Imperial Recrudescence [Greater Díenstad; In Character]

[The Macabees]

[Note: Please keep all out of character discussion in the allotted thread. Also, post there if you'd like to join.]

To many, the Second Empire is remembered for its wars, especially the great “War of Golden Succession,” which claimed the lives of tens of millions of people throughout the world. The war also pushed the Empire into absolute financial ruin, claiming not only the vitality of the Crown, but also of its people and its market. As the war came to its end around 2018–19, despite emerging mostly victorious — including the occupation of much of northern Safehaven, Guffingford, and Theohuanacu —, the Empire was truly merely a shadow of its former self. Indeed, the years immediately following the war were marked by a devastating economic depression, characterized by a collapse in sovereign debt and, consequently, the financial sector, and the retreat of imperial politics away from the main stage of international events. The Second Empire had entered a period in time analogous, with only a tad of rhetorical exaggeration, to the Dark Ages.

Since then, however, the Empire is reborn. Her cities are again vibrant with commercial activity, and their outskirts embody a mixture of beautiful, if romanticized, agriculture and productive, if unappealing, industry. Central to her revival was the resurgence of banking, and the further decentralization of the economy. While economic policy has always been fairly laissez-faire, the post-war depression induced even further deregulation: the dismantling of the Dienstad National Bank, the de-monopolization of currency, and a significant diminishing of the volume of rent-seeking, especially in the armaments industry. The results speak for themselves: unemployment fell from ~15 to roughly 2–3 percent, and despite an enormous fall in public expenditures the productive capacity of the economy has grown well beyond its previous peak. As it currently stands, the national economy is proper of a great empire.

These results have not affected all equally, though. As with all change and growth, there have been winners and there have been losers. Notably, this was, and continues to be, the case politically. To a large extent, the War of Golden Succession was a war over imperial authority, with the two central roles played by Fedor and his father. Fedor quickly won that battle, but behind the scenes were the mechanics operating a much more important institutional change. The war against his father soon pitted Fedor against international enemies, requiring the Crown to bloat its spending to support a massive army and a multi-front war effort. It also required Fedor to secure the loyalty of his senate, creating an opportunity for a transfer of power from the thrown to its advisors. This transfer of power persisted when the war ended, as Fedor was overwhelmed with unsustainable debts, owed both to his own people and to foreign creditors with little patience.

The immediate post-war era was one of political tension, friction, and conflict. The Crown found itself between the sword and a rock. The immediate requirement was to balance a radical demobilization with the need to protect Imperial interests, including the ongoing conflict revolving around the occupation of Theohuanacu and the securitization of the new border with Stevid, product of the joint occupation of Guffingford. Further, there was a great deal of political instability wrought by a deepening poverty and common dissent against imperial authority. If Fedor had not lost his crown to his father, the fact was that he risked losing it to popular appeal. As a result, he granted his competitors, namely the senate, much more power, opening the country to true political pluralism for the first time in its history (only during the civil war of the 20th century had some of the territories practiced pluralistic politics). Indeed, the senate went from being mere imperial advisors, chosen by the emperor, to quasi-policy makers democratically voted into power.

The war had also damaged much of the local economy, especially in the regions where much of the fighting took place: Weigar, Dienstad, Ruska and Sarcanza. Carpet bombings, sieges, ground battles, and nuclear attacks even, led to massive capital consumption, deteriorating the productive power of the Empire. Given the governments’ debt and the precarious economic conditions of the post-war, much of the consequent reconstruction was paid for at the expense of the newly acquired territories, especially Guffingford which enjoyed a wealth on par with the mainland Empire prior to the war. As a result, many of the territories continue to be overburdened by wealth extraction, as the laissez-faire provincial policy is funded by territorial tax revenue. While this extraction is being drawn down, given the extreme poverty that some of these territories now suffer (namely, northern Safehaven and Theohuanacu), the inequality has caused a meaningful degree of regional instability.

Because of the way the post-war political atmosphere has unfolded, Fedor finds himself in a position requiring some sort of power play. The territories need to be shown that the Crown is still willing and able to enforce its authority over an unruly population, and the senate needs to acknowledge that political power is still primarily in the hands of His Imperial Majesty. In other words, the situation is ripe for a new war: not a civil war, but a tour de force.

Somewhere, western Zarbia

“Keep your head down,” yelled the sergeant, as he ran as best as he could up and down the trench line, bullets screaming over his head. Every few seconds, a screech was followed by an explosion, as mortar shells rained down on Macabee positions.

Machinegun fire responded as best as it could, peppering the dense jungle in front of the trenches with high caliber ammunition. This was joined by simultaneous artillery fire, devastating the local terrain. This was not a light firefight, but a full fledge assault on temporary Macabee defensive positions within Zarbia. Contrary to one’s expectations, however, none of this was unusual. For those who lived on the Macabee–Zarbian border, the War of Golden Succession never ended: this conflict extended, to date, four years after the “official” end of the war.

The problem is that few people were really concerned that it was going on. Much of the fighting, on the Macabee side at least, was being undertaken by territorial auxiliaries: soldiers that most of the Empire did not care much about. Further, the war was characterized by stagnation. While the front shifted on a daily basis, with changes of positions resulting from very limited reconnaissance incursions and contained firefights, neither side had contributed a major movement since 2016–17. In some ways, the Macabee–Zarbian War was being fought in the shadows. Even on the Zarbian side, the collapse of cohesive central authority meant that much of the suffering continued to be internalized. It was, and continues to be, a war that may be cause for lament, but not cause for concern.

Colonel Hans Shrift had none of this in mind as he surveyed the fighting from afar. His command was centered a dozen kilometers to the west, but he could hear the explosions from the mortar and artillery shelling. The firefight was actually unintended. For the past few weeks, Colonel Shrifte had authorized a number of probing missions along the front, testing Zarbian defensive positions. Given that the war had devolved into halfhearted limited offensives to keep the enemy on edge, gauging Zarbian capabilities in this manner resulted in ambiguous data. But, Shrift was mostly interested in the type of firepower the enemy disposed of — it turned out that, apart from mortars, Zarbian troops lacked heavy weaponry. After the dissolution of the central government, Zarbian military forces were increasingly fractured into bands, each controlled by generals vying for power. This took a toll on the quality of its armed forces; indeed, some of the weaponry was Macabee, purchased through black markets directly after the War of Golden Succession.

Shrift commanded a relatively small amount of men — mostly auxiliary commandos, which were the crème de la crème of the non-native Macabee forces —, spread over an approximately thirty kilometer front. This sector of the front, though, was soon to become much more important: it would see the main thrust a major Macabee invasion of Zarbia. Indeed, the rumor running across high command was that Fedor had in mind a revival of the war with Zarbia, with the intention of completing the occupation of the country. There were some other targets in mind, but these were less often repeated — besides, it was of no concern for Colonel Shrift or most other military commanders across the Zarbian frontier.

However, most of these commanders, and the men under their command, still remembered the experience of full scale conflict in the jungles of western Zarbia. Macabee armor, the pride of the land forces, was largely unable to operate on the terrain, and were generally easy targets for Zarbian anti-tank infantry hiding in the brush. Likewise, Macabee infantry accustomed to the open terrain of the southern Empire and northern SafeHaven found Zarbia to be inhospitable — possibly worse than Theohuanacu —, ridden with disease and hiding enemy combatants. While Zarbia was the least celebrated of all the fronts during the war, it was not necessarily the least bloody. His Imperial Majesty may never had been directly privy to these inconveniences, but those he intended to force into war had much better attuned memories. War with Zarbia would not be easy.

But, alas, many of these rumors were as of yet unconfirmed. History would have to tell the fate of those men being gradually mobilized behind the Macabee–Zarbian border: as rumor had it, six million personnel in all, including roughly three quarters of a million combat troops.

[The Macabees]

Villa Hermosa, Imperial Province

Villa Hermosa is a strange name for a town in the Empire — an empire that had dedicated itself, for quite some time, to promoting the “indigenous” culture, including the Díenstadi language. But, the name is proper of a town near the border of Zarbia. While Macabee–Zarbian relations have always been multi-faceted and volatile, one constant is the receiving–sending relationship, in the context of migration. The wealthy cities and towns of the Second Empire have always been lucrative targets for Zarbian workers, especially given the large shared border and some cultural similarities. During The War, Zarbian migration to the Second Empire — and what was once Guffingford — dried up, given the border-wide conflict, but post-war migration picked up to its previous volumes. Towns along the border, just like Villa Hermosa, were developed over decades, or even centuries, by Zarbian migrants, using them as stopping points in their routes further into the Empire. Soon they became vibrant commercial centers, as Macabee (and Zarbian) entrepreneurs set up shop to cater to the large amount of individuals who moved through the towns on any given day.

