Caught In The Web: Astyrian Conflict & Intrigue (IC/Closed)

[Terra Azure]

The captain of the Polarussian vessel received the message from his Azuran counterpart but was not about to lose the opportunity for a new submarine for the Polarussian navy and the opportunity for information from the crew. Immediately he ordered a reply sent back.

"Benedict IV STOP Surface Immediately STOP Failure to comply will result in your destruction"

As he did so, the second submarines prepared to fire, its crew just itching to fire a torpedo spread at the Azuran vessel and send it in pieces to the bottom of the sea.

The captain of the Benedict IV took his eyes off the view finder and looked over at the helms man, "put is on the roof, slowly and quietly on my mark" he then looks at the sonar operator, when I give you the signal, give a ping, just ONE ping only" he says before placing his eyes back onto the viewfinder and taking hold of the flash switch and tapping a message out

*Polaran vessel STOP will surface STOP send over zodiac and transfer vessel STOP, request transfer to your vessels for sixty persons STOP we are defecting and onboard here is intelligence to submarine bay STOP*

The captain looks at the sonar man and nods. The sonar operator sends a ping through the water from the active sonar, at which point the helmsnan as instructed turns a wheel and slowly compressed air is pushed into the ballast tanks and so pushing out the water then slowly the Kilo class submarine slides from periscope depth to the surface, its black hull slowly emerging from the water.

The captain picks up the mic, "attention forward torpedo room, open forward hatch, prepare for visitors. Crew, pack your belongings, for here begins a new change." he says as the sub gently settles on the surface, pitching and rolling with the swell.

[Nation of Polarus]

Near ViZion

El Saher breached the surface and a small crew piled on to some inflatable craft and made their way towards the Benedict IV. Once aboard the Azuran vessel the Polarussians ordered the ships captain, XO, and engineer off the boat and into one of the small inflatable life rafts they paddled over in. The rest of the Azuran crew were given maps and herded into their own life boats and told to sail in the direction of ViZion, and given enough food and water for them to make the trip.

With some of the Polarussians escorting the three prisoners back to the El Saher, the rest began to start up the ship. They would take it back home to Polarus and rename the captive enemy vessel, increasing the strength of their navy substantially in the process.

Northern Casgene

Two more planes had now landed at the Casgenian military base in the rugged north of the country. The larger of the two began to unload its content quickly, a large stockpile of advanced Doomani made anti-tank and anti-air systems and their associated munitions. The Polarussian government wanted to ensure that the military Casgene was armed with the best weapons that they could buy to inflict the highest amount of casualties on the cowardly Westerners as possible. It was common knowledge that if you bloodied them up enough, they would pack up and flee, and it was hoped that with these new weapons the army of Casgene would be able to do it.

Meanwhile, the contents of the second plane were far more deadly. Fifteen Polarussian commandos stepped off, the vanguard of what would certainly be many more in the future. Along with them came a number of advisers, tasked with teaching the Casgenian army in the use of the new weapons they were being provided. The commandos mission was to slip in over the troubled border with Agrincourt and begin to set up safe locations and future stash locations, as well as make note of routes the ATO was using to move supplies. The took particular care to find supply lines well away from the front, lines that the enemy would feel safe and secure riding on, and mark these down for future operations. In three groups of five, the men began to make their moves, scouting and watching while awaiting their reinforcements to arrive.

Near Port Blacksand

The five hundred soldiers of the Polarussian expeditionary force began to unload on the shore alongside their Confederate brethren. Once assembled and all together, they would move to form the force blocking the western side of the city off from the rest of the nation. Much like their counterparts, they too were all wearing NBC suits, thanks to the warnings provided by the Auroran spy planes, and within a short amount of time they began to move out. The Polarussian troops, armed with AKM's, RPK's, RPG-7, a handfull of Dragunov's and mortars, and a few Kornets and Iglas, the Polarussians were not the best or most heavily equipped army around, but with the guns and air support of the Confederate fleet behind them, they were all confident that they would be able to perform their duty and maintain their part of the siege.

[Blackhelm Confederacy]

Just outside Port Blacksand

The transport ships dropped their doors on the sands of the Azuran coast, disgorging twelve hundred Confederate soldiers who immediately began going to their predesignated positions. With the Polarussians taking the west side of the city and the Confederate fleet to the east, the soldiers on the ground would split into three groups. Five hundred men would land on the north, and another five hundred t block the south, effectively cutting off the city in it's entirety on the ground. For the final move, the remaining two hundred men were tasked with making their way to the city's main airport, both to deny the Azurans any ability to resupply by air as well as to open up their own aerial supply route. With the airport in Confederate hands, more EATA forces, including several thousand more Confederate troops, would be able to stream into the nation and help regain stability on the ground. At this point, no one had ventured into the city itself, but that would be done soon enough.

On the shoreline, the men stumbled clumsily about in their bulky NBC suits, weary of a potential attack from the Azurans within their capital. The Azuran report had everyone jittery, and even though a number of heavy machine guns were being set up and the full strength of the Confederate fleet was just behind them, many of the troops could not shake the creeping concern that they could be attacked at any moment. There were only a few of them, and intel was not entirely clear on just what the Azuran numbers were within the city. To complicate things even further, the bulky suits they were wearing made movement cumbersome and accurate aiming near impossible, so the enemy would be at a great advantage, at least initially, if they decided to strike.

Optio Tanner looked out through the lenses of his suit at the men around him as the moved about unloading all manner of equipment and machinery to prepare their blockade, others moving up and digging fortification or laying large rolls of razor wire out to halt, or at least slow down, any determined charges by the defenders, most of whom chances are were going to be religious fanatics without a fear of death. The positions of the blockading troops were well enough outside the city that naval missiles should be able to blow back most attacks, but when dealing with a madman the likes of the priest now only a few miles away, one could never be too sure.

One of the younger soldiers stumbled forward towards the optio. "Sir...I dont like this" he said through the chemical filter attached to the front of him. "This suit, the feeling, there arent enough of us here" he began before the officer raised his hand. "Are you afraid, mile?" he spoke, addressing the young man by his rank. "Well, sir I-" the younger man started once again before he was cut off. "Now’s not the time for fear. That comes later" the older man said definitively. "Now, go back to the others, pull yourself together, and do your part. I will not let you die" he said. The mile nodded and shuffled off, as the Confederate war machine, small as it was here, began to pull itself into gear.

[Nouvel Ecosse]

This is going to incorporate both posts as PA and Nouvel Ecosse, as they will coincide.

UNSPECIFIED LOCATION NORTH OF SCHROTBUCHSE
PLATTEISEN ADLER

Yugioslav Kerchovic was panicking, and panicking hard. He was fumbling with his cell phone, desperately trying to call the Ecossians. But he knew it would be futile. He had time to send off an emergency text message before the Yellosians began approaching his car. It simply read "Send help. Too late."

The driver was dead, a ricocheted bullet piercing his skull. The only reason the car had stopped was that he had slumped forwards onto the brake and that the car in front, which had housed two former ministers in the Government, had performed as a barrier. Yugioslav could see Dejan Petrovic, the former immigration minister, attempting to free himself from his seatbelt, struggling with some sort of wound. Beside him lay the now deceased corpse of some under-minister. Yugioslav wasn't exactly the best with names.

A thick accent boomed out of a PA system. "EVERYONE OUT NOW! THIS IS THE RLO ACTING ON BEHALF OF THE RIGHTFUL GOVERNMENT OF PLATTEISEN ADLER! YOU ARE UNAUTHORIZED TO PROCEED ANY FARTHER! STEP OUT OF YOUR VEHICLES NOW!!" He knew that surrender meant instant execution for Yugioslav. Although they had attempted to shred and burn as much of the evidence of his term as possible, there was simply too much. That would be in their hands now, not to forget the grovelling rats that worked for him and would be more than happy to rat him out if it meant their freedom. Mikhael Fassbender would likely have spilled all he knew before he was even in an interrogation room, thought Yugioslav. He had happily sold the secrets of Kerchovic's opposition to him when it was an assured election against his side. He was that type of person, a defector, a glory seeker.

What Kerchovic didn't know was that Fassbender was one of the lucky few to have actually made it to the awaiting escape. Of maybe sixty or seventy officials, plus their drivers, assistants and office staff, there were only twelve people at the regroup point. And every second that the boat waited the less likely those twelve were going to escape.

Yugioslav knew there was nowhere he could hide in the car. He could see Isla McIlduff, an Ecossian consulate to the Platteisen Adler Government who had not been removed from the country when the army pulled out, hesitantly leaving the car behind them, alongside the driver and two others, again who he did not recognise. McIlduff's execution was almost as certain as his own, he knew that. She was up to her neck as much as he was, yet there she was, walking brazenly out of her sedan. But then she would perhaps get a quick death. Perhaps hanging. Kerchovic was almost certain that his death would entail an appetiser of brief torture before the main meal.

Armed men were now approaching his vehicle, and had reached the one in front. Behind him, the newly imprisoned members of his staff were being accompanied to the convoy of SUVs that were waiting impatiently on his appearance. He snapped the cell phone in half (He had seen it done on some imported spy drama) and gradually stepped out of the car.

THE CALEDONIAN SEA

The tugboat was hastily making its way northwards, attempting at all costs to avoid potential threats. There were some smaller Ecossian ships waiting to accompany them back to the docks in Edinburgh, where they would then immediately be transported back into sedans and raced Northwards, destined for Hannibal, where it had been announced the Government of Nouvel Ecosse were to be headquartered whilst threats were still hold over Edinburgh. In total, there were twenty-one people on board, including the operator and two of his 'fishermen'. The most senior member of the former Government on board was a miserable looking woman called Vera Dawn, who had been Interior Affairs Minister. Besides her, there was Mikhael Fassbender, who had been Environment Minister, a pretty meaningless position, really ceremonial in stature considering that Platteisen Adler mainly consisted of lots of trees and little logging, Darien Garite, a small wide man pushing sixty that had retained positions in the Government since the seventies, and Charlize Rapace, who had been an under-minister of defense, again a position requiring very little work considering the near non-existence of said defense.

There were also a few chauffeurs, office staff, assistants and general civil servants unlucky enough to have been caught up in it all. Many of them had links to Ecosse and simply wanted out, but had been unable to leave in the exodus the weeks before. Much much more had not made it to the rendezvous point, and one unlucky sedan had missed the boat by a matter of minutes. They were now attempting to get to the border, an easier task said than done, and one fraught with danger.

On arrival in Edinburgh, the 'survivors' of what the media were referring to as "Yellosian Purge" were bustled into awaiting unmarked cars. The danger of enemy aircraft was still pertinent. Then, there followed a long-houred car journey to there final destination, a ski resort complex commandeered by the Nouvel Ecosse Government to house their foreign extracts. Hannibal was located as such that any aircraft on bombing runs would be spotted and dealt with long before they arrived at the city, and considering the mountainous terrain that surrounded the city it was even less unlikely that strafing aircraft would be able to fly low enough for a good enough hit.

