The Red Flags Rise (Revised: Please Sign up OOC )

[New Edom]

Padan-Aran Estate

"We'll get you a sexy maid outfit, how about that?" suggested Mara, her eyes twinkling with merriment. "You can show off your legs and your joobie-jubblies, it will be great. My very very personal maid. I'll also have all the household staff instructed. You know what," she said, walking to her closet and pulling out a t-shirt from a shelf, pulling it down over her breasts and belly, "This is going to be really fun...I've got to start planning for this event. I was talking to my mom and dad about it, I don't want some weird date party where there are a bunch of guys here to screw my title. I want to meet one guy at a time. We'll haveta see how it goes I guess...oh Anneli I love you but I want so much to get married, have a family of my own. I hope you can too, and we can visit each other all we want to anyway. I have to be a real princess for this...what do you think we should do? Incredibly super-formal, or light formal?"

[Cinya]

The Villa of former Consul Rufus Cotta, Etruria Majora, New Edom

The two men exited the vehicle, entirely nude. It had been a necessity for them to be smuggled into New Edom, even in areas captured by the Monarchs, nudity still seemed to be a fairly common sight and it stood to reason that many had simply gotten rid of their clothing after the passing of the Compulsory Nudity Act. It hadn’t been a comfortable thing either, in Cinya indecent exposer was a serious crime with serious consequences, here the opposite was true- but it did have some advantages. Namely, the impressive painting both men sported, had mostly covered their darker skin, their olive sun kissed color they thought was unmistakably Cinyan, though here it seemed they could have passed for workers. Of course, some of the trip had been interesting- brothels for example, had proven curious to say the least, another difference between Cinya and New Edom. However, if you wanted to stay in a place where few would recognize you and fewer still question the purpose behind your visit- there was no better place than the laughter, smoke, gambling, and sin of a large brothel. The men had also noticed that brothels seemed the only place that had benefited from the Civil War, though it was possible that the whores always walked bowl-legged.

Other than hiding their skin behind paints, and spending their nights in the nearest brothel, the matter had been- for the most part, a simple task. They had entered the nation first from Gloria Regis, it had been the easiest to infiltrate due to the border with ally Cornellia, after that they had posed as cousins trying desperately to return to the mainland, their identification stolen- a good thing that these people were kind and generous for the most part, and there were fewer civilians than normal traveling to the mainland due to the war, they had claimed their sisters were still there and they sought to bring her and her children from danger, an excuse that had gotten them to New Edom in the first place. From then it had been a mostly simple journey, avoid battlegrounds and the national politics, sitting in inns and bars to rest, drinking their fill like the other patrons, and listening to the news silently- that was, when they couldn’t find the brothels. They had also noticed some, possibly Cookish civilians, who seemed to be journeying to provide assistance to the war-torn nation. Initially, the Red Cross delegation had made no friends among the two men, one of whom demanded why they could not have traveled like that though he was assured to do so would mean being stuck with the delegation until they reached their destination and that would have been an even bigger bother.

Indeed, it seemed they had trekked across all of Edom by the time their car, an old and dirty model that had been stolen from one of the local brothels. Stolen may not be the proper term, the man had, albeit in a drunken fury, thrown the keys at them. The car had served well, if one ignored the four times they had to stop to pour water on the radiator, it had gotten them through checkpoints and past the less lawless areas, they were obviously too poor to be important or worth robbing after all. Now, here at this fine and fruitful estate, they seemed largely out of place- though both men concluded if Edomite Intelligence stormed the home they would have little problem hiding with the servants, a fact they reluctantly concluded with shared smiles.

“Quickly, fetch me something to wear before I insult the Senator’s daughter and wife,” the taller of the men said quietly and giving a wave to the waiting family. His subservient friend, having only become friends on the long pilgrimage to this home quickly retreated to the trunk and retrieved Cinyan dress robes, the only kind of robe that could be worn in public due to history of the Imperial Dominion and its relations to togas and gowns. The man would have preferred one of his suits, but he was satisfied to be covered again and did not bicker, “cover yourself as well- you are no prize.” The statement elicited the quickest of smiles from his co-traveler, certainly the man was in shape, the well-defined abdominal muscles was proof of his peek physical condition, however, his nose was large and crooked, having been broken repeatedly over the course of life, and his large mouth was almost as noticeable as the massive cliff in his chin, which only elongated an already long face, straw like brown hair having grown long since the travel. The men had joked that while one was short and ugly, the other was tall and handsome. Thick black locks, once perfectly combed back, now cascaded around his face, countless streaks of grey and white (“experience,” he told the younger whores put off by the grey). His hair itself was polarized, either strikes of white or the same black of black hair he was born with, like shooting stars in the night sky.

With both men clothed, they began their walk towards the family- the father welcoming them with a kind gesture, as they approached the taller of the two extended his hand, ungloved. It was against Cinyan custom to make physical contact with foreigners, sighting their disgusting nature and as part of a larger effort to avoid what had been labeled, ‘the disease of barbaric cultures,’ however, this man put no stock in such petty motions that only ensured to spur resentment.

“Hello,” he said bowing his head out of respect for the two women, his voice was thick with an accent, though not the Sophia Accent of the creme de le crème, his voice rather betrayed his heritage from the farms and mines, a small community not even in the provinces, but rather out from one of the states. He bore a charismatic spark in his eye as he looked into the eyes of his host and allowed his bright, white smile to appear on his lips, “I am Senator Fabianus, of the Imperial Dominion. It is most pleasant to meet you Senator,” his obvious show of emotion only further went against the diplomatic mannerism of the Imperial Dominion as he allowed a thick layer of mirth to break in his voice as he continued, “I apologize for being so underdressed, well undressed I suppose. A necessity I assure you.”

[Gehenna Tartarus]

Padan-Aran Polo Match

Tia had merely been wandering and had not really expected anyone to speak, knowing how focused some of the players got when getting ready for a match. She had begun to twirl one of her tendrils of hair around her finger as she walked, her gaze appearing to be looking at the horses, while in reality she was kind of lost in her thoughts. She felt herself start as the man’s voice penetrated her reverie.

“Oh, hello,” she said, breaking into a soft laugh, and just avoiding bringing her hand up to her chest in a display of surprise. She did let her hand fall slowly to her side, as she looked first at the player and then at the horse. “Tia, um, Tatiana Fitzsimmons, but my friends call me Tia.” She reached up and gently stroked the horse’s nose. “He is beautiful. What is his name?” Her lips settled into a natural smile, once she had gotten over the initial shock. “And yes, I ride, but not as often as I would like to.” Her blue eyes returned to the player’s face.

[Riemaia]

Padan-Aran Estate

Anneli blushed about the idea of having her breasts just popping out of a skimpy maids outfit, but actually wanted to wear something like that just for the fun of it. "Heh... I bet you would just love it if I did that... sounds good to me!" She said as she walked up to her and put her hands on her waist, giving her a kiss. "Family is important, but... I.... Annette is my daughter... but a bastard... I don't think people are really into that kind of stuff, but at least I know if anything happens to me, she will be going to someone who will love her as much as I do." Said Anneli as she stroked Mara's hair some more, and then took the joint and took a long drag from it. "Whats this stuff called?" She asked as she turned right back and smiled, "It'slike... you know... really good!"

[New Edom]

Padan-Aran Estate

"It's called Bluewater Tufts, it's pretty good ya? It's kind of local. The Niradle Elwe grow it actually. It's best grown in the rainforests they live in for some reason, that makes it really good." she smiled and took another drag. "Okay so maid's outfit good. I don't want it obscene, just kind of revealing and sexy. We'll have Tegan and the other girls wear them too, and have the men wear dinner jackets and snug slacks." she mused thoughtfully a moment, and then walked to the window, looking out over the green estate. "And we need some kind of festivity, not just a random party. I'll let the staff know. Meantime..." she paused. There were a lot of uniforms going in and out of parts of the estate, and a bunch of vehicles set up with aerials on them. She bit her lip. And were some of those Riemaian uniforms?

"Anneli, are some of your government people supposed to be here?"

[Riemaia]

Padan-Aran Estate

"Bluewater Tufts.... not a half bad name actually... it looks like the Elwe suuuure know how to row a good batch, that much I can tell ya." Anneli said as she smiled, walking over to the window where Mara, was, still naked but still quite not caring about that part. "Well," she said as she looked for a few moments at the uniforms of some of the men and women out there, and one quick glimpse at one of the vehicles. "Riemaian Army escorting a few Navy people... they must be from the fleet uncle James asked me to move to Harbourtown awhile ago, I think he wants them there to the others won't get some wise ideas and attack the place, It's a good idea I guess.... I really don;t spend my time looking into detail about all those things when I could just be hanging out or talking to you on the phone or some of that other stuff."

Anneli took the joint once more to take a quick puff, looking at one of the Riemaian soldiers leaning against one of the vehicles, talking onto a phone wired to the vehicle itself, an odd woman by the looks of it. That woman was wearing one of the junior officer uniforms for females, a blue miniskirt and overcoat with matching stockings and black knee high leather boots with a 1 1/2 inch heel, with a black leather belt with a copper buckle, and a white button-up shirt and red tie to top it off.