Indeed, it would not be surprising to find a couple of Zarbian flags waving in the air, aided by the gentle breeze, on any given residential street. Many Zarbian nationals call Villa Hermosa their home, and many more are nationals of both polities. In fact, it is not rare to hear the occasional Spanish, the widest used Zarbian language. Ironic, then, that Villa Hermosa suddenly became a major staging point for the impending invasion of Zarbia.

In one of the standalone houses near the center of the town was located the new headquarters of Army Group East (AG–E). AG–E was tasked with overseeing the entire Ejermacht (army) portion of the invasion, closely coordinating with the Laerihans (air force) units allotted to provide overwhelming aerial firepower. AG–E fell under the command of Field Marshall Enrich Martosé, who had plenty of experience on the very same front during The War. At the time, Martosé was a lower rank general, responsible for one of the mechanized corps that had advanced the deepest into Zarbia — which was not deep at all, by the standards of other fronts. He knew better than most how difficult this invasion would be, and he was prepared to capitalize on the knowledge had had accumulated during The War.

Up to this point, very little of the mobilization had taken place. Martosé was there mostly to add a touch of finesse to the invasion plans, altering them as he received information from his front line reconnaissance commanders. These were revealing Zarbian frontline positions and their relative strength, allowing Martosé to gauge exactly where he intended to puncture the Zarbian line. To avoid being caught in jungle firefights, Martosé and his staff planned to bypass most of the resistance, and then use heavy weaponry to, nearly literally, erase opposing units. Some of the weapons which would be responsible for the tough “break down” of fortified, whether formally or informally, enemy positions were visible from the window of the command room in the house, including heavy Nakíl 1A2 tanks — not the Empire’s prime tank any longer, but better suited for intense close combat than the tank-killer that was the Lynx (and not Castilla y Belmonte’s “export version,” either) —, large 155mm and 203mm artillery pieces, and rocket artillery.

Villa Hermosa was in an advantageous position because of the rail line passing through it. Rail was the preferred method of transportation of heavy weaponry, making this town particularly suited for getting the heavy mechanized and armored units to the front. From here, they’d be ordered to position themselves at advanced staging points, from where the actual invasion would take place. There were similar towns all along this portion of the border, but the size of Villa Hermosa’s rail yards made it particularly well suited for a large scale mobilization.

Last minute, it was decided to concentrate AG–E along the border of Zarbia directly touching the Imperial Province and parts of northern SafeHaven, instead of stretching it also along the Zarbian border touching Sarcanza. The Sarcanzan front was given to the Kriermada (navy), which had a large number of naval infantry at its disposal. As such, the previous figure of 750,000 combat troops was augmented to 950,000, to account for the roughly 200,000 naval infantry (including armored units, plus roughly 1.2 million personnel in support) that were being mobilized in Sarcanza to undertake the invasion of Zarbia from the north. Because of tensions in Guffingford, High Command decided that this front would not be opened, in favor of maintaining most of the army’s strength in that territory along the border with Stevid’s occupation zone. A few divisions were being moved along the Zarbian front to help hold it, in case of a Zarbian attack in the area, but this contingency was not really expected, given Macabee pressure elsewhere. If the war stalled, then the Guffingfordi front would be opened.

There was not much being done in terms of hiding the mobilization. Little of it had taken place up to now, and so High Command didn’t expect the warning sirens to go off just yet, but soon enough the world would well know the Empire’s intentions. As a result, the war would not begin as a ground war. Within a few days, the aerial war was planned to begin. Macabee fighters and bombers were to launch a strike on all known Zarbian air bases, to destroy the remnants of the country’s air force. This would give the Empire control of the skies by default, allowing the Laerihans to support the ground invasion without restriction, including applying heavy bomber-based firepower to reduce bypassed zones of resistance. The Empire’s bomber force had become notorious during The War, especially for its firebombing of SafeHaven cities and towns up to many thousands of kilometers into that country. Some of them had even partaken in strikes on Stevidian naval bases on their island, thousands of kilometers away. It was not expected that Zarbia would be able to resist Imperial aerial power, although Laerihans commanders were worried about unknown surface-to-air missile positions that could exact unnecessary casualties. To partially mitigate this contingency, a moderately sized air-to-ground air corps was formed to hunt for anti-air positions.

As one can probably tell, the invasion was meant to utterly collapse Zarbian resistance as quickly as possible. Fedor was not interested in a drawn out war, which could be construed as a failure or as inadequate. He wanted “shock and awe;” to prove that the military might of the Empire continued to be amongst the highest in the region, and, indeed, the world. Zarbia, it was intended, would become an incapable victim. Some commanders had even begun to term the prospective war as “the vacation.” There was no intention to make the war what it had become during The War.

[The Macabees]

Cabezamesada, Zarbia

There was very little left standing. The young girl, standing alone in the rubble, with her tiny hands over her eyes stood taller than all of the town’s houses. Cabezamesada was razed to the ground. The Macabee bombers had left some walls standing, some people alive, but this was an atrocious fortune. 7,000 Zarbian paramilitary personnel were neutralized, but so were 23,000 innocents — an outcome on the Devil’s side of moral ambiguity. A great empire had made her return, but a society, largely ignorant of the bore of politics, had paid the price.

Indeed, apart from unfortunately housing a considerable number of soldiers, Cabezamesada was of little strategic importance. It was just a small town, on the road to the city of Santiago. The city’s status as an administrative capital of a region bordering the Golden Empire made it somewhat relevant. The army planned to take the city within one or two days, depending on the intensity of the Zarbian resistance. Townspeople, for the most part, are concerned with their business, or their land, and not so much with who’s in power hundreds of kilometers away. But, satellites are prone to receive collateral damage, and sometimes a lot of it.

The air campaign was designed to be quick. Thanks to an extensive network of airfields, built mostly during the War of Golden Succession, the Laerihans is capable of putting a large number of birds up in the sky at once. Also, the occupation of much of Guffingford, during the war, gave the empire a large number of airfields on the other side of Zarbia, meaning the empire practically surrounded their target. Zarbia did not have much of an air force; now they have no air force. The Laerihans was able to launch a large fleet of bombers, with a minimal number of support and escort aircraft, to essentially obliterate whatever known defense Zarbia had: barracks, motor pools, airfields, et cetera.

If the bombing was an easy operation, it was only because Zarbia had deteriorated to the point of de facto collapse. The military had split into fiefdoms, dividing the territory up between themselves. There was no true central government; even the capital was anarchic. The Empire was about to occupy something with a lesser status than that of a banana republic. If was not already part of the empire, it was because the attrition of the war had put a halt to Fedor’s plans to bring justice to those who had done the empire harm during its weakest hours (Safehaven and Zarbia had attacked the Golden Throne during an internal power struggle, setting off the War of Golden Succession).

Thus, Cabezamesada, along with dozens of other towns which also housed large numbers of known military personnel, lay in ruin. Their buildings either charred or reduced to rubble. But, they only represented a minority of the damage. Santiago, like other cities, was heavily hit. Suburbs near military barracks were razed from the air. The Empire did not want a long war; it wanted to crush the spirit of any organized defense of Zarbia. It wanted to guarantee a quick occupation.

In the distance, the rumble of the tanks could already be heard. War was renewed. The Empire was making her return…

[The Macabees]

Santiago, Zarbia

A dead man’s hand does not offer much resistance against a steel toe boot. Field marshal Martosé looked down in disgust, pulled his leg away, and ignored the young soldier behind him rushing to pull the body away. Santiago’s governor’s palace remained mostly intact, despite the previous day’s heavy bombings. Macabee planners wanted to keep much of the local government intact, to help maintain control of the city without having to expend much energy in rebuilding institutions. It also provided adequate installations for the Empire’s occupation forces. Martosé chose the governor’s palace for his headquarters, where he would oversee the final stages of the invasion and the consequent occupation.