TEMPORARY GOVERNMENT HOUSING, HANNIBAL
NOUVEL ECOSSE

"Mister President, sir, we have just received news of Yugioslav Kerchovic."
President Moriarty looked up from his paperwork, which was spread ignorantly and loudly over his desk. "Please be good news. I have enough bad news for a lifetime." he stated, knowing that the reply would be in the negative.
"I'm afraid he didn't make it, sir. We received a text from his cell phone just minutes ago, and subsequent calls back to it reveal that we can no longer trace it. He's snapped it, we believe."
"Give me details on the text. What did he explicitly state?"
"Well, it seems rather confused." said the officer, who was working with the NEIA. "He contradicts himself. "Send help. Too late." It seems that someone got him, although that could rightly be anybody. Chances are that it will be worst case, the RLO, but then we never know. He may have even crashed."
"No, with a text like that its the RLO" asserted the President, confidently yet downbeat. "How many made it to the rendezvous? Do we know yet?"
"The tugboat has just left the shore. According to him, there are seventeen on board. The sedans were rolled into the sea, as to hide the fact they were there."
"Seventeen? Is that Seventeen members of the Government or?"
"No, sir. That's including civil servants and the drivers."
"Well, fuck. Have we received any other contact?"
"The Vice-President didn't even make it out of IronFalcon, sir. McIlduff, our consulate..."
"Yes, I know McIlduff, reliable woman."
"Well, she was as far as we know in the same mini-convoy as Kerchovic"
"We've really screwed this one up, haven't we?"
"I'm afraid so, sir. The RLO must have known something was up."
"Who has actually made it out, then? Anybody useful? Anybody powerful?"
"The tugboat crew report that the only really notable ones on the ship are Vera Dawn and Mikhael Fassbender, sir."
"Dawn, was she home affairs? Could be useful" The President took a sip of whisky, which he knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't resist. The stress of the situation was getting to him.
"Well, Interior Affairs. Close enough I guess. And Fassbender is Environment, although he's important as he has a history as a defector."
"Keep an eye on him, then. We don't want him leaking information. And keep me updated. Are there any sedans still trying to make their way to us?"
"We believe so, sir. So far we've lost contact with about twenty, including the three in the President's convoy. We received a call three minutes ago from the NEIA's operation chief in Andreas, who told us he was on the way to the border. There are a few attempting to get through the border, so we may well have to call the army to clear a way through the blockades. We also think a few may try to get through Glisandia, although that is just as dangerous."
"Tell the army that getting these people out of the country is our top priority now. We need them. They are vitally important, especially with reports from our agents trickling out."
"About that, sir. We've received no contact from IronFalcon for two days now, not since Kerchovic and company left. And getting men in now would almost be impossible."
"Its not worth it any longer. Are they even rooting out the Adlerites with us?"
"Even them sir. Seems they are very efficient."
"Almost too efficient. Would we be able to bust them out?"
"It would take a lot of effort sir, and could backfire. The hardest part would be extraction."
"Hmm, you make a good point. Yet, I don't know, look into it. Even if it was only in one area. Something tells me that busting out all prisoners would just be too big a stretch."
"Excellent sir. I'll report your thinking to the NEIA pronto."
The officer left, and Moriarty turned round and took a swig from the bottle of whisky. "This is a disaster" he muttered.

[Andamonia]

Council Hall,
Rha'gutza
Andamonian-held Trophy Port

Iizok Nethil had just about run out of hope. Since his meeting with Brafn and Cauhet two months before, Rha'gutza, once the most proudly-worn jewel in the emperor's crown, had descended into chaos. The pitchforks were out, and the people were marching on the castle. In retrospect, it really hadn't come all at once; the warning signs had all been there. The fact that the average Khalitan had seemed all too happy to just quietly seethe should have given the game away by itself, and it was now obvious that something had been afoot. Still, things would never have gotten so far out of hand if it hadn't been for that brash young fool, Ocatam Cauhet.

Once upon a time DramFreight had been the most respected cargo and shipping company in Andamonia, the only firm to retain its dignity even as the rest of the Empire's maritime trade foundered in the face of Trellinese blockades. When Dram Cauhet had died suddenly, his son had taken over. It seemed reasonable at the time, and Dram's wife assured Nethil, a long-standing friend of the family, that Ocatam had been excellently trained for the task. Consequently, the governor had done everything he could to land DramFreight the contract when it came up for auction, and even then the lad had displayed substantial business acumen, nonchalantly raising his bids as though he had the money to buy out the entire state. His rivals lost hope, and pulled out of the bid far too soon, saving him millions of Teoqi. That Dram had taught his son everything he could was clear, just as Ocatam's refusal to take advice was. Despite all the governor's urgings, the young Cauhet had refused to continue to "waste the company's time and resources" serving Rha'gutza, insisting that there was no point keeping up the contract if it could not pay for itself.

And now look where they were. Without a shipping provider, the food deliveries into the Port had stopped, and the city was convulsed with hunger. Bread riots, he had thought, were a thing of the past, but the angry mob outside the Council Hall put that mistaken belief to rest without giving it a second glance.

Nethil quickly surveyed the faces of the Councillors who had assembled for this emergency meeting. Five of them. Were things really so bad that the other twelve had stayed at home? Then he remembered that six of the Councillors were native Khalitans and probably in the mob. Not a great start to this meeting.

"Ladies," he began, taking some small comfort in the fact that everyone else looked as worried as he felt, "and gentlemen. Thank you for so promptly answering my summons. I am as dismayed as you all are by the absence of two thirds of this Council, but I do not believe we will be doing much in the way of urban planning that would negatively impact on their constituencies. As no doubt you have noticed, we are not currently in the best of times."

"Your eloquence knows no bounds, Governor," remarked Councillor Taama Olquerna. "I had hoped to discuss an alteration to traffic light patterns on Uleia Avenue, but I suppose I can delay that to our next session."

Haured Athaz, rarely the most light-hearted Councillor, cut in. "Governor, Councillor, please; this situation calls for a bit more gravity than you are currently presenting. With all due respect, there is a small horde of Khalitans outside the doors of this very building, and it is only the muzzles of the guards' weapons that keep the doors safely sealed. Time is not on our side here."

Nethil nodded agreement. "As always, Haured, you get to the heart of the matter promptly. You are right to say that our safety is under threat, but more important than that is the security of this territory. For better or for worse, we have a duty, a sworn oath, to maintain Rha'gutza as an imperial dominion."

There were murmurs of discontent. "Governor, I'm not sure you understand the situation or, if you do, the implications of what you're saying," said Councillor Pachu Kuzol. "If we don't get supplies of food soon, this crisis will be past salvaging, and even then the way things are going it won't just be gun muzzles we need to keep control here. Before too long it'll be bayonets." Kuzol sighed as he saw the Governor pursing his lips. "Please, Governor, don't tell me there'll be bayonets."

"Councillor, I do wish I could tell you that. However, what I have been told is that military force should be one of our first options. I am fully aware that that sounds as drastic as it can get, but this is as tenuous a situation as we're ever likely to see. I see no way we could rule out the use of the military and expect to retain any semblance of control here."

There was silence for a moment before Kuzol spoke again. "I take back what I said. You do understand the situation; I did not. Nonetheless, I cannot in good conscience vote for any application of military force."

"Nor could I," interjected Councillor Olquerna, "yet I might hope that displaying it would have some help on the situation." Some of the other Councillors exchanged glances as she went on. "I realise that the moment seems dire, but we still have a substantial garrison here in Rha'gutza, and if things seem to deteriorate further I am confident we could rely on Timaloc or the emperor to send support. I could not condone bloodshed, but I believe that the general populace might be cowed enough by the threat of it that the situation will be resolved."

Councillor Erzaua Aucoth now also cut into the conversation. "And then what? The Khalitans are happy Andamonian citizens for posterity and the Trellinese drop their claims to the Ports? It won't work that way, Olquerna, whatever you may be hoping for, and it would take a lot more than a show of force to make them integrate. Nonetheless, it does seem to be the best - in fact, the only - solution available to us right now."

"So, how do we go about this, Governor?" asked Athaz. "Riot police? Curfews? Martial law? Mass beheadings?"

"All of the above, I would hope," Nethil replied. "Or at least the first three. I'm not about to suggest we prohibit assemblies, but angry mobs in Liberty Square sound like a negative image to me."

For the first time since the meeting began, Councillor Caharen Darandae spoke, his voice full of uncertainty. "Why can we not just buy supplies from the Dangish?"

There was a collective groan. "Oh my god, Caharen," said Olquerna, "you can't just ask the Dangish why they don't give us supplies. Do you even read the news?" Darandae still looked confused, so Olquerna soldiered on. "Popular opinion among our northern neighbour is that these Ports are unlawfully held. If we were to go to them and buy food to feed our people, they'd be all over it. Andamonia unable to care for its oppressed subjects, or something to that effect."

Darandae simply said "Oh" and then was silent.

"It'll be the military, then," said Aucoth. Everyone assented, rising from their chairs, and the meeting came to a close. "We can only hope the Trellinese media doesn't find out," he said without much hope.

[Aurora Confederacy]

As the sun again began to set on the island of Khayr Var, and with information given to them by CI6, information had to be gathered on Gislandia and the YSR, so with a brief to gather evidence of war crimes in progress, carried out by YSR troops and the likes, Black Manta 001 was called upon to head out and fly to an area off the coast of the YSR at an altitude from which they could also see the Aurora Confederacy and may other nations beyond, high above any known missile attack capability.

The briefing by General Hammond was simple and straight forward, as such the crew, both male in this case, the pilot, Commander James Warren, with RSO to take up the rear cockpit was Commander Alan Henderson. Their outfits bore a close resemblance to a space suit, indeed these bright yellow suits were pressurised, feeding the crew initially pure oxygen prior to flight to purge nitrogen from their blood before going onto an oxygen rich air supply.

After making their way down to their aircraft and climbing in, technicians strapped the two crew into their capsulated seats which in the event of an ejection will enable them to make a safe decent, and with most of this flight being over water, for they will not need to go into YSR territory, but simply sit 500km off the coast and see a large part of the target area, and then a flight over Nouvel Ecosse and northern AC to see into Gilsandia and other parts of the YSR. This information will then be delivered to a secret location within the AC without stopping, or at least thats the plan.

Once strapped in, the crew were left to their own devices whilst the support team went around the aircraft for one final walk around before the lights were turned off. With the lights off, the doors to the hangar were opened and the tow vehicle moved in where it was then coupled to the landing gear of the large reconaissance aircraft. Once connected, the aircraft was pulled out and the hangar doors closed behind the big, black jet. Clear of the hangar the tow vehicle was disconnected and pilot James Warren flicked the switch to spool up the two turbines. Engine number 1 starting first. As it spooled up it began to whine before fading to a roar with a feint whistle in the background. As the engine stabilised, Warren flicked the switch for the second engine to start, again it began to whine as it spooled up, then WHUMPH!! it caught and slowly began to roar. Carefully Warren trimmed the engines to allow them to idle, now the aircraft was pushing out as much thrust as 4 T-38 talon aircraft at full power and the Manta's throttles were sat at idle, as such the aircraft strained at its brakes. Looking forward through the IR camera, James Warren had a view of the ground staff, he waved his night lights.

"Henderson, you ready?" asked Warren
"yes Sir, A'h sure ah'm" replied Henderson
"okay" said Warren before keying the radio "Tower, Manta zero one, requesting take off, destination sector two zulu north four"
The tower controller replied "manta Zero one, Tower. Taxi to runway and await instruction"

At that moment the sky lit up as a streak of lightning arced across the sky, accompanied seconds later by the loud hammer of a thunderclap, the sky arked up for a second and third time in quick succession.

Warren eased on the power and released the brakes and slowly the Manta began to move. carefully James Warren followed the lines on the runway, guided by the infrared camera on the nose gear. Reaching the runway, James tapped the brakes and the big jet lurched forward. Behind the aircraft was a Lamborghini Aventador with a set of flashing police type lights, "Surface check" called the assistant in the passenger seat of the lamborghini.

With this instruction, James pushed the stick fully forwards, pulled it fully back, then gave full left and right deflection, its control surfaces moving as commanded, the observer called out "Manta Zero one, Chase car. All surfaces good, we're going to move off now" as the observer keyed down the driver made his way back down a taxi lane away from the runway, and so the tower controller called out.

"Manta Zero one, Tower. Clear for take off"

With permission to take off, James released the brakes and pushed the throttles all the way forwards, giving full afterburner, the two engines responding by pushing out a sharply defined bright blue flame nearly 30m behind the aircraft. As the thrust left the exhausts, the Manta began to move forwards, slowly at first then rapidly gathering speed. 100km/h came and went in a matter of seconds, 160km/h came within 16 seconds and the nose lifted as James pulled back on the stick causing the water on the runway to flash into steam as the aircraft began to rotate then climb skywards. As the aircraft unloaded the landing gear James flicked the retract switch bringing in the nose gear and so the Manta was on its way, 180,000ft altitude somewhere east of the YSR and Nouvel Ecosse.