Outside

"Major, I don't know why the Admiral wanted us to come all the way up here, maybe as some secure communication line with the ships and the capital, I don't know! Well, yes I did hear the Empress is here, but I certainly haven't seen her around... No I won't get you her autograph!" The woman was obviously highly annoyed at the person on the other end of the line, most likely her superior officer. "Oh I bet you would like that!" She said as she almost took the phone and chucked it onto the ground, remembering it had a thick cable hooked up to a satellite dish on top of the vehicle, and also the short range transmitter. "Were here in this country because the Empress wanted us here, supposedly it was a very important deal, civil war and all can be quite the pain i'm sure... Oh my gosh, you are just so fucking nosy aren't you! If you weren't my group commander I would just ring your neck out!" She slowly lowered the phone from her ear and turned back to the communications vehicle and slammed the phone back onto its receptacle, and picked her assault rifle off of the ground and slinged it onto her back, and looked up at the window where Mara and Anneli were standing, but not noticing the two of them looking right at her.

[Arbites]

Padan-Aran

Dalgaard wore a mask of bemused curiosity throughout the polo match. As far as the more "upper class" sports were concerned, he was more into golf and tennis. He made idle chatter, asking innocuous or intentionally obtuse questions. In truth the entire scene, even without including the open displays of adultery, left him harboring doubts about the royal family's convictions. This civil war, he concluded, was not about an ideological struggle but about privilege; the royal family's prerogatives to remain above the law and even the dogma of their admittedly blasphemous cult.

The Holy Curia's commitment was absolute, the God-Emperor had charged them with maintaining His empire on the material plane as He waged His battle for the souls of humanity. Any Cardinals who indulged in vice confessed and atoned. For it was written: Prayer cleanses the soul, pain cleanses the body.

"Stensrud" appeared to make small talk about a horse with one of the men as they walked over to the stables. At long last, they got to the heart of the matter, and Dalgaard had new intel for them. James and Rand addressed him directly, suggesting that the Imperium work to block the influence of their long-time enemy. Dalgaard simply smiled.

"None shall find us wanting. If you are merely asking us to undermine our principle enemies at every opportunity, then we are, and have been, doing this already," he proclaimed. "Even now, my associate is on the trail of a suspected AIS agent in Haran. The Southern Fleet is conducting maneuvers which shall greatly increase the transit time for any Adiran forces across the ocean. And, if Riemaia may be coaxed into aiding your cause and securing the ocean to the north, Adiron will have no direct flight paths to New Edom while ours shall be uncontested."

"Now, I feel I must inform you of a new development regarding the End Times Church, specifically the Fineberg branch that fled the city and was thought to be in possession of Attorney General Carmel. One of the Templar teams, whom I informed you about earlier, tracked this band across the countryside until they were in the open," he explained. "The individual thought to be Carmel was misidentified, instead it was a woman who could superficially pass for the Attorney General at great range. Her current whereabouts are unknown, but it is possible she had gone to ground in Fineberg."

[New Edom]

Padan-Aran Polo Club

"As concerning the matter of Riemaia," said Prince Philip pleasantly, "You'll be happy to know I'm sure that we have the full support of the Riemaian Navy and certain ground forces in this matter. Family comes first, after all." he remarked blandly.

"And what you have said about Carmel...that's truly remarkable." said Prince James thoughtfully, "And it adds up to the fact that she apparently recent gave instructions to purge Fineberg of all Monarchist influence." He glanced over as he saw the teams getting together; he and Horvath shook hands Western style and the Colonel put on his helmet and headed over to his team.

"Good luck, Stephen!" called Philip.

"Good luck my friend," called Count Merodach.

"We'll have a concern about the Port of Fineberg and Haran. The fact is that it's just a matter of leapfrogging from Gloria Regis to Haran or Fineberg." grumbled Rand. "And how do you intend to deny the Adirans passage without it being an act of war?"

Tia

"That's a nice name," said Matthew with a smile. "And my pony's name is Jester. I've had him for two years, he's probably the better of my ponies. I have three. What I was thinking i don't know, I might as well have just sold my soul. Anyway I play Number One on this team. Colonel Horvath plays Three. If you're here for a while, there's not a lot to do but ride and drink really, unless you like reading books," he said with a chuckle. He looked at her with interest, a pretty girl with an unusual accent, and not necessarily accompanied; no ring, no hovering boyfriend, just her. There was a trumpet call of several notes; he shrugged. "I've got to mount up and get on the field, but maybe I'll see you later?"

[New Edom]

Quality Bay Resort, outside Fineberg

It was evening; the sun was going down like a duck's yolk spreading over the table of the sea. Various bodies, pampered but toned like racehorses were moving about the resort. In the casino they wore evening dresses worth more than the annual salary of the average oil or factory worker in New Edom, fine silk shirts, cotton slacks of a purity that those who had made them--in Dengali, in Menassa or other places--could not afford them. Gold glittered on wrists and arms, shoes made from the skins of rare beasts, coiffed hair, smooth perfect skin, and confident conversation (whether drunk, loud, soft, calm) moved around the rooms as blackjack, baccarat, stud, roulette and other games were played.

On the beach the lamps had been lit, and the crew of a weather patrol Osprey returning for refueling could make out the shapes of yachts scattered over the bay (as well as the long menacing shape of a Hatchet class Frigate and the long box shape of an Arsenal ship) which to the beach goers were mere distant glints on the horizon. Over the beach people were sitting chatting at tables wearing light summer clothes or bathing costumes. Mercedes La Firenza had given up on catching more sun--like many of the people there she tanned topless in a tiny bathing suit that barely covered her genitals and left her shapely buttocks completely bare, and she was wearing a sarong, chatting with certain other wives at a cafe near the beach when she saw the Osprey overhead. Her mouth quirked. "So much military activity around the Bay today," she remarked to her sister Nathalie.
"Is that a military plane? It looks so strange," Nathalie said, sipping her orangina.

The New Edomite Southern Fleet

It was night, and Admiral Hanngen had just gotten undressed to his shorts and t shirt and was sitting on the edge of his bed, doing some breathing exercises, thinking of the faces of his wife and children, not thinking of the rendezvous with the Riemaians or the impending possibility of encounter with the Free Congress. They had reached the coastline, and it was felt that with the support of Skyguard and the Naval Air Station that it would be ridiculous for the rebels to attack, though of course there were full watches on and full readiness; in fact he'd been operating on empty since this afternoon, and felt due for a bit of rest. That was when suddenly alarms were going off all over the ship. All hands to battle stations! All hands to battle stations! Galerius had the watch, a good young officer Hanngen thought rapidly as he grabbed a coverall and rushed up, headed up to the tower. Elevators were moving, the hydraulics groaning as planes were being moved to the upper deck.

Around the fleet in response to the attack hatches were opening, launch systems swiveling and the air was suddenly filled around the ships with flashes of fire, chaff exploding and ECM systems engaging; fast fast, it was all down to seconds of initiative. They had been generally on alert but had mostly been focused on keeping watch; one destroyer hit, reporting dreadful damage; anti-weapon missiles streaking off in plume after plume, whole prows shrouded in white smoke in the night as it lit up with the attack; a signal sent to the frigates that had departed earlier--were they still in range--no.

Admiral Hanngen watched in gratification as his missile ships launched their arsenals; 18 Tomahawks swept out and towards the enemy while their Goalkeeper with eerie precision swiveled and aimed at incoming missiles--the Arsenals were only partly for offense--they were mainly the defensive shield of the fleet, their sole aim to prevent anything from getting in; each long slim vessel had thirty two cells devoted to this purpose and they seemed to be sending a stream of fire into the sky as the missiles went howling off their decks. This left the four remaining destroyers the opportunity to send 20 Harpoons shrieking out, their fins flaring and the missiles sweeping out over the sea towards the enemy.

"Yeah, go go go!" shouted a Gunner's Mate in the CIC.

Warnings had been sent to the shore. Lieutenant Shawna Gallowglass, at Tyrannis, scrambled out of bed, only had a frantic thought for a moment about the fact that Lieutenant Paris wasn't supposed to be in bed with her, but they were too busy scrambling into underwear and running out, no point in dressing, get to the lockers and get into coveralls.

"Are we under attack?" someone demanded as the pilots moved into the hangar. Flight One was already climbing into cockpits and wheeling out, probably Flights Four and Seven doing the same.

"Our South Fleet is under attack, it's the rebels." said Wings, that hard pilot, the Old Man. "Never mind the politics; I want full ground check. I heard 90% readiness this morning, but we don't want any foul ups in the air." Updating of F&F signatures was being done as well. There was some shock though; call it rebels if you like but really, they were following orders--what if they killed someone they knew?

Gallowglass wasn't thinking about Paris now; she was feeling the tension delight of anticipated action. Her previous action had been fighting in Dengali, fencing with Cookish MiGs over the jungle. In a way (that she would at some point--maybe--feel a bit odd about over a drink or two) she didn't care who they were--she knew what to do and was good at it. The thought of being in her Shadowhawk kicking ass was one she relished; and as she moved out to get to her plane she knew this was going to be a hard night; night fighting against whoever had come to knock on the door. Time to kick some ass but good. Off and out towards the fleet, to save Hannegan's hairy ass!