As is common with banana republics, the palace is quite exquisite. Built in the middle of the 19th century, it has housed Santiago’s governor for at least a century — under multiple governments. It was a typical “colonial” finca, covering vast hectares of land. The actual palace begins with a handsome Corinthian colonnade, acting as a faux palisade. Within the “walls,” a majestic villa offered room for Martosé, his staff, and thousands of other busy bodies and guards, with enough land to spare for a now dry, and not at all small, pool. Best of all, thanks to the rich’s disgust of the poor, the palace lay far away from the actual city.

Walking through the palace’s gardens, Martosé looked at the ground, pensive. Not look at any one in particular — surrounded as he was by various members of his general staff —, he asked, “Where are we now?”

A man beside him, colonel Ruud van der Bock, answered first. Van der Bock was not a Macabee, he was Guffingfordi. After the occupation of his country, he joined the local auxiliary army as an officer. Because of his knowledge of the composition of the Guffingfordi auxiliary army, Martosé invited van der Bock to his general staff, promoting him to the rank of colonel — a high rank, considering age and the (minimal) experience. But, Van der Bock was good with technical issues, and he helped to coordinate Martosé’s invasion with the concurrent invasion from the Guffingfordi territories.

“Our advanced mechanized units are continuing at irregular rates. Resistance in the rear sometimes makes re-supply difficult, and some of our spearheads are slowing down to wait for supplies.”

“Cartés,” in reference to a general in the group, “contact Frederic Herner and ask him to think about possible aerial resupplies. There are a few airfields available here to accommodate our medium supply aircraft, and we can assign a task force to sweep and clear Santiago’s airfield. We can focus on defending key points from insurgents, and avoid long mission times for convoys.”

Van der Bock continued, “But, the average pace is good. Organized resistance has largely collapsed. Eastern forces are reporting that units of local defense forces are surrendering in mass. We are on schedule for a three or four week operation.”

“It looks like the Laerihans did a decent job with the bombing,” added another staff member.

“Yes. The three airborne operations were generally successful. There were some problems with resistance, but the major airfields in Zarbia are now clear. There is essentially no such thing as a Zarbian air force, and we have unopposed aerial superiority. The Laerihans is doing a good job with locating and destroying isolated surface-to-air batteries, although it looks as if most of that equipment is no longer even functional,” finished the Guffingfordi officer.

Martosé nodded, content with the favorable news. He moved on, “We need to start moving in the rest of the army group into the country. Start organizing the occupation. We should dominate local institutions of governance as quickly as possible, and do it with as little violence as possible — this is a liberalization. Local warlords should be found. They need to be neutralized. The invasion is, for all intents and purposes, over. The war has been won. Now comes the hard part.”

Indeed, the occupation was to be quite a long affair. It is the Empire’s second occupation of the post-war era. The Golden Throne extended its tentacles over Theohuanacu, a large island southeast of the mainland, well positioned to allow the Empire to assert its dominance over much of the waters of western Greater Dienstad — from as far south as the southern tip of Tir, to as far north as the southern shores of Spectare. The occupation of Zarbia, one year following that of Theohuanacu, is a strong signal of intent. Of course, in the long-run, the Zarbian people no doubt win more than all other players combined. They will be offered the opportunity to join in the division-of-labor of a prosperous market economy, allowing them to escape the quagmire of a sustenance “lifestyle.” But, it promised a long process, including a long occupation.

That reality seemed imprinted into Martosé’s wrinkling skin. While not necessarily old, he was by no means young, and his experience had become a burden. The War of Golden Succesion was a psychological drain on all those who experienced it directly. It was not violent; it was uncivilized. Every indent on his face was a record of an unwanted memory. Martosé nodded again and then finished the discussion, allowing his peers to return to their other duties. He retired to his quarters, where he would first write a letter to his wife and daughters. He was about to tell them to prepare for travel to Santiago, which would be their home for a very long time. At least he had picked a palace.

[The Macabees]

Zarbia (Capital), Zarbia

The streets were largely empty as the long Macabee armored column advanced into the city. Two days it took for the capital to fall — captured by forces advancing from the west and north. Zarbians seemed resigned to their fate, locking themselves in their homes, hoping to simply weather the storm. Whatever remained of local governance simply dissipated, unwilling to resist the inevitability of Macabee victory. The columns of Nakíl tanks — the most widely exported tank in history — entered unopposed, imposing a new order on a docile populace.

Zarbia’s (the capital) many neighborhoods recorded the volatile history of the nation. The suburbs the tanks first passed were in poor shape. Many of them were simply informal shanty-towns, where the main line of work was most likely crime. Towards the center, the city’s appearance improved. Very poor suburbs gave way to blue collar and lower middle class neighborhoods, mostly composed of tall apartment complexes. Finally much of the wealth was concentrated in the center — better looking apartment buildings and government buildings of days past.

Colonel Hans Reiz stood by the road, watching his armored brigade continue through the city. He was nervous about his armor, because these were the situations that typically did not bode well for tanks. Steel beasts are rarely flexible, and long columns could make appetizing targets, because a lack of space to move made reinforcing specific segments very difficult. On the other hand, the best tool to persuade a local citizenry of the lost cause of resistance was the tank. That was the effect Martosé was looking for, and Reiz hoped that no major complications would arise.

“Artur,” referring to his aide beside him, “intensify the patrols around our location.”

As the tanks drove through the city, towards the center, hundreds of Macabee soldiers were scouring the broader area, either on foot or in light, but well armored, combat vehicles. They scouted rooftops, suspicious housing complexes, allies, basements, warehouses, and all else that was at all threatening. The purpose was not only to protect the armored columns, but to dominate the city by overwhelming it with occupation forces. Reiz, and his peers, were looking to end the war, in Zarbia at least, by the end of the day. Tomorrow, commerce would resume as if there were no war at all.

“Find an appropriate building to house our headquarters tonight. Tomorrow we should already be leaving the city. I need to make sure we are in a place where we can do that.”

Artur nodded, making a mental note. As a major, his major duties were at an office. That did not bother him, as he had seen enough combat as a second lieutenant during the War. He was promoted in late 2016, put in charge of a small unit operating south of Mosnoi Bor, which Safehaven was assault around that time. The fighting was brutal — millions of dead —, and that was enough for one lifetime. Artur was content in his office job, and he was glad that the war in Zarbia was not escalating into something more serious.

The fall of Zarbia would no doubt deactivate whatever defense of the country was planned. While the “central government” did not really govern as much as it would have liked to — it, in fact, did not even have full control of the city itself —, it was a symbol of the Zarbian identity. Its capture would no doubt symbolize the beginning of a new era, the Macabee era.

While the capital was absorbed into the Empire, the Macabee army continued to occupy the remainder of the country. Guffingfordi auxiliary forces — their second hand equipment good enough to dominate the little resistance they met — had occupied Zanta by the first day, and reached Vondheim by that time as well. Vondheim would not fully fall into imperial control until the second day, by which time the Guffingfordi mechanized units were already rushing to link up with Martosé’s forces in the west. Zarbia, the country, had practically already fallen. What was left was mopping up and establishing the institutions of a new government.

Unfortunately, Zarbia was not a very well-off country. Indeed, the unemployment rate of ~25 percent was concerning, because the unemployed make good soldiers for any resistance movement. Thus, His Majesty Fedor had already earmarked a reconstruction budget. Knowing that, no matter how much money was spent, it would take time for the Zarbian economy to recuperate, and an even longer for it to approach the complexity and wealth of the Macabee economy, the army, air force, and navy had already planned recruitment efforts to levy a Zarbian auxiliary force, which would be redeployed to another territory — to avoid conflicts of interest.

As the initial occupation operation started winding down, politicians in Fedala were already eyeing the unoccupied territory to the northeast of Zarbia (bordering the Macabee province of Sarcanza). There were rumors of a spontaneous advance into Safehaven, as well — much of Safehaven’s northern territories had already been occupied following the War of Golden Sucession, but what remained “free” was largely ungoverned anyways, making it an easy target. But, more importantly, there was a general energy in the major cities of the Golden Throne; a general acknowledgement that the Empire had returned to impose its influence.

[The Macabees]

Fedala Times

Zarbia Reborn

The Empire ousts failed state in Zarbia, organizing the new Autonomous Imperial Territories of Zarbia and Nuevo León.

