The Last Days of an Empire[FINISHED]

[Topkekkia]

Raus, Nova Capile
January 6
Roman was faced with a predicament. On one hand, he could stay here and avoid the death trap that was the plane. On the other hand, if he stayed here, he was dead anyway, now that the king was moving along. Before he could make the decision, the lead revolutionary's head exploded in a rather messy fashion. As he glanced about to see where the shot was from, he spotted the end of a rifle retracting from the window of a building. Bingo.
He dashed towards it, keeping to the shadows of the nearby buildings while watching for any sign of a person leaving through the bottom.

As he reached his destination shielded by the panicked throng of onlookers, he lobbed a grenade into the window, entering through the door as a woman frantically left. A man lay there on the floor, gasping for air. It was the right building. He drew his knife with one hand, slinging his rifle over his shoulder and opting for his pistol instead. It was a finely crafted M1911, his personal favorite sidearm. In his left hand, he carried a lightweight, but razor sharp knife. He'd had it since he was young, and its handle perfectly molded to his hand, despite the blood, sweat, and grime covering it. The agent calmly waited at the bottom, lurking in the darkness next to the stairwell. It was time for a duel of real professionals.

Max let off another shot, blowing out another man's head as he packed up and left the apartment, exiting just as the grenade was set-off, but experience allowed him to continue on unfazed in such scenarios so long as he was uninjured. As he was entering the stairwell, his trained ears picked up the sound of slightly labored but skillfully silenced breathing coming from below. In what his academy instructors would have called record time, he unslung his rifle and aimed straight down, not intending to fire, only to use the thermal vision on the scope to search for his opponent. Still no emotion on his face, an effect of year after year of a combat sniper. Even a glint of a smile from sunlight could be spotted by his target or an enemy sniper, and frown lines made it difficult to act like a corpse. Max slowly panned using his scope to search for a heat trail, a light trail remained from the woman having run out. There was a concentration of heat being concealed by the stairwell. So that was where they were hiding.

Max, again with no expression or emotion, called out to his would-be attacker. "I recommend that you come out of hiding. My rifle has a field of fire of the whole of the bottom of the stairwell. And with my thermal vision scope I could follow you through the building. I estimate you would have 3.7 seconds of freedom to flee your little hide-away before my finger pulls on the trigger. You could get perhaps six feet five inches, and my bullet may miss. Or it could lodge itself in your arm. All the same to you, I would rather have less bloodshed, so lets keep this clean shall we." He slowly and calmly took two steps down, all the while keeping his rifle trained on that spot.

"Let's start with an introduction. I am Schutz or Private to you possibly Non-Germanic, Max Hoffman, 3rd Infanterie Regiment, 23rd Panzergenadier Division, Kaiserlichen Armee. I'm from Oldenburg, that's on Germany's North-West Coast. Joined the armed forces at eighteen years old, and served as a combat sniper in France, Croatia, Egypt, Syria, and Sri Lanka. Iron Cross 1st Class for Bravery. Seeing as I'm only a Private, I have no authority to arrest you as a military prisoner so my only real threat is the ability to which I can end your life. Will you desire peace, or shall one of us not be walking out of this building?"

Raus, Nova Capile
January 6
Roman froze. The sniper knew he was there. His breathing had probably given him away, but then again, he never was the most stealthy. The wall wouldn't protect him, he'd seen the man fire through bulletproof glass earlier. Perhaps diplomacy was an option, insofar as it would stall the man long enough for Roman to kill his quarry. He began to speak calmly from his hiding place.
"Operative Roman, Imperator 2nd Class, Zamorskiye Del Sector, Ordo Alogo Rassveta. Karelinovska born and raised, conscripted at 20 just like everyone else. Had a knack for it, as it turned out. Served as tactical espionage in Madagascar, Singapore, Algeria, Bogota, and London. As much as I'd like to walk out on this calmly, I've got a job to do, and you're impeding it with that fancy rifle of yours. And I don't suppose you could really stop, now could you?" With that last statement, he sprung towards the window, rolling outward as his lightweight gloves protected his hands from the flying shards of glass. He positioned himself against the side of the next building adjoined to the current one, so as to provide a few feet of brick and mortar between him and Max. Come on out bud, play the game by my rules.

[Crysuko]

[...]

[New Decius]

Max let off another shot, blowing out another man's head as he packed up and left the apartment, exiting just as the grenade was set-off, but experience allowed him to continue on unfazed in such scenarios so long as he was uninjured. As he was entering the stairwell, his trained ears picked up the sound of slightly labored but skillfully silenced breathing coming from below. In what his academy instructors would have called record time, he unslung his rifle and aimed straight down, not intending to fire, only to use the thermal vision on the scope to search for his opponent. Still no emotion on his face, an effect of year after year of a combat sniper. Even a glint of a smile from sunlight could be spotted by his target or an enemy sniper, and frown lines made it difficult to act like a corpse. Max slowly panned using his scope to search for a heat trail, a light trail remained from the woman having run out. There was a concentration of heat being concealed by the stairwell. So that was where they were hiding.

Max, again with no expression or emotion, called out to his would-be attacker. "I recommend that you come out of hiding. My rifle has a field of fire of the whole of the bottom of the stairwell. And with my thermal vision scope I could follow you through the building. I estimate you would have 3.7 seconds of freedom to flee your little hide-away before my finger pulls on the trigger. You could get perhaps six feet five inches, and my bullet may miss. Or it could lodge itself in your arm. All the same to you, I would rather have less bloodshed, so lets keep this clean shall we." He slowly and calmly took two steps down, all the while keeping his rifle trained on that spot.

"Let's start with an introduction. I am Schutz or Private to you possibly Non-Germanic, Max Hoffman, 3rd Infanterie Regiment, 23rd Panzergenadier Division, Kaiserlichen Armee. I'm from Oldenburg, that's on Germany's North-West Coast. Joined the armed forces at eighteen years old, and served as a combat sniper in France, Croatia, Egypt, Syria, and Sri Lanka. Iron Cross 1st Class for Bravery. Seeing as I'm only a Private, I have no authority to arrest you as a military prisoner so my only real threat is the ability to which I can end your life. Will you desire peace, or shall one of us not be walking out of this building?"

Raus, Nova Capile
January 6
Roman froze. The sniper knew he was there. His breathing had probably given him away, but then again, he never was the most stealthy. The wall wouldn't protect him, he'd seen the man fire through bulletproof glass earlier. Perhaps diplomacy was an option, insofar as it would stall the man long enough for Roman to kill his quarry. He began to speak calmly from his hiding place.
"Operative Roman, Imperator 2nd Class, Zamorskiye Del Sector, Ordo Alogo Rassveta. Karelinovska born and raised, conscripted at 20 just like everyone else. Had a knack for it, as it turned out. Served as tactical espionage in Madagascar, Singapore, Algeria, Bogota, and London. As much as I'd like to walk out on this calmly, I've got a job to do, and you're impeding it with that fancy rifle of yours. And I don't suppose you could really stop, now could you?" With that last statement, he sprung towards the window, rolling outward as his lightweight gloves protected his hands from the flying shards of glass. He positioned himself against the side of the next building adjoined to the current one, so as to provide a few feet of brick and mortar between him and Max. Come on out bud, play the game by my rules.

Max reslung his rifle and hurried down the stairs, drawing his sidearm as he did and vaulting the last few steps over the railing. Max hurried over to the wall and made sure to back up slowly from the window, keeping his firearm drawn. "Pleasure to meet you Roman. Helpful tip, you've got about three minutes dealing with me before our helicopter support arrives to comb the area and deal with your friends holding the King." He slowly made his way to the edge of the window and checked one way down the alley and then the other only to see his opponent. Now they were face to face, though Max kept his Luger P91 Semi-Automatic trained on Roman.

He still stood expressionless and emotionless, to the point even his eyes looked dead. Frankly it was terrifying. He spoke once again in that same emotionless voice. "Even I think Foley is a tyrant, why do you think Germany invaded Columbia. It was an effort to dislodge him from power. Though Kaiser Wilhelm Augustus I had good intentions for the Columbian people, his son whom took over after his death a couple months into the campaign, Kaiser Siegfried Mannheim II did not. Some monarchs are indeed evil and some are not. At the moment I must be a soldier and do my duty, even if I don't like it."

[Topkekkia]

Raus, Nova Capile
January 6
Roman froze. The sniper knew he was there. His breathing had probably given him away, but then again, he never was the most stealthy. The wall wouldn't protect him, he'd seen the man fire through bulletproof glass earlier. Perhaps diplomacy was an option, insofar as it would stall the man long enough for Roman to kill his quarry. He began to speak calmly from his hiding place.
"Operative Roman, Imperator 2nd Class, Zamorskiye Del Sector, Ordo Alogo Rassveta. Karelinovska born and raised, conscripted at 20 just like everyone else. Had a knack for it, as it turned out. Served as tactical espionage in Madagascar, Singapore, Algeria, Bogota, and London. As much as I'd like to walk out on this calmly, I've got a job to do, and you're impeding it with that fancy rifle of yours. And I don't suppose you could really stop, now could you?" With that last statement, he sprung towards the window, rolling outward as his lightweight gloves protected his hands from the flying shards of glass. He positioned himself against the side of the next building adjoined to the current one, so as to provide a few feet of brick and mortar between him and Max. Come on out bud, play the game by my rules.

Max reslung his rifle and hurried down the stairs, drawing his sidearm as he did and vaulting the last few steps over the railing. Max hurried over to the wall and made sure to back up slowly from the window, keeping his firearm drawn. "Pleasure to meet you Roman. Helpful tip, you've got about three minutes dealing with me before our helicopter support arrives to comb the area and deal with your friends holding the King." He slowly made his way to the edge of the window and checked one way down the alley and then the other only to see his opponent. Now they were face to face, though Max kept his Luger P91 Semi-Automatic trained on Roman.

He still stood expressionless and emotionless, to the point even his eyes looked dead. Frankly it was terrifying. He spoke once again in that same emotionless voice. "Even I think Foley is a tyrant, why do you think Germany invaded Columbia. It was an effort to dislodge him from power. Though Kaiser Wilhelm Augustus I had good intentions for the Columbian people, his son whom took over after his death a couple months into the campaign, Kaiser Siegfried Mannheim II did not. Some monarchs are indeed evil and some are not. At the moment I must be a soldier and do my duty, even if I don't like it."