Meanwhile, two flights of Sparrowhawks and a flight of Shadowhawks had already begun flying out to reinforce their South Fleet; 6 Terriers were in the air around the carrier and her immediate escorts, with more ready to come, and a signal had been sent to shore indicating that they had been attacked by the rebel fleet.

As Hannegan hurried to get into the CIC and as the deck crews were getting Terriers ready suddenly the deck seemed to begin to explode; moment after moment in flashes; anti-aircraft gun suddenly spun and choked in flames and smoke; flight crew scattered in burning coveralls and skin like toasted marshmallows. Get the fire crews there on the double! Medic! Medic!...

[New Edom]

North Oriden Desert

Gideon was radioing for air support; whoever this was wasn't giving up easily. Bandits would have backed off once they realized they weren't dealing with ordinary travelers, or would have had larger numbers. He got a grin on his face--in a way this was really cool. Danger. Life would suck without it. He knew that at any moment they might hit some new ravine revealed by the shifting world around him, or hit a rock that someone had moved there or had been blown into exposure by the winds--who knew? but one thing he did know--his enemies were in the same pickle. The mortar explosions were rattling, but tracking a moving target with a mortar at night--his main concern was accidentally swerving into an explosion.

[Arbites]

North Oriden Desert

Ghozem recognized he very well may not be able to evade his pursuers. They had the advantage of prior knowledge of the terrain, and if they were skittish may even call in air or artillery support. Instead, he would fall back on deception. After traveling far enough that visual and IR confirmation would be largely impossible, the vehicles attempted to hide in plain sight.

The southernmost truck simply returned to the road and set out on a course for Sterry, slowly. They were careful to avoid the appearance that they were fleeing. The dilapidated Jeep which carried the mortar and was running out of fuel, was crashed into a boulder and emptied. The others still carried the nomads' belongings, including tents. In probably their most audacious move, the Templars broke camp not far from the Jeep.

[Sensal]

OCV Shintak
En-Route to Sterry
Crossing International Water Mark
Off Bara Province, 100 km from Sterry

The young petty officer was back in Jungmoo's cabin, stiff as a rod and salute still high in the air the boyish face nonetheless betrayed a clear look of fear seemingly still frightened by Jungmoo's screams a few days ago. "Sir, the captain has ordered to inform you that the fleet is abut to cross the International Water mark. We'll be entering New Edomite territorial waters within the next few minutes or so"

"Tell the Captain to be on alert, I worry someone may launch an attack now we're in Edomite waters" And with that, the petty officer quickly left obviously relieved that he no longer had to talk with the general.

Running his hand through his hair, a quirk that he had picked up in highschool whenever he was nervous, Jungmoo moved around with several large, colored blocks of varying shapes representing the known positions of Monarchist and Free Congressional forces on a massive map of New Edom. And though he had been strictly forbidden from engaging in or even planning to engage in Monarchist or Congressional forces publicly, a secret message had arrived from corporate ordering the development of two plans in the case of either the Congressional or Monarchistic victory.

"Ohsung Petroleum must be prepared to deal with all possible scenarios in the current situation in New Edom. Though we have covertly accepted the Congressional faction as the current legitimate government, if Monarchist forces are clear to end up on top from this debacle Ohsung Petroleum must work with Monarchist forces in order to preserve our assets and interests in New Edom"

Being from corporate, Jungmoo hadn't questioned their decision(after all they were the ones who wrote him that check every month) and had dutifully come up with two plans. But the idea of potentially betraying an "ally" didn't sit well with Jungmoo, it actually was sort of disturbing how easily the higher ups would stab someone in the back for what was essentially pocket change for Ohsung. "Who the fuck cares" Slapping himself mentally and concentrating on the blocks in front of him, Jungmoo reminded himself he was an employee, nothing more and continued to move around blocks.

[Arbites]

Padan-Aran

"Physically blocking the Adirans through force would be an act of war, it is true. We know our enemy, however, and we know that their resolve is weak. Should we merely delay them, they shall not attack us," Dalgaard explained.

He wished to spare the geography lesson, but felt that Rand's question demanded one. "The Southern Fleet shall begin training exercises off the southern coast of Ceti. Any Adiran ships rounding the tip of the continent bound for New Edom will have to travel hundreds of miles out of their way around us, lest we...protest."

"Likewise, with Riemaia's and our own naval forces to the north and west, arguably within our own territorial waters, the only flight path from Adiron will be a roundabout route far to the south or north. If Adiron attempts to move any military forces by air, they will have to be cleared in these stopover destinations and face greatly extended transit times. Naturally, these greatly lengthened supply lines will bleed the Adiran treasury and, should it come to pass, be easier to cut."

[The Shrailleeni Empire]

Majestic Hotel Dining Room

A number of people were already sitting there--perhaps 8 tables. A young woman with dark hair and an olive complexion under her red and black painted hotel uniform approached and smiled at her, saying, "Welcome to Two-Twenty-Two, would you follow me please?" the young woman seemed a little tense, but was courteous. "I'm sorry, we don't have a maitr'd at the moment, we're a little short staffed, but my name is Sarah, and I'll be your waitress tonight. We have a new menu for today, if you would like to take a look, and can I get anything for you to drink at all?" she asked. "Our wine cellar is fully stocked, and we have a full range of soft drinks and fizzy waters as well."

An army NCO with a fair lot of stripes came into the room, looked around, and then went and sat out in the lobby near the restaurant. Teressa overheard him shortly after the waitress spoke to her saying to a couple of other soldiers she could not see, "Sorry, this is for the civilians, Colonel's orders. The Rivoli is designated as officer's mess, sir."
"Oh, fine," muttered a voice, followed shortly by the sound of retreating boots.

"Ah," Teressa said, momentarily distracted by the sound of soldiers. "Yes, could I see a wine list please?" she asked. It occurred to her, seeing her waitress, that with the Free Congress back in control of the area that she would be expected to comply with the mandatory nudity laws once again. She did feel sweaty and dirty in her robes, but she had no intention of taking them off until she could get back to her room and apply her Shrailleeni body paint. Especially since, without her passport, it seemed like she would be here for some time.

"Or maybe a list of your finest liquors?" she added wearily.

[Lamoni]

Lamoni

The first infantry battalion of the first infantry brigade was forming up on the grounds of the Lamonian Presidential Palace, preparing to be sent to New Edom under the command of the Edomites for either the duration of the Edomite Civil War, or until the Edomites said otherwise. Under the watchful eye of Foreign Minister Vardo Greene, the troops were currently undergoing physical training, doing Krav Maga exercises. As the soldiers bobbed, weaved, and struck out at each other, the logistics personnel were working to put together all of the equipment and other things required for the brigade during their deployment.

Meanwhile, the Lamonians were working with the Free Congress in order to ensure that everything would go as smoothly as service in a country undergoing civil war could possibly be... which frequently was not that smoothly at all. Vardo had heard of how the Nalayans and President Stinson had taken care of the disruptions posed by the nation of Cinya back on the FRLS Patria, and while she did not entirely approve, there wasn't much that she could really do about it, now matter how she felt about it.

[Nalaya]

Sevan, Nalaya

"This is all the intelligence the Dimak provided, Arzhani. They were very thorough," Hravad said in his gravel voice, scarred face grim. Even at the late hour with all this weighing upon her, Anahid could still find a moment to appreciate his company. She had never been able fo explain why she loved him so. Perhaps because his loyalty was unconditional, his faith boundless, his heart noble. They were both trapped in each other's orbits like a binary star, so close but never joined. Duty kept them apart even as it held them close.

The General sighed, exhaustion gathering in the faint lines appearing in her expression. These past few months had begun to take a serious toll on her peace of mind, expressed in the threads of silver hair mingling with the blond. "So it's true, then. There is going to be a war, of proxy, where the people of New Edom are slaughtered like pawns. The people we thought would be allies now show a truer, blacker color."

"A subtle increase in troop presence would do wonders for security and stability, at least in a few regions to begin with," Hravad said. "If Siran's estimation of our enemy's character is correct, however, they will soon escalate it. After all, for certain foreign powers who need not be named, what is better than a proxy war? New Edom is bled dry and they stand only to gain. A loss is no skin off their nose."

"And they percieve New Edom alone as a regional power, now fallen to internal strife," Anahid said, her jaw tightening. "Our role has been gentle, subtle, and constructive. Quiet, because we are not obvious. Ignored, because of subtlety. And now people think they can simply do as they please without any consequences."

Hravad was quiet, head bowed slightly. General Vaneni's anger was a black and unforgiving, yet a carefully measured and calculated thing. She was a woman who knew how to find chinks in armor, pierce them, and then twist the knife savagely. Most of the world was ignorant of what she was capable of, because they wrote off Nalaya.