(Image)

The flight to the area of interest did not take long, 90 minutes tops, and now the Black Manta sits over water, its cameras having a birds eye view of the YSR, Gilsandia and a good portion of Nouvel Ecosse. in the far distance, the very far distance the lights of Lake Hai'lu'kai could be seen. The map display flashed up "DATUM POINT ZULU ONE", signifying that the aircraft was indeed in the correct part of the sky, Pilot James Warren eased back the throttles of the dark triangular jet and flicked a switch and slowly the heat shields pulled back from over the cameras, this brought in the job of the RSO, Alan Henderson, and so he then adjusted the angle of the cameras and zoomed in, setting the cameras off to snap a photograph every few seconds or so, capturing the images on film for all eternity, as soon as the shutter slams shut the film is wound on one frame and the process begins again, shutter setting, opening then closing and the next frame wound on.

*click* *whirr* *click* *whirr*...

As each photograph was taken, the aircraft continued north-western before flying around the top of Nouvel Ecosse, still way out in international airspace, for it would take 30 minutes by airliner to get to where they were, yet this perch, with oblique sideward looking infra red cameras gave the best view and the most safety, even though from up here a surface to air missile is going to run out of fuel many thousands of feet below them.

After skirting around the top of Nouvel Ecosse, the Manta flew over friendly territory, its homeland of the Aurora Confederacy where she decended to a lower altitude in order to fuel in friendly airspace, before heading back to 120,000ft to continue what general Hammond lovingly called "a Circuit d'honeur", French never was his strong point, however this would be one of many laps that the aircraft would do before peeling off to fly back down to Peace Valley...

to be continued...

[Andamonia]

The Courthouse,
Rha'gutza
Andamonian-held Trophy Port

The usual proceedings of justice had been suspended for the last four days as the crisis continued to deteriorate. It seemed that everyone in Rha'gutza was joining in the daytime protests, though by and large the populace obeyed the curfews rigidly imposed by armed soldiery. Tonight, however, was different. Much of the mob had moved on the Courthouse - a fine, old marble edifice, erected in the glory days of Trellinese mercantilism - and found it empty. Some of them returned to Liberty Square, where, even as the Andamonian guards looked on, they pulled down the statue of Hanrel Mata, the so-called "Liberator" who had spearheaded the capture of Rha'gutza, and loaded him onto the roof of a car.

Now the statue was on trial for crimes against humanity, though, with most of the senior court officials having been sent from the capital, few among the crowd knew exactly how to go about it. What they lacked in legal knowledge they made up for in enthusiasm, and several 'witnesses' were found for both sides. The defence was only half-hearted, however, and the decision seemed clear-cut well before it was announced.

"Hanrel Mata," intoned Councillor Modriq Araguzi, presiding as judge, "you have been found guilty of war crimes and attempted genocide against the Khalitan people. You are hereby sentenced to death by drowning." There was silence as the Councillor paused for a moment, needing to find something suitably stirring to close what had been a dramatic, if disorganised, trial. Inspiration struck, though it was hardly original, and he shouted "God save the King!" and was met with thunderous applause. The mob seized the statue from its stand, charging out the doors of the courthouse in a great throng, and they threw it into the harbour.

Shortly thereafter, just as the sun set, the crowd reassembled in the courthouse. They were now defying the curfew. Outside, soldiers formed up behind barricades, besieging the Khalitans who in turn piled up furniture against the doors. Furious debate raged for hours within as the Andamonian Army encircled without. No one was entirely sure where they had come from, but two flags had been found - a Trellinese war flag and the flag of the Trellinese Trophy Ports - and were now being proudly flown out the windows. It seemed to perfectly summarise the action within, as the finishing touches were put on a communal letter.

---

Open Letter from the Trellinese People of Rha'gutza

---

To: King Mahrim II, Protector of the Khalitan people
CC: The sovereign nations of Astyria

Your Majesty,

The Trellinese People of Rha'gutza, having dwelt for too long under the yoke of foreign oppression, do implore your gracious majesty to come to their aid. Though generations of hard endurance are behind us, it is now the belief of the Representatives of the People of the Trophy Ports that restoration and reunification with our rightful kin can not be achieved through either Khalitan words or Khalitan force of arms.

Therefore, cognizant of our heritage as a Trellinese people and desirous of acceding to the rights once guaranteed us by the Most Ancient Sidereal Crown, we do beseech you, as the just and righteous protector of our homes, to render any and all assistance that lies within your power, that you may see your kin in these Ports restored to their inheritance as Trellinese people.

Furthermore, we call upon the sovereign nations of Astyria, as guardians of international justice, to hear and to support our pleas for true liberation. Let it be known that the Andamonian government imposed on our lands has been unjust and illegal since its forcible inception over a century ago. We hearken back to the patriotic struggles of the Trellinese Crown of seventy five years ago and praise their valiant efforts to restore the Khalitan people to their homeland.

Until such a time as our calls may be answered and the free nations of the world may recognise our right to self-determination and our choice to be reunited with our Trellinese kin, we, the People of the Trophy Port Rha'gutza, and backed in every way by our brethren in the Trophy Port Khorvu, do declare ourselves to be a free and sovereign people with every right that is given by God and by Thaera and guaranteed by international law and upheld by the virtuous. We solemnly vow never to waive our divinely-given right to freedom and to resist to the point of death any attempt to impose unjust rule over our people and our lands.

In the names of God, the Lord most high, and Thaera, divine protector of our people, we, the undersigned, do pledge to serve the Khalitan people to the utmost, not to yield even should death threaten us.

Modriq Araguzi
Councillor

Txerig Brefnid
Councillor

Mevala ti Ormen
Councillor

Ésanna Porgenl
Councillor

Khal Edarthesin
Councillor

Larand Crennihi
Councillor

[Kamalbia]

Across the Kamalbian steppe country, darkness had fallen. The only lights were reflections of the full moon high up above, the very few and far in between settlements with even then few having the luxury of electricity or anything better than candlelight, and those who still lived nomadic lives, their campfires lighting up as orange beacons.

There were a few exceptions to darkness, to the North-eastern coast the well-developed city of Hafunayo the city that had been elected to be the capital after the Gaul withdrawal and subsequent independence for the young state. Following the governmental collapse and subsequent battles between the warlords, the city had always been a site for sieges and battles. For years, the city changed hands between the warring warlords, the buildings and the population bearing the scars of the artillery, the house-to-house fighting and the suicide attacks. Many civilians had died in the streets of the city. Collateral damage in the fight for more resources, the fight for more power. Until Operation Renewed Hope. In 1992, GHawkins’ peacekeeping forces occupied the city and drove out the many militias. From 1992 onwards, relative peace had come to the warn-torn city as Masika Suléman took reign and was now supported by the GHawkins government. The coastal city now lit up the surrounding area, reconstruction being under-way ever since 1992 and still ongoing The city had expanded and improved more than what would have considered possible.

The other exception was the Gaul enclave of Marqueville. The Gaul architecture was apparent, even in the artificial light from the many lampposts and car headlights fighting off the darkness. The red-clay coloured roof tiles, the plaster coated walls, the old fortress, Fort Fernier, watching over the city.

The activity in the normally buzzing city had died down when the sun set. Traffic wasn't as heavy as during the day and pedestrians were nearly non-existent at this time of night, nearly hitting midnight (twelve o' clock). What did remain was a hub of activity, lights and rushing people was the Allendault Aerodrome, Marqueville's only airport. still arrived and left in the darkness, their navigation lights causing a light-show in the skies above the city.

Marqueville,
Allendault Aerodrome

Gérard Bilodeau worked as a baggage handler at the airport, responsible for getting all the cargo containers that contained the passengers’ baggage and making sure it was placed in the correct spot on the plane. His shift was just about to end, just this final plane that had to be loaded.

"I'll be happy when I can finally get off" Gerard said, as he kicked the break off the cargo container, allowing it to move freely on the ball-bearers inside the plane, allowing the handlers to easily move the heavy metal cages.
"Aww, poor you" a colleague commented sarcastically, as they pushed the container into the plane together, "Be glad you can go home, I still got -YOUR- night-shift!"
"Hey! I took yours two weeks ago, just so you could get drunk in a desperate attempt to-.."
His colleague was by now going "lalalalala" in an attempt to block out Gerard's painfully accurate summary of the Friday of two weeks ago.
"-.. get that hot blonde, that was way out of your league to begin with," Gerard continued, "just to call me at half past six to pick you up because you woke up in a ditch with your wallet and phone gone. And I don't get me started about that hangover of yours!"
"Lalalala, not listening" his colleague shouted, as they had positioned the final container in place and were locking it down.
"Oh c'mon, you know it!" Gerard shouted, grinning like an idiot as they both inspected each other's work. Safety procedure.
"Va te faire foutre!" the reply from the other side sounded.

Their work was done, so they stepped back onto the elevated platform of the cargo truck, which Gerard operated with a small console at the end of it. They drove away from the plane after shutting the cargo doors. Gerard stretched.

"Well, someone's going home here.." Gerard said in a teasing tone.
"Oh shut up!"

Five minutes later, Gerard was walking to his car, his coat slung over his shoulder. He had expected it to be colder, but it was actually still quite warm. He pulled open the passenger door when he reached his 5-door car, throwing his coat onto the passenger seat before walking around the car and taking a seat behind the wheel. He buckled up his seatbelt and put the key in the ignition. At that moment, he heard his mobile phone ring from his coat.

He reached for it, pulling it out of his coat's pocket and pressed the green button to accept the call.
"Hey baby" he said in a sweet tone as he put the phone to his ear, having seen on the screen it was his wife calling.
"He-... hey.." his wife said. Immediately, Gerard knew something was up; she sounded scared and like she had just been crying.
"Something wrong?" he asked right away.
"No... just... come home quickly please.." she said, still in the same tone. All alarm bells were blaring in Gerard's head.
"I'm on my way now."
"Ok-..ay.. See you soon.." were her last words, as the line went dead.

"Merde" Gerard said as he tossed his phone onto his coat, immediately kicking the clutch to the floor as he turned the key. The engine of the sedan came to life, as Gerard put it in drive and, his tires close to screaming, drove towards the exit of the parking lot. The exit consisted of a guard post and barrier. The guard had seen Gerard speeding off towards him, as he came to a halt next to the post to show his ID.

"How many times I have to tell you; this is not your personal race track" the guard said as he approached Gerard in his car, his window already rolled down.
"Sorry Pierre, the wife just called and she sounded very upset. I fear something might be wrong, so can we do this quick?" Gerard said, already having his ID card outside for the guard to take it.
"Urgh, sure" Pierre said as he took the card and scanned it. Everything checked out and Gerard was clocked out, "Suggest you don't break the speed limit, not with all the checkpoints set up around now. Good luck. Hope Jeannet is okay"
Gerard had his ID handed back to him, as he nodded at the guard.
"Thanks. See you tomorrow" he said, as the barrier raised for him. He drove under it and turned onto the street, towards home.

The drive home took longer than it should have taken. Ever since the ALA attack just two weeks ago, the Armee de Gaulois forces stationed in Marqueville had set up checkpoints at all major intersections. Jersey barriers made for an obstacle course, to prevent any suicide truck that did make it into the city from going in a ballistic run towards whatever the target was. Heavy machine guns, 50 cals, manned by the Gaul soldiers were aimed skywards. But the gunners kept their eyes on every single vehicle rolling up to the checkpoint. Gerard could see security had seriously been upped several levels following the assassination of the governor. The city was still licking the wounds of the attack; the debris of the governor's palace still hadn't been cleared up completely, the ceremony for the fire fighters who had died when one of the bomb trucks collided with their fire engine had been just two days ago.

The drive home, normally requiring 13 minutes, now took nearly half an hour. Gerard finally turned into the street his home was at. He was speeding, he knew it. But he was still worried about his wife.

As he came within viewing distance of his house, he saw there was a car parked up front he didn't recognize. He and his wife had two cars, both small sedans so Gerard could drive to work and his wife could take their daughter to school and get to the market. The public transportation in Marqueville was far from good. But the car currently parked partially on the sidewalk was one he did not know.

He turned onto the driveway, put on the hand break and turned off the engine. He took his coat and nearly kicked open his door. After locking his car, he ran the last couple of meters to the front door.