Raus, Nova Capile
January 6
Roman held his pistol at the ready as well, but continuing further seemed pointless. If helicopters really were on their way, he couldn't do much about it. The supplies he'd delivered were lacking in anti-air weaponry, and using an RPG on a helicopter was difficult to say the least, from his own experiences at least. It really was a shame though. A perfect opportunity to strike a deep blow into the Capilean monarchy and its allies, squandered thanks to the blasted Panzergrenadiers. His only real option was to fall back as quickly as possible, and get Blücher out quickly, before the Panzergrenadiers killed him. Over a hundred of them, they may have prevailed; over a thousand, there was little chance. The rebels were poorly trained, poorly armed, and about to be seriously demoralized.

He gave a brief nod to Max, and stepped backwards into the stream of fleeing civilians, seeming to meld seamlessly into the torrent of humanity as he made his escape. He needed a ride, he needed a place to make the rebels an effective force, and he needed a stiff drink. One of these would be harder to obtain than others. As he ran, he spotted someone's motorcycle, left unattended. It was a shame that he had to steal right now, but a few thousand dollars worth of transport was cheaper than a revolution. He hotwired the vehicle just in time, a torrent of German curses flowing out of a man's mouth behind him as he weaved between people and vehicles alike, racing towards the bar where this whole mess had begun.

[New United States of Columbia]

Revolutionaries Truck, Raus
The High King stared at his capture in disgust. If that rocket destroying the tail of his plane hadn't caused him to freeze in terror he'd have attempted to fight the bastard himself.
"Fuck you!" Foley spat at his capture as he was cuffed to the chair in the truck. His spit was mostly blood since that knife almost killed him. If he didn't get medical attention he could bleed to death.

Shores of Nova Capile
The troop tranports ramps lowered allowing a stream of soldiers to rush the beachhead. More landing ships rammed the beach sending forth tanks, IFVs, and more soldiers and supplies. The ships that couldn't land on the beach looked for a port with to unload the heavier equipment, vehicles, and larger amounts of supplies.

[The Grand Duchy Of Nova Capile]

New Marseilles, Nova Capile

---

New Marseilles had for years been the center of naval activity in Nova Capile. LeChuck Shipyards, headquartered in the French city, built nearly all of the Duchy's new ships- including the infamous Prinz Karl Super-Battleship Carrier and its sister-ships. As such, the massive bay was well protected from assault. There were in total 22 naval stations situated strategically around the Franc District and the coasts of the neighboring regions. The Capilean fleet was spread throughout these points, ready to rally to the defense of the bay at a moment's notice. Around the coast vast minefields had been laid, which could be activated if an attacker somehow made it through the vigilant defending armada to slaughter an amphibious assault. And, in recent years, a sea wall of bunkers, hardpoints, pillboxes, reinforced trenches, tank traps, fields of barbed wire, naval forts, foxholes, and fortified heavy emplacements, all with interlocking fields of fire, had been constructed.The city itself was home to the Marine Korps, and was defended in times of war by 1st Marine Korps- 40,000 strong, and equipped with heavy armor. If the Crysukons thought they could roll right in and conquer the Franc District without a problem, they were in for a surprise.

---

Admiral Franz von Haupt looked out of the bridge of his flagship, the Prinz Karl, to the growing mass of Capilean warships. Along with the hulking superbattleship-carrier, of which there were three present- the Eisen Mädchen and Festung floated beside the Prinz Karl. The only other ship of that class, the Kaiserthron, was out at sea. Among them were two aircraft carriers, loaded with fighters and bombers- the Bischof and the Elefant. And in between these magnificent, grand warships were dozens upon dozens of cruisers, destroyers, corvettes, and patrol ships. The flotilla, amounting to over half of the naval strength of the Grand Duchy, floated out proudly to meet the Communists.

Von Haupt was approached by a junior officer. "Sir, we are within firing range of the enemy," he said, a look of concern on his face. Today they would suffer a glorious victory, or they would die. "Excellent. Begin the battle." With that, the mass of ships opened fire. Shell upon shell soared down into the enemy fleet, a relentless torrential storm of death. Soon the roar of guns was joined by the thunder of aircraft, as literally hundreds of fighters and fighter-bombers, launched from airfields or the aircraft carriers, hurled themselves down on the enemy without regard for their own lives, guns blazing. And next came the Capilean submarines. Darting quickly under the warring fleets, the numerous packs of submarines flung missiles and torpedoes into the enemies' hulls, crippling old warships left and right, before submerging again.

An endless slaughter it seemed to be, as showers of shells, aircraft, and torpedoes descended upon the enemy mercilessly. The three hulking superbattleships slowly made their way to the front, ramming past smaller warships on both sides to get into the thick of the battle. Once there, the colossal guns of these ships roared to life, sending flurry after flurry of shells whistling into and through ships whilst their own thick plating absorbed the futile responses of the enemy. Dozens of anti-aircraft guns shredded the few enemy aircraft that could survive the swarms of Capilean fighters and interceptors. Capilean bombers and fighter-bombers quickly located the enemy transports and began raining hell on them, massacring the poor troops inside. Von Haupt smiled to himself as he saw ship after ship bearing the Crysukon flag explode, capsize, surrender, or sink.

Meanwhile, the land forces now had time to act. Thousands of experienced marines rushed into the trenches and bunkers of the Sea Wall if somehow the enemy breached the ferocious naval defenses. For once the rebellious French population was quiet. As independent as they were, they had no sympathy for Communists- and they certainly did not want to live under Communist rule, French or not.

---

Van Trapp Island

---

The enemy lugged mortars and heavy equipment further and further up the beach as bunker after bunker was blasted apart by the intense assault. Capilean infantry, armed with only light equipment, soon retreated inland, away from the blood soaked beaches. There, pure chaos had begun. Prince Rupprecht had ordered for the many priceless paintings and intricately decorated furniture of his home to be carried to his yacht at once, in order to save them from the Communists. In the process he had completely stripped his home, leaving an empty shell; the arrogant royal even bothered to scrape the gold finishing off the walls. But now every building had to be used for defense. The retreating soldiers fortified abandoned estates, breaking the windows to provide firing positions and slow down the enemy's advance.

The Prince quickly rushed all of his belongings off to his yacht just as Capilean forces began to fortify his home. Rupprecht himself was on board that last ship out of the isle; hopefully the Crysukon fleet was too busy fighting off the last Capilean naval defenses to capture an obscure royal. The enemy now had to take up a painstaking advance through the isle, stopping to clear out houses infested with Capilean snipers and machine gun positions. The island would fall, but thanks to the 4,000 defenders, the enemy would pay dearly for it.

---

Raus, Nova Capile

---

The man loomed over King Foley, but in a split second a bullet pierced the oval window nearest them and blew his head clean off. The King was left covered in blood and fragments of what was once his captor's head. Instantly the other men ducked as two more Communists rushed onto the plane; one was struck by yet another bullet, in the arm, and collapsed onto one of the plane's cramped seats screaming. "Get this damned thing off the ground!" one of the men shouted, grabbing Foley and pulling him to the floor of the aircraft. "I'm trying!" yelled another voice from the cockpit. One last man heaved himself into the aircraft, pulling the door closed behind him. Suddenly the craft rumbled to life and a loud "Yes!" came from the front of it. Soon it began to move, and wheeled around.

One of the men dared to raise his head just high enough to look out of one of the windows. The plane was moving fast now, barreling past the confused fight outside- and they were off the ground! Whoops of excitement raised from the men as the plane shot upwards and away from the airport, and everyone got back up and buckled themselves into seats. Two men lifted the King back into his seat- now covered in blood- and made sure that he was still bound. Exhausted, the men removed their large helmets to reveal light heads of hair matted with sweat, dirt, and blood. One of the captors, a young, blond man, strode over and sat down right next to Foley, holding a pistol to his head. "Don't try anything."

The men descended into chatter as the plane got farther and farther away from the airport. "Too bad we lost Ganz," one said, lifting his sidearm to point at the headless body on the floor. Another craned his head to look back at the airfield. Countless bodies littered the ground, the eighteen-wheeler was in flames, and the last few rebels were fleeing towards the city. "Looks like we've lost the airfield. Not that we were going to hold it in any case. Hey, didn't we shoot you?" grizzly, grey haired older man, probably a veteran of the Capilean Civil War, asked, leaning forward to stare at the battered "tyrant". "Yeah, and it looks like he got knifed pretty bad," Blondie answered. "I'll get the first aid kit. We wouldn't want our hostage to die, would we?" A few of them laughed grimly as the older man stood up and walked towards the back of the plane.

He returned a few minutes later and began to apply bandages to the bloody holes in the King's shoulder, chest, and thigh. "Monarchist aircraft!" the pilot yelled from up front. "Oh God!" the man fixing up Foley cried. He shoved the kit into Blondie's arms and ran up to the front. He looked out of the cockpit window to see a lone Capilean fighter jet flying slowly behind them. "You are not authorized to fly in this area. I repeat, land at the nearest checkpoint to be-" The older man interrupted the pilot's radio chatter to respond to him. "King Foley is on this plane. We are Communist rebels, and we have King Foley on this plane. Go ahead and shoot us down if you don't believe me. You'll regret it."

---

Terry Blücher paced nervously around the ruined bar, barely listening to the screams, shouts, and whizzing of bullets outside. Looking out of the shattered window, Blücher could see the battle. The police tank rolled along the streets, machine gun blazing and ripping apart lone Communists while the turret swiveled around and blasted rebels out of cover. Policemen, in shocking brutality, cleared the streets, flushing the last vestiges of Communist activity from the burning and devastated apartment buildings of Raus. When they came upon a wounded Red, they simply shot him. But the rebels fought valiantly, and with the equipment Roman had brought them they mowed down clusters of policemen. It was futile. Terry had better run out there and fight with them to the end.