For decades, Zarbia, a banana republic to the east of the Empire, has been a failed state. Ten years ago, their government crumbled under its own weight, and the “country” fractured into competing factions. While Zarbian strongmen made a living extractive wealth from their populace, this latter group became poorer and poorer. But, they, and the Zarbian economy in general, have been offered a new opportunity. The Ejermacht completed its occupation of the majority of the Zarbian territory in five days. What was formerly Zarbia has been divided into two territories, under Macabee rule: Zarbia and Nuevo León.

Its GDP per capita of $6,000 is not enviable, but even it conceals the truth depth of poverty in Zarbia. Its society suffered from an income inequality much larger than of the Empire’s, despite the latter’s fame for largely unregulated capitalism. Indeed, in Zarbia, the rich are those with power, who have shaped the rules of the game to their advantage. Their wealth and status comes at the expense of the majority of others. While the country was never truly industrialized, much of the capital lost most of its value during the chaos of this past decade, and most Zarbians are peasants who live on sustenance incomes.

One of the most lucrative sources of income, for the worst-off, is the Empire. Millions of Zarbian immigrants migrate between the two countries, in large part thanks to the Empire’s lax migration restrictions. While immigration is still restricted, the visa shortage is mild, and enforcement of immigration laws is prioritized. Hundreds of miles into the Imperial side of the Macabee–Zarbian border, the Spanish heritage of Zarbian immigrants can be recognized. Towns have Spanish names, and the Spanish language is second only to Díenstadi in many localities. Zarbian cuisine has become quite popular, especially following the War of Golden Succession, as the Empire’s economy boomed after a long depression.

Largely clear of its considerable war depth, the Empire saw in Zarbia an opportunity to flex its muscle. Zarbia was a sitting target, with a weak, nearly non-existent military. Its people felt no particular allegiance to their overlords. And, the Empire is known for its splendor and wealth. These are good ingredients for almost guaranteeing a passive populace. Indeed, there has not been much resistance from the civilian population to the Macabee occupation.

The initial invasion was not small. The Imperial government, in Fedala, wanted a quick operation; one that would not offer potential opponents time to react. Neither does it hurt to show that it also still has one of the best militaries in the region. An estimated 700,000 combat personnel entered from the western Zarbian border, another 200,000 naval infantry invaded from the north, and a small contingent of Guffingfordi auxiliaries — around 20,000 (most of the auxiliary there were on stand-by, watching for a Stevidian response) — entered from the east. To this, we have to add the support personnel, and an estimated total of four million Macabee soldiers took part in the invasion. About three-quarters of these will leave Zarbia within the next two to three months, the remainder are the new occupation forces.

To strip away the failing banana republic institutions, the territory is being completely reorganized. It will be divided into two Imperial Territories, Zarbia and Nuevo León. The names were chosen to respect the local population’s history and heritage. Each territory will have a bicameral legislature, a governor chosen by His Imperial Majesty, a democratically elected assistant governor. The legal system in the Empire and its territories is, for the most part, privatized. The Imperial and territorial governments are supposed to offer final arbitration services, and the new Zarbian territories will most likely organize these services in a similar fashion as in the other territories, the territory annexed from Safehaven — now organized as three territorial provinces: Arganzüela, La Mancha, and Godveria —, Theohuanacu, and Guffingford.

This measure makes citizenship available to any Zarbian between the ages 15–40 to join the auxiliaries, which are territorial military forces levied and funded by the Empire. These auxiliary forces belong to the Ejermacht, and are used mainly to occupy other territories. Citizenship is granted after a service length of 10 years, although many auxiliaries choose to re-enlist at the end of their contract. They are deployed to regions like Arganzüela, Guffingford, or Theohuanacu, often times moving to those locations permanently. But, wages are high in the military, military towns are typically amongst the higher income cities, and re-enlistment bonuses are very attractive, apart also from the granting of citizenship. There is usually a shortage of room for new recruits, however.

Zarbia’s reorganization also brings with it the promise of economic growth. Growth during the banana republic decades was very low, often negative, and the growth rate during the past ten years has been between –5 and –2. But, with now open borders for people, goods, and capital, the Zarbian economy is expected to expand in the long-run. Indeed, Zarbia is full of precious metals, petroleum, minerals, and other natural resources that Macabee firms have wanted access to for years. While changes in standard of living take long periods of time to materialize, the reorganization will at least get the process started. Since its occupation, Theohuanacu’s economy has improved, and its coastal cities on the northern and eastern coasts of the island are commercially vibrant, with colossal ports that are major trade centers for ships that travel through those water. In Arganzüela, La Mancha, and Godveria, real income for the lowest quintile has doubled in the past six years.

Despite the great benefit to Zarbia that the Macabee occupation brings with it, the international response to the reorganization is bound to be, in part, negative. There are rumors that the Empire will attempt similar occupations against other neighbors. The unoccupied territory that sits in the northeastern corner of the island the Empire’s mainland is located on (map here) is an enticing target, largely because it would grant the Empire ports significantly closer to Stevid, that would benefit them if Stevid were to react violently to the Golden Throne’s expansion. The continued presence of large numbers of Macabee soldiers in the territories annexed from Safehaven also suggest a long-term interest in pushing the border further into their southern neighbors. Some even whisper of an interest in advancing as far south as Tir, an archipelago nation known for its vast oil reserves. These kind of advances, however, would solidify the Empire’s place as the dominant power of the eastern half of Greater Díenstad.

The principal unknown is Stevid. The English-speaking empire and the Golden Throne have a conflicted history. During the War (of Golden Succession), Stevid had joined in on the attack on Fedor’s throne. While the conflict between the two powers remained mostly naval in nature, both sides were eventually sites of nuclear conflict, and there was a mutual interest in ending the war. Fears of another bloody international war, with the potential for nuclear intervention, are still a powerful constraint on the Macabee population, and most of them would probably oppose a war on that scale at this moment. Stevid, however, is currently embroiled in its own international problems, including a war with Imbrinium. It is probably as much interested in avoiding a war with the Empire as the latter is with the former.

To date, there has been no major international activity over the Empire’s occupation of Zarbia. If the act continues to go under the radar, it may motivate Fedor to test his neighbor’s resolve by incorporating other territories. For Fedor, this is no trouble. He has no intention of diving into international politics, rather he is aiming to bring international politics to Fedala.

[The Macabees]

Opañel, Near the Monzarc Border

Because of the direction of the Macabee invasion, much of the Zarbia border with Monzarc was left untouched. But, with the majority of Zarbia now occupied, all that was left to civilize was that stretch of border. Besides, by securing that frontier, the Empire would surround Monzarc on three sides, facilitating any future military operations in that theater. However, because of the pressure of Macabee forces elsewhere, a handful of major warlords — now banded together — redeployed there, gradually making their way into Monzarc, itself a failed country (and, in much worse shape than Zarbia prior to its occupation). Martosé, in charge of the occupation, wanted to nip that future problem in the bud by eliminating the “resistance’s” leadership. Intelligence reported that they were using Opañel, a mid-sized border city of 80 million, as their headquarters.

Sergeant Hans Carls looked nervous. He and his sektón, eight men strong, were working their way through Opañel’s sewer system, guns in hand. Strangely, some of the sewers were “clean” — as clean as they could be, in any case, —because a lack of running water to some of the sectors of the city meant that part of the sewers went largely unused. His men behind him were almost invisible, their faces painted black with war paint, and their dark uniforms blending in with the dreary underground environment.

Carls’ sektón was part of the larger Bandag 'Blodøkskompaniet,' a company-sized unit of Cottish Régulies. This unit of 128 elite soldiers was ordered to neutralize the leadership of the Zarbian “resistance,” while regular Ejermacht units surrounded the city outside — hopefully drawing the attention of most of the warlords’ defenses. The Ejermacht enjoyed deploying its Régulies for these types of missions, because they were absolutely bloodthirsty and most likely to get the job done, regardless of the casualties — although, usually casualties were low. They gained a reputation in Theohuanacu for violence, although they were often outshined by the Harka ‘Invictus I,’ a Doomani brigade-sized unit of Régulies.

Carls’ sektón suddenly stopped, as the sergeant raised a closed fist. They had arrived to their destination. A ray of sunshine crept through a lid covering an opening out of the sewers. According to Carls’ intelligence, that opening was just inside the inner wall of the governor’s palace in Opañel. Unlike Santiago, this palace was located in the heart of the city, which is why the sewer system was a good way of avoiding most resistance. The sergeant sent one of his men up the ladder. This soldier did so, pushing a small camera through one of the holes in the lid. Scouting the area, the soldier took note of defenses, climbed down, and marked the location of guards on a small digital map held by Carls. He, in turn, communicated these positions onto some kind of secure network, providing allied units intelligence as well.