Their house was near the border with Kamalbia. It was one of the luxury houses, situated in one of the neighbourhoods filled with detached houses. Unlike most of Marqueville, who lived in apartments near the city centre, Gerard had a garden. Something his wife managed to bug him over every other day; "Go mow the grass".

He reached the door, his key already in hand. He opened the door and flew inside.
"Jeannet!" he called.
"Gerard" he heard from the living room, just as the door fell shut behind him. He froze. He hadn't thrown it shut behind him. He was not the one that had closed that door. He turned around on his heels, just in time to see the incoming rifle butt connect with his head. His world went black as he fell to the floor.

His head hurt. A lot. A hell of a lot. Like he had just been hit by a bat to the head. He then realized.. he might as well have been. He tried to open his eyes, but all he saw was darkness. He made a mental check of his body. He realized he was sitting. But his hands were constrained. He tried moving them and felt something holding him at the wrists. He heard some faint voices.

"Ah, I guess he's awake" a heavy voice said in Gaul. Gerard couldn't recognize it. Suddenly, his world went white as the light blinded him. The black bag, or whatever it was, was pulled from his head. He tried blinking away the flash in his eyes, though even blinking hurt. Slowly, his world gained form and colour around him again.

He realized he was in his own living room. Bound to a chair. He looked around. Several men were in the room with him. They were balaclavas and held assault rifles. He recognized them as some AK model, the very short ones. The AK-74U. Note to self, he thought, watch less movies.

One of the men suddenly slapped him in the face, making his head hurt even more, but getting him right awake.
"Urgh" Gerard just muttered.
"Good, he is awake" one of the men said, as he reached towards Gerard's head, grabbing him by the cheeks.
"Listen up" he said, as he shook Gerard's head a bit. Urgh, that hurt.
"We want to have a package delivered via air.. But we'd like to not pay extra for any customs’ fees. So tomorrow, you'll be kind enough to put what we have on a particular plane."
Gerard focussed on the man holding his head. The man, just like all others, wore a balaclava. He had identified his accent by now; Kamalbian. It slowly dawned on him that these guys were part of the group that had sent the truck bombs: The ALA. He knew that whatever they wanted him to put on the plane, it'd most likely cost lives.
"Go... to hell" Gerard muttered, already half unconscious again, only to get another slap to the face.
"It was not a question" the man said, as he grabbed hold of Gerard's head again and shook it again. Gerard most likely had a concussion.
"Perhaps we need some more leverage, before you realize how serious we are" the man said, as he let go of Gerard's face after giving it a shove, causing Gerard to stretch a muscle in his neck.

The man called something in a language Gerard didn't know. He focussed again on the man, who had now walked away from him. Gerard saw he was not holding a rifle, but a pistol.

"Mhmm! MHMHMM"
Gerard looked past the man, seeing his wife, duct tape over her mouth, being pulled harshly into the room by another masked terrorist. The terrorist forced her onto her knees, in plain view of Gerard.
"As it seems you are reluctant to help us.." the terrorist that had manhandled Gerard started as he was walking to Jeannet, "It'd appear we have to take some drastic measures."
The man reached Jeannet, grabbing her shoulder with one hand before putting the barrel of the pistol to the woman's temple with the other.
"Mhmhmm!" his wife sounded again.
"You leave her out of this!" Gerard called out, adrenaline now rushing through his system, "You let her go!"
"I'm sorry monsieur Bilodeau.."
"Shit, he knows my name. Why am I still surprised?" Gerard thought.
"..But you are leaving me no choice" the terrorist said, as he cocked the gun with his thumb, "Please.. reconsider. It would be such a shame if we had accidents here.. Wouldn't it ?"

Gerard cursed under his breath, looking straight at his wife. Tears were flowing from her eyes, down her cheeks.
"You have three seconds monsieur Bilodeau" the terrorist said.
"Un" he started counting. Gerard's eyes went wide.
"Goddamnit, let her go!" he called.
"Deux" the terrorist continued.
Gerard swallowed hard. He wouldn't let this happen.
"Trois" the terrorist said, as he wrapped his finger around the trigger.
"I'll do it!" Gerard shouted, "I'll do it!"

The terrorist victoriously raised his pistol to the roof.
"I am glad you made the right choice monsieur Bilodeau."
Only then, Gerard noticed he hadn't been breathing for a good five seconds now. He finally exhaled.
"Now.. let us discuss the details" the terrorist said, as he pulled another chair from the table, similar to the one Gerard was tied onto, putting it in front of Gerard as he sat down on it.

The next morning

Axmed walked through the airport terminal. He glanced around. There were a lot of people walking around, all going to their own destinations and minding their own business. He had his ticket ready, for his flight to Gaul. From there, he'd be on a flight to GHawkins. He joined the queue for customs, where his bags had to be checked in and his destination verified.

It took a while, but then it was finally his turn. Behind the bulletproof window was a rather old, grumpy looking lady.
"Passport please" she simply said, as Axmed handed his legit passport. She took it and opened it, looking at it and him as she compared the pictures.
"Destination?"
Axmed explained he'd be going on a flight to Gaul, which would then follow up to GHawkins, for business.
"Alright. Put your luggage on the belt and take your carry-on with you" she said, as she pointed Axmed to the right, where he'd be allowed to pass through the customs. He put his large red suitcase onto the conveyor belt, where it'd be taken to the back, scanned and inspected by K-9 operators, before being loaded into a container and loaded onto the plane.

Axmed proceeded onto the next check, which served to guide him to the right gate where he'd have to wait before being allowed to board. Because he was of Kamalbian origin, Axmed was "randomly" picked for a full body search. Random my ass, he thought. He remembered right there, as the man was patting him down, why he hated these Gauls so much. Thinking they are so superior, so much more than the Kamalbians. We'll show them, they'll feel our wrath Axmed thought. He grinned, something which quickly faded when he realized how stupid and suspicious it looked. Especially when being frisked by this guy.

He was allowed to go on his way. Half an hour later, the passengers were allowed to board. He found his seat, a window seat.
"At least I've got that.." he muttered, as he took his seat. Soon, the seat next to him was taken by an old lady. A very talkative old lady.
"Well young man, and where are you going on this fine day?" she asked. Axmed was wearing a suit with tie. He had a clean shave and took good care of himself. It certainly made him look like a young entrepreneur. At least some people did respect him. It suddenly made him feel worse.
"Business. In GHawkins" he simply said quite emotionless. He didn't want to get to know anyone. Or he might start questioning his resolve. But he was too late. The old lady wouldn't stop talking about all countries in Astyria she had been to; GHawkins, Nikolia, Agrincourt, Neu Engollon, the list goes on.

Soon after all passengers had boarded, the plane got permission to take off. Known to only one person on the plane, it was carrying a deadly package in its cargo hold. Gerard, against his will, smuggled the C4 charge onto the plane while loading the cargo containers. He hated himself for it, but he didn't have a choice.

Five minutes after the plane had taken off, the GSA relayed the leaked ALA information to Gaul. It was already too late to stop the plane from taking off. But they could get it when it landed in Gaul, before the terrorist would be able to transfer his bomb onto the flight to GHawkins and blow up the plane which would carry some important economic officials.

If only they knew..

[Libraria and Ausitoria]

To the untrained eye, any Imperial Ausitorian fleet looks very similar to any other Imperial Ausitorian fleet: sharp, well-armed, expensive, and sometimes strangely beautiful. This particular fleet seemed to be one such example.

There were a few large aircraft carriers, the Emperors of the Seas, capable of launching and recovering the varied bulky long-range STOL aircraft that provided potent EW capabilities, delivered anything up to a light tank anywhere within flying range, or carried kerosene high into the skies for aerial replenishment: for the Ausitorian bureaucracy enjoyed being efficient and strategically mobile.

There were several smaller carriers and amphibious assault vessels in varied shapes and sizes, the important courtiers, brimming with sleek vicious fighters and blunt-nosed helicopters, and an relatively old and grizzly battlecruiser with plenty of teeth left: for the Ausitorian bureaucracy demanded the ability to strike.

There were the dozens of confident and lofty cruisers, arrogant destroyers, and ambitious corvettes; each with their pre-assigned positions, ready to put up a defensive bubble around the fleet and to engage with either surface or subsurface targets: for the Ausitorian bureaucracy knew that Ausitorian lives and warships were hideously expensive.

And then there would be several silently lurking submarines out of sight, a few for fleet defence, one for nuclear warfare, and the remainder for cunning and dastardly operations to strike at the heart of the enemy: for the Ausitorian bureaucracy desired to hide some of its dreadful might.

All in all there were thousands of minds, millions of tons, and billions in investment.

..

But even an untrained observer would have noticed that there was something slightly different in the manner of this particular fleet that was currently carving its way through the sparkling azure seas of the bountiful fishing-grounds off the gold-ring island of Sasbia, some forty miles away on the port bow.

It was not the careless, self-confident air with which the ships quietly cut the seas into neat little waves of 'V's. All Ausitorian warships presented themselves thus in home waters, even when going forth to brave unknown terrors, to do mighty deeds, or to boldy split infinitives that no man had split before.

Nor was the difference the subtle variation in the colouring of the aircraft that swarmed around the fleet for many hundreds of kilometres like angry birds of prey guarding their chicks below. For there were a great many ceremonial nations within the United Realms, and merely having one type of aircraft per purpose in the fleet was still something of an administrative achievement.

No, the difference was instead perfectly embodied in the broad pennant that flew from the flagship of this particular fleet. It was a distinctively unusual emblem, visible to all: a full five-hundred meters of red cloth, dancing mad arcs in the gusty breezes over the length of the ship. With its vivid leaping, the sea air breathed life into it, and it shouted out for the whole world to behold: ‘Look at me, for I am free, and on the sea!’

And that, of course, was the designer’s intent: a statement of an ancient maritime power at sea. For this ship was the flagship of the Royal East Ausitorian Commodities Company’s fleet, which had just been borrowed back from the Imperial Navy, to which it was usually loaned. For only the fifth time in the past two decades; an Ausitorian Company was exercising its sovereign right and proceeding towards a foreign coastline with all the force it decided to muster.

This was to be no unplanned exercise in the right to freedom of navigation. The hordes of civil servants that ran the nation’s magnificent bureaucracy had been notified by the Company about their strong views on the bombing of SeaScape’s office in Edinburgh by the Yellow Star Republic. They had been reminded by the same company that the Ausitorian fleet was paid for in part by Commonwealth Connect’s enormous tax returns. There had been productive meetings between confident, decadently dressed, and excellently fed politicians, businessmen, admirals, and civil servants in ornate buildings under verandahs overlooking expansive green lawns, woodlands, and artificial lakes. They knew trade held the Empire together. Therefore the Empire must hold trade together. There had been a flurry of communiques with other Astyrian interests to investigate the possibilities. The orders, communiques, and press-leaks had been drafted, considered, co-ordinated, redrafted, amended, improved, approved, signed, and dispatched. The scene was set. And it opened thus:

Enter: The Ausitorian Pax Prosperitas.

From, The Royal East Ausitorian Commodities Company Incorporate, to, the various Potentates and Peoples of Astyria:

As per our commitment to Free Trade and our plenipotentiary sovereignty previously awarded, We, The Royal East Ausitorian Commodities Company Incorporate, hereby declare our absolute right to protect the freedoms of trade and peaceful navigation in conjunction with the Ausitorian fleet of the United Realms of Imperial Commonwealth of Libraria and Ausitoria on behalf of our sister companies Commonwealth Connect and their Ecossian subsidiary SeaScape.

We would like to inform all interest parties that this declaration especially covers Nouvel Ecosse, the straits East of the Yellow Star Republic, and adjacent areas within the region of Astyria.

Pax Prosperitas

By Order of His Imperial Majesty's Government

---

From: The Government Policy Office, The United Realms of the Imperial Commonwealth of Libraria and Ausitoria
To: The Government of the Walrus Loving Republic of Nouvel Ecosse
Encryption: Maximum, Confidential

---

President, Your Excellencies,

Further to the private discussions between our ministries and civil servants concerning possible co-ordination regarding Ausitorian involvement in the defence of our mutual interests in your nation’s company SeaScape, we have indeed concluded that it would be both practical and expedient to dispatch a major striking and defensive force to the relevant areas to both defend Edinburgh and your other Southern Territories should it be appropriate, and to serve as a political statement.