Outside Roman rushed through a couple of young Reds sprinting towards the battle, who hurriedly thanked him for his help. Yet as he approached the rundown bar, the situation deteriorated. He saw young boys and old men fighting courageously against hundreds of policemen and Panzergrenadiers with his weapons. He saw buildings ripped asunder from shells and bullets and fighting, burning to the ground. And he saw dead and dying men, trampled over and forgotten by the merciless Capilean police, who could think only of slaughtering the last few rebels. As he approached the entrance to the bar the two doors there opened and Roman nearly ran into Terry Blücher. "Thank God you're hear. I think that this is the end."

---

Großherzog Burg

---

The bunker complex part of the citadel was a hive of military activity. Full mobilization had to be achieved seamlessly, and so swarms of officers and bean-counters worked through enormous mounds of paperwork whilst meeting with the OKR and discussing strategy and the deployment of troops. But, for the most part, the expectations were met and exceeded. Orders arrived on time, generals were there to command their troops, and 2,052,000 professional army troops and 1,230,000 Stoßschutz troops were assembled for the defense of the nation.

As the German delegation arrived in the castle they were soon met by the NMK Emperor, Regent, and advisors. In an awkward sort of procession due to the past hostilites between the two the whole group trooped down stone corridors until they reached the banquet hall. When they entered the whole table of Capileans and Spektronians stood up, and invited the newcomers to sit near the head of the table. Once everyone had made themselves comfortable, the Grand Duke greeted his allies. "I am so glad you have made it. Unfortunately King Foley has not yet arrived, but hopefully he will soon." After a short exchange of greetings, the Grand Duke slowly stood up and spoke.

"Friends, allies, and Capileans, it is now that we meet to discuss the fate of Nova Capile. Looking around, I can imagine no mightier coalition of indomitable allies than we have here, with many more not represented. Surely we can crush the halfhearted efforts of a few Communists? Of course we can, and of course we will! No, let us eat!" With that servers brought out platters of roasted duck, wurst and sauerkraut, mixed vegetables, and other filling foods, along with glasses of fine, aged wine. After loading their plates the many people gathered around the table began discussing the coming conflict.

---

Southern District, Nova Capile

---

"This is Swochtenburg Airfield. Adler I, you have permission to land on Airstrip Six. I repeat, Adler I, you have permission to land on Airstrip Six." The operator readjusted his headset and listened for a response. The army captain behind him frowned and walked down the long staircase towards the hastily prepared airfield. When he got there he straightened his crisp uniform and stood in front of a gleaming armored SUV, a broad grin plastered on his face. A single squad of nervous soldiers stood in an imperfect line at attention to the side of the vehicle. When the large Phenyzian aircraft landed, and Princess Viktoria, emerged, the captain took a deep breath, stepped forward, and bowed. "Prinzessin Viktoria! What an honor," he said, standing back up and stiffening.

He led her back to the parked, bulletproof SUV. "If you wish to travel to Großherzog Burg I'm afraid you'll have a long drive ahead of you," he continued, opening the back door of the automobile. "Of course you'll be escorted along the way." He swung the door closed behind her and did a short little bow before standing back. Two of the soldiers climbed into either side of the front of the car, looking back and smiling nervously at the Princess. The other soldiers climbed into a large black van which was parked further behind the airstrip, and followed the SUV as it sped down the road.

---

Kongsberg

---

A huge band assembled in a large wooden stand beat out the tune of Erika as column after column of grey-clad Capilean soldiers marched along beside them, singing along. Crowds of thousands of civilians cheered and decorated their heroes with garlands, stuffing bunches of bright flowers down the barrels of their rifles. Soldiers hugged their loved ones goodbye as they marched onwards to battle, for death or glory. Local nobles stood in full ceremonial uniform, complete with fancy pickelhauben themselves topped with golden German Eagles; an exuberant display of the old ways of Nova Capile.

Recruitment stations were swarmed with men eager to go to war, even though conscription had not yet begun. Both the Heer and Stoßschutz were swelled with volunteers, and were having trouble training them all. The civilian populace was behind the war entirely, watching with tears of both joy and sadness as their fathers, sons, and brothers left for the war. Were the Communists willing to fight against a billion people, all guaranteed to fight to the death for their country- or so it was said-? Only time would tell.

[Topkekkia]

Raus, Nova Capile
January 6
Blücher looked visibly worried, as did many others in the area. It was clear that the Panzergrenadiers had taken their toll on the budding young revolution. Many ashen faces could be seen around, as well as broken bodies. They needed a change, and it was Roman's job to give it to them.

"This is but a temporary end," said Roman, outwardly calm as ever; inwardly the gears in his mind were turning like the wheels of a train as he devised plot after plot to keep the flames of the revolution lit. "We'll move out in a disjointed group of civilian vehicles to-" he fumbled through the pockets of his long coat for the map on his phone of Nova Capile. "-here." he pointed at a spot in the North-Eastern District, the very definition of the middle of nowhere. "We'll lie low, stockpile arms, and start with smaller cities from now on. While the riots here were a good idea to raise awareness, they only work if they succeed. And this isn't doing that. Now, how about those trucks?"

Roman left the bar, and began trying to organize an escape in a noncentral fashion. Various groups were pointed to the rendezvous point, sent separately from others, down separate routes, meant to meld in with traffic. They were each to arrive at different times, so as to not raise any alarms. There would be training, Roman would make sure of that. But first, he had some calls to make.

---

Sevick, Topkekkia
January 6
Several hours after the call with Blackstone, Yuri was once again interrupted by a ringing of his phone, this time the personal cell phone he kept in his pocket. During work, it was only supposed to ring if his wife or daughter called, so he felt that this was important. As he picked up, he knew it was definitely neither. The sounds of a warzone assaulted his ears as the voice of a man came through the phone.

"Okay, how the FUCK did you get this number? This is for personal matters only, and whoever this is should damn well know it." The Speaker was quite irked by this, and even more concerned at the fact that his phone seemed to have been hacked.

"It's Roman. You know, the guy from the Order that you sent into an active warzone almost a week ago?" He ignored the earlier question, instead focusing on more pressing issues. "Shit's hit the fan for the Revolution here. Panzergrenadiers are swarming, and a bunch of well meaning Capileans with our guns can't do much to them. I'll be needing a Crimson Guard squad, preferably with helicopter if possible, a pile of weapons, and Islander if he's not busy somewhere else. Thanks!" Yuri heard a distinct click as Roman hung up the phone. A loud string of curses followed from his mouth, causing Victoria, his aide, to poke her nose into the room, only to be dismissed shortly thereafter. Those bastards from the Order thought they could just get whatever they wanted. Or maybe it was just Roman. Yuri had never liked the man in his earlier dealings with him, he seemed too headstrong despite his cool exterior. The unfortunate part was that in this case, they could. There was too much riding on this revolution. Trade opportunities,
naval dominance in Southeast Asia, and better relations with the next largest country from here to the rich markets of South Africa. He sighed and began making the necessary requisitions.

[New Decius]

Luftwaffe III, Tunis
Republic of Tunisia, North African League
Union of Afro-Germania, German Confederation

The House of Wilauhf in the time of Kaiser Wilhelm Augustus I had consisted of only seven members, but the House of Wilauhf in the time of Kaiser Wilhelm Augustus III consisted of some forty-three members. Thus multiple government aircraft were at their disposal. At the moment one such aircraft was sitting at a Tunisian airport waiting to be refueled. It was in use by the King of Austria, alongside his daughter and son. His Royal Majesty, King Heinrich la Germania und Österreich, was at the moment listening to a tirade from his young son, His Royal Highness, Prince Roderick dal Germania und Österreich.

"I can't believe your okay with marrying your daughter off for political gain father! I always thought of you as a strong and progressive leader! You even betrayed your soldier's oath to throw your lot in with Uncle Wilhelm to fight for liberty and justice against Uncle Friedrich! But, oh you've dispelled all those feelings!" Roderick was referring to the fact that besides going as a more experienced diplomatic and military envoy, Heinrich had been asked by his younger brother to attempt to marry Elizabeth to Prince Karl thus binding the German Empire and the Grand Duchy ever further. It shattered Roderick's views of his father as a progressive leader despite all the work he had done so far. However, his beloved older sister entered the cabin to correct her fifteen year old brother whom would be declared Crown Prince of Austria should the engagement work.

"Roderick, don't fuss so much, Uncle Wilhelm and father actually did not want me to do this. I came up with the idea and they repeatedly asked me if I would bow out, and I repeatedly refused." Before her little brother could respond, the eighteen year old sat next to the boy and brushed some of her perfect blonde hair from her eyes. "I realize that if the Fatherland is in issue, and I am in position to ease said issue, it is my duty as a person of not only royal but imperial blood, then I must seize the opportunity. Besides, think of it not as losing a sister, just gaining a brother-in law." She smiled at that and they both chuckled ever so slightly.

Roderick still frowned as he considered the idea further. "I still don't like it. From what father has told us of Grandfather Siegfried, it sounds very much of one of his ideas. And the way all of Uncle Wilhelm's brothers and sisters married into German royal families and other European royal houses seems very much like it as well. For goodness sake, Uncle Wilhelm is married to the daughter of the King of England. The only thing keeping him from claiming the title of King of England is that Great Britain is a member of the United World Federation." Elizabeth nodded but could not respond due to a new arrival on their stranded aircraft. Two men in the khaki non-combat uniforms of the German Afrika Korps trooped in and stood at attention awaiting a further person.

That person soon arrived. In a spitting image of his grandfather, Generalfeldmarschal (Field Marshal) Joachim Rommel, certainly fit the bill to impersonate the original "Desert Fox". However, the current commander of the Afrika Korps had only seen action in the sands whereas his grandfather first fought across Poland and France before he reached Africa. Joachim had been dubbed the "Desert Lion" and he too had a knack for armored warfare; his use of only two Panzer Divisions to cut a drive right through Libya and into Egypt without even securing the rest of the front were still whispered about in military study halls. Despite essentially cutting a path of white through a fog of black, the Field Marshal made to Cairo in four days and captured the Egyptian government, forcing their surrender. Though the Afrika Korps had remained in Libya and amounted to approximately 124,000 troops with Afro-Germanian forces in combat coming to some 96,000, more than 450,000 Libyan and 160,000 Egyptian troops surrendered to the combined forces at Benghazi.