"I want them to understand that they have woken the sleeping leviathan. Get full military readiness inside the nation. And I want the isles on high alert. No ship comes in or out of our territorial waters without our permission. The same with our skies. Outfit the Mak'ur. And get me the Riemaians before I reconsider the charitable course," Anahid said bluntly.

He had heard this tone, seen this posture before. But only in the Unification War. The gloves were going to come off sooner rather than later.

[Mount Angel]

Angelan Apostolic Palace
Mount Bethel
The Holy Refuge of Mount Angel
Day 1, Sext

"How is he?"

"He's an old man and he's dying," snapped Archabbess Ruth Carlisle of the Order of St. Gabriel. Her lips pursed, and she turned to the marble colonnade that made up one side of the hallway. Ruth stared out across the still blue waters of Lake Jordan, rippling far below the palace that clung to the peak of the mountain rising in sheer cliffs from the vast lake's oceanic depths. A warm breeze ruffled the Archabbess's short grey hair. "I'm sorry," she murmured wearily. "Mea culpa. But he just lies there in his bed, with a tube in his arm and another up his nose, and God only knows where his mind is at."

"He's been that way for a while," Archabbot Gideon Sinclair pointed out quietly, stepping up next to her. His white robe and long black scapular rustled around his boots - soldier's boots, for Gideon was archabbot of the Order of St. Michael, the soldier-monks trained from birth to be the tip of Mount Angel's military spear. "Belphegor's Fever is degenerative - it eats away at your body, your mind - "

"I know," Ruth cut him off. "I've read the diagnoses from the Lukans. I know what it is. But it's gotten worse, Gideon. I can't get through to him at all, not at all. Only Esther can, and even then only sometimes, and for all her lack of diplomatic tact, that young woman is touched by God Almighty, and we both know it." She sighed, fists clenching in the silver-embroidered sleeves of her blue robe. "This is no time for the Archbishop of Mount Bethel to be a sick old man, Gideon. The world needs Mount Angel. And here we sit, on our island within an island, a government and a nation imprisoned by the illness of one man." She shook her head slowly, still staring out over the lake. "Sometimes I wish he would just die," Ruth whispered. "Just die so that we can get a - a new Archbishop." She filled in the generality quickly, and Gideon knew why; the Concilium Ecclesiae had some months ago fixed on him as the natural successor to Oliver Grey, but it seemed brutally insensitive to say as much with the old man dying in the next room. "Someone," Ruth said carefully, "who will know when to act."

"You mean New Edom," Gideon said grimly. It was not a question.

Ruth nodded. "It's easy for us to feel isolated," she reflected. "Here on our island, the coast walled by mountains - a natural fortress, as impregnable now as ever. It's why we've always been a refuge for the visionaries and the freaks, people who needed a place safe from the outside world. I think that's why we've let this thing in New Edom, just a thousand kilometers away, spiral so far out of control while we’ve done nothing. It feels so distant, so irrelevant to us. The olives will still be harvested, the wine will still be pressed; the old words will be said in churches in all the valleys of this land no matter what happens over there." Ruth bowed her head, and her voice gained strength. "But it does matter, Gideon. We both know that. Innocents are dying over there, villages destroyed, armies rolling across the countryside. We are a nation ruled by the Church, Gideon, a country where the highest law is God's almighty Word. We don't have the luxury of focusing only on our own interests. Our interests are those of all God's children, here and everywhere."

"And sometimes," Gideon said quietly, "that means we spill more blood, not less. Two Ninianite missionaries are eaten by the Mak'ur, and we invade Nalaya. I was there, Ruth, there at the Maelthra Basin. Men so dehydrated they drank the warm blood of their comrades in order to gain the strength to keep fighting." Gideon planted his hands on the cool marble of the columns. "What innocents did that save?" His voice was very quiet.

Ruth laid a sisterly hand on the younger man's broad shoulder. "There is no guarantee," she murmured, "that taking action in New Edom will make the situation better rather than worse. There never is." Ruth took a deep breath. "We can never be certain whether, by acting, we save lives or take them. The only certainty is that if we don't act now, and we let those people die without even making the slightest effort to save them, we will all regret it for the rest of our lives."

+

The bells had long since finished ringing for Vespers when Gideon raised his head from prayer. As Archabbot of the Order of St. Michael, he had been accorded an elaborate chamber in the palace - carved half into the rock of the mountain's crags, hanging out over the lake below, the ceiling mosaic, the walls frescoed. But he knelt now on the hard stone floor, his forehead against the cool marble of a column, and his eyes were closed against the beauty around him, staring at the darkness within.

He remembered the Basin, the foxholes scratched into the rocky mountain soil, so dry that it blew like a fine and dusty mist, coating eyes and throats. He remembered the fire and smoke billowing through the thin air, making it hard to breathe even for Michaelites raised in fortress-monasteries at ten thousand feet. He remembered one man standing as bullets blazed about him, blood smeared around his mouth, arms outstretched, screaming to the heavens above the one thought that Michaelites were taught, from the moment the Order took them in as infants, to avoid above all others: "Where are You? Where are You, you fucker? Where are You?"

Suddenly, the sonorous tolling of the palace bells penetrated Gideon's thoughts, and he jerked away from the column, his eyes flying open. Beads of sweat stood out on his face, and he ran the wool sleeve of his habit over the damp skin. Give me strength, Lord. The words blazed in his mind, moved his lips in silent appeal. Help me believe. Almost wildly, Gideon stared around his chamber, momentarily struggling to remember where he was. He gave his head a vigorous shake, like a dog, and stood. It's not Compline yet. Why are the bells ringing?

There came a swift knock at the door, and when Gideon called, "Enter," the portal swung open and a young woman in the grey woolen habit of the Order of St. Thomas stepped briefly inside. "Eminence," she said shakily, "the Concilium is meeting in the Archepiscopal Apartments, and your immediate presence is requested."

A chill ran down Gideon's spine, and he would later wonder if he knew, in some inexplicable way, there and then all that was to come. He nodded. "Thank you, sister. I'll be right there."

+

"He died just after Vespers," Archabbess Alycia Andrs said quietly. "Sudden attack. It's not uncommon in cases of Belphegor's Fever - the body and mind grow weaker and weaker until they pass the threshold at which they can independently support life, and massive system failure occurs immediately. Not a very scientific explanation, but it's basically accurate." She crossed herself, her white silk habit rustling. "The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away."

"Blessed be the name of the Lord," finished the other members of the Council. While the Archbishop of Mount Bethel was the Angelan executive, and the National Vestry the legislature, the Concilum had over the last decade shifted from being little more than the Archbishop's cabinet into filling the role of the major concentration of ecclesiastical power in a country that remained, for all its democratic pretensions, deeply theocratic. Sitting in this room, around the vast bed holding the wizened form of their late leader, were the most powerful men and women in Mount Angel.

"We all knew it would happen sooner or later," Ruth Carlisle said. Her face was haggard, momentarily ascetic, staring off into space. Gideon knew what she was thinking: I wished for this, and so it came to pass. He felt a pang of pain on Ruth’s behalf; real or not, the guilt from that thought was a heavy burden to bear.

At Ruth’s side, Esther Snowe sat hunched forward, holding her knees; her long, dark hair fell down her back, rippling with a reddish gleam against her pure white robe, and the young woman's eyes were inflamed from weeping. "I can't believe he's really gone." Esther, the Archabbess of the Order of St. Ninian and youngest member of the Concilium, had never known a world in which Oliver Grey was not Archbishop of Mount Bethel. The old man's creased, smiling face had seemed as immutable as the mountains.

"He doesn't even look that different," murmured Nathan Harrison. The man known as Mount Angel's chief administrator reached out and gently, even gingerly, touched Oliver's face. "But he's cold, really cold." After a moment, Nathan snatched his hand away.

Gideon watched, and said nothing. How many of these people have ever seen a corpse before? he wondered. I've seen enough dead men for one more to seem like nothing. But what does that say about me? He glanced up to find Archabbot Zaran Harza staring at him, a small smile playing about his face; the black robes of the Order of St. Joshua made the blade-slender man barely visible in the shadows where he seemed always to stand. He's seen his fair share of bodies too, Gideon reflected, and he felt a chill run through him. And his didn't die in war.

"All right," Enrique Hidalgo said quietly. The young man was Archabbot of the Order of St. Augustine, head of the branch of the Angelan Church that dealt directly with the spiritual well-being of Angelan citizens; all parish priests, for example, were Augustinians. Enrique was an academic, a thinker, but he had a core of steel in him that Gideon had long seen, and now that strength showed through. "All right. We all know what we need to do now." The Archbishop of Mount Bethel was chosen by the Concilium Ecclesiae and confirmed by the National Vestry. "We've had it planned for long enough, God knows." Enrique took a deep breath. "Trusting in the Holy Spirit, I acclaim Archabbot Gideon Sinclair as Archbishop-Elect of Mount Bethel, Primate of the Church, Vicar of the Holy Refuge, Servus Servorum Dei. May God's people affirm him, and may the Lord guide him. Amen."