Nodding to another one of his soldiers, this one carrying a rather large weapon, Carls stepped out from under the manhole. This other soldier stepped up, aimed his weapon towards the lid, and fired. A dud grenade hit the lid with such force that this latter item simply flipped onto the ground nearby, leaving a large opening for Carls’ men to climb through. The soldier fired another round, this time not a dud, and eight seconds later Carls and his men felt a considerable explosion, shaking the dirt off the sewer walls. Then the operation stepped up a gear, as the sektón quickly made its way up the ladder and into the courtyard above. While Carls climbed, he could hear the pitter-patter of the firefight above, as an allied unit covered Carls’ men advance up the ladder. In little time at all, the courtyard was occupied by 24 Cottish Régulies.

These made their way through the palace, neutralizing the opposition, and linking up with allied units which had entered the palace through alternative entries. Breeching the initial defenses, and with some squads already engaging the inner defenses, Carls, his men, and the other allied units which had linked up with his, made their way into the inner quarters of the palace. Reaching a grand stairway, leading to upper levels of the palace, Carls’ sektón broke off, slowly making their way up to the third floor — his intelligence suggested that that is where he would find his targets.

They were tasked with neutralizing three of seven warlords expected to reside in the compound. “Neutralizing,” of course, is a synonym of “kill,” or “murder” (depending on your perspective). Making their way to the third level, largely without opposition, although with the occasional guard, Carls scouted the different rooms he could see from his position. His orders were to seek a concrete safe room, where intelligence believed the warlords would retreat to when threatened. The room was not difficult to find, because it was the only one with a thick steel door, which could now only be opened from the inside. That is, unless you have the right tools, which Carls did. Two of his men came forward, slowly taking off their packs and putting them on the ground. From inside their packs they retrieved a considerable number of sticks of explosives, which they then organized along the door. A few minutes later, there were no doors left.

Carls’ men surged forth, raiding the room with the motto: shoot first, ask questions later. Their orders were not to bring the warlords in alive. In fact, that would be counterproductive, because the Ejermacht would be forced to turn them over to civilian — most likely Zarbian — courts, which would give them a short prison sentence, and essentially giving them permission to return to their old ways once out of the brig. The Golden Throne did not want that outcome to materialize, so their safest bet was to simply kill the leadership of the militias that had once terrorized the local populations of Zarbia. It only took thirty seconds or so, after which all the non-Macabee elements in the room were either dead or severely wounded. These latter were put out of their misery, as Carls walked around the room, putting his pistol to the head of the wounded, and pulling the trigger.

He actually had been luckier than expected, because he found all seven warlords, not only three. Communicating this through that map hardware he had previously used to communicate the position of guards in his sector of the outer defenses, he told his men that they would stay put until they received further orders. By the end of the hour, he and his men had crept back into the sewer system, as the warlords’ men — whose attention had been taken by Macabee pressure on the outskirts of the city — rushed in defense of their leaders, only to find their heads on spikes in the governor’s reception room, a typical ceremony the Régulies enjoyed.

By the next morning, most of these men would surrender to Ejermacht forced outside, and by the following nightfall the city would be under the complete control of the Golden Throne. Within the week, whatever resistance remained was cleared, and the peaceful occupation of Zarbia commenced. The Empire would soon set its sights on new targets.

[The Macabees]

Fedala Times

Monzarc Invaded!

Fedor's Second Empire of the Golden Throne launches surprise attack on disputed Monzarc territory, and mobilizes along border with Stevid.

Without much pause, the Second Empire — fueled by the apparent international apathy towards their occupation of Zarbia — have launched an invasion of Monzarc. Monzarc is a disputed territory, technically unruled by any major government (after the collapse of the Riptide state). It is disputed, because its occupation holds strategic meaning. With Stevid and the Second Empire is some sort of healing Cold War, any major territorial acquisition in Greater Dienstad can be seen a a strategic threat — an undermine to gain an advantage at the expense of the other. And, Stevid may be right, because the Golden Throne has been careful enough to increase the amount of personnel stationed in Guffingford, even redeploying Guffingfordi auxiliary from Theohuanacu to defend their home country in case of a retaliatory invasion. The cold war is getting hot.

Three decades ago, western Greater Dienstad was in harmony. The Empire shared a continental island with Safehaven, Zarbia, Guffingford, and Riptide Monzarc. Twenty years later, only the Empire was left. Monzarc and Zarbia devolved into chaos, ignored by the world (until the latter was occupied). Safehaven devolved into chaos as well, but it had already seen a large loss of territory as a result of the War of Golden Succession. Guffingford's government simply accepted its absorption into the Second Empire, except for large coastal regions occupied by Stevid. The latter, in turn, is seen as a foreign power unjustly occupying Macabee territory. Stevidian Guffingford has always been a target of Fedor's. The temporary demobilization of the border, taking place shortly after the War of Golden Succession and the brief political escalation caused by the Empire's occupation of Theohuanacu (close to the Stevidian ally, Adaptes Astrates), was nothing more than a temporary solution to a long-run problem. It allowed Fedala to weather the brief, but deep economic depression following the War, but it has served its purpose. The interest in Stevidian Guffingford has been revived.

But, Fedor has put his ambitions in Guffingford to the side. War with Stevid is still to be avoided at all costs. Any outcome could hardly be called "successful," because regardless of territorial acquisitions, wars always bring with them dead men and civilians. The last war with Stevid had cost millions of lives, for both sides, and surely that kind of bloodshed is best to be avoided. Certainly, the Stevidian governments feels the same. There are rumors that the Macabee imperial government has offered a monetary deal to Stevid, for an undisclosed fee.

For the time being, the Empire's martial efforts are centered on Monzarc. The Ejermacht began its occupation this morning, launching a three-prong invasion of the country. From Sarcanza, the Macabee territory just north of former Zarbia, the Kriermada launched an attack with its naval infantry, originally deployed to open the northern front in the occupation of Zarbia. Following the success of the latter, these units were redeployed towards the eastern Zarbian border and are now being used as the main forces for one of the prongs of the Monzarc operation. The middle prong is composed of Macabee soldiers, some auxiliary forces, and two Regulíes Bandags. From Guffingford, Theohuanacu auxiliaries — about 50,000 total — make up their slice of the invasion. Overall, an estimated 200,000 personnel have flooded into the territory.

Local reporters have recorded footage of long armored columns, a significant aerial presence, and the occasional thunderous boom of a naval gun targeting something on-shore. Most of the infrastructure was targeted first. Airborne units were used early this morning to take strategic targets in Monzarc, such as important bridges, crossroads, and even military installations. The Second Empire's crippling aerial superiority has made organized resistance almost impossible (assuming any one in Monzarc even wants to resist!). Like the occupation of Zarbia, the objective is simply to overwhelm and make anything else other than acceptance of their new fate unprofitable.

As with the occupation of Zarbia, it is expected that the occupation of Monzarc will go largely unopposed. Stevid's response is unknown. However, this country's involvement in a major war in the eastern and norther sectors of Greater Dienstad handicap them when it comes time to making a stand against the Empire. However, authorities in Fedala are not taking chances. Fedor has ordered a general mobilization along the Stevidian border in Guffingford, to numbers comparable with those of the immediate post-war era. The fortifications there have no doubt been put on alert, and the part of the Laerihans has also been deployed to Guffingford — mostly relatively short-range aircraft that could be used to dispute the skies in case of a war. Likewise, the Kriermada has deployed a major war fleet — over 200 ships — just off the coast of Monzarc, although they have specific orders not to operate too close to Liberated America, a Stevidian territory across the channel from Guffingford. The Macabee-owned island between the two empires, Cartesia, has also seen its defenses ramped up, although it has always been heavily fortified since its occupation — its location could prove a major nuisance to Stevid, which could struggle to supply its soldiers in Guffingford if war ever broke out.

Monzar's absorption is expected to take even less than Zarbia's. Resistance has been reported to be nearly non-existent. There is no local military to speak up. Local warlords and militias have, for the most part, melted into the countryside. Those hunted down and ordered to surrender have done so. Others have been killed, although the Second Empire has not accepted responsibility. Nonetheless, there are strong rumors that the Second Empire has purposefully assassinated local warlords (in Zarbia, as well), to avoid the "problem" of granting these men civilian trials in their home countries. The assimilation is also expected to take less time, because Monzarc is already heavily assimilated — Macabee industry already dominates local markets, and Monzarc people have an affinity with Macabee citizens in Sarcanza.