He strode over to Heinrich whom rose to greet him. First Rommel saluted the royal as well as former Prince-Marshal but then they grasped hands in friendship. Which made sense as Heinrich was a mentor and role-model for the current commander of the Afrika Korps just as much as Erwin Rommel was. "Your Majesty, I have the documents which showcase the position and strength of our Afrika Korps forces as of the current day. I have also reviewed the deployment requirements you sent to my office in aiding the Capilean colonies. Now, it is my professional opinion that besides Afro-Germanian assistance, we should also require Italian assistance. Perhaps activation of their African Expeditionary Corps stationed at Malta. Considering the amount of time it takes to train troops for desert warfare, I should like reinforcements sooner rather than later. Plus I know they know their business, they were with us at Tobruk and Mirsa Matru. General Campiro is a capable field officer." This elicited a laugh from Roderick.

"An Italian who knows what to do in a war! That's a good one." However, the look that the Field Marshal fixed him with was not a joking one. Though Roderick was a Prince, Joachim outranked him in social and protocol circles as a high ranking military officer and a theater commander. He did not make further jokes.

Großherzog Borg

Rudolph made sure to position Elizabeth in a seat right next to him so nobody got any ideas. Colonel Beck and Lieutenant Colonel von Richthofen were conversing in strategy with the Capilean officers seated around them. Oster however ate in silence, the Abwehr wasn't known for its social skills.

Rudolph leaned over to speak to Prince Karl as he had a minor question for him as well. "Prince Karl, a pleasure to meet you. I have a small question for Your Highness." He took a sip of wine and then continued. "I believe some time ago, at Your Highnesses sixth birthday, you met my uncle, then Rudolph zi Germania whom is now Grand Duke Rudolph zi-dans Germania of Danemark, formerly Denmark. He told me he sends his regards to you shortly before I left Germany."

[Martinaland]

Port Molloy
Marie got ready to make her speech. It had been a year since the Civil War. The Army was back to its pre-war strength. The Navy was mostly unscathed by the war. The Air Force was unscathed by the war as well. Marie walked up to the podium. She said "People of Port Molloy, you are peaceful, like most of Martinaland is these days. Nova Capile is not, however. The former proud empire is now in pieces as nations and rebels fight over it. The government does not want peace, however. They want to destroy the rebels and the nations by force. I urge you, Regent Klaus, to try to find peace at any means possible. Thank you." The gathered people appluaded at the speech. Some of them were even shocked.
Molloy City
Martina wrote a telegram to Nova Capile. It said

From: the Federation of Martinaland
To: the Grand Duchy of Nova Capile
Regent Klaus, we have heard about your civil war. It is brutal and bloody. We have also heard that you do not want peace. I propose a ceasefire, to be followed by peace talks in the city of Port Elizabeth, on the coast of south-central Martinaland.
Martina Molloy,
Prime Minister of Martinaland

[New United States of Columbia]

Northern Nova Capile
The 2nd Expeditionary Corps and 43rd Armored Division had finally begun to advance inland. Still more troops would be arriving, especially after word got out that High King Foley had been kidnapped and almost killed by the Reds. The soldiers marched along as trucks, jeeps, tanks, and IFVs drove alongside them. The troops were all eager and ready to pick a fight with anyone who dared to say they supported the Reds. Anyone.

Revolutionaries plane
Foley bided his time and waited patiently. If there was one thing he learned from dealing with the council of Monarchs and their various aristocrats it was patience. He drummed his fingers and held his tongue as he was roughly stitched together by the various reds. He had no idea where they were except somewhere that was more than likely red territory. Hopefully, if his plan didn't work, they would still put a price on his head for ransom.

[New Mushroom Kingdom]

Großherzog Burg
The Regent decided to let all of the advisors find a seat on their own, perhaps they'd enjoy it better that way. It was time however, for he and the Emperor to take their own seats next to the delegates / leaders from New Decius and Spektronia. Given a choice, he definitely prefered the New Decians despite...tensions in the past relations could very easily be repaired and even improved. Besides, as much as he wasn't looking forward to meeting the delegation in general, he did like to meet new and interesting people, especially foreign ones. As such, he decided to choose an empty seat near / next to Ruldoph, with the Emperor sitting on the unoccupied side. After beginning to eat and waiting until they were otherwise unoccupied, Regent Vince leaned / turned over to Ruldoph and said "Why hello there, Crown Prince Rudolph. I am the Regent of the New Mushroom Kingdom and it's a pleasure to meet your acquaintance."

[The Grand Duchy Of Nova Capile]

Raus, Nova Capile
Terry Blücher was reassured by Roman's calm demeanor, but he remained doubtful about his rebellion. His foreign ally began firing off orders to the hapless, disorganized remnants of the rebels and slowly but surely the Reds slipped away and into trucks and other large transports, speeding off to Roman's rendezvous point en masse. Finally only a single detachment of Communists were holding off dozens of exhausted policemen and Panzergrenadiers, and Blücher and Roman ran up to an abandoned van and ushered the surviving insurgents onto it. Bullets ricocheted off the back and sides of the ancient blue van as it zoomed out of Raus. Terry drove at its top speed until the sound of sirens and yells faded out beside them. Then he gave an exhausted sigh and slowed down. The tired rebels behind them gave a halfhearted whoop as they saw a small plane shoot out of the airfield and into the distance; Foley had been captured.

---

They all made it to the rendezvous point and there Roman was able to survey the exhausted remnants of the rebellion. Perhaps fifty men had made it out alive, and of them nearly all had wounds, some of them fatal. Only a few of the expensive weapons Roman had delivered had been salvaged, leaving barely a dozen machine guns and assault rifles between them all. And everyone was exhausted. The plane touched down many miles away from them to throw the government off, and the thirteen surviving assailants began to sneak Foley off to the new encampment:

"Come on!" the older man, who was filling the vacant leadership slot since Ganz's death, bellowed at Foley. The King had his ankles and wrists bound, so he had to trot along at an awkward pace through deserted corn fields. The long green stalks reached up to the men's waists, but they were not fully grown yet. The man who had been shot in the arm drifted behind the twelve other rebels, clutching his bandaged wound and moaning about it to anyone who would listen. They had been walking for hours now, and Foley had not been given a scrap to eat. The sun was now red, and sat low over the endless fields. "Should we stop and rest?" one of the younger men asked. The wizened leader of the group shook his head. "He might get away, and they'll catch up to us. We keep going through the night." Discontent murmurs swept through the group, but they continued on at a moderate pace.

---

Colditz, Nova Capile

---

Hundreds of American troops thundered through the isolated city of Colditz, their triumphant bands playing Bravurva, The Stars and Stripes Forever, and The Battle Hymn of the Republic. They were greeted by small groups of stony-faced old men, awed children, and worried women. Columbia had come to help the Duchy just as Nova Capile had helped it through its own civil war. They were repaying an ancient debt, yet the people of Colditz were hardly making them welcome. The Americans were the first foreign troops on Capilean soil- and allied or not, due to the xenophobic nature of Capile, that was alarming.

Still, as the divisions of allied troops made their way through the small city and out into the surrounding plains they were joined by jubilant Capilean officers. The recently mobilized army was locking down this region, and thus the local commander was riding out to see his new allies. An armored, grey jeep rolled towards the American encampment surrounded by half-tracks. It pulled up and three officers stepped out. One, a wrinkled, grey haired old man in an extremely flamboyant uniform which included the pickelhaube, stepped towards the nearest Columbian officer. "General Johann von Sydow, Commander in Chief of the North-Eastern District Defense. May I speak to the commanding officer?"

---

Großherzog Burg, Nova Capile

---

The NMK delegation walked through the cold stone halls of Großherzog Burg, passing many lone Royal Guards. That unit had been ashamed by their failure in the Communist attack on the palace, and now felt they should have to redeem themselves. Many had committed ritual suicide, as was some extreme Stoßschutz protocol. When everyone had been seated, and had started to dig in to the warm piles of food before them, the various officials from all over the world began to chat. Prince Rudolph leaned over to speak to Prince Karl, a young man with dark, downy hair and bright blue eyes. He smiled nervously at the German and answered his question. "Ah, yes. That was a long time ago, but I do vaguely remember your Uncle. He seemed a very, uh, nice person. Send him my regards as well."

Hans was happy to see that the Emperor and Regent had made it safely to Großherzog Burg, but he was mildly concerned that the little boy might be lonely in such a cold, dark place with a complete absence of other children. Meanwhile, down in the underground complex, the Capilean cabinet was responding to Martinaland's desperate plea for a ceasefire:

---

Official Communique of the Grand Duchy of Nova Capile

---

From: Minister of War Wilhelm Schultz
To: The Federation of Martinaland
Encryption: Medium

---

Greetings, well meaning peacemakers of the world.
It is in the Duchy's best interest to make peace with the tyrannical Communists invading her sovereign territory- not that this glorious country is worried about said invasion. However, we will under no means stop our campaign against Capilean "Communist" insurgents who are tearing this country apart.
Sincerely,

-Wilhelm Schultz

[Spektronia]

Franc District

With Spektronian Military activity buzzing all throughout the New Marseille inland, the Spektronians were confident that if the Capileans fell at the coast, they would be able to defend the inner region's lands. Working closely with Capilean intelligence, the Spektronians helped to root out suspected revolutionaries constantly in the region.

Raus

Finally, the Spektronian forces finally arrived outside the city, many either by transport vehicle or on foot. Sturm Korps-Oberführer Florian Guttenberg was the commanding officer of the Spektronian forces in Raus. He was a cold man, with no heart for a human life. He rarely spoke, except when giving orders. It was said that one could not have a social conversation with the officer. He had an intimidating presence, with his hard facial features, cold attitude and deadly stare. He was just as tall as the Spektronian troops, who had been pumped full of drugs and hormones their whole lives to increase their size, while also shortening their life to about 40-50 years. The short life expectancy was the reason why normal troops were traditionally not made officers. There were divisions of each branch of the Spektronian National Armed Forces specifically for officer training. The Oberführer was constantly mistaken for a standard soldier, because of his blonde hair, blue eyes, strong facial features and height. The only real difference is that he was rather skinny.