One by one, the other members of the Concilium repeated the ritual words. Most of the local Archbishops who, along with the Archabbots of the Orders, made up the Council, were not present; they voted by proxy, through canons who remained at Mount Bethel for this occasion. But in the end, when the voice of the last canon faded from the dead man's bedroom, the vote was complete and unanimous. Gideon Sinclair bowed his head, and closed his eyes, and felt some great weight settle upon his shoulders like an iron yoke. And in a voice as still and calm as deep water, he said the words that would determine the whole future course of his life:

"I accept."

+

The National Vestry confirmed the election, of course; the vote was 132 to 18. Most of the dissenting votes came from the Renatus Party, and were simply ignored; the Covenant and New Union Parties, for once, were in general agreement, and even the Socialists went along willingly enough. The newspapers mourned the death of the old Archbishop, but predicted great things from his successor. And the people of Mount Angel, who - for all their Protestant leanings - had a love of ceremony unsurpassed in all of Christendom, joyfully prepared for the massive celebration of pomp and circumstance that surrounded the consecration and coronation of a new primate, a ritual that formed one of the cornerstones of the Angelan religious-political experience.

They were destined, for the time being, to be disappointed. The day the Vestry confirmed his election, the Archbishop-Elect strode firmly into the Curia Concilii, the formal chamber of the Concilium Ecclesiae. The central table was solid marble, and appeared to grow up out of the mosaic floor; above, the soaring dome bore a fresco of the Church as Mother by Peter Artifex; statues representing each of the great Orders and Archdioceses of Mount Angel stood around the perimeter of the circular chamber, and their Council’s members were already standing at their seats around the table. Gideon walked swiftly to his place at the great cathedra of the primate, reflecting briefly on the subtle balance of elements in Angelan church structure: the Archbishop of Mount Bethel had a throne, yes, but it was a throne at a round table.

Smiling slightly, Gideon crossed himself, and the Council followed suit. "In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit," declaimed Archabbot Enrique Hidalgo, and the Concilium sat.

Gideon leaned forward in his cathedra, forearms on the table. The new Archbishop was a tall man with a soldier's build, clad in the plain white robe, long black scapular, and red silk sash of the Order of St. Michael; a cross of red gold, set with garnets, marked his old rank as Archabbot. The sash gathered his robe tightly at the waist, and the flaring scapular suggested broad shoulders. He had a striking face: not handsome, but arresting, broad and strong-featured; his nose was straight, his jaw strong. Old, subtle acne scars pockmarked his cheeks, and the top of his left ear ended in a line of livid scar tissue; his dark hair was cropped close to his skull, and was just beginning to show the first strands of grey. But the eyes were the most remarkable feature: deep-set, and the intense and impenetrable blue-grey of a winter sea. Now, that striking gaze was fixed on the Concilium.

"Brothers and sisters," he said calmly, "I have asked you to gather here today on a matter of great importance." Gideon took a deep breath. "As most of you know, for some time now New Edom has been in chaos. Save for accepting Christian refugees, in accordance with our ancient practice, we have done nothing to stop this. While we quibbled and dithered, hundreds - perhaps thousands - of innocent people have died. Not here, no - but one airplane's flight that way." Gideon pointed to the eastern wall of the chamber. "Practically in our own back yard."

"Now, I'm not here to pass judgment or to assign blame. In the end, we have to face the fact that Archbishop Grey was dying by inches, and that made it very difficult to organize anything, let alone to deal with a humanitarian crisis overseas. But we don't have that excuse anymore. Now, we must act."

Around the table, eyes widened as the implications of this speech sank in. Gideon saw Ruth Carlisle give a small nod of encouragement, and his voice was firm as he continued.

"I intend to petition the Apostolic Church of New Edom, the Free Congress, and the Monarchists for permission to deploy a neutral peacekeeping force to areas of the most intense fighting and humanitarian crisis around Fineburg and the Silver River. I have asked you to be here in order to begin planning for this operation, and in order to make sure that we all understand why we are becoming involved in New Edom." Gideon stared around the table, fixing each member of the Concilium in turn with his intense blue-grey gaze. "We are not doing this to endear ourselves to the Free Congress, or to the Monarchists, or to the international community. We are not doing this to influence policy or win converts. We are not doing this to gain a strategic advantage in the region, or to claim territory. We are not doing this because we think it serves our interests. We are doing this because we still dare to believe that it serves the interests of all God's children. We do this because we know that it is worth a thousand soldiers’ deaths to save a single innocent life. We do this not for greed, but for love. And, brothers and sisters, if we cannot do that - if we cannot pledge ourselves to that ideal and live by it in the days to come in spite of every trial and temptation - then it would be better if we had never begun on this course at all." Gideon took a deep breath. "Are we in accord?"

Around the table, there were slow nods. Marcos Castiglione was scowling, no doubt already calculating the financial costs of such a deployment, but Ruth's eyes shone with pride, and the face of Esther Snowe was alight with zeal and pleasure. Enrique cocked his head, a strangely knowing smile playing about his lips. "Very well, then. Our purpose is clear, your Grace. What do we need in order to accomplish it?"

Gideon gave a tight smile. Your Grace – that will take some getting used to. "We’ll need troops, first of all. I've spoken to Anthony Cole, my successor in the Order of St. Michael, and he's started mobilization. Three chapters of Michaelites - thirty thousand of our best - should be able to deploy more or less as soon as they're given permission, and we have air support standing by on the eastern coast. The logistics of supporting an overseas mission are more complicated; we won't know where we can put in forward bases until our deployment is approved by the factions within New Edom. But we're definitely going to need a surplus of medical supplies and personnel - Esther, Alycia, we'll probably need to bring in Ninianites and Lukans to make up the difference."

The two women nodded. "I'll get started organizing it," Esther replied.

"We'll need funds," Gideon continued. "Marcos - "

"You'll have the money," replied the Archabbot of the Order of St. Matthew. "It's there. We'll need to start selling bonds if this lasts more than a year, but we've got the financial reserves to support an overseas deployment and stay in the black."

"Good." Gideon turned to Ruth. "The most important part of this," he said quietly, "is diplomatic. We have to get two warring parties to agree to respect our neutrality, and to keep them from turning on our people once they're in country."

Ruth smiled. "I've been waiting to do this since the first shots were fired, Brother. I won't let you down now. The letters will be out by the end of today."

Gideon took a deep breath. "All right, then. We all have work to do. Once the deployment is confirmed, I'll inform the National Vestry."

"They may not like this," Enrique observed calmly. "The last war is scarcely two years in the past." He gave a small smile. “And I dare say your consecration will be delayed while you organize this.”

Gideon gave a tight smile. "Let the politicians squirm a little. Brother Marcos says we won't have to go to them for money for another year. By then, I pray, the people of Mount Angel will see that this is God's work, and their elected representatives will go along." He shrugged. “As for the consecration – I’ll get around to it. For now, it should be obvious to everyone that we don’t have time for all the formalities.”

Enrique nodded, and Gideon turned back to the Council. "Are there any other questions, then?" There was still a healthy dash of the military commander about him at moments like this: the impatient organizer, hard-driving and blunt.

"Just one." Zaran Harza raised a finger. "What do you want me to do?"

There was a long, pregnant pause. Then Gideon carefully replied: "Whatever you think necessary, Brother - as long as neither I, nor anyone else, ever hears of it."

A slow, bleak smile spread across Zaran's face. "That," he said drily, "is what we do best."

+

OFFICIAL COMMUNIQUE OF THE GOVERNMENT OF THE DOMINION OF MOUNT ANGEL

To: Archbishop William Laudner of the Apostolic Church of New Edom; Prince James Obed; Foreign Minister Sif Finnhald
From: The Concilium Ecclesiae of the Holy Refuge of Mount Angel
Re.: The Well-being of the Innocent
Encryption: Very High

Beloved brothers and sister in the Church: Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

I pray that this missive finds you well, and that I may be forgiven for writing to all of you at once. I felt that it was important that each of you see that I am saying the same things to everyone involved. I have no desire to make a separate arrangement with anyone; rather, I wish to reach an open agreement acceptable to all.

Despite our long inaction, the current situation in New Edom has not gone unnoticed in Mount Angel. The Archbishop-Elect of Mount Bethel is deeply grieved, as are all of us in the Concilium Ecclesiae, at the death and suffering occasioned by this widespread unrest. While we have no interest in meddling in the internal affairs of a nation that has long been a friend and ally of Mount Angel and of the Christian faith which Mount Angel upholds, we feel that it would be an act of sinful negligence to ignore the plight of the innocent caught up in the present upheaval.

It is for this reason that I am writing to all of you today, to ask that Angelan humanitarian aid workers be permitted to enter New Edomite territory, no matter who controls that territory; that Angelan peacekeepers be granted leave to protect civilian populations in contested areas, especially around Fineburg and along the Silver River; that all such Angelan personnel be regarded as neutral by all forces currently engaged in the unrest; and that sufficient freedom of operation be allowed to Angelan aid workers and peacekeepers as to allow them to fulfill their mission of mercy with the greatest possible efficacy.