The success of the Zarbian invasion has elevated Fedor's standing amongst his people. The depression had caused Macabee citizens to question the value of an emperor, and the political ascendance of liberal institutions — including a strengthened legislative branch — had taken power from the head of state. But, Fedor makes it clear that he is still relevant, and growing support for his policies may allow him to wrestle back powers taken away from him following the War. Further, there is overwhelming support for the incorporation of Stevidian Guffingford into the Empire, whether at the cost of a war or not. Fedala is unlikely to settle for anything less than the full transfer of control over Guffingford, and if Stevid does not grant it through diplomacy, war seems very probable.

There is hope for peaceful resolution, however. A war between these two great Dienstadi powers will cost many lives, and much wealth. Further, Stevid is already involved in a large war with Lyras and Imbrinium, and they would be hard pressed to deal with a Macabee military that has no other commitments. But, these events are still, most likely, some time away, and for now all focus is on Monzarc. What exact next step the Empire will take is impossible to predict, and there are many potential targets. But, it seems to all be culminating towards some sort of showdown between two old nemeses, which will be resolved one way or another. Certainly, when the time comes to lay cards on the table, Fedala will not settle for anything less than a full Stevidian withdrawal from Guffingford.

[The Macabees]

Fedala, Imperial Province

The senate was alive with aggression. Their relationship with the Emperor had never been positive, but for two and a half decades they held no power. Finally, the pendulum was swinging in their direction, and they wanted to exploit any possibility to gain power at the expense of the Throne. There they had His Imperial Majesty, sitting in the center of the chamber, facing the ire of the men who were thirsty for his blood. His occupation of Monzarc and Zarbia had been done without explicitly concerning the Senate, and while they were successful they also brought the Empire much danger. Regardless of success, Fedor had not involved the Senate, and the latter had interpreted that as an insult — as they should have.

Fedor looked amused. Indeed, he had this session was going more-or-less as he predicted. The senators' hostility was known to him; he didn't mind it, because the hostility was mutual. One senator, of the Unión Demokratic party — social democratic —, was grilling him for provoking the Empire's neighbors, Stevid. Fedor balked, "Provoking? They are occupying a third of Guffingford. They know as well as us that the Guffingford problem has not been settled. It would have been stupid for us to remain disadvantaged."

"Disadvantaged?" retorted the senator, Líem Karank. "Now our treasuries will likely be drained. Taxes will have to be raised, for you no doubt will want to mobilize our country for war."

"Yes, there will be a mobilization, and yes we will have to increase our revenue stream — but surely, after years of austerity, a small increase in some tax is justified. We have a one of a kind opportunity to assert our dominance over our homeland. And, about our treasuries, I must disagree. Our treasuries will be filled, through the sale of public lands in Zarbia and Monzarc. Territories I have taken for us. Apart from the extension of our laws, "reconstruction" is not a relevant expenditure. We will simply have to fund a possible war, or, if we are lucky, a tribute for the remainder of Guffingford. If diplomacy fails, I am sure that a war with Stevid would end in our favor."

A senator to the rear of the chamber exclaimed, "How can you be so sure?"

Fedor looked at his hands, his face wrinkled in thought. He was a middle-aged man, but he showed experience. You could see it in his greying hair. He had imprisoned and executed his own father, who had rebelled against him, and weathered a four year long war. He ruled through the nuclear attack near Macabea, and he suffered along with the millions of others who had been displaced, and their families decimated, in the southern provinces. He was a victor. The War of Golden Succession was costly, but it ended favorably for the Throne — most of Guffingford and a large swath of northern Savehaven fell to the Empire. Fedor added Theohuanacu to his list of conquests soon thereafter. He knew how to measure risk.

"Stevid is already at war. Their lands in the eastern reaches of the region are threatened. They are at war in the north. A war with us would weaken them in those sector, threatening the security of their assets in those areas. It behooves them to sell us their share of Guffingford. We can fight the war on multiple fronts. Adaptes Astrates is a tempting target." Fedor grinned. "Liberated America is only a narrow strait away. Their Guffingfordi territories are bound to fall. Even if we can't dominate the seas, they won't be able too either. The seas are too narrow. Their supply will be constantly at threat. Our supply lines are land-based, and we will be largely safe — even if they can managed to fight for our skies. Much of their strength will be tied up elsewhere, much of their strength has already been shattered. We can stretch their remaining forces. We have everything in our favor. There will never be a better time to confront Stevid."

The senate erupted. There were shouts of anger, and shouts of confusion. Others were aggressively debating each other, mulling over the merits and demerits of Fedor's blatant petition for a possible war. Stevidian Guffingfordi was a national objective, and so not even the Senate dare oppose Fedor on that issue. But still, many could not bring themselves to risk the possibility of war with a major regional power, so soon after their last one. Fedor had divided the Senate with his bold move — an explicit endorsement of martial imposition of Macabee policy.

Another senator stood, reached out his arms and waved them, getting the chamber to quiet down. He looked around, and then settled his gaze on the Emperor. He inquired, "Surely war is the last option. You no doubt prefer the diplomatic solution. But, with such overt aggression, how will you tempt Stevid into the peaceful solution?"

Fedor shrugged. "I trust they know what favors them most. Guffingford is the extent of our ambition. The fee they will no doubt ask will most likely make war with them unwise. But, with the revenue from the sale of lands in the new territories, we should be able to pay most costs. I think Stevid knows that, and it is to their benefit to reach a diplomatic solution with us."

The not-so-veiled aggression of the Senate towards Fedor had faded; he had brought his foes at home to rally under his banner, unified by a cause against Stevid. They still questioned his intentions, but they would no longer question his military deployments in the region. As the Golden Throne tightened its hold over Monzarc and Zarbia, it prepared to deal with the "Guffingford problem" — whether peacefully or violently.

Fedor raised his right arm, calling for silence. He stood, as the chamber looked at him, and began to walk away. "It is settled. I am glad the Senate has aligned its policy with the Throne." The pendulum had shifted back.

[The Macabees]

Somewhere in southern Monzarc or northeastern Nuevo León (eastern Zarbia)

In the distance, a man garbed in what appeared to be rags, ran as fast as he could, his face manifesting his pain. He did not look behind, but he knew that there was at least one other man, most likely with a rifle pointed at him. Indeed, less than one hundred meters away, a soldier emerged from a small cottage. The man was running on a dry grassland, which was an intermediary geography between the benign coastal deserts of Monzarc and Sarcanza and the dense tropics of Zarbia. There was not much to hide behind, in any case. So, he ran, his brain too focus on the task on hand to worry about his chances.

The soldier, sergeant Hans Carls, hustled, but only at a moderate pace. He kneeled outside the cottage, pointed his rifle towards the man, and took three successive shots. The runner profited from barely a half heartbeat more, before he was brought to the ground, bullets ripping through his skin and tumbling through his muscles and organs. Carls looked up, appearing amused. Another kill.

Impressed with their ruthless efficiency, Martosé — the field marshal in charge of the occupation — decided to keep the Cottish Bandag, 'Blodøkskompaniet,' deployed throughout the new territories. Their task was to hunt for old warlords, and other local leaders, and assassinate them. For although political assassination was technically very illegal in the Second Empire, it was not too difficult to cover it up in newly conquered territories, where the extent of The Law is much weaker. This man Carls had just killed in particular, for example, had died while trying to escape arrest. He was Heliodoro Mata, a warlord who had lost most of his assets during the invasion and had escaped to a relative's cottage. His plan was to leave to the country, but Carls and his men had found him before he could leave. His purported crime was a crime against the people of Zarbia ― a very long prison sentence, but not long enough for some.

Another man emerged from the cottage, a soldier belonging to Carls' sektón (eight men). He looked at the lifeless body of Mata first. Smirking, he turned his head toward his sergeant and said, "Got him, I see."

Carls nodded and asked, "How's the girl?" They had found a young woman in the cottage, who revealed herself as the daughter of Mata's relative ― 17 years old. The relative was a farmer, out attending his small olive grove a few dozen kilometers away. The girl was making food for Mata when the cottage had been raided. She was now a prisoner in a very unfavorable position. If these were Doomani Régulies she would ask them to kill her by the time they finished their business. But, these were Cottish men ― a tad bit more civilized. But, civilized does not mean merciful.