He was upset, yet glad at the same time that the Germans had cleaned up some of the city. He came over the radio of his soldiers. "This is Oberführer Florian Guttenberg. Your orders are simple, soldiers... Anyone not in their homes and suspected of terrorism are to be executed by any means that you please... The SturmKorps is leading the operation here, so follow their lead. Many who survived the Battle of Jacobstown were selected for this, since they showed great result there. Including four fine soldiers, Schütze Emmerich Mauss, Schütze Jörg Grendel, Oberschütze Albuin Sehlman and Sturmmann Augustin Scholl. These four men showed great honor by tearing the limbs off of a terrorist officer, flaying his front side, decapitating him, filling his head with a DM51 hand grenade and launching the head into a crowd of terrorists." Suddenly the troops began to cheer throughout the lines that had been assembled. The Oberführer did not cheer with them, but instead demanded their silence. "Order! All of you rats! Now... I want no issues or fire exchanges with any allied forces in the city. Yes, that includes the Germans whom-" Suddenly he went quiet for a few moments. "Ah... I've just been informed that most rebels were killed or driven out of the city... Well... Change of plans, you slugs! Round up anyone not already taken prisoner by allied forces! Hauptleute Ingolf Preis, you and your unit report to me immediately for your special orders! The rest of you, get in there!" There was a sudden cheer from the crowds of soldiers and troopers.

The Mungo ESK transport vehicles rolled into the city, escorted by GTK Boxer BTRs. Once in the city, the whole mass of troops broke up into smaller groups, doing street patrols, violently rounding up civilians while intruding in and sweeping buildings for any terrorist remnants. The SturmKorps were not as patient as the National Army, in that they executed anyone who even attempted to refuse to be arrested.

Back at the camp, Hauptleute Ingolf Preis and Oberführer Florian Guttenberg were supposed to meet. Outside the command tent, infront of his unit, the Hauptleute saluted to the Oberführer, with his arm extended out in the air. Without saluting back, Florian took in a small breath. "Preis... I hope you were honored to serve under me..." Preis looked rather confused, but before he could say anything, Florian drew his HK45 and shot Preis in the head. A trail of blood rolled down Preis's face, from the bullet hole in the center of his head, as Preis crumpled up slowly and died, falling backwards like a mannequin.

Suddenly an average height man in a suit exited the tent. He had softer facial features, brown hair, pale skin and a French accent. He wore sunglasses to conceal his eyes. The man spoke with his French accent to the unit, whom were in shock of the death of their Hauptleute. "Salut, gentlemen. I am Hilfskriminalkommissar Jean-François Barthet, of the Spektronian Secret State Police. I am your new commanding officer."

The units looked confused as they were addressed by Jean-François, whilst the Oberführer had a rather content look about him, though he would not smile. He retreated into the command tent to attend other matters.

Jean-François was still addressing the unit of the plan. "Now, onto business. You are no longer members of the Spektronian National Army. You are no longer even Spektronians. You have been chosen for your ability to speak French, nothing more. But I will make sure that our Oberführer sees that your skills will shine. We have a general idea of where the communist remnants escaped to. Now, you are no longer affiliated with Spektronia because we will be infiltrating the communist's lines as escaped revolutionaries. Around the side of the command tent, are crates full of civilian clothes. Go put them on and practice your French while you are at it. Allons!"

The entire unit of roughly 30 men all adorned themselves in the disguises before returning to the front of the tent. "Ah... Good, you all look like Merde. Which is what I want. When we leave, we'll be equipped with AK-47s, to add to the rustic feeling. Now, our main objective is an assassination. We have intel that these communists are being aided by a man, whom is supposedly named Roman." In the background, civilians had been rounded up, put up against trees and shot in the back of their heads by SturmKorps. This execution was not meant for the eyes of the National Army or the public. Civilians were continuously brought in and shot by SturmKorps for hours after that.

Ignoring these executions, one soldier who was disguised asked a question. "Sir... What about that captured King?" Jean laughed a bit. "Not our priority. We have one job and we'd better do it right. Or else..." He pointed over his shoulder at the command tent, where Florian was and then made a gesture with his thumb across his neck to signify decapitation.

Later on that night, Florian and his unit were equipped with AK-47s and headed out on foot, in the direction of where the rebel camp was believed to be. Jean continued to explain the plan to his new unit as they trudged through the open plains.

Off of Van Trapp Island

The 400 man team that was supposed to take the enemy's flag ship was now down to about 300. Many had been shredded by the enemy's machine gun fire and left to float. SK-Sturmbannführer Lutz Kolb was the commanding officer of the operation on the field. He and his team quickly realized that they would have to work faster than expected as they saw the hull breach had been more damaging than desired. When surfaced, the team quickly changed their scuba gear for gas masks. Lutz was the first one into the ship. The entire bottom deck had been nearly half way flooded as his team split up, checking room after room for survivors of the blast or the Chlorine gas. The hallways were crowded with the Marine Troopers as they scurried up stairs, to the next deck, hoping that there would be little resistance in the narrow halls of the ship.

Großherzog Burg

The Chancellor rather liked the feeling of the primal castle, with it's trophies on almost every wall. When in the dining room the Chancellor and his party equipped their jackets and caps, which they had thrown off in the confusion of the day's earlier display. He and his party sat opposite the Germans, near the Grand Duke. He nodded with a smile at the German Prince. "Again, your majesty, I'd like to apologize for my earlier... tantrum. Now, anyway... I've been out of contact for a while because of the day's earlier display. Do any of you fine men know the current situation of any Spektronian forces that I'd expect to be in this great land by now? Unless my Board of War is incapable of making decisions without me..."

The Vice-Chancellor was rather spooked by the, what he considered, creepy decor. He continued to look around at the vast and wide dining room as he and his father continued to eat their meals. Neither Alex nor Adolf ate anything with meat that was served, since they were vegetarians.

[New Decius]

Franc District

With Spektronian Military activity buzzing all throughout the New Marseille inland, the Spektronians were confident that if the Capileans fell at the coast, they would be able to defend the inner region's lands. Working closely with Capilean intelligence, the Spektronians helped to root out suspected revolutionaries constantly in the region.

Raus

Finally, the Spektronian forces finally arrived outside the city, many either by transport vehicle or on foot. Sturm Korps-Oberführer Florian Guttenberg was the commanding officer of the Spektronian forces in Raus. He was a cold man, with no heart for a human life. He rarely spoke, except when giving orders. It was said that one could not have a social conversation with the officer. He had an intimidating presence, with his hard facial features, cold attitude and deadly stare. He was just as tall as the Spektronian troops, who had been pumped full of drugs and hormones their whole lives to increase their size, while also shortening their life to about 40-50 years. The short life expectancy was the reason why normal troops were traditionally not made officers. There were divisions of each branch of the Spektronian National Armed Forces specifically for officer training. The Oberführer was constantly mistaken for a standard soldier, because of his blonde hair, blue eyes, strong facial features and height. The only real difference is that he was rather skinny.

He was upset, yet glad at the same time that the Germans had cleaned up some of the city. He came over the radio of his soldiers. "This is Oberführer Florian Guttenberg. Your orders are simple, soldiers... Anyone not in their homes and suspected of terrorism are to be executed by any means that you please... The SturmKorps is leading the operation here, so follow their lead. Many who survived the Battle of Jacobstown were selected for this, since they showed great result there. Including four fine soldiers, Schütze Emmerich Mauss, Schütze Jörg Grendel, Oberschütze Albuin Sehlman and Sturmmann Augustin Scholl. These four men showed great honor by tearing the limbs off of a terrorist officer, flaying his front side, decapitating him, filling his head with a DM51 hand grenade and launching the head into a crowd of terrorists." Suddenly the troops began to cheer throughout the lines that had been assembled. The Oberführer did not cheer with them, but instead demanded their silence. "Order! All of you rats! Now... I want no issues or fire exchanges with any allied forces in the city. Yes, that includes the Germans whom-" Suddenly he went quiet for a few moments. "Ah... I've just been informed that most rebels were killed or driven out of the city... Well... Change of plans, you slugs! Round up anyone not already taken prisoner by allied forces! Hauptleute Ingolf Preis, you and your unit report to me immediately for your special orders! The rest of you, get in there!" There was a sudden cheer from the crowds of soldiers and troopers.

The Mungo ESK transport vehicles rolled into the city, escorted by GTK Boxer BTRs. Once in the city, the whole mass of troops broke up into smaller groups, doing street patrols, violently rounding up civilians while intruding in and sweeping buildings for any terrorist remnants. The SturmKorps were not as patient as the National Army, in that they executed anyone who even attempted to refuse to be arrested.

Back at the camp, Hauptleute Ingolf Preis and Oberführer Florian Guttenberg were supposed to meet. Outside the command tent, infront of his unit, the Hauptleute saluted to the Oberführer, with his arm extended out in the air. Without saluting back, Florian took in a small breath. "Preis... I hope you were honored to serve under me..." Preis looked rather confused, but before he could say anything, Florian drew his HK45 and shot Preis in the head. A trail of blood rolled down Preis's face, from the bullet hole in the center of his head, as Preis crumpled up slowly and died, falling backwards like a mannequin.

Suddenly an average height man in a suit exited the tent. He had softer facial features, brown hair, pale skin and a French accent. He wore sunglasses to conceal his eyes. The man spoke with his French accent to the unit, whom were in shock of the death of their Hauptleute. "Salut, gentlemen. I am Hilfskriminalkommissar Jean-François Barthet, of the Spektronian Secret State Police. I am your new commanding officer."

The units looked confused as they were addressed by Jean-François, whilst the Oberführer had a rather content look about him, though he would not smile. He retreated into the command tent to attend other matters.

Jean-François was still addressing the unit of the plan. "Now, onto business. You are no longer members of the Spektronian National Army. You are no longer even Spektronians. You have been chosen for your ability to speak French, nothing more. But I will make sure that our Oberführer sees that your skills will shine. We have a general idea of where the communist remnants escaped to. Now, you are no longer affiliated with Spektronia because we will be infiltrating the communist's lines as escaped revolutionaries. Around the side of the command tent, are crates full of civilian clothes. Go put them on and practice your French while you are at it. Allons!"