Allow me to reiterate that New Edom has always been a friend and ally of Mount Angel and of the Faith, and that we therefore have no intention of influencing the internal political affairs of New Edom in any way, whether to our own advantage or to that of anyone else. Nevertheless, I understand that you may feel alarmed at the implications of allowing a foreign armed force into your country under the protection of neutrality. There is no way for us to prove the purity of our intentions objectively, but I can tell you that all the Concilium Ecclesiae has sworn upon the Sacred Scriptures, as we hope to be saved, that our mission in New Edom – should we be granted permission to have such a mission – is not to serve our own interests in any fashion, but rather to serve only the interests of the people of New Edom who have been engulfed in this conflagration. For ordained ministers of the Christian faith, as I am sure you know, there can be no more solemn and binding oath.

In light of our long friendship, and the confidence in which I hope you hold us, as we have ever held you, I pray that you will grant us permission to do what we can to help the innocent people caught up in this struggle, trusting in our word of honor as we trust in yours. May the Holy Spirit guide you to a swift and amicable reply.

Signed, this nineteenth day of July in the year of our Lord two thousand twelve, on behalf of the Concilium Ecclesiae of the Holy Refuge of Mount Angel,


Rt. Rev. Ruth Carlisle
Archabbess of the Order of Saint Gabriel

COMMUNIQUE ENDS

[Mount Angel]

Dining Room, Two-Twenty-Two, Majestic Hotel
Fineburg
The Allied States of New Edom
Day 5, just after Lauds

All in all, reflected David Glazier, it had been a hell of a day. And I say that as a priest!

First the monarchists had burst into the hotel room while David had been helping his daughter Kelly with her homework. The priest had been working at one of the Angelan missions in Fineburg for the previous several months, but he was due to go home to Gracetide the next day, and so he had booked a room at the Majestic as a kind of celebration. Not that David hadn’t liked New Edom, but even so, the opportunity to go home to the rolling wheat fields and vineyards of the Mount Bethel Basin was good reason for some festivities – in this case, a soft bed and a fine meal.

Not that it had worked out that way, of course.

First, the monarchists had hammered on the door, and had nearly bowled David over when he opened it. Kelly had screamed and locked herself in the bathroom, which didn’t improve matters either, and there was a frenzied thirty seconds while David pointed repeatedly at his clerical collar, brandished the distinctive cordovan-bound passport of a Ninianite missionary, and shouted warnings about the health of the monarchist soldiers’ immortal souls if they hurt his ten-year-old daughter. This eventually penetrated the soldiers’ minds, and – good social conservatives that the monarchists were – once they had they belatedly realized that they were dealing with a clergyman, their manners improved dramatically. Kelly was eventually coaxed out of the bathroom, and the father and daughter were escorted down to the lobby.

There, their passports were rapidly checked and verified – David gave thanks to God for the Edomite tradition of respect for the clergy – and they were returned to their room. There, David sat on the bed gently stroking Kelly’s hair, and mentally belabored himself as he listened to the battle raging outside. Why couldn’t you just have stayed at the mission? There, at least, a squadron of Michaelites would have been providing security for the mission staff and parishioners. But no – you had to celebrate going home, and head off to a fancy hotel with your child, and look where that’s gotten you now! Idiot!

This grim reverie was jarringly interrupted by the arrival of yet more soldiers at the door. David was accustomed to distinguishing between different orders of clergy based on their habits; he thus immediately recognized the filthy young men as belonging to a different fighting force than those who had dragged him out previously. Kelly, with the adaptability of a child, appeared to have now grown accustomed to armed men banging on the door, and even charmed the NCO with her tendency toward precocious biblical quotation. The Angelans went back to the lobby and presented their passports again; the Free Congress troops seemed somewhat less impressed by David’s collar than the monarchists had been, but they were still quite respectful and professional. Once again, the priest and his daughter were set at liberty fairly quickly.

By now, it was a little after Lauds, and David hadn’t eaten since Sext the night before. Kelly’s mood was rapidly deteriorating, and her father decided that he had better get some food in her, lest a menace greater than any army be unleashed on the Majestic. Chuckling a little at the thought, he headed into the dining room, scanning it for likely-looking faces. He recognized a few: a dark, well-built young man (he was naked, and David couldn’t help noticing that he was circumsized – Good grief, the awkwardness of being made aware of that); a slender young woman, olive-complexioned and lovely, whose nudity David was unwillingly aware of for entirely different reasons; and a clothed young couple who had just been approached by the naked pair, but who stood very close to each other, as if for safety and reassurance. David sighed a little, and stroked Kelly’s hair again. I miss Liz, he thought wearily. After six years, the aching hole in his heart where his wife had once been seemed as painful as ever. If I ever get back to Gracetide, David promised to himself, I’ll visit her grave. It’s been too long since last I did that.

Shaking himself, he strode over to the group of four, Kelly’s hand held firmly in his. David was a tall man of a little over thirty, with a general air of physical fitness about him; he was fair-skinned and grey-eyed, with short, light brown hair and a closely clipped beard. Kelly was ten, but small for her age, with long, straight, red-gold hair, wide blue eyes, and the open, innocent face of an angel. So like her mother, David thought, not for the first time. Like all foreign clergy and their parishioners, David and Kelly were exempt from the Compulsory Nudity Act: the priest wore a tan suit with a powder-blue clergy shirt and white clerical collar, while Kelly was dressed in a neat little royal-blue dress and white sweater. As they approached the other diners, David raised a hand in greeting. “Good morning. I’m David Glazier, and this is my daughter Kelly. Do you mind if we join you?”

[New Edom]

The Battle of the Silver River

Town of Aran, 25km North of Fineberg
Dirty smoke hung like bad breath around a sea of what looked like trash strewn over a valley not far from the town of Aran. It was tents, shelters made from blankets and garbage bags, damaged cars, boxes and cardboard. The sound of crying babies, coughing, the cries of carrion birds and a faint unintelligible rumble of muttered conversations here and there and everywhere could be heard. A smell lay over the vast encampment, of poorly washed bodies, badly put together latrines, spoiled food and sickness.

A lineup of people, loosely organized by a few desperate police and paramedics from Aran was shuffling towards an irrigation pipeline. The water was not potable--but there was no other source of water. People from local churches and sports groups had gotten together to help organize water dispensing. The local hospital (which was overrun by the sick and wounded, by mine victims and those injured by bombings) had sent two weary nurses to dispense tablets to purify the water as best they could. They were almost out, and the line went on as far as they could see. People huddled in blankets, dirty clothing.

Who had they been, these people? Schoolteachers, janitors, electricians, mechanics, waiters, clerks, secretaries, painters, roofers, street cleaners, fishermen, farmers, barmen, tailors, gardeners...but all reduced to a crowd of shuffling zombies with hollow eyes. Weary, hungry, thirsty, increasing numbers of them sick--the shock of the last two days bearing down on them heavily. They had been forced to flee the civilian areas of the base because it had become a battleground. Aran itself was occupied by Free Congress troops.

189th Air Force Security Regiment

No one had been expecting a whole scale land counterattack; the only thing really holding back the advancing APCs was barbed wire and some tank traps; unfortunately the vehicles were smaller than tanks and so while they slowed them they weren't stopping them. Advancing marines were taking a pounding from the mortars and heavy machineguns but now the big blocky machines were rumbling up the beach with terrifying determination.

The cadre of veterans in the militia regiment were determined; they had a fair lot of young people who had not seen action in the civil war, however, and these were unnerved by this, their first action. Seeing this, the sergeants, corporals and junior officers began to order them to fall back to the next line of defense.

"How can we stop them?" cried a private, involuntarily voiding his bowels as he saw an M20 APC crash aside a razor wire barrier they had put up an hour ago.

"Hold your positions!" shouted the platoon commander nearby. "Keep firing at the infantry!" the private sobbed in response, grabbing a mortar round and dropping it as instructed; nearby infantry crouching and hiding in the grass and shrubs opened fire again, rifles barking away.

The salt marshy area was treacherous for both attacker and defender; a number of old 105 howitzers (about 6 of them) had gotten stuck in a patch of what had turned out to be virtually quicksand were abandoned; and then the heavy enemy naval guns had begun pounding them. The artillery battery had fled. The mortar batteries (2 of them) mostly using standard 81mm mortars, were doing a steady attack from a position which strangely the enemy had not hit. However the heavy bombardment had withered away the morale of most of the green militiamen, and a large number were simply crouching there, covering their faces, hiding themselves with digging like rodents into the sandy grassy dunes.

Lieutenant Potsdorf had prided himself on being a civilized and clever man. He had been through the recent civil war before this one, but had rarely seen anything resembling action, certainly nothing like this. He was overwhelmed; he didn't know what orders to give suddenly, all he could do was watch, hoping someone would tell him what to do. "Do something!" shouted Sergeant Eco in his ear, shaking him. "You yellow bastard!" Eco turned to the cowering platoon nearby him. "Alright, you yellow dogs, give 'em what for or I'll by God shoot you myself! Open fire damn your souls, open fire!" he began moving down the line of the crouching soldiers lying in their concealment; he felt a freezing horror seeing the big enemy machines maneuvering around the tank traps, and saw one of the platoons nearby breaking, heard them wailing like professional mourners as 40mm grenades began slamming into the dunes around them. Cries of "medic!" "Help us!" "Dear Lord in Heaven!" rose into the air around him like the cries of frantic gulls. Eco began kicking his troops in the ass, and swearing. To his immense relief one began to fire his rifle--it was on full auto but at least he was shooting; God knew if he'd actually hit anything but at least there were some bullets in the air. It was infectious; along the line of the company the troops began to open fire, seizing upon it as something to do in the face of the terrifying onslaught that awaited them.