"She's inside. We tied her up to a chair."

Carls walked into the cottage, looking at the girl, tied to an uncomfortable-looking wooden chair. Her arms were tied down on the arm rests, but her fingers were outstretched, over a table. On the table there were arrayed a considerable number of unfriendly tools, which Carls would no doubt put to ill use. The seven soldiers around him looked eager for a show to commence. But, this was not a very strong girl, and it would all be over very soon. Carls took a chair, sitting down in front of the woman, "Hello, Clara."

She seemed startled he knew her name. But, he did not give her the option to talk back. "We are not here to hurt you. We are looking for dangerous means, who have ruined many lives here. Men like your uncle. As things go, one rule-of-thumb is that corrupt men, like your uncle, like to keep power in the family. I'm going to show you four pictures of men who I know you know. You will tell me where they are."

She squirmed, but he paid no mind. He laid out the four photographs on the table in front of her, as he said he would. They were all photographs of men who had belonged to Mata's inner circle. They were not only targets for the power they once wielded, but also for their information on other targets. The young woman did not know much, but she did know that this was information that some ― including Carls ― would kill for. But, she held her tongue. The sergeant was, of course, quite vexed, and without putting much thought into he took a hammer from the table and smashed her smallest finger on her left hand. She cried out in pain, but his hand darted out and took her throat and chin to quiet her. He pulled close to her face, and warned, "I am not a very nice man."

Releasing her face, and looking at another one of his men, he asked, "Remember what those Doomani soldiers did in that town in Theohuanacu, I think Íartsi?"

The man grimaced, but the girl could not see her, "Yea, I think it was five guys. They caught some poor 16 year old girl hiding in her closet. After they killed her parents and her brother,...well I think the rest comes naturally. Her pops was a fisherman who had made a little money on the side offering information on our offshore patrols to pirates operating in those seas. He cost our people a lot of lives. Our people cost him much more."

Carls looked back at the girl, "Where are those men?"

Now crying, the woman shook her head, almost violently. "Please, I don't know anything. I'm just a girl who lives here."

"I know that. I know you are no spy. No warlord. But, you do know many of them and their friends. I know you have some idea of where they are, and I want all the information you have. And, I will not quit until I have it." Carls' face showed no room for patience. He replaced the hammer in his hand with a finer tool, which he clasped around the tips of her left hand's ring finger, crushing the bone. She screamed out in pain, and he hit her across the face in response, ordering her to "Shut up!"

This continued for quite some time. Three hours later, she was dozens of bones short, and dead. Carls was somewhat angered that she had given up no information. He frowned, commenting, "Maybe she didn't know anything after all."

They left the cottage, heading back towards base. They would have to rely on other intelligence to track other targets. But, they would most likely get most of the men they were looking for, and many other innocents ― such as family ― along with them. Mata's relative, the woman's father, would come home after a long day's work out on his lands to find his brother shot dead outside of his countryside home, and his daughter disfigured and slaughtered inside, tied up to a chair he had made himself when she was first born.

[The Macabees]

Fedala Times

Macabee Forces Begin Withdrawal from Cartesia

To prove that western Greater Dienstad is as stable as ever, Macabee forces have begun to withdraw from Cartesia.

[Cartesia is the island in red.]

Cartesia, a large — although, relatively sparsely populated — island between Stevidian occupied Liberated America and Macabee occupied Monzarc and Guffingford, has been a source of friction between the two great empires since 2018 (ed. Macabee calendar). It was swooped by the Golden Throne during the War of Golden Succession, much like Stevid's swoop for parts of eastern Guffingford. For almost a decade, the island has acted as a heavily defended fortress between the Golden Throne and the Empire (ed. henceforth, to avoid confusion, the Macabees will also be referred to as the Golden Throne, and Stevid as the Empire). Now rumors are floating around that the Golden Throne is using the island as a bargaining chip, as the two governments seek to resolve standing issues peacefully. However, details are being left closely under wrap.

To fuel the rumors, Ejermacht and Laerihan forces have begun a general withdrawal to the mainland. Some of these are being re-deployed just across the channel, to allow them to quickly return in event of a national security emergency. However, given the magnitude of the withdrawal — and the current climate between the two countries —, many international relations experts are predicting a permanent exit of Macabee forces on Cartesia. Professor of political science Arn Níarán, at the University of Targu Frumos, is a highly reputed expert on Stevid. He suggests that "the Golden Throne and the Empire must be undergoing diplomatic talks over Guffingford, and if His Imperial Majesty Fedor wants to resolve his problems diplomatically, he must show his neighbors that he is willing to offer favorable terms."

Many still see Stevid–Macabee relations in the context of a cold war. Both suffered immense losses against each other during the War of Golden Succession, which ended less than a decade ago. Nevertheless, frictions have cooled since then. Stevid did not resist the Golden Throne's occupation of Theohuanacu, and the Golden Throne publicly backed Stevid's claim on Liberated America. Neither has Stevid shown any hostility as a result of the recent occupations of Zarbia and Monzarc, and they have yet to escalate tensions in Guffingford. The Macabee mobilization in their Guffingfordi territories has not provoked Stevid. This has confused some analysts, but Níarán is not surprised. "The Golden Throne wants to prove it's still here, and it's still a force to be respected and feared."

Economist Píer van Krugel, department head at the University of Hoogenbosch, presents a more sophisticated opinion, "I think the Golden Throne and the Empire are more friendly than people think. The two cooperated on Liberated America and piracy around Theohuanacu and Adaptes Astrates. Since the Golden Throne's depression, the government in Fedala has been less relevant internationally. It's the return that seems to set off warning signs, but this reaction may be premature. There is a good chance that Stevid and the Macabees will resolve their issues diplomatically, and this will continue to strengthen their relationship. Both countries have interests elsewhere, and a friendship between them essentially secures the safety of their area of the region. They are not yet allies, but 10 or 20 years down the road...who knows?"

For the time being, however, Fedala seems intent on seizing Guffingford — whether via a diplomatic solution or through war. Stevid's current problems with holding South Greal, including losing almost 80 percent of its fleet, puts it in a comparatively weak position. While most Macabee personnel are being withdrawn from Cartesia, leaving only civilian police forces, the mobilization in Guffingford continued. Fedala has announced that ~100,000 combat troops, along with their logistics personnel, will continue to be based in Cartesia. The withdrawal, nonetheless, amounts to a 86 percent reduction in strength on Cartesia — a big concession for a country apparently intent on war.

Still, a weak Stevid can invite foreign powers into the Golden Throne's zone of influence. Fedor rather keep the balance of power traditional in the western approaches of the region. And Stevid will no doubt benefit from generous terms, because above all the Golden Throne would like to continue building its relationship with the English-speaking empire to its east. Some pundits have gone as far as to speculate that Cartesia will be ceded to Stevid, in return for Guffingford. However, experts have discounted this case, deeming it "unlikely." According to Níarán, "Cartesia makes a Stevidian invasion of our mainland almost impossible, because it requires them to take the island first. And, we can use that island as a jumping-off point to invade Liberated America. Cartesia is the single most important piece of territory, in the context of our relations with Stevid. It also, remember, includes Port Kramer, one of the largest Macabee military ports in those seas. I would be surprised if Fedala let it go, even if it were in return for Stevidian Guffingford."

This most recent geopolitical move by Fedala, in any case, certainly does raise intrigue. Whatever does unfold over the coming weeks will no doubt surprise many, whether it be a diplomatic solution or war.

[The Macabees]

Sea of Ixchel
Approx. 800km east of the southernmost point of Theohuanacu.

The HES Ingerier, the first of its class, cut through the waves, westbound. Its three triple-gun turrets bristled in the sun, as the spray of the ocean lunged over the deck. The battlecruiser served as the flagship of the large fleet it commanded. Five aircraft carriers, eighteen battlecruisers (of three different types), dozens of cruisers, and entourage of troop transports and supply ships. The fleet, Task Force 'Kastil,' was under the command of Franc Mijorán. The large fleet headed west, at a reasonable pace. It was headed to a land the Macabee people knew as "Indras." Geographically, it is an island located just southeast of Holy Panooly.