The entire unit of roughly 30 men all adorned themselves in the disguises before returning to the front of the tent. "Ah... Good, you all look like Merde. Which is what I want. When we leave, we'll be equipped with AK-47s, to add to the rustic feeling. Now, our main objective is an assassination. We have intel that these communists are being aided by a man, whom is supposedly named Roman." In the background, civilians had been rounded up, put up against trees and shot in the back of their heads by SturmKorps. This execution was not meant for the eyes of the National Army or the public. Civilians were continuously brought in and shot by SturmKorps for hours after that.

Ignoring these executions, one soldier who was disguised asked a question. "Sir... What about that captured King?" Jean laughed a bit. "Not our priority. We have one job and we'd better do it right. Or else..." He pointed over his shoulder at the command tent, where Florian was and then made a gesture with his thumb across his neck to signify decapitation.

Later on that night, Florian and his unit were equipped with AK-47s and headed out foot, in the direction of where the rebel camp was believed to be.

Off of Van Trapp Island

The 400 man team that was supposed to take the enemy's flag ship was now down to about 300. Many had been shredded by the enemy's machine gun fire and left to float. SK-Sturmbannführer Lutz Kolb was the commanding officer of the operation on the field. He and his team quickly realized that they would have to work faster than expected as they saw the hull breach had been more damaging than desired. When surfaced, the team quickly changed their scuba gear for gas masks. Lutz was the first one into the ship. The entire bottom deck had been nearly half way flooded as his team split up, checking room after room for survivors of the blast or the Chlorine gas. The hallways were crowded with the Marine Troopers as they scurried up stairs, to the next deck, hoping that there would be little resistance in the narrow halls of the ship.

Großherzog Burg

The Chancellor rather liked the feeling of the primal castle, with it's trophies on almost every wall. When in the dining room the Chancellor and his party equipped their jackets and caps, which they had thrown off in the confusion of the day's earlier display. He and his party sat opposite the Germans, near the Grand Duke. He nodded with a smile at the German Prince. "Again, your majesty, I'd like to apologize for my earlier... tantrum. Now, anyway... I've been out of contact for a while because of the day's earlier display. Do any of you fine men know the current situation of any Spektronian forces that I'd expect to be in this great land by now? Unless my Board of War is incapable of making decisions without me..."

The Vice-Chancellor was rather spooked by the, what he considered, creepy decor. He continued to look around at the vast and wide dining room as he and his father continued to eat their meals. Neither Alex nor Adolf ate anything with meat that was served, since they were vegetarians.

Raus

Upon seeing the Spektronian's rounding up and summarily killing random civilian's, many of the German Panzergrenadier's began to intervene to stop the slaughter of innocents. Squads were used to round up civilians and they were taken to the airport away from the Spektronian's. APC's were used to transport the sick and wounded. Though in some instances, German soldiers couldn't help but go to the extreme to protect the innocent.

Leutnant Metsker and twelve Panzergrenadier's came upon a squad of Spektronian's about to shoot a group of school children and he blew his top. The officer raised his pistol and his men their assault rifles as he shouted at the Spektronian's to get back. A few shots were fired at the ground as a warning.

In the air, several attack helicopters were being used to broadcast a message. "Attention to all Spektronian forces! Cease your attacks on civilian's at once! This is your last warning! If you continue, then German forces will fire upon you! A Panzer Division is being mobilized to the city outskirts to enforce the calming of the city! All civilians are to evacuate to the safety of the airport!"

Großherzog Borg

Oberst (Colonel) Johannes Beck, the Kaiserlichen Armee advisor to Nova Capile, received an update on his tablet and checked it. After which he turned a murderous glare on the Spektronian delegation. He stood up to inform the whole table.

"Attention gathered dignitaries! I have just received a message from the Panzergrenadier's whom helped subdue the violence in Raus. They report that despite the Communist paramilitary units having fled in full retreat, Spektronian troops began a summary slaughter of the city inhabitants at random upon their arrival. German forces are currently working with Capilean police to save as many civilian's as possible."

For a moment there was silence but then there was a snap and clang of metal. Prince Rudolph had gripped his fork so hard it snapped in half. He looked up and the look on his face was one of pure fury as he glared at the Spektronian Chancellor. "Well Chancellor, what say you to your troops committing mass murder. Though what can be expected from bloodthirsty Fascist's."

[Topkekkia]

Camp Alpha, Nova Capile
January 8
The camp was a mess. The surviving men had been living off of scraps purchased from various towns with the little money they had for the last several days, and they were for the most part living out of the old vans. It was lucky for them that cold wasn't an issue on this latitude, or attrition would have killed off most of them by now. There was discussion with Blücher about creating more permanent structures, but that would have to wait for later. What was more, they needed reinforcements. A revolution could not be won with fifty-two men, after all. Fortunately, the help was due to arrive today.

According to the messages Roman had received, the troops had taken off from a passing cargo ship the other day in a long range helicopter, entering the nation under cover of night, below the radar through an empty section of the North-Eastern District. The eight of them all greeted the local rebels, many of whom were significantly more pleased at the supplies they had brought: MREs, ammunition, rifles, anti-air missiles, and a host of other goodies, designed for warfare and survival alike. Now the show could really start.

Roman didn't particularly care much for this, aside from the fact that it brought Islander to the area. Islander, who unlike Roman didn't like to use his codename outside of radio, and usually just went by his first, Alexei, was more proficient in stealth and infiltration. Quite useful for lighting up supply caches and enemy politicians, he was a useful counterpart to Roman's more combat-oriented skill.

But all out warfare would have to wait. For now, guerilla warfare was the answer. Some might even call it outright terrorism. And on an isolated chunk of sea in the Indian Ocean, just that was being plotted.

Indian Ocean, International Waters
January 8
The destroyer cut through the waters like a knife, heading for its target: A Capilean civilian cargo ship. Sergei Igrim had fantasized about piracy as a child, with tall sailing ships and cannons, but never guessed that twenty years later, he would effectively be becoming one. Like the fifty men on the deck next to him, he waited for contact. His uniform was effectively nonexistient, all of the soldiers from the Crimson Guard there, including himself, were dressed in military surplus from the old Soviet Union, supposedly purchased off the black market if he'd heard correctly. The only thing that they could really use to tell each other apart from anyone else was the red scarf they each wore. They carried USAS-12 shotguns filled with buckshot for the close quarters of the ship they were about to board, each having its serial number simply not on the weapon. No way to trace them back. No evidence.

He knew the battle was about to begin when he could hear the order over the din of the waves in the background to begin jamming all radio frequencies it could access for a fifty klicks around. The ship increased its speed with a slight tremor beneath Sergei's feet, and began to move towards the cargo vessel. Next to him, though he knew not where, he could here someone humming the theme to Pirates of the Caribbean. He chuckled slightly. This was going to be different.

[The Grand Duchy Of Nova Capile]

Großherzog Burg

---

The many officials seated around the vast table had been chatting quite amiably until one of the German officers, Johannes Beck, stood up and revealed a horrible truth. Upon hearing that Spektronian troops were rounding up innocent civilians and shooting them en masse, the entire Royal Family looked in shock at the members of the Spektronian delegation. The Grand Duke swiveled around to look at the Chancellor, whom up to this point he had considered a close friend. His deep blue eyes shone like fire. With a clang the old man sprang to his feet and glared down at Adolf. "If what Oberst Beck says is true, then I am horrified. Indeed, I am disgusted that you should invite yourself into my country and sit at my table, discussing simple things as friends whilst your brutes massacre my people!" The Duke's usually pale complexion was flushed with red, and banged his fist on the table as he spoke.

"I hope, for your own sake, that what I am being told is not true, lest you and all of your kin should be cast from this place at once!" The Duke continued to stare down at Adolf, breathing heavily and towering over the table. "Even the thought of being in the company of those who seek to repeat the Holocaust makes me wretch!" Slowly the color faded from Hans' face and he regathered himself. "Adolf," he said, less angry this time, "I should hope to think that this is not true. Or at least that this is some mad display not directed by you?"

---

Camp Alpha, Nova Capile

---

The trickle of supplies was most welcome to the ragtag rebels. Soon they were joined by some women and children, the families of the fighting men, and occasionally a few men eager to fight would join up. Even more welcome were sympathetic civilians, who would slip in from time to time to deliver parcels of food. Blücher set about constructing shanties for the men to live out of, but the idea quickly lost steam and was never finished. One day thirteen men arrived with King Foley and a crate of equipment stripped from a plane, which cheered everyone up. Foley was paraded around a bit, but finally was tied up to a post and given scraps to eat every now and then. Blücher was paranoid about air patrols finding them, so he made everyone set up the camp in a dense wood where no aircraft could find them. Maybe this rebellion would last.

---

Indian Ocean

---

Günther Engels stared from the comfortable cabin of his transport ship out at the deep indigo waters splashing before it. He was the son of a wealthy oil baron, and an avid sailor. He preferred to take trips on his yacht, crisscrossing the Indian Ocean. Günther had been to India, Burma, Yemen, Malaya, Singapore, Java, Australia, Madagascar, and Ethiopia many times. As such, he knew his way around the seas. Right now his father had made him manage this shipment of oil which was coming back from the East Indies to Nova Capile, since one day Günther would have to direct the whole company. It was a boring job, but at least he got to sit back and read all day.

"Sir, we have a warship approaching us. Quickly." Günther turned his chair to look at a grim sailor, and brushed his flaxen hair back from his forehead. "Just another patrol, I assume?" he said casually, closing his book and laying it on the control panel next to him. "No. It is not flying our flag, sir." The sailor looked worried. Concern flashed across the young man's face, but he quickly dismissed it. "Probably some Buroasian vessel, looking to get their hands on an unregistered shipment of goods. Hail it." The man nodded and walked over to the dashboard, turning on the radio. "This is the S.S. Glockenblume to the ship approaching us. Please identify yourself." The man stood back up and looked at his captain. "Should I radio the navy?" "Better be safe. Go ahead."

[Spektronia]

Raus

Florian stroked his chin at the news of the German demand. He chuckled to himself and spoke out loud to the SturmKorps officers gathered before him. "Now I really see why we left the Germans and the Austrians... They've gone soft! Just as I always said... They don't realize that these people could possibly be connected to the terrorists or could even be terrorists themselves." He sighed to himself briefly. "And to think that I was going to have some fun..."