21st Lancers
The 21st Air Cavalry Regiment, consisting of 15 “Cannondale” Light Attack Helicopters and 25 “Lakota” Utility Helicopters supported by 10 “Incursor” transport helicopters was revving up, fueled up, greased up and ready to roll out. Their proper full name was the 21st Royal Lancer Regiment, but they hadn’t borne lances into battle for a hundred years. They only did so now on special full dress parades, and even then only a single company was trained to ride with them to the proper extent. Lieutenant-Colonel Elena Weber did know how, and had a way with horses, always had. She was accompanied by Major Rubenstein, the Regiment Aviation Commander (his absurd formal title was “Master of Horse” but no one called him that) Sergeant-Major Beor, her adjutant and ADC, her RTO and the senior medic.

The troopers were their tropical urban BDUs, arms slung; AY144L Rifles (they were nicknamed ALs by the troopers), LY20 Hilars (Highs), MGJ-21 LMGs (nicknamed Mary Janes), GR-88 grenadier rifles (nicknamed Growlers). They were outfitted with new multispectral camouflage uniforms, with blacktalon combat gloves. They still had old fashioned Makarov pistols and slightly curved combat knives that were wickedly edged on each side. They were veterans of the Dengali and the previous civil war, all of them except a handful of new recruits from the last few months. In spite of this they were mostly young, between 17 and 22; in the regiment a man or woman of thirty was and oldster. The commander nodded to the sergeant-major who gave the order to "Walk March--double quick time to objective."

As the helicopters advanced in disciplined array, by platoon of five and by company of fifteen, in V formations, the music played and the ground crews waved goodbye to them. They swept out over the countryside, seeking the quickest route to the established LZ. The crews were alert, maintaining contact, with gunners and troopers keeping an eye out for the flash of rocket launch or aerial attack, for anti-aircraft gun positions, snipers or anything else that might attack them. Radiomen kept ears alert to radio chatter, and they were listening for any warnings that might come from the A565B's AWACs craft.

Lieutenant-Colonel Weber's Air Cav were an elite air assault regiment, trained to move in fast, hold until relieved, do hard hitting quick raids. . He moved his companies out in a staggered V, speaking harshly into his radio, ordering them to get moving. The mortars and 105s were to start pounding the enemy while they advanced; 350 or so were already moving as the helicopters dusted off and were ready to provide air cover. Moving through the light countryside though against a prepared enemy was always risky, so they had landed as close as they dared but now were moving fast and keeping their eyes ready, moving from cover to cover, zig zagging, heading up.

At the same time as they advanced the artillery and heavy mortar fires opened up with a barrage on the Marines' left flank, rounds screaming down and hammering the earth, aiming for the advancing front of the M20s; even as they did the attack helicopters swarmed forward launching rocket pods in a withering display of firepower.

32nd Armoured Cavalry Advance on the Silver River Air Force Base
The commanding colonel, Abed-Nego, was in his Javelin Command vehicle. Ben-Hadad liked to be in her Tank, he liked to be in the Javelin; there was more electronics in it, more radios, more computers, he felt like a wizard in the heart of the beast of metal alloy and plastic. The 32nd had treaded vehicles, APCs, command vehicles, armored recovery vehicles, mortar vehicles, tanks, supply carriers, self propelled artillery, and anti-aircraft. Their mission was to flank the city and head towards the air base. An attack by thousands of combined Haranese and Elwe tribesmen had been done as a distraction; this was the main attack. In the heavens above a massive air battle was still going on, and so they had had to rush in to do this attack. Beside him was the stuffed body of the German Shepherd he took everywhere with him, because one had to have a loyal dog.

The attack by the M20s of the regiment had been mostly to get infantry up there; even as the air force security teams were firing on them the tanks began to belch out covering fire followed by artillery and mortars, walking the infantry forward while the helicopters rushed up a troop of infantry to cover their advance. At the same time Major Joanna Heep's Tactical Fighter Squadron, combined ground and air superiority attack group moved in to protect the advance from the newly arriving air cavalry.

5th Tactical Fighter Group
Top of the World.
Fox Flight was still moving on as Mamba Flight dove down on the unsuspecting Air Cavalry, which with forward AESA radar had detected the enemy movements indicated and at the command of Major Barrabas send 24 AIM-120s at the enemy flight. Information swiftly passed from the planes to inertial navigation systems. The flight continued on its path towards the enemy. However the rebel air defense had activated...

And at the same time Fox Flight detecting an imminent attack as well, had to make a tough decision--and Captain Dayan immediately ordered evasive maneuver preparation and chaff dispensing as they came under attack--hopefully they could resume the mission if Mamba Flight successfully protected them. They moved down to the land as low as they dared using the natural hills and countryside to break up their signatures.

The initial Air Force attack was only the beginning; in addition to this twenty five other Sparrhowhawks were moving through the sky on a swift search and destroy mission for any other rebel planes in the air, with Sparrowhawk-Es as their scouts. Two other Sparrhowhawk ground attack designated flights were moving on towards the base area as well. Hard fighting this--exact same signatures, it was only the frequencies that enabled them to know who was who; even then there was a secret dread of friendly fire beyond any anyone had experienced before.

Five Shadowhawks were spaced around the New Edomite Free Congress AWACs. Lieutenant-Commander Clerbus maintained their protective stance. However the AWACs wasn't picking up anything abnormal--no huge numbers of power plants were heating up, no huge amount of signal traffic going on. The crew of the AWACs began preparing a report to send back, doing a double check to make sure they hadn't missed anything just out of their detection range or anything, and continued their sweep. Detection of two enemy fighters however had Clerbus wary--he didn't want to start a major action over nothing, tempting though it was. Also frankly he preferred the idea of one on one odds--to put more notches on his wings, as it were. He dismissed such sweet fancies and instead advised the AWACs commander that they were dangerously within enemy airspace and should turn back.

The returning fighters were warned by their onboard tactical computers, and mostly were forced to just try to take evasive action; they had chaff and flares on hand still but not much of it; their squadron commander ordered them to disperse, to scatter like quail before the enemy air attack; pursued by the heavy barrage two of them erupted in flames. The real danger though was being kept from base--they were low on fuel and more than one was seeking a way to make an emergency landing, looking for suitable roads or airfields. They sent out messages: "We are being hit by Jumpers, and we are in need of assistance--requesting AAA support immediately!"

Captain Potestatis had his "Hunters" which still had their medium range air to air missiles available engage the newcomers--where they hell had they come from? He was energized--this was better than sex--even as he expected the possibility of death he was so alive, and tersely ordered the "Hunters" to engage the enemy, their missiles sweeping in flames from under the wings and seeking out enemies to destroy.

The "Hounds" meanwhile peeled off and spun down like hunting falcons to pursue a flight of enemy bombers trying to flee, their missiles expended they were rattling away autocannon fire at the big plane, chasing it like hyenas following an Eland.

The ground attack mission hurtled low over the battlefield, peeling around the greater area around the base, flashing over the river, towards their target, the carrier. Lieutenant-Colonel Hera checked to make sure everyone was online and looking good. . As the Gs pulled at her she was advised by the AWACs that the bomber flight would be on target in one minute.

[New Edom]

Padan-Aran Polo Club

"Excellent!" said Prince James. "Then we are in the swing of things. Oh by the way, some of us have been invited to some pacifist mediation affair in another kingdom. I intend to attend in order to demonstrate my good faith; Admiral you should as well. We can let Adams and Hannegan run the military side of things directly. Philip will remain here as my deputy. Mr. Stensrud, you can report directly to Prince Philip in any matters you cannot comment on with me. I think that this is has been the most productive sort of meeting. Unless there was anything further to add, let's watch some polo. All work and no play and all that sort of thing."

[Gehenna Tartarus]

Padan-Aran Polo Match

As much as Tia liked hanging around with the older members of the royal party, she was actually pleased to have found a friendly, younger person to chat to, even if it was just for a few minutes. Being a natural flirt, which most times she did not even realise she was doing, she returned Matthew’s smile with one of her most charming in acknowledgement of his compliment of her name. Her gaze once more settled on the horse, as her fingers lightly continued to stroke his nose.

“Jester,” she repeated, giving the name some thought. “I like it. It seems to suit him.” Some people gave horses names just to make they sound fancy, but Jester was a good name. It kind of added a little character to the animal, although she was not sure whether it was the kind of character that a polo pony should have. “And it is a good thing that I like riding and drinking then, otherwise I would be pretty bored.” Not that she minded reading when there was nothing else to do, but she was more of an active person when possible. She patted the horse and then gave Matthew’s last question some thought. “Maybe,” she added with a grin. “If you win.” She looked at him once, then moved aside so that he could mount the horse.

