of the Wankan south-east.

[Nova Sylva]

WANKAN FORCES CROSS AEMEN BORDER
Def. Department releases satellite images after challenged by Murovanka


Image released by the Sylvan government earlier today show numerous Wankan armored vehicles crossing the border into the Sellenland.

CHANDLER – After being publicly challenged by the Wankan government on the legitimacy of its claim that Murovanka is providing direct support to the Sellenland rebels, the Coalition State released a number of incriminating images that show numerous Wankan army formations crossing the border into Aemen.

Wankan tanks and heavy military equipment have crossed the border in the last few days in breach of a Aemen’s sovereignty, a senior C.S. State Department official said on Thursday.

The comments by C.S. Assistant Secretary of State for Casaterra, Victoria Nuland, follow accusations by AAA and SL governments that Wanka continues to send troops and weapons to support separatists in the Sellenland, despite the threats of Sylva and the mobilization of the Aemen army.

Meanwhile, Princess Mariana of Sylva is set to meet with Aemen King Reginald II to discuss bilateral action against the Volksrepublik and the possibility of admitting the Kingdom into the Sovereign League, and gaining more support for the war in Sidonia.

The images themselves were taken through satellite imagery, adding that Sylva had not violated Aemen’s sovereignty by sending unauthorized aircraft into the Kingdom’s airspace.

Sylvans inside of Murovanka were "suffering a reign of terror," Nuland told a parliamentary hearing on the Sellenland, adding that the Acropolis was still considering whether or not to directly intervene in the conflict. Numerous reports from inside Murovanka indicate that the minority of ethnic Sylvans are being oppressed by the Germanic majority, in the form of anti-Sylvan riots and raids on Sylvan homes and businesses. The Acropolis has yet to comment on this new information.

The last few days have seen new transfers of Russian tanks, armored vehicles, heavy artillery and other military equipment over the border to the separatists, Nuland told the Parliamentary Foreign Relations Committee.

"In the coming days, days not weeks, we need to see a complete ceasefire," Nuland said. "Pressure is going to have to increase if one is not implemented."

Meanwhile COSAF army troops, alongside Cascadian, Cloysteric, Gladsheimite, and Gerenician Provincial Guard forces, are mobilizing along the Wankan border in light of the revelation. In the north, the Provincial Guard forces of Sierra Sylva and North Carmi also mobilized along the Erquinian border, though the Acropolis assured the international community yesterday that these were “precautionary measures taken in the light of NAZI aggression.”

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[Nova Sylva]

CSS Kingfisher
International Waters, Strachan Sea

”Goo-od morning, you nautical sons of bitches! The name’s Flashheart, and my laughter is the last thing you’ll hear before you slam into the ocean floor! Now my question is this : Where is your ugly bucket of bolts headed?”

Lynch almost laughed. “Mr. Flashheart, this is Commander Jacob Lynch, Sylvan Maritime Forces. Your obviously insane, stupid, or both. I, for one, have no intention of starting a shooting war between our two nations. As such, I request that your vessel turn back immediately. Though not in Sylvan territorial waters you have entered our forty mile exclusion zone. Continue on your current heading and we will be forced to engage.”

“These are international waters, yu dumb cunt.” the radio replied. “I have every right to be here, and every right to make it your grave, yes sir!”

“Mr. Flashheart, fire on my vessel and you will be destroyed. Turn back, now!”

“Commander Lynch! I have torpedo launch! Repeat, I have torpedo launch! We have sharks in the water!”

“Evasive maneuvers, now! And return fire!”

The Vertibird helicopter hovering above the the Iona’s location released a torpedo, guided by both the sonar buoys and the P8 Poseidon’s electronic suite. The Kingfisher also fired three of it’s Mk 46 lightweight antisubmarine torpedoes from it’s starboard launchers. The 2.6 meter long weapon carried almost a hundred pounds of explosive in it’s warhead, with an operational range of 10,000 meters and a maximum depth of 365 meters. It would be a race against time to see if the Iona could dive fast enough to avoid the weapon. Using both active sonar and acoustic homing, the weapon would track the Iona’s signature and explode near it – even the explosion’s shockwave, if close enough, would be enough to shatter the Iona’s titanium-alloy hull.

“Impact in ten seconds!”

“Status on the enemy shark?”

“Thirty seconds out, sir!”

“Hit, sir! We have a hit!”

“Not time to celebrate – brace for impact!”

The resulting explosion through Lynch into a far bulkhead and nearly blew the frigate in half. The CIC was placed in the center of the ship but the explosion was so massive it had blown a hole clean through the vessel, and exposed the Combat Information Center to the outside world. The ship took a thirty degree list as water flooded its corridors. Lynch didn’t need a damage report to give his next order. “Abandon ship!”

Meanwhile, on the P8 Poseidon circling the battle area, a message was relayed to Maritime Forces Command, which was then relayed to the Acropolis, where it was read, inspected, and confirmed by the Coalition State Armed Forces’ high command.

ALLIED NATIONS SUBMARINE ENGAGED CSS KINGFISHER AT 0200 HOURS. KINGFISHER SINKING, MEN IN WATER. SEND ASSISTANCE. REPEAT, ALLIED NATIONS HOSTILE ACTION AGAINST SYLVAN VESEEL “KINGFISHER” IN STRACHAN SEA, BOTH VESSELS DESTROYED.

GOD SAVE THE KING

An identical message had been sent by the Iona minutes afterwords. The AN submarine had been rattled by the Sylvan torpedoes, but it was alive. Though based on the damage Flashheart doubted that his prized vessel would see any more combat for the duration of the conflict. The battle had lasted less than two minutes, and had resulted in the sinking of a Coalition State Maritime Forces frigate.

Ironically enough, the Sidonian War hadn’t begun in Sidonia at all.

OFFICIAL STATEMENT FROM THE COALITION STATE OF SYLVA

Following the unwarranted attack on the CSS Kingfisher by the Allied Nations submarine Iona, and months of aggressive and bellicose action taken by the AN government against both the Republic of Sidonia and its Septentrion League allies, including, but not limited to –

[list]
*The mobilization of multiple army corps along the Sidonian border;
*The illegal watering-down of the Universal Petroleum stock;
*The rash and belligerent demands made by President Kerman during the Friendship peace conference;
*Culminated by the unwarranted attack on Sylvan military vessels in international waters;

The Coalition State officially informs both the government of the Allied Nations and the world that as of 0330 hours, 1 May, 2015, a state of war exists between Sylva and the Allied Nations.

MARACAIBO DELANDA EST