In the corner of the tent was a civilian with his hands behind his head. Florian pointed at the man and simply said. "Get out of my camp." The man picked up and ran out eagerly. Then, Florian came over the radios of the Spektronian troops. "Attention. This is Oberführer Florian Guttenberg. Our 'good friends'... the Germans have demanded that we cease our anti-terrorist activities at once. Now, as much as it pains me to do this... Your orders are to release all civilian prisoners and not fire upon any civilians, unless they pose an apparent threat."

In response to the orders, the Spektronians released hundreds of prisoners and ceased their activity in the city. Instead, the Spektronians just did casual sweeps down streets, along with their German allies. Spektronian press members wandered the city with their armed escorts.

On one corner, a few school children were hiding near a bench, still in shock from the riots. Three SturmKorps Troopers took their helmets and masks off as to reveal their blonde hair and blue eyes. The Troopers tried to comfort the children and talked to them for a little, sitting on the bench with the children on their laps. They asked them questions about what happened, about where they lived and if they know how to get there. Suddenly, a press member rushed over to snap a picture of the delicate little scene. Then, one trooper handed out sucking candy to the group of children as the troopers escorted the children back to their homes. (OOC: )

A few National Army Soldiers from the Engineering Corps were surveying the damage of the city when they spotted several downed radio stations and towers. They went right to work on getting them back up and running. The first one that had been repaired immediately had emergency broadcasts played over it, urging citizens to stay in their homes.

Großherzog Burg

The Chancellor was shocked at what he was hearing. "What!? Who is the commanding officer in Raus?" He then turned to the Grand Duke and stood up himself. "Hans! Peace! You could not accuse me of such things! Or my delegation for that matter! We've been with you the whole time! I haven't issued an order for quite a while! The only person I could possibly think of... Is SturmKorps-Oberführer Florian Guttenberg... If it is him, I'll see to it that he is punished accordingly. He's... quite troublesome I say. I see no reason why anyone would execute your people! Not under my thumb at least. If such events are because of Florian, I must say that he has been diagnosed with psychopathy as well as schizophrenia. The only reason I've kept him around is because he's effective at what he does and because the LeiterMarschall has been able to keep him on a short leash. I suppose our absences have sparked him up once again..."

Suddenly, Alex, the Vice-Chancellor stood up. "If you fine gentlemen would excuse me... I need to step out for some fresh air... Unless anyone would like to accompany me, I'll be back soon." Helmut, the LeiterMarschall of the SturmKorps turned to him. "Have fun sir... I know I am..." Then, after Adolf had sat down again, he turned to his son. "Make sure that if it is Florian... I want him dealt with, once and for all..." The Vice-Chancellor nodded, understanding that he wanted Florian dead, as he waited to see whether anyone would go outside for a break from this madness.

[New Decius]

Großherzog Burg

---

The many officials seated around the vast table had been chatting quite amiably until one of the German officers, Johannes Beck, stood up and revealed a horrible truth. Upon hearing that Spektronian troops were rounding up innocent civilians and shooting them en masse, the entire Royal Family looked in shock at the members of the Spektronian delegation. The Grand Duke swiveled around to look at the Chancellor, whom up to this point he had considered a close friend. His deep blue eyes shone like fire. With a clang the old man sprang to his feet and glared down at Adolf. "If what Oberst Beck says is true, then I am horrified. Indeed, I am disgusted that you should invite yourself into my country and sit at my table, discussing simple things as friends whilst your brutes massacre my people!" The Duke's usually pale complexion was flushed with red, and banged his fist on the table as he spoke.

"I hope, for your own sake, that what I am being told is not true, lest you and all of your kin should be cast from this place at once!" The Duke continued to stare down at Adolf, breathing heavily and towering over the table. "Even the thought of being in the company of those who seek to repeat the Holocaust makes me wretch!" Slowly the color faded from Hans' face and he regathered himself. "Adolf," he said, less angry this time, "I should hope to think that this is not true. Or at least that this is some mad display not directed by you?"

---

Camp Alpha, Nova Capile

---

The trickle of supplies was most welcome to the ragtag rebels. Soon they were joined by some women and children, the families of the fighting men, and occasionally a few men eager to fight would join up. Even more welcome were sympathetic civilians, who would slip in from time to time to deliver parcels of food. Blücher set about constructing shanties for the men to live out of, but the idea quickly lost steam and was never finished. One day thirteen men arrived with King Foley and a crate of equipment stripped from a plane, which cheered everyone up. Foley was paraded around a bit, but finally was tied up to a post and given scraps to eat every now and then. Blücher was paranoid about air patrols finding them, so he made everyone set up the camp in a dense wood where no aircraft could find them. Maybe this rebellion would last.

---

Indian Ocean

---

Günther Engels stared from the comfortable cabin of his transport ship out at the deep indigo waters splashing before it. He was the son of a wealthy oil baron, and an avid sailor. He preferred to take trips on his yacht, crisscrossing the Indian Ocean. Günther had been to India, Burma, Yemen, Malaya, Singapore, Java, Australia, Madagascar, and Ethiopia many times. As such, he knew his way around the seas. Right now his father had made him manage this shipment of oil which was coming back from the East Indies to Nova Capile, since one day Günther would have to direct the whole company. It was a boring job, but at least he got to sit back and read all day.

"Sir, we have a warship approaching us. Quickly." Günther turned his chair to look at a grim sailor, and brushed his flaxen hair back from his forehead. "Just another patrol, I assume?" he said casually, closing his book and laying it on the control panel next to him. "No. It is not flying our flag, sir." The sailor looked worried. Concern flashed across the young man's face, but he quickly dismissed it. "Probably some Buroasian vessel, looking to get their hands on an unregistered shipment of goods. Hail it." The man nodded and walked over to the dashboard, turning on the radio. "This is the S.S. Glockenblume to the ship approaching us. Please identify yourself." The man stood back up and looked at his captain. "Should I radio the navy?" "Better be safe. Go ahead."

Oberst Beck placed his hand over his heart and stared directly into the eyes of the Grand Duke. He spoke with the conviction of a man not known to give anything less than a hundred percent. "Your Majesty, I do so swear our claims are true. I swear on the honor of myself, my family, and the very Fatherland itself. Were it that I am lying, then may the mighty river Rhine run red with my blood and may lightning strike down the Kaiser himself!" That drew a gasp from several. To swear on one's own honor was one matter but to swear on the Fatherland and its sovereign themselves was another altogether. It was a show of true conviction.

At this interval Hans Oster, being representative for German military intelligence, rose and gave a small bow. "Your Majesty, I should very much like permission to utilize a team of Abwehr Field Agents to be flown in from India to investigate this situation in cooperation with the Stoßschutz. If it would so please His Majesty."

Rudolph was still fixing Adolf with a death glare at the thought of the blood running in the streets of Raus. He had witnessed enough slaughter in Africa, he had no desire to see more.

[Spektronia]

North-Eastern District

For hours, Jean and his unit had been trudging through the District's wilderness and without knowing, they were growing closer and closer to the rebel camp. Jean had decided to set up camp in between two massive boulders which were set in the middle of the open field.

Whilst sitting around the fire, one undercover soldier spoke up. "This is an odd place for any boulders..." Jean nodded. "Ah you're correct Karstmann. Or should I say Cédric Dupont? As that is now your name." All the soldiers had been given false names and false backstories a few hours earlier. "Now about that boulder... You see, during the Ice Age, the expanding ice picked up large rocks and boulders, depositing them in places you'd not expect them to be. At least that's what I learned."

Later on that night, the unit had been taking shifts with sleeping and staying on watch. One man whistled Nous Voila, in the spirit of their new French identities. His partner nudged him. "Hey, smart one. You know that's the Vichy France anthem, right?" The whistling soldier ceased and looked at his friend. "Yeah... I know. I was just thinking about this whole French thing and I was wondering what Vichy France was like and the anthem came into my mind." His counterpart nodded in understanding as he held the strap of his AK-47 over his shoulder. "Well I think Vichy France was way better than the allied France. France was weak back then and Marshal Philippe Pétain wanted a real future for France... So he gave it over to the good guys." In Spektronia, the Axis powers were always looked at as the "good guys".

[The Glorious Han Chinese]

The Citadel, Han Liberation Army Headquarters
5 days earlier

Chancellor William Meng looked at the man across the desk. Grand Marshal Wei. An old man. Some said that he was going senile, unfit for his position and going soft. The marshal would rather think of himself as cautious. But there was no denying the fact that the Glorious Han hadn't done a single thing to back up its threats besides putting a few fleets and divisions on alert.

William coughed, the marshal seemed to be dozing off in his armchair. "My dear marshal. I think it's time to send some men."
Grand Marshal Wei shuffled and in a wheezy voice said, "We can wait. No one else has made a move yet."
"Any longer, and we'll be too late. How much longer do you want to wait?"
"Chancellor, with all due respect, I am the Grand Marshal. I think the best thing to do is to wait. Now, I'll have my aide see you out."

William stood up with disgust on his face, the straight-backed wooden chair crashing to the floor. He barked at the young man showing him out.
"I'm not your boss. I'm not senile yet. I know the way out." William hurried through the dark halls of the Citadel, pulling his phone out.

William punched in a number. The Department of Internal Security can sort any mess out.
"This is the Chancellor. Put your boss on the phone right now."
He heard shuffling in the background, a beep as his call was rerouted to a secure channel.
"Department of Internal Security. What does the dear Chancellor want for lunch today? There's a most tantalizing truffle shipment we confiscated today."
"Quit playing around. Listen. I've tried to get Marshal Wei to deploy troops for days now. We need a new marshal."
"Of course. We'll get right on it."
"By the way, get me some paella for lunch."
"Yes, our finest special agents will make sure our dear Chancellor gets the finest paella for lunch."

---

Yulin Naval Base
Present day

All 50,000 men of the Han Foreign Legion had woken up to a sealed envelope being handed to them. Inside it was an announcement from the Citadel. Grand Marshal Wei had been arrested by the Department of Internal Security on charges of high treason and corruption. He had been replaced by Grand Marshal Xue, who had ordered the immediate deployment of the Han Foreign Legion with the 2nd and 3rd Expeditionary Fleets to Nova Capile.