Consequently and subsequently, to provide both for our joint defence and to underline the solidarity between our two countries regarding these particular threats, we hereby formally request permission to navigate and base warships and associated assets under our command within your waters, to base an air wing and supporting forces centred in any airbase(s) that you can spare us; and to conduct patrols to provide us with early warning of any further attempts against your territorial integrity; all subject to all customary international law, Ecossian criminal law, and your nation’s relevant safety authorities (e.g. Air and maritime traffic authorities).

This permission should last until either of us consider the danger to have passed and such arrangements are considered unwarranted. For practical expedience it might also be considered sensible to allow arrangements between our respective headquarters to discuss military matters pertaining to our policies; and perhaps also to exchange views and plans at a higher level. If a state visit by our government would be desired by yours that can also be arranged. We hope to hear from you on the subject.

On a political note, following receipt of your permission, we will announce the deployment as a ‘routine friendly goodwill surprise visit’. That should frighten YSR. We do hope this is agreeable.

Yours sincerely,
Sir Henry Taylor,
Prime Minister of the United Realms of Libraria and Ausitoria

[Terra Azure]

In Port Blacksand the crap is about to hit the fan as Blackhelm soldiers set foot on the soil, The President is far from amused and so calls a meeting in the citadel,

"I WANT EVERY MAN TO DO HIS DUTY TO GOD" he yells to generals and subordinates, "AND THAT MEANS USING WHAT EVER MEANS WE HAVE AT OUR DISPOSAL" he shouts, taking this to be the liberal use of chemical weapons, one of the generals makes a call to a base some 15 kilometers from the city

"Open Fire with VX shells on the Confederate ships, target their hospital ship as well, as far as God sees it, its a legitimate duty" he says to the commandant at the battery, he in turn gives the order to fire, and so the gunnery teams take aim on the known positions of the Blackhelm navy vessels and open fire, these batteries send shells in towards the ships moored just off the coast, the first target being the hospital ship where many of the wounded from the two already damaged ships are being treated. Some shells overshoot, some shells land very very close to their target, though not actually hitting the ships, they come a little too close for comfort.

This however has the affect of rallying the oppressed, citizens of the country, oppressed for the last 10 to 15 years under the pseudo legitimacy of the theocratic government of the catholoc priest and his entourage see the incoming Blackhelm troops, not so much as invaders but liberators, however they too come under the strike of the cannons, as they welcome Blackhelm troops, shells containing VX Nerve gas rain down with typically devastating results, men, women, children even, the gas does not discriminate, the population of this small village was around 150 persons, however by the time the attack is over, or rather the first salvo of VX shells, just 8 people survive, the rest suffering horrific chemical burns to the skin as well as its neurological effects leading to a slow, lingering death, those who don't survive the VX attack come to succumb to regular TNT laden shells, right in front of the eyes of the Blackhelm Confederacy, the orders of the president have been carried out with ruthless efficiency.

Any soldier of the Blackhelm Confederacy, or indeed ANY person not protected by chemical warfare outfits succumbs to the deadly effects of VX toxin, those who are protected against that then have to deal with the incoming high explosive shells, the village hospital is also struck, 4 high explosive shells reduce the two storey building to rubble.

TAS Benedict IV
The captain looks at his boarders,
"In the captains safe, you will find details of the naval base that this submarine came from, including guard complement as well as maps, you may find it interesting reading", he looks at his executive officer and smiles "Good luck, I will send you a message when I am able to do so, may the lord bless you and fuck our president for he has lost it I think, amen"

The executive officer looks at the captain "take care sir" he says before climbing up the ladder to join the rest of the crew, climbing into one of the inflatable rafts, "Hope you can row in unison" he says to one of the oars men "Its a long way to Vizion, anyway by the left oar...." he says taking hold of the oars,

"three, two one." counts the X.O and so the crew begin to row,
"Yo A OH!, Home bar ray da brunnen Gee" they call recalling that battle song from the cult Sci Fi TV series [i]Lexx, dark zone stories, in a bid to keep some kind of stroke and slowly they row northwards

"last one to land fall buys the beers!" calls one of the lower ratings

"You're on, right guys row like the wind!" shouts another, and so the 3 lifeboat teams start to row, pushing hard in a northerly direction away from the submarine.

[Nation of Polarus]

Northern Casgene

The Wright & Apollo report on the status of the Ghawkins fleet had spurred a flurry of action and a resulting rapid Polarussian military build up to Casgene. Plane after plane began arriving, each night disgorging more and more men and material to aid in the war effort of Casgene. Within moments of touching down on the runways, the planes were emptied and airborne once again. Advisers dispersed to the barracks, weapons were packed into trucks and driven off, and almost immediately the commando teams melted into the night as they made their way in small groups towards the border with Agrincourt. By the time the forces of Ghawkins would arrive, nearly twelve hundred commandos and another eight hundred advisers would already be on the ground, doing all that they could to ensure a victory for Casgene.

Meanwhile, over the border in Agrincourt, the initial commando deployments that had been solely doing reconnaissance up until now was beginning to finally make moves. With sufficient manpower in the area, and having slipped well behind the front lines, they began to lat traps along roads that would not be expected to see action. Some were simple IED's, hidden beneath garbage piles and set to blow as the enemy convoy drove by. Others would be more complex, ambushing lightly defended groups of supply or maintenance vehicles with ruthless efficiency. The first and last vehicles would be hit by the Doomani made guided missiles that the Polarussians had brought with them, effectively halting the movement of the targeted column before moving in for the kill, spraying the now stalled vehicles with heavy machine gun fire and, if the opportunity made itself available, closing in for hand to hand combat to get up close and personnel and overwhelm the men in the trucks. If the operation failed or in men had to be left behind, the commandos all wore the uniforms standard of the special forces of Casgene, to throw light away from any suspicions that Polarus or the EATA were actively involved in the killing of their Western rivals.

Mare Ferum

With the Benedict IV now firmly in Polarussian hands the, high command was informed of the success. The Benedict IV, now renamed El Wafi, was to be sent back to Zulheina for immediate resupply before being redeployed south in join with a submarine task force planning to shadow the imminently arriving Ghawkins fleet. Aboard the El Saher, meanwhile, interrogations were about to begin for the Azuran captain. In a small, cramped room, the XO of the Polarussian vessel sat with the man and simply slid him a pen and a note pad. "Why don't we make this easy on everybody. I know that you have no love for the current regime in your nation...just write down whatever you think we should know, and we can both walk away from this happy. Sound good to you?" the XO said, hoping this would not need to devolve into anything more than a simple conversation between officers.

[Aurora Confederacy]

Black Manta,
Peace Valley

After flying several circuits, photographing the YSR, Nouvel Ecosse, Platteisen Adler, Glislandia, the cameras peering deep inside the group of nations, using visual and thermal infra-red photography, the time had come for the Manta to return to Peace Valley, so on the last lap, rather than pointing west again, the pilot pointed the plane towards Peace Valley, gradually as the Manta approached Peace Valley, the pilot eased the throttles back allowing the large jet to slowly decend.

Flying over Barentsburg, the aircraft was flying slightly nose high, speed brakes fully deployed as the computer controlled flight system held the plane at its attitude allowing the pilot to concentrate on getting the hypersonic bird to the runway.

After flying over Barentsburg, and with Peace Valley close by the pilot key'd the mike
"Peace valley, Manta Zero One, copy?"

A voice came back
"Manta Zero one Peace valley, good evening"

"Peace Valley, Be advised we are currently one hundred degrees by fifty kilometers, glideslope alpha, F L zero four, speed two hundred" said the pilot over the radio

"Manta Zero One, recieved" said the Air traffic controller, picked up a set of binoculars and took a look from his position, revealing a black dot on the horizon "Manta Zero one, is that you with no lights?"

"Afirmitive, just clear a pattern for us and prepare a chase car please" asked the pilot, gently adjusting the side stick as the Manta made its approach, rocking the plane left and right to get lined up on Peace Valley's runway.

"Understood, Manta Zero one" said the controller who then picked up a phone, he picked up the phone and punched in a number, it rang twice before being answered
"fire dept, Mike Hansen speaking" said the guy on the phone
"yeah Mike, can you get a chase car to Runway zero nine left please, Manta inbound" said the controller
"okay, on my way" said Mike, placing the phone down and grabbing a set of keys to a Subaru.

Mike Hansen made his way to the car, once inside Mike turned the radio onto the usual frequency for Manta operations, then made his way to the start of the runway just as the Manta crossed the threshold, at this point Mike mashed the accellerator to the floor and began to hurtle down the runway, radio on one hand, steering wheel in the other and using the paddle shift to shift gears as the large jet flew down the runway.

Together the driver of the Subaru and the pilot of the Manta worked in unison, gently easing the aircraft onto the runway which as soon as the tyres hit the cold tarmac spun up to rotational speed of 160mph, erupting smoke as they did but finally the Manta was down and within an hour or so the photographs will be ready to be handed over to the diplomats of Neu Engollon.

Foreign office, Hai'lu'kai
In an unnassuming office in the mirriad of offices in the foreign office, a white building in semi gothic style crossed with some spanish colonial, a call came through from Peace Valley, informing the landing of the Manta, for now the job had come to fall on the lab staff to get the high resolution photos to Neu Engollon and so the secretary made a call to the Neu Engollon Embassy.

The phone rang a few times before being answered
"Good evening, May I speak to the Ambassador please, its Sioban Jennings, Secretary to the Foreign minister here"
It was a short phonecall, by diplomatic standards, however an important one for in the city of Peace valley, some vital information was being taken from the Black Manta and prepared for the the Neu Engollon diplomatic staff allowing them to get information on YSR movements.

[Trellin]