[Gehenna Tartarus]

The Majestic Hotel Lobby

If there was someone able to instantly make Jamie feel bad for getting so scared in the situation, it was the young girl who had walked over with her father, or at least, that was who she assumed it was. The nurse pulled down on the hem of her short robe, making sure it was covering the only other item of clothing she had on, and gave both the newcomers a kind of awkward smile, one that was trying to make her appear a lot more relaxed than she actually was. The young woman wanted nothing more than to disappear back to her room, lock the door and stay there until someone gave them the all clear to leave. The sooner that happened the better, but while she was mixing with other people in the same situation, it actually made her feel a little better about things.

Kyle, who was in only a terry robe, nodded his head at the priest and his daughter. “We would be delighted,” he said in reply, dodging the usual, ‘it’s a pleasure to meet you’ which sounded so odd when used in the current situation. He actually had no idea if they were even going to end up at the same table as the others, but he was at least trying to sound a little sociable.

“Apparently, they are putting on a limited menu,” Jamie added, having caught a little of the announcement. Why it seemed important to add, she had no idea, it was more something to say. “I hope they have some desserts, I could do with the sugar.”

[New Edom]

Majestic Hotel, 222 Restaurant

Sarah, the young waitress, walked up and said, "Hello everyone--we have one of our longer tables over here, I apologize for you not being greeted by a hostess of maitr'd...we're a little short staffed at the moment, but I can get drinks for everyone...hi there cutie-pie...is this your daughter sir? Please sit and relax, I know it's been such a trying day but we're going to do our best to make everyone comfortable here." Sarah herself felt a lot better--she had contacted her mother thankfully; her father had been held up at work with the other people working at the Forza Vehicle Assembly plant, but was home now. At the moment she had no boyfriend and the rest of her family were accounted for too. So she could concentrate on her work--she was working some serious overtime but to everyone's relief the next shift had been contacted and in two hours she could go home. Hopefully.

Drinks were offered; there was cold milk, sodas, lemonade, alcoholic beverages (wine, brandy, beer, scotch, rye, rum were available) coffee and tea. And she also presented the

[box]
Brunch Menu
SWEET
PROVENCE MORNING GLORY
bubbles & orange juice, splash of cassis, C8.00

BASKET OF FRESH BAKED GOODS
an assortment of fresh baking with jam & butter, C11.00

FRENCH TOASTED BAGUETTE
cinnamon sugar, maple syrup, whipped cream, C11.00

WAFFLES
maple syrup, whipped cream, 2 for $9.00 or 3 for C12.00
add mixed berry compote, C3.00

Eggs
(We use only Omega 3 Eggs, all egg dishes are served with potatoes & fresh fruit)

TWO EGGS ANY STYLE
toasted baguette, choice of bacon, barese sausage or smoked salmon, C12.00
add 3oz AAA Beef Tenderloin, C12.00
add 6oz AAA Beef Tenderloin, C18.00

CHEF'S OMELETTE
changes daily, ask your server, C13.00

TRUFFLE FRITATA
leek confit, brie cheese, C13.00

VEGETARIAN EGGS BENEDICT
poached eggs on spinach crostade, C13.00

SMOKED SALMON EGGS BENEDICT
poached eggs with smoked salmon on corn pancakes, C13.00

CROQUE - MONSIEUR EGGS BENEDICT
black forest ham, gruyère & sun-dried tomato butter on foccacia, C13.00

Savoury
FISH SOUP
traditional fish broth served with crostini, rouille & gruyère, C8.00

SOUPE DU CHEF
Chef's daily creation, C8.00

MESCLUN GREEN SALAD
fava bean crostini, C9.00

WARM GOAT CHEESE
crusted with herbes de Provence, mesclun greens, C10.00

GRILLED CHICKEN CRÈPES
asparagus, sweet peppers & gruyère, C15.00

WILD MUSHROOM RAVIOLI
white wine butter sauce, fresh tomato, truffle essence, Grana Padano, C18.00

Antipasti
FROM OUR SHOWCASE
choose from a variety of baked
grilled, stewed or marinated items

Any one choice C4.50
3 choices C13.00
5 choices C21.00

GRILLED ARTICHOKES
sun-dried tomatoes, green peppercorns

SMOKED HERRING
pearl onions, cornichons

MIXED OLIVES
an assortment of Mediterranean olives

BOCCONCINI and TOMATO
fresh basil, extra virgin olive oil, balsamic vinegar

EGGPLANT CANELLONI
ricotta, spinach, tomato purée

MUSHROOMS
marinated in white wine, garlic & herbes de Provence

QUINOA SALAD
sun-dried tomato, capers, candied figs, feta, marjoram vinaigrette

ROASTED VEGETABLES
tossed in pesto

PISSALADIÈRE
thin crust pizza with caramelized onions, black olives & anchovies

GRILLED SQUID
lemon-chili vinaigrette

CHICKEN BROCHETTES
lemon, garlic, & dill marinade

MORROCAN SPICED MEAT BALLS
harissa tomato sauce

MERGUEZ
spicy lamb sausage with fennel, onion & tomato sauce
Panini
(Baguette stuffed with an array of delicious ingredients, grilled and served with a salad)

PROVENCE
prosciutto, sun-dried tomato, pesto, goat cheese, C13.00

BEEF RILETTES
smoked Dijon, pickled mushrooms, smoked cheddar, C13.00

POULET GRILLÉ
artichoke tapenade, bacon relish, bocconcini cheese, C13.00

SMOKED SALMON
fig & olive marmalade, grilled peppers, brie cheese, C13.00

"I apologize for the limited menu; we don't have any fresh seafood products. Normally we would have gotten a delivery by now but of course what with the trouble in the city that's been a difficulty. Please take as much time as you need to order..." seeing that Teressa was not being attended she took her leave and went in that diretion.

"Hello, I have our drinks menu. I apologize, we don't have our regular bartender in right now, but we have soft drinks, cold milk, tea, coffee, carbonated water with fruit juice, lemonade, brandy, a range of white and red wines, we have beer, rum and scotch whiskey as well as rye whiskey." she said with a bow to the Shrailleeni woman.

[Hittanryan]

North Oriden Desert

As the SUV lurched and bounced around through the desert, Kasumi continued trying to piece things together while she was largely helpless. First off: who was up the road? Monarchists? Congress? One side posing as the other? Second: who was shelling them? Monarchists? Free Congress friendly fire? Riemaians? Inquisition? Third: why did they give up so easily? Mistaken identity? Guerrilla tactics?

After Gideon radioed for air support, she decided to ask what they saw. "Well? Who attacked us? If you don't know that, what kind of equipment did they have?"

[New Edom]

Betharan Palace, Fineberg

Cheers broke out from the watching crowd of people, most of them painted with the Free Congress colors of white and blue; they were watching Attorney-General Sarah Carmel and Brigadier-General Perrin Pahath-Moab walk up the steps together with Police Minister Kohath and Undersecretary Colleen Fish. On the green immaculate lawn maintained for the Obed family the people stood, waving flags, shaking fists in the air.

Sarah Carmel spoke into a cordless microphone held for her by one of her officials. "This is not over!" she shouted, raising her hand in the air. "This is not finished! The threat to our freedom and the rights of the people is still lurking at our door! Only twenty or twenty five kilometers away there are patriots fighting and dying for our freedom. The days to come will be tough, but if we stand together God will bless our efforts! I call upon all Monarchists in the city to lay down their arms and follow the law, and there will be no harm, no retribution. I advise all foreign persons to cooperate with lawful authority; no harm is intended towards you. We hope to restore complete order to the city and to the country. May God bless this country and its people! I am appointing as military commander of the district of Fineberg an officer known for his loyalty, courage, intelligence and resourcefulness-Brigadier-General Perrin Pahath-Moab."

The mike was handed to Perrin Pahath-Moab, who said into the mike, "I have one thing to say to the people of this city. You play ball with me, and I'll play ball with you. You do your bit, and I'll do mine. We're all part of the same team, in a battle for freedom and democracy. Work hard, train hard, play hard, and play the game!"

FROM THE OFFICE OF THE PRESIDENT

To Rt. Rev. Ruth Carlisle, Archabbess of the Order of Saint Gabriel

I have proposed to the rebel leadership and to leaders within the church that a meeting under truce be set up to discuss the particulars of humanitarian operations in New Edom under the circumstances you offer. One concern that was raised by my advisers was the idea that without oversight your officers would, as they have been in the past, be tempted to interfere with our politics and our decisions of military necessity. While I do not feel personally that this took place, it would be very important in my opinion to make sure that no one could casually say that it had. For this reason I would like to have a meeting set up. Otherwise New Edom is attempting generally to work with international organizations and that may be an alternative we might wish to explore.

The meeting would take place ideally at the Monastery of Saint Augustine in Gloria Regis if that would be satisfactory.

sincerely,
Sif Finnhald,
Acting President