After lunch, the men assembled inside the lecture hall facility. Lieutenant General Yan stood on the pedestal, looking down at some of the most elite soldiers in the nation. These soldiers were present in every conflict the Glorious Han was involved in, fighting from the cities of Phileria, to the woodlands of Torston, and deserts and trenches of Cransia.

"Men. I'll keep this short and simple. We'll be moving out later today, escorted by the 2nd and 3rd Expeditionary Fleets. We will be borrowing 250 AFVs outfitted with autocannons and machine guns from the 1st Mechanized, and support from 100 tanks of the 16th and 17th Tank Battalions. I doubt it'll be enough for the panzer-humpers, so we've requisitioned some extra Carl Gustav recoilless rifles. These suckers should tear a new asshole for their vehicles.
Now for the actual operation, we'll try to work in tandem with Crysuko. Right now, they're stuck at Van Trapp Island. And that's where we'll be going. We'll work out the other bits later.
And don't forget the rules of engagement. Shoot first, ask questions later. Remember to treat civilians kindly and be civil to captured prisoners."
Lieutenant General Yan gave a confused look at the paper he was reading off of.
"Funny man, this new marshal. Forget that. If you capture someone, send them right over and we'll beat some interesting things out of him. And if any civilian looks at you funny or talks back, feel free to send them over. Or shoot them.
That's it, gentlemen. Pack up."

[Topkekkia]

Indian Ocean, International Waters
January 8
The radio message was horribly distorted, beyond recognition even, evidence that the jammer was working correctly. Help would not arrive. Sergei could hear the main gun being rotated towards the hostile ship, a silent threat towards their prey. With a lurch, the warship changed direction rapidly, pulling up alongside the cargo ship, paint scraping paint. Sergei's commander shouted in the background:

"BOARD!"

The men began to toss grappling hooks over the side of the ship, latching onto the edges of the ship and letting the Guard climb over. Sergei's feet landed on the deck with a harsh thud, the feel of (at least somewhat) stable ground quite preferable to shimmying up ropes. The soldiers began to fan out, ready to take the ship by force.

---

Camp Alpha, Nova Capile
January 14
At the beginning of the week, the rebels were scarcely able to hold their rifles properly. Now, a week later, they were trained into something that at least resembled an effective fighting force. The Topkekkians were something that at least resembled proud of them. But training wouldn't win a war. Action was needed.

Alexei walked into Blücher's shanty, looking for the leader of the fledgling revolution. The room was fairly crowded. Aside from a bed and desk, there was a selection of combat gear, a pile of papers with reports, and of course, beer. Alexei never would understand the German obsession with the substance. He spoke clearly to the revolutionary, but cheerfully, as was usual for him. "Intelligence says that there's going to be an arms convoy about seventy klicks out from here. Think we should hit it? They're trying to ship arms to Raus. They still think there's communist holdouts there. How about it?"

[Martinaland]

Meanwhile, down in the underground complex, the Capilean cabinet was responding to Martinaland's desperate plea for a ceasefire:

---

(Image)
Official Communique of the Grand Duchy of Nova Capile

---

From: Minister of War Wilhelm Schultz
To: The Federation of Martinaland
Encryption: Medium

---

Greetings, well meaning peacemakers of the world.
It is in the Duchy's best interest to make peace with the tyrannical Communists invading her sovereign territory- not that this glorious country is worried about said invasion. However, we will under no means stop our campaign against Capilean "Communist" insurgents who are tearing this country apart.
Sincerely,
(Image)
-Wilhelm Schultz

Molloy City
Gentries looked at the telegram. So Capile had declined peace terms. It seemed like Martinaland was in danger. She rushed to the Cabinet Room in Government House. Gentries arrived just as the Cabinet begun to meet. She said "Martina, Nova Capile has refused peace terms. It looks like they don't want to end their campaign." Martina replied "Give up. Accept their wishes."

[New Decius]

Meanwhile, down in the underground complex, the Capilean cabinet was responding to Martinaland's desperate plea for a ceasefire:

---

(Image)
Official Communique of the Grand Duchy of Nova Capile

---

From: Minister of War Wilhelm Schultz
To: The Federation of Martinaland
Encryption: Medium

---

Greetings, well meaning peacemakers of the world.
It is in the Duchy's best interest to make peace with the tyrannical Communists invading her sovereign territory- not that this glorious country is worried about said invasion. However, we will under no means stop our campaign against Capilean "Communist" insurgents who are tearing this country apart.
Sincerely,
(Image)
-Wilhelm Schultz

Molloy City
Gentries looked at the telegram. So Capile had declined peace terms. It seemed like Martinaland was in danger. She rushed to the Cabinet Room in Government House. Gentries arrived just as the Cabinet begun to meet. She said "Martina, Nova Capile has refused peace terms. It looks like they don't want to end their campaign." Martina replied "Then we have no choice. Tell General Irvine to launch Operation Save Capile."
Near Nova Capile
General Irvine was in the ship, ready to bombard Großherzog Burg and Saxtonberg. The Capilean Navy were completly absent from the shore. Fate was on their side. She said "Air Force Captain Eirvanna, launch bombs and target them at the city of Saxtonberg and Grolßherzog Berg." The bombs launched, heading for the castle and the city of Saxtonberg.
Capile-Martinalandian Border
The troops gathered at the border, ready to defend themselves in a event of an attack. The Tanzanian border was most likely to be attacked. General Claudia said "Be ready for an attack."

OOC: I call Godmod!

[New Mushroom Kingdom]

Großherzog Burg
The Regent was very much in shock and horror at what had transpired very recently. He was very much enraged, for he knew that there were many innocent people in this war, and for harm to occur to the, especially by a reportedly-brutual occupying force. However, he decided not to let his rage and anger take over, it only slowly seeped into his voice and said "Well, I'd like to say that even before you all but confirmed it I was learning more to believing the fine gentlemen from New Decius. Secondly, leaving aside the fact that your army has very likely committed brutual and horrendous crimes against multiple people, in what universe is it not an insane idea to place a diagnosed schizophrenic psycopath in any form of millitary command. This person is responsible for all of the crimes that he has ordered people to carry out on his behalf while keeping his own hands clean. May I strongly recommend that he not magically disappear from existence, but instead stand a public trial for his actions and crimes? Domestic or International, he must be judged and feel the true consequences for his actions. Finally, could I ever so slightly suggest that you make an official state apology to all of those harmed and affected by him?"

[Spektronia]

Off of Van Trapp Island

Generaladmiral Wambua Salim sat in his command chair, inside the bridge of the S.S. Rainha Africano, the flagship of the Mozambique fleet, overlooking the surveillance feed of several F-22 Raptor fighter planes. He had his radio handy and turned it to a closed channel with the pilots. When he switched channels, there was the sound of a battle transmitting through. There was also heavy breathing from the pilots as they needed to rush blood to their heads during certain maneuvers.

Wambua began to transmit to the pilots, who were out across the water, firing upon Crysukon ships. "Fliegers! The turrets that just tore up our SturmKorps Marine Troopers, I want them knocked out!" The Generaladmiral then sat back at observed the video feed on the large monitor in the front of the bridge.

Across the water, the Raptors began to adjust their courses, so that they aimed straight for the turrets on the corvettes and frigates that had torn up about 100 of their troops in the water, attempting to destroy the turrets.

One fighter had it's engine hit. As it was crashing down, it sped right for a corvette of the enemy fleet. Instead of the pilot ejecting, he just kept his path headed straight for the enemy ship. There was a large fiery explosion, but despite this, the ship was mostly intact.

Großherzog Burg

The Chancellor was rather appreciative that the NMK's Regent could maintain a cool head. Adolf listened keenly to him for a few moments, absorbing the input. "Well... As much as I appreciate your idea, Mr. Regent, I must say this; Florian would most certainly plead insanity in a public case, and he'd defiantly get away with it. He's been put on trial for crimes against humanity on a total of three separate occasions. He pleaded insanity on all three cases and his plead was recognized. He was sent to rehabilitation each time and according to his rehabilitation team, he came out perfectly sane. Once he was back in service each of the times, he went off again and again."

Spektronian New Marseille Base

Ältere Überwachung Kommandant Vanessa Gottschall was in charge of the Spektronian surveillance and monitoring for all Spektronian Nova Capilean operations. Through satellite surveillance, she and her teams were monitoring the spots of interest for Spektronia, including the naval battle off of Vann Trapp Island, the Spektronian base outside Raus as well as the bases throughout the East Coast of Nova Capile.

Whilst Vanessa was filing through some papers in her office, inside of a disguised warehouse in New Marseille, which was actually the Spektronian Surveillence Center for Nova Capile, a knock came upon her door. Immediately putting the papers down, she responded. "Come in."

A man in a white shirt and red tie entered. The man was happy to have been able to get to his commander without delay. Vanessa then took off her glasses and glanced up at the man from her desk. "Ah, Bereichsüberwachung Gruppenführer Adolf Lauer... How can I help you?" Adolf (not the Chancellor) moved over to her desk to place a white folder full of photographs, some in infrared and others in normal vision. She put her glasses back on and shuffled through them briefly. "What are these?" Adolf (not the Chancellor) rolled up his sleeves as he answered his commander's question. "Well ma'am... Last night, we spotted what seemed to be a camp in the middle of an open field between two boulders in the North-Eastern District, some distance from Benwes. We kept our surveillance on the people at the camp all night and through the morning. We didn't think much of it at first, but when they moved this morning, we were able to get clearer images of them. It seems here that they aren't just off to go camping, but they are armed. We suspect they might be revolutionaries that escaped Raus."

Vanessa was rather intrigued by these photos and this information. She ran her fingers through her hair as she took everything in. "It defiantly seems like they're going somewhere... Perhaps even the rebel encampment? If they do lead to the revolution's camp, then we'll see whether we'll report it to the National Army, so that they could perhaps wipe this base out."

Earlier, in the North-Eastern District

Jean and his unit of disguised National Army Soldiers continued their path across the NE wilderness. Stopping for a break, Jean had his portable radio handy and switched it to a short distance open channel. "Hello? Is anyone out there?" He then repeated his message in French and Dutch, since the revolutionary forces spoke mostly French and Dutch.