From: His Imperial Majesty King Mahrim II Date: 17 / 02 / 2014 To: The Trellinese people of Rha'gutza and Khorvu cc: Ladron Ma'alathig Khadeg, Moethet Berendego Kur'zhetai, Methet Serekh Berendika Arimathe'ka, The governments of the sovereign nations of Astyria, The Empire of Andamonia Councillors Modriq Araguzi, Txerig Brefnid, Larand Crennihi, Khal Edarthesin, Mevala ti Ormen, Ésanna Porgenl and the Khalitan people, It has been a long time since a Trellinese monarch has written to you, and longer still since one has written to another government in Astyria. For over a century, I and my predecessors have shut ourselves away and left our neighbours, friends and rivals alike, to vie with one another, to dispute and to decide, to wage war and to conduct commerce. One hundred and one very long years have passed since that decision was made by my father's father, a decision which should not have become a thing of permanence. Isolating and insulating the Kingdom of Trellin, the Kingdom of the Isles of Velar and the Empire of Hysera was a foolish policy which has had us reap no rewards, only sorrows. It is over seventy five years since the most disastrous decree ever issued from the Sidereal Crown saw the stifling of what for a long time looked to be the last hope for reuniting all the Trellinese people. The horrors and cataclysms of what we now call the Trophy Wars will never be forgotten, and it is an everlasting credit to the honour of all that there were no celebrations of any kind, anywhere, to mark their anniversary. For one hundred and nineteen years, your Trophy Ports have been the most contentious issue in Astyrian politics and a matter of honour for two empires to contest. It grieves me that my people should have been living under the rule of a foreign power, against their wills, for four generations, but it is my hope that soon this, and all the bitterness and hatred that it has bred, will be for now and forever disowned and disavowed by all. We no longer live in an age where right of conquest can be cited as right to rule; it has been made clear time and again that what is most important is the will of the people. As time has continued to move on, I have realised that the will of the Trellinese people would no longer have them sealed away behind their own walls as though the world were a storm and Trellin the one safe shelter. In this matter we behold what have seen our brethren in Arimathea, in Cadenza and in Kur'zhet and we realise we have erred. The path to prosperity is not hermitage but fellowship; not isolation but openness; not suspicion but trust. We thought we stood aloof from Astyria. In truth, we stood apart. We stood alone. For one hundred and one years we have suffered for those, our mistakes. We are long overdue an end to this folly. It is neither realistic nor good that we should attempt to remain hidden away within our borders until the world should come crashing down around us, for there is no hope that we could keep ourselves free of any evil that may be in the world; it is only good that we would fend off by our efforts. Why, therefore, should I continue the mistakes of my father and his father by keeping our people isolated from the rest of the world? I have asked myself this question for many long years, and many have asked me this question whenever I myself stopped. I have come to the decision that I must reverse this fool's policy and hope to begin righting the wrongs that have accumulated over the last four generations. From this very moment, on this day, the seventeenth of February in the year of Our Lord two thousand and fourteen, the two thousandth, two hundredth and ninety-eighth year since the accession of Amadar I Thaerinë, King of Trellin, let the entirety of my dominions - those of the King of Trellin, those of the King of the Isles of Velar, those of the Emperor of Hysera - rejoin the community of nations of the world. In no uncertain terms, I proclaim an end to the Decree of Reordering and Restructuring issued by Amadar IV in the year of Our Lord nineteen thirteen, the two thousandth, one hundredth and ninety-seventh year since the accession of Amadar I Thaerinë, King of Trellin. With this principle obstacle no longer withstanding, I am now utterly free to pay the Trophy Ports the heed they have so long deserved and not received. Let it be known that the Sidereal Crown has heard the will of the Khalitan people. Let it be known that I, Mahrim II Aryxë Palægos, the King of Trellin and protector, by grace of God and will of Thaera, of all the Ethlorek peoples, have seen and recognised my solemn duty towards you, to respect your desire to be reunited with your brethren and to do my utmost to see that aspiration fulfilled. Let it be known that from this day forth, until the ending of time, the King of Trellin renews his vows as Lord Holder of the Trophy Ports and all the duties as their protector that come therewith. Let it be known that I accept your petition to reenter the Trellinese Empire as possessors of the fullest of rights as subjects of the Sidereal Crown. With exultation I welcome you once more into the fold. May the Khalitan people, the Trellinese people, the Ethlorek people, never again be sundered. May peace and prosperity mark all your days and all those of your descendants. By the grace of God, and by the will of Thaera, may it so come to pass. His Majesty Emperor Mahrim II of the Most Ancient Sidereal Crown, King of Trellin, King of the Isles of Velar, Emperor of Hysera, Protector of Arimathea, Txekrikar, Kur'zhet and Cadenza, Prince of Elori, Ludef, Tar Pegalim and Txakla, Lord of Ledigar, Zha'tar, Khatax and Ternos, Guardian of the Straits of Jajich, Holder of the Trophy Ports Durats, Khorvu, Mintra, Rha'gutza and Vacoas, Duke of Mar'theqa, Ka'alkë, Asketon, Halith and Zynaxa, Marquis of Khem, Tidros and Kethros.

[Blackhelm Confederacy]

Outside Port Blacksand

The chemical attack had been a surprise for the Confederate command, but was not particularly effective. In their attempts to cause maximum damage against already wounded personnel, the Azuran artillery had made the poor choice of targeting the very furthest vessel from the coast. The shells, as a result, had fallen well short of their goal. Their point, nonetheless, was made as the rounds hit the water and released their deadly gas. Immediately, nearby vessels began to over pressurize and set off their NBC sprinklers, drowning out the threat and effectively neutralizing it without much incident. On the ground, however, there were more pressing issues. As the HE shells began to rain down, the Confederate troops began a desperate scramble for cover, but for many it was too late. A number were vaporized outright in the explosions from the large enemy shells, yet others were sent flying through the air to land with a crippling thud as their bones shattered on impact with the sandy floor beneath them. Others still, yet an even worse fate. For an unlucky few, the debris sent up by the blasts tore gashes in the men's NBC suits, allowing the deadly nerve gas to seep in do its ghastly work. Twenty one young Confederate boys had lost their lives in the fiasco, and another seventeen would now require medical attention for a variety of wounds, some of which would cost limbs and change lives forever.

The response from the fleet was immediate and nothing short of dramatic. Within seconds of the Azuran artillery opening fire. counter-battery radar throughout the Confederate fleet had pinpointed the exact location of the offending pieces and laid down a merciless fire from their guns. A massive barrage of shells was now spewing forth against a large box around the last position of the Azuran guns, ensuring they did not escape this time as they miraculously had the last. On top of this, operations were now doubled to ensure that the Confederate troops assigned to the airport were in position. They would quickly secure the essential building and then spread out to make sure the enemy was gone for good. At the slightest sign of contact with Azuran government forces, the fleet was contacted and once again a full on barrage was sent down range to make short work of any attempt at resistance.

With this airfield firmly in Confederate hands, the real operations could finally begin. Three full Confederate divisions, not to mention a number of forces from fellow EATA states, had already been earmarked for this operation. With the airfield secure, the flow of allied forces can now begin, and the operation in Terra Azure can kick into full gear. This was not the only thing that was developing either. With the capital city now locked down on all sides, the Confederates were now making their plans to enter the city. The way they would do it, however, would be near revolutionary. Two hundred Riverstone TAURUS UGV's were now preparing to enter the city, one hundred from each side, and make their way to a series of objectives throughout the city, most important of which was the castle where the priest was believed to be living. The humanless, near bullet proof horde now began to roll into the enemy city. Each one of these complete with a heavy machine gun and four anti-tank missiles, they would perform their task of occupying the city and drawing out possible government forces still lurking about as the rest of the occupation began to flow in.

[Terra Azure]

With the airport in confederate hands, the military operations of Terra Azure are restricted, however there is a plan to retrive this, and so 800 soldiers, 14 BMP tanks and 28 T72 tanks are thrust forwards along with several Katayusha rocket launchers mounted on old Uralaz trucks. The soldiers, riding in the back of several Kamaz trucks, on the back of some toyota pickups, some of which having heavy machinegun mounts welded to the base of the cargo bed in the form of the classic "African Technical".

The move is by night, travelling in two destinct coloumns which when they get close to the airfirld, they fan out to cross over the desert, drivers navigating by map to ensure they do not run over their own minefields, for Terra Azure has more land mines than trees, some analysts have said that there are more mines than dollars in the federal reserve lie in the desert waiting to be triggered.

Coming across a UGV, the gunner of one of the lead tanks slews his gun around and orders the driver to stop.
"Hold it Marcelle" he says as he brings the gun to bare, "high explosive shell please" he says to the loader who duly conforms to the instruction and so the shell is placed in the breach of the T72's gun. The hydraulics whined as the barrel was brought to bare and then an almighty bang could be heard inside the turret as the gunner pressed the fire button sending the shell into a Blackhelm UGV.
The T72 lurched as the driver applied the power and began to move to its target area.

Port Blacksand
The city is in full lockdown with only the military police on the streets, streetlights are turned off and defensive structures have been erected made up from wooden frames wrapped in razor wire, burned out vehicles, some of which have been boobytrapped, other items include IEDs placed in litter bins with trip wires and remote triggers. On the rooftops of various buildings many of which occupied by civilians, there are military snipers. this gives a bit of a conundurum as to how they can be removed without harming the civilians below the snipers.

Welcome to Port Blacksand!

[Aurora Confederacy]

Longyearbyen Naval base
Sitting low against the water and the surrounding scenery sits the Aurora Confederacy's latest warship, 606 feet long, slightly larger than a Typhoon class submarine, the new vessel, S10 ACNS Spartan, is a nuclear powered cruise missile submarine. On board her the crew are going about their jobs of prepping the vessel for her first patrol as she was only delivered two days ago. Spartan's duty is to project power in case of aggression against the Aurora Confederacy thanks to the use of vertical launch cruise missile tubes that will easily take a Tomahawk type cruise missile.

The captain, Meritxell West, stands atop the conning tower looking over her domain as longshoremen cast off lines, at the other end of the lines, crewmen aboard Spartan haul the lines and feed them down the hatch where other crew coil the lines up and stow them, Meritxell takes hold of her walkie talkie,
"Engine room, dead slow astern both engines please" she says
a voice comes back, "dead slow astern aye"

Moments later the water around the stern of the vessel begins to churn as the submarine eases backwards out of its dock, gently reversing towards a waiting tugboat. Once clear of the quay Meritxell keys the mic again
"All stop then a squirt of forwards"

"all stop aye" comes the reply, the submarine responds in kind by giving a blast of forward thrust to arrest the movement of the sub, and so two tugs come forwards, one pushing the bow on one side, the other pushing the stern from the other and so rotating the submarine around an axis. once facing the right way, a third tug boat moves in to arrest the motion of the submarine.

"Spartan, you are clear for departure, have a good patrol" calls the captain of one of the tugboats.

"Will do guys, take care and god bless" says Meritxell over the walkie talkie before giving the order "slow ahead both engines", and so the submarine begins to ease forward, the two reactors powering the vessel forwards. as the fjord widens the water depens the helmsman watches the depth, 50ft below keel, 60 feet below keel, 80 feet below keel, 100 feet below keel 200 feet below keel... as soon as it reaches below 250 feet below keel he calls up.
"Captain, eighty four meters below keel" he calls

"Roger helmsman" says Meritxell over the radio, she looks then to her officers on the sail "okay lets go in", and so the 4 officers climb down the ladder, meritxell closing the hatch behind her. Once inside the control room, she folds the ladder out of the way and closes the inner hatch, "periscope depth please" she says as she takes position by the scope and so the helmsman takes the control and releases the valves, allowing the ballast tanks fore and aft to take on water and gradually the submarine.

"up scope" she says and so the periscope comes up to her eye line.

Meritxell takes a look around with the scope then the navigator calls out the depth "one hundred fifty meters below keel" Meritxell acknowledges.

"Helm, make our depth one hundred meters, increase speed to twenty five k's please" she says. before issuing another command "Down scope", sending the periscope and antennae down into their housing.

"twenty five aye, depth one hundred aye captain", as such he responds by pushing the yoke forwards then advancing the throttle levers. The submarine responds by tipping down on her nose and then gradually accellerating as the sub slips ever deeper.

As the submarine eases towards its patrol depth, Meritxell makes her way to her cabin and retrives her orders from the safe

SECRET
ACNS SPARTAN -
DEPLOYMENT ORDERS
Crusie north to holding area off the north coast of Nouvel Ecosse, await further orders.

Secretary of the navy

As the seabed fell away to the abyssal plain many hundreds of meters below, Meritxell looked over to the helm,
"Depth two hundred meters please, make revolutions for thirty five kilometers per hour, set course for three one five degrees"

The helmsman repeated the instructions and adjusted the submarines course accordingly, tipping the nose forwards and increasng the throttle. Further aft in the submarine, reactor controllers withdrew the control rods a little more to reveal more of the uranium fuel, the reactor responded by generating more heat and so more steam and the submarine accellerated away, creaking slightly as the pressure increased on the hull, a sound normal to ALL submarines the world over, as the helmsman altered the course, the submarine rolled into the turn though at about 100m below the surface, the submarine slipped below a thermokline, now below this level, the submarine is now in it true element, hidden from surface sonar due to the temperature differences of the two water layers.

[Riysa]

Just a map, graciously provided by Mal, showing where ar-Raha is located on the Astyrian map.

Markez al-Siyasi, Riysa

The Za'im was sitting at his desk, in his office, following a troubling morning briefing. A family of 6 people in the ar-Raha principality had died after uncovering an unexploded artillery shell, of Caseginian origin. While tragic, what made this troubling was that this wasn't the first time it had happened - up to 21 people had been killed by Caseginian shells falling into ar-Raha, with some more wounded. Ostensibly, it wasn't the fault of Casegene - the Principality had the unfortunate chance of being located next to the conflict zone between Agrincourt and Casegene.

Now, while it appeared to be mistakes due to inaccurate unguided ordnance, the public wanted some form of revenge or response to their dead brothers and sisters, and the government as a whole - and him in particular - didn't want to appear weak or timid in the face of such a violation of their sovereignty and borders.

There was another thing though, that was pushing him to take action. Casegene wasn't known for being particularly stable...or sane, as the current war between Agrincourt and Casegene demonstrates. High Command had been worried about an invasion of ar-Raha from Casegene for some time, and there were reports of movements close to the border, which was making quite a few people nervous. He would be holding a meeting later today to discuss options in regards to that.

Now, he needed to write a letter...

---

Origin:Government of Riysa
Sender: Desk of the Za'im, Tawfiq al-Hiwari
CO: N/A
Recipient: Government of the Nation of Casegene
Subject: Border Violations, Ordnance

Timestamp: 12:08:10 9/3/2014
E-Signature: [T.HIWARI]
Encryption: Medium
Classification: None
Caveats: N/A

---

Greetings,

I am contacting you personally in regards to the numerous violations of our border by your ordnance. Since the war between you and the nation of Agrincourt begun, over 21 of our citizens have been killed by falling and unexploded Casegenian ordnance, and double that number have been wounded. This letter is a letter of complaint, as well as a letter of request - we do not appreciate having our sovereignty violated, so we request a greater exercise in caution by your forces and a shift away from our borders.

Compliance and an apology would be greatly appreciated. We aren't seeking recompense, just assurance that our current neutrality will not be violated.

Thank You,

Tawfiq al-Hiwari

[Blackhelm Confederacy]

Port Blacksand

The doomed UGV was destroyed, but not before relaying its last moments back to the fleet. Meanwhile, overhead, the drones launched earlier were sending back images of two separate columns rolling down upon the Confederate occupied air base. Aboard the BCNS Blockbuster, a young operator rubbed his eyes in disbelief. For the second time, the Azuran forces had seemingly appeared by miracle, having avoided hundreds of missiles and radar sweeps to lash out at Confederate positions. "Where the fuck do these guys keep coming from?" he said aloud before sending the coordinates of the columns over to the men in the guns. The same was taking place on the other ships of the fleet as the naval artillery began unloading shell after shell onto the Azuran troops well before they would get close to the air base.

Meanwhile, at the airport, engineers were working overtime to roll out long strips to create a makeshift, usable air field for their reinforcements to land on. In other parts , soldiers were setting up a perimeter and searching for explosives. The Azurans were known to like tricks, and the Confederate soldiers were not going to have any forgotten explosives go off under them. Massive sweeps and robotic detection units were now spreading out throughout the area.

Alexandria, BC

The rest of the Confederate expeditionary force was now preparing to be shipped out. The runways at the Alexandria air base were now lined with thousands of soldiers and dozens of large aircraft ready to take the brave fighting men of the Blackhelm Confederacy across the Mare Ferum to save the people of Terre Azure from themselves. By the morning, the first members of this force should be arriving on the ground. Earmarked for this mission were the rest of the 10th Infantry and 2nd Marine divisions, as well as the 14th Infantry division. They would link up with other EATA forces upon arriving, and from there move out to clear out the city.

SE of Yellow Star Republic

The Yellosian response came immediately, as was to be expected, and the CIWS and countermeasures of the fleet immediately began to blast off into the air. Dozens of enemy missiles poured into the fleet's formation as fire and chaos appeared all around. The first explosion of missile on metal tore through the air, emanating from the Virigina class cruiser the BCNS Nymph. The sound was all too familiar to many of the senior sailors and officers, having been through various previous conflicts to defend their homeland, and they gritted their teeth and prayed for their friends as they continued their duties. Not a moment later they heard the sound again, then two more times. The Nymph was hit once more, a non fatal wound but enough to cause significant damage. Other missiles had struck the Everlasting and Whistler, with the latter ship taking severe damage.

The trimaran design of the LCSHSS allowed the crew to attempt to maintain stability and avoid a list, but this was a rapidly waning ability as more and more water began to pour into the gap in the armor. Her sistership, the BCNS Skylark, immediately came about to tie onto the stricken Whistler and attempt to keep her afloat, although doing this had now virtually taken both vessels out of the fight. The Nymph and Everlasting were both fighting fires and doing their best to remain in the fight, but it was fairly certain that if the fleet did not pull into drydock soon there could be more pressing problems.

Admiral Redfield quickly forwarded an encrypted message to the air group at Matvayez, informing them of their current situation and requesting that a mission be undertaken to clear away remaining YSR naval assets to allow the fleet access to Ecossian naval yards. If nothing was done soon, the fleet might be forced to run the gauntlet and bull their way north, but this was something that Redfield would hope to avoid, if at all necessary. Word had not reached him yet of the damage he had caused to Yellosian command or to the fleet, but he was not yet willing to assume the best. For now, he had to get his ships and their cargo to Matvayez, and the sooner they could the better.

[Bungussi]

Bangalla, Bungussi

President Marcellus Achebwe appeared on the televisions and radios throughout Bungussi. For the first time in years, and the first time ever as an independent nation, Bungussan forces were preparing to leave the Hesperidisiean continent to fight another nations war. Treaty bound by the EATA to assist in time such as these, the brave men of Bungussi now lined up on the runway at the Bangalla Airbase as their President told the country of their new mission. Across the nation, church bells were run and prayers were said for the souls of the men about to set out overseas, but on the runway the men stood solemnly. Each of them had their own thoughts and feelings on the situation in Terre Azure, but inside, most of the men here were actually excited to finally leave their jungle lands and have an opportunity like this to see another nation, another culture, a place that was not Bungussi.

No man, however, was more excited then the one appointed to lead this mission, General Livonius Benguwe. Benguwe had studied in military academies in the Blackhelm Confederacy before it was even a nation, back in the days when it was still the Empire of Exponent. He had grown an attachment to that nation which had at one time colonized his home lands, but looked at them not as former oppressors, but rather as a big brother, one who helped to raise a young Bungussi and who continues to watch out for the nation, while letting the Bungussans govern and make choices for themselves. And just like the case with any brothers, Benguwe felt a bit of sibling rivalry with the much larger Confederacy. He saw this as a chance to show the world, but more importantly the Blackhelm Confederacy, that the Bungussan armed forces were a capable, independent force. They were much more than just your average, third rate military on Hesperidisea, they were a competent, effective machine that would do their duty to the best of their abilities.

General Benguwe looked out onto the runway and smiled with pride at the men before him. Assembled in neat rows before him, looking like the picture of military discipline, were the men of the 4th and 9th Bungussi Rifle Battalions. Twenty four hundred men in all, as well as vehicles, logistical support troops, and all the other trappings that came along with such a deployment, these men would represent the nation of Bungussi in the mission to Terre Azure. It was not yet known exactly what their task was once they arrived on the ground, but the general gist of things relayed to them by EATA command was that they would assist in maintaining security and re-establishing the government in the country, left shaken and battered after years of abuse by the tyrannical priest in power there.

And there they stood, beneath the hot jungle sun as the first of several large transports, some of the Bungussan Air Forces but others on loan from the Confederate military, began to roll out onto the runway. With precision, the men piled their way into the aircraft and were in the air. Benguwe hustled down the runway as he made his way onto the very first plane, determined to be the first of his countrymen to set foot on the soil of far off Terre Azure. is stomach was rolling in excitement and anticipation as his plane soared skyward, and he looked forward eagerly to his meeting with his Confederate, and even Polarussian counterparts. There would be others there as well, and he knew soon he would be meeting them as well, and before long they would be in the process of securing Port Blacksand and establishing a new government, one for the people of Terre Azure.

[Casegene]

Longmount, Capital Province, The People's Republic of Casegene

Supreme Leader William Cornell sat at his large wooden desk, sorting through the masses of paperwork he had to deal with on a daily basis. Contrary to the popular Western belief, he was a rather competent administrator and would usually spent hours at his desk making sure that everything is in order. The aging leader rubbed his eyes wearily, then let out a quiet yawn; whilst he retained his mind, he had lost the vigor and energy that had guided him in his younger years. With a quiet sigh, he leaned back and rested himself against the leather chair's support. He was about to shut his eyes and drift off elsewhere when a knock at the door disturbed his thoughts. Begrudgingly, he called out.

"Enter!"

In wandered a tall man, clad in the uniform of the Casegenian Republican Guard; the markings on his uniform - a plain black shield - marked the man out as a member of the Presidential Security Service. The man marched in and stood in front of the leader - of course, he saluted him shortly afterwards. He lowered his hand down and reached out towards his leader; a folded letter in it.

"What is it?"

"It's a priority telegram, sir. I believe it's from the government of Riysa," the youthful soldier responded in a composed tone. He was used to these short conversations with the Leader, who despite his apparently "misguided dictator" persona, was actually a kind and respectful fellow; at least, in the eyes of the soldier.

"Is that so?" Cornell's response didn't sound very cheerful, although that could have been his tiredness. The soldier remained silent, standing upright in a parade rest position.

"Right. I'll give it a glance; dismissed." He left without another word, except for a quick salute.

The Supreme Leader quickly unfolded the letter and scanned its contents with a gaze that seemed to reawaken as time progressed. By the time he had finished reading it, he was more than lively. He set the telegram down and quickly went about writing his own.

---

The People's Republic of Casegenia

---

ORIGIN: The People's Republic of Casegenia

ENCRYPTION: HIGH

RECIPIENT: The Government of Riysa
SUBJECT: Border Violations

---

It is with utmost sadness that I send you my condolences. To hear that civilians have been harmed by the forces of The People's Republic of Casegenia is something that I have dreaded, for I believe that civilians should be kept out of conflict at all costs. I cannot bring back the lives of these innocent civilians, nor can I apologise enough for the amount of damage caused by these incidents. However, I shall order the soldiers of Casegenia to be much more careful in how they operate. In addition to this, I would like to provide a monetary compensation for the victims of these compensations, as well as donating a sum of money to the hospitals of ar-Raha.

Once again; we, as a nation, are very sorry for these incidents. I cannot stress this enough.

Thank you,
William Cornell, Leader of the People's Republic of Casegene

[Nation of Jafala]

Ezami, Jafala

Parades and streamers rained down from the surrounding buildings as the men of the Jafalan army marched in order down the main street of Ezami, en route to the airport where they would fly off to do their duty in Terre Azure. Unlike the Bungussans, who tried their best to look sharp, the Jafalans were not quite that tightly kept. The soldiers marched along proudly beneath their ill fitting helmets and flak jackets, waving to the crowds and showing that they were indeed the best of the best in Jafala, even if they did look a bit silly. Along with them rolled a number of vehicles, light tanks and even some self-propelled artillery. Even if they did not fully look the part, the Jafalan Army was still the most powerful force in eastern Hesperidesia, with an army more than twice the size of Bungussi and Cote d'Cuivre combined. These men would bring glory to the EATA, and glory to Hesperidisea,

Not all of the members, however, were as proud to be going off to fight for the Confederacy, however. Standing like a stone in his jeep at the front of the parade, beneath a red beret and behind big dark aviator glasses stood General Ghaza Kali. Kali was much older than the rest of the men behind and around him, given this posting more as an honor than anything else. He remembered the time when the forerunner of the Confederacy had ruthlessly slaughtered his people. He was a young man then, back when the war for Jafalan independence had come about. He had joined the Kwazalis, the "Sons of Fire", at the outbreak of the war. He had taken part in the Fanza Offensive that had so damaged the resolve of the Exponential forces at home. He killed the white man, and watched as the white man killed his friends and even his family around him. He remembered it well, the burning villages, the blood, the death, the hate.

And now here he was, fifty years later, a whole half a century, and he was nearly back where he had begun. Once again, Jafala was under the control of their white neighbors to the north. But this time, this time things would be different. This time the Jafalan Army would prove why they were the strongest military on the eastern half of their continent. They would not be a junior partner to the Confederates, now if Ghaza had a say in things. He looked around him at the cheering faces, the banners and streamers, and realized that these people, nearly each and every one, were far too young to remember those days when their "big brother" to the west had so ruthlessly killed their people. How quickly time forgets, he thought. He looked out and saw as some of these people even waved Confederate flags from their windows and nearly gagged. But still, he had his job to do. He would assist the other members of the EATA in deposing the government of the deranged priest in Terre Azure, but while doing it he would make sure that all around knew that the Jafalans were the equals, if not the superiors, to their neighbors both east and west.

[Cote dCuivre]

Port-au-Prospérité, Cote D'Cuivre

Once more, the Cuivran army was called upon to serve overseas, just as they had done for centuries. Behind a group of Panhard AML's came the soldiers, marching in unison in their camoflage uniforms, guns held sharply beneath their arms at a ninety degree angle. These were the men of the 3e Bataillon d’infanterie des forces armées terrestres cuivrennes, the Cuivran 3rd Infantry Battalion. Smiling and waving from his jeep at the head of their formation was their commander, Jean-Pierre Ndobo. He was a career military man, but was not quite so old as his Jafalan counter part as to have fought in the anti colonial wars. He was just a boy then, and while he did have memories of the Gauls in his village as a young boy, he did not harbor the resentment some of his older countrymen did.

Ndobo sought to go off to war not to prove himself, nor to prove the might or capabilities of his nation or its armed forces. Instead, Ndobo went to war to up hold tradition, the proud and mighty tradition the the Cuivran people had come to revere. Reaching all the way back to the days of Napoleon, when Cuivran troops had been used as a kind of shock force, enforcers in more rebellious provinces, the Cuivran military had always done its duty, at times with ruthless efficiency. Many tales have been told of the waste lain to the cantons of Neu Engollon, to the fields of the west, and to the unfortunate souls who crossed the Cuivran sword. Many more times during the previous two centuries would the Gauls call upon Cuivran forces for positions they did not feel fit for a Gaul, and time after time the Cuivrans did their job without complaint. Now, in the 21st century, it is a new nation that now requires Cuivran arms, this time from an independent Cote d'Cuivre, and as always the Cuivrans would not turn down the call.

And so they went, man after man piling into the aircraft that the Blackhelm Confederacy was gracious enough to loan them, and made their way towards the far away nation of Terre Azure. Much like themselves, the Azurans too had been colonized by the Gauls. They had hoped that this would make things easier for their mission abroad, as they would be able to speak the language of the natives and share a similar history. The Cuivran deployment was not large, in fact it was less than two thousand men, but they were sure that they would all do their duty to the best of their abilities, and keep the myth of Cuivran military tradition alive and well on the modern battlefield.

[Nation of Polarus]

Zulheina, Polarus

Last but not least, wrapping up the Hesperidisean deployments came the Polarussian army's 5th Infantry Division. Numbering more than ten thousand men, the Polarussian forces would outnumber all the other continental deployments with the exception of the Confederacy's. The government of Polarus was determined to make a name for itself beyond just being a second rate power in the east, and it had firmly hoped that between its deployments to Terre Azure and covert operations within Agrincourt, along with its submarine fleet out lurking the Mare Ferum, the rest of Astyria, and the west in particular, would finally give the Polarussian people the respect they deserve.

These men and their equipment would not be using aircraft lent to them by the Confederacy like the others had, and we very proud to be able to not only fly their own transports, but to even be able to fly their own escorts over the sea, providing protection for their men as they went. This deployment was also the perfect opportunity to whip the Polarussian economy onto a war footing, and factories began working double time to pump out the knock-off unlicensed versions of various Doomani and Confederate weapons. Most importantly, however, was that the Polarussian factories were also going to begin working on aircraft, hoping to increase the size of their air force and with any luck perhaps even their navy, although that seemed like it might be asking for too much, during this time.

Off the coast of Agrincourt

The El Moutarid and El Wafi held their positions, awaiting the Ghawkins fleet which was inevitably going to show up, trying to be the heroes they all thought they were, while the El Idrissi moved in to probe the Gaul and Engollian fleets. It was not about to come into range that would make it a real threat yet, but it would come in just close enough to make the westerners feel a bit uneasy, and let them know that they were being watched while they were here in the east.

[Aquitayne]

Kamunek us Guneyha Eirar us Aquitayne a Symphonia
Seister Stat us Cansetuteinel Mohnerch us Aquitayne
Office of His Majesty the King Samuel Reich
Prime Minister of the United Kingdom
Keilgrom Minestraht us Aifur Furein Havm
2019 Peirmus Strat, District Mahgeistrat
Telora, Aifur Proveince, Aquitayne

---

Us Fayervamble "Notice", oit es haeilmvm lo Guneyha as Astyria, es Demokraci as Astyria, es mahn nateins as Astyria;

---

a) Nas us'e obleitor as Imperial Spartanian Empire, as Guneyha Eirar us Aquitayne a Symphonia los uctur ryos as manos'rya as manos'ryo us ceitzunra us fyeirwhembl colonis. Promyu, as Guneyha Eirar tus daplumyent us humanyitreyan trups los reigowen los peice, manos'rya, zyeid eissentyre, as urdeir los areiy aflyctyet. Ahseizrat tewustimat pyut dummage us uveir $8.5 billeon NationStates Dollars, us'e humanye dummage myur'teir as'e fyeirwhembl tyeritat. Zeirfur;

b) Us Guneyha Eirar us Aquitayne a Symphonia los heir'b proclamme us impurtyen Guneyha Eirar Auyr Militat Opehationeil Tyeitur (GEAMOT), los tohtal'yte mas: Mycen Straht, los nurten'myas es surten'myas tyeritat us Insula Fera, us'e ahr'spahce us fyeirwhembl'en tyeritat. Us nyet-ahr-wune los'ma tyurmena imeidat us ceivel ahr curba treinspur los ahr'spyes los'ma reqwhat us uwn peirmissyon byet los vleit holmv, mos'et los'ma dyvyet. Luryetmas;

c) Zeyru Miliat los Cansetuteinel Mohnerch us Aquitayne as Asein Fyedurahtein us Natein us Symphonia los'ma zar'ha pyet reigowen shyurt'a los styur as kabracyo vyet los ubleit'marcha los Herald yinsurgat. Los'mo nyut us'a Heraldan wyebel grup los cundoctyet los cyuw Spartanian Minestraht los permittyei as kanfyeir us havvm tyetz us 18 Myeirch 2014 tat 11:18 GMT kas los Ryel us Keilgagmon Aqvitanye. Eityra, es-Spartanian trups dat eitya us kosteil larot Guneyha Eirar trups los fyet untus los trups mas'byen vyeimt. Tyet mos rak;

d) Us'mas reigowen us tohtal'yte Insula Fera as defyen communitat interneitonyel;

-Kyenyur as Guneyha Eirar Auyr Militat Opehationeil Tyeitur;
-Abyolyeit us'a nationeil syurventyei kas coloni proveince us Cape Town;
-Kyenyur as tyeritat, nyet stat, byel UK-MILACT-281-28/12, tyemas 4-12, par.5, byel'tyem 3-2, lyen d;
-Kyenyur byel nyet-ahr-wune;
-Pyermitat us Humanyitreyan Ussyeinstence los NGOs;
-Pyermitat as tyeritat us tohtal'yte us Aquitaynian trups as'e Aquitaynian OPEX

Haeilmvm lo Seug us'a EIyro,

Samuel Reich

Kamunek us Guneyha Eirar us Aquitayne a Symphonia
Sister State of the Constitutional Monarchy of Aquitayne
Office of His Majesty the King Samuel Reich
Prime Minister of the United Kingdom
Magistrate of Foreign Affairs
2019 Peirmus Strat, Magistrate District
Telora, Aifur Proveince, Aquitayne

---

Publication "Notice", to the respected Kingdoms, Democracies, and all other Nations of Astyria;

---

a) Due to the recent abolition of the Imperial Spartanian Empire, the United Kingdom of Aquitayne and Symphonia have acted to ensure the well-being and welfare of the citizenry of the aforementioned colonies. As such, the United Kingdom has begun the deployment of humanitarian forces to the region to restore peace, welfare, basic living essentials, and order to the afflicted areas. Preliminary estimates place damages at over $8.5 billion NationStates Dollars, and the human damage extremely more apparent. Therefore;

b) The United Kingdom of Aquitayne and Symphonia have hereby announced the implementation of a United Kingdom Joint Military Operations Theater (UKJMOT) which will encompass the Mican Straight, the northernmost and southernmost regions of the Insula Feran archipelago, as well as the airspace of said areas. A No-Fly Zone will be implemented immediately and all civil air traffic crossing the airspace will be required to have ascertained authorization before the flight begins, or it will be diverted. Furthermore;

c) Military resources of both the Constitutional Monarchy of Aquitayne and the Asian Federation of Nations of Symphonia will be deploying assets to the archipelago shortly to begin the reconstruction process and begin the abolition of the Heraldan insurgency. It should be noted that the Heraldan rebel faction which enacted the coup of the Spartanian government are authorized as legitimate and legal targets, as of 18 March 2014 at 11:18 GMT, on the Aquitaynian Rules of Engagement. Additionally, all ex-Spartanian forces who engage in hostile acts against United Kingdom forces will be fired upon until the threat has been neutralized. To that end;

d) Let it be noted that the regions of the territories, as geographically defined by the international community, of the archipelago of Insula Fera is hereby;

-Considered a United Kingdom Joint Military Operation Theater;
-Abolished of all national sovereignty save for the Provincial Colony of Cape Town;
-Considered a territory, not state, under UK-MILACT-281-28/12, section 4-12, par.5, sub.sec.3-2, line d;
-Considered under a No-Fly Zone;
-Authorized for Humanitarian Assistance via NGOs;
-Authorized as a territorial deployment zone for Aquitaynian soldiers as an Aquitaynian OPEX

e) We request that the national bodies of Astyria do not intervene in these operations save for if they are humanitarian. Until order has been established, we will request all NGOs hold services until their personnel's security can be assured.

f) More information will be dispatched when it becomes available.

Regards,

Samuel Reich

[Blackhelm Confederacy]

Paradise City
Blackhelm Confederacy

The joint Symphonian-Aquitaynian announcement of their occupation of the Insula Fera triggered an immediate press conference in the Chancellery, and after a short bit of time Chancellor Eaglebrand appeared upon the podium to address the issue.

"As I am sure you have all heard by now, our neighbors to the north seek to expand their grasp, likely supported by corrupted western arms, over our freedom and peace loving brothers and sisters in the former Spartanian Empire and on the Insula Fera. I am well aware that several areas of the former Spartanian Empire have a large number of ethnic Confederate citizens within their boundaries, particularly the areas of Pangus and Prudenesia."

The Chancellor paused briefly before continuing.

"The Blackhelm Confederacy is aware of its responsibility to ensure the safety of compatriots and fellow citizens in these former nations and across the island, and reserves the right to take people under its protection should the threat of undue force come to them from this operation undertaken by the United Kingdom. Earlier this afternoon, I have authorized a mobilization of resources to the north of our nation to stave off any attempts by either the Symphonians or Aquitaynians from a preemptive strike to disrupt any future plans. This is not, however, a declaration of war. This is merely our way of letting the people of the United Kingdom know that we will not sit by if a slaughter of Confederate civilians takes place on the Insula Fera. I caution them against further needless bloodshed, and urge them to take restraint in their use of force to pacify that island. Thank you"

And with that came a flurry of hands as dozens of reporters were eager to ask their questions and get the scoop they wanted.

Insula Fera
Former Spartanian Empire

There was no shortage of CIS agents on the ground in the country, many having slipped in through the coves between Pangus and Prudenesia that were infested with Confederate born pirates, just as they had been since the seventeenth century. Other agents had been veterans in the area, having been here since long before the collapse of the nation that once stood as the power broker on the island. Their number had significantly strengthened in the days before the collapse when it seemed as though the Spartanians and the Confederacy would be at odds. Now many of these men had blended into the various armed factions that roamed the area, hoping to keep tabs on the number of guns and heavy equipment that had fallen into the wrong hands and attempt to stop the bleed out of what was once the armament of a proud empire. Others even attempted to steal technology to send back to their homeland, as the Spartanian Empire was well known to have flown some very advanced stealth aircraft, ones that the Senate was only too eager to get their hands on.

With this new arrival of a UK task force, the men new there was trouble abrewing. They would need to continue with their mission, tracking arms and most importantly preventing them from being sent back to arm the insurgency in the Confederacy's own jungles, and do their best to stay under Aquitaynian and Symphonian radar.