At one point, a government arose in Indras, and the Golden Throne was able to reach out. However, a combination of the collapse of the short-lived state in Indras and an isolationist Imperial foreign policy broke relations altogether. Once again, however, Indras is of interest. It is in an important location, because, to the east, it opens to a channel that wraps around to trade routes that reach out to the northeastern areas of Greater Díenstad. For an empire looking to expand its influence in the region, but condemned to the western extremes, Indras is an enticing target that opens up new possibilities in the east. While a full scale absorption of Indras may upset local powers, pushing the Empire into a war it did not want to fight, a more limited seizure of key areas would still be of immense benefit.

Thus, apart from his ships, Mijorán also sailed with roughly 90,000 combat personnel, and their support. These were three tercios, a corp of naval infantry; well-trained, mechanized troops with a special talent for amphibious warfare. The north-eastern coast of Indras was populated by four port cities, which Mijorán planned to take one by one. His ships would provide battery support, and the carriers allowed for aerial support, while naval infantry assaulted the city. The fall of the four cities would allow the Golden Throne essentially free access into inland Indras, where they would occupy a stretch of coastline. In other words, four large commercial ports, and ample coast for other installations, perfectly positioned to act as an intermediary between the western and eastern extremes of Greater Díenstad. The conquest of north-east Indras would solidify the Golden Throne's economic dominance.

Within the Ingerier Mijorán plotted with other officers. "We will take Botoșani first. That is the one on the eastern side of our target zone. We'll assign the assault to one of the tercios, and maintain the other two on reserve. Although, we do not expect a nation-wide organized resistance."

"No," interjected another officer, "Indras is a breadbasket. A banana republic, worse than Zarbia. Three years ago, I was deployed at Tarn, and I met a Panooly at an officer's gala. He managed to join our auxiliaries, and was about to earn citizenship. We discussed Indras, and he mentioned that that was worse than Holy Panooly. The chaos across the channel had spread, and not even the Montesçu regime managed to survive for more than a few years. Power is fractured between some 18 factions."

Mijorán arched an eyebrow, "We will have to see who we are going to rub up against, and we will have to find friends. We can make this easier for us. Jíer, what do you think?"

Erich Jíer, a lieutenant commander, was a well-read man in Indran politics. He had been assigned as Mijorán's assistant, helping him design the political aspect of the invasion. Jíer responded, "We will rub up against two factions. I don't know if we can take on one at a time. If they predict our game well, they might help each other to repel our operation. But, our occupation will fall short of the extent of their land. One option is to fight them blindly, and at best impose a fragile peace that leaves the losers alive — hungry for revenge, to re-take their lost land. I think it's better to remove these factions altogether, and offer the excess territory to another faction."

"In return," Mijorán anticipated, "we'll ask them to invade another neutral fraction, keeping them neutral."

Jíer nodded. "But, we want to maintain a balance of strength amongst the other 16 factions. We need a long-game strategy."

The admiral brought his hand to his chin, over his mouth, as he thought. "There are rumors that countries, Lamoni namely, have already anticipated our intentions. There is some chance that they will respond to our operation by taking as much as they can. But, we don't need much — the coasts are key. There's probably not much of value inland, anyways, and no one can pacify those brutes, not even Invictus" — in reference to the Doomani-composed Harka, an elite auxiliary unit (part of which had been deployed to Padnak) known for its love for violence.

"Still, if that doesn't happen, we need to start gathering knowledge on their interests, so we can start negotiation with the factions. Maybe we can induce them to act in our favor with money. We can conduct military operations south of our claims when we need to, fighting limited wars to weaken factions that get too strong. I expect that they will send us more personnel over the months."

"Yes, they are preparing a large Theohuanacu auxiliary army to deploy to Indras after we do what we need to do," quickly informed Mijorán.

Jíer smirked, "Then, maybe we can take more when it conveniences us."

The officers continued to discuss Indras, then moving on to other matters, until finally breaking off into groups for less formal, social conversations. Over the weeks, there would be similar sessions, many of them with quite similar content. In fact, Jíer and Mijorán would continue to indulge in discussions of Indran politics. But, that would ultimately inform a plan to dominate the island politically. Soon enough, Indras would either be split between various regional power, or it would be an island where the vast majority of the land was occupied by a society in entropy, and a gradually growing sliver along the north-east coast would become a shining beacon, broadcasting the Golden Throne's growing zone of influence throughout Greater Díenstad.

[The Macabees]

Finca Gubernamental, Santiago, Zarbia

Staring at the map before him, Field Marshal Martosé frowned. During the invasion, he had over one million men at his disposal. Now, his forces had dwindled to 75,000: three brigades of Theohuanacu auxiliaries. These Theohuanacu were mostly ex-pirates, who quit their crews in search for the secure, and not at all low, income of the auxiliary. They were not very disciplined, and it was difficult for Martosé to guarantee the safety of the locals. This was a problem, because at this stage it was important to win the indigenous population over. But, he had to do with what he was given. The three brigades were spread over a gigantic area, covering the territories of Zarbia, Nuevo León, and Monzarc. He also disposed of a 128-man bandag of Cottish Régulies — the foreign legion —, but he hardly ever was aware of their status. They roamed the territories, hunting down people the Imperial government classified as high-profile threats — old warlords, corrupt politicians, and others who could potential organize a resistance movement. But, they were not very good at occupying; they were much too bloodthirsty.

Martosé was worried, because an important uprising could wrestle control of the territories away from him. There simply were not enough men to deploy them in numbers to a specific area. Every single request he filed to Fedala for reinforcements was denied. The Ejermacht was building up its forces in Guffingford, posed to take Stevidian Guffingford either diplomatically or via invasion. That is where the majority of Martosé's army group left to, leaving him with the bread crumbs. The Ejermacht there was organized between Army Groups 'Wardenssel' and 'Apelzee,' both names for regions they were responsible for. 'Wardenssel' was commanded by Field Marshal Artur Kravanch, who had been invited to Santiago by Martosé.

Martosé waited in his study, looking over his map of the territories. He was doing some last minute thinking, attempting to anticipate the location of his Cottish bandag. Those men would do him good, to deploy them as necessary to hot spots, stamping out first signs of trouble. Violence was good for those situations; not so much for peacekeeping efforts. There were already too many complaints of threats, extortion, and rape against the Theohuanacu auxiliaries. Bloody immigrant soldiers, thought Martosé. They lacked a certain discipline, although perhaps that reflected poorly on the Ejermacht's training of the auxiliaries (not as strict and thorough as that of the Ejermacht's nationals).

Kravanch soon arrived. Rising, Martosé stretched out his arm to greet him, shaking the other man's hand. Kravanch, smiling, said, "You have quite the headquarters, here," referring to the splendor of the governor's house that Martosé had occupied.

"Yes, one can get used to this. Not much action, but comfortable as hell."

"Quite, I envy you," responded Artur. "So, Enrich, how has the operation treated you."

Martosé sighed, but almost sarcastically. "It has actually gone quite well. Remember the War?" The other man smiled. "Remember what it was like fighting the Zarbians then? Bloody savage fighters, them. I was ambushed by a company of them, eleven kilometers behind the front line, and we were almost captured. I killed a few of them myself. It was a different war back then. This time, they just gave up. Their defense was nearly non-existent, and we were just too many at once."

"So, you're doing well with the few troops you have left," deduced Artur.

"Actually, no. The problem with the easy occupation is that we didn't come into contact with the majority of the one-time Zarbian army. We're talking about around thirty million people who once received training, and were at one time deployed against us. Thirty million potential militants, who have already been trained to fight a war against us. Zarbia is not Guffingford. We were not welcomed as heroes."

Artur paused his colleague, "Believing in a 30 million person uprising a bit farfetched, Enrich."

"I agree, but even 500,000 Zarbians might wrestle control of a sizable area of Nuevo León. I would have to surrender it to them. Drawing away from other parts of the territories could inspire uprisings there. It would be a disaster."

The commander of Army Group 'Wardenssel' knew what was coming next, and anticipated it, "I'm not sure I can help you. We are on stand-by for a sudden invasion of Stevidian Guffingford. We only have roughly seven million or so personnel, and we will need them all to wrestle control of southern Guffingford. I can't afford to loan you troops, only to need them for an invasion, and not having them available, because they are caught in counter-insurgency operations in the jungles of Zarbia."

Martosé's lips curled. His peer's reaction vexed him. "All I need are 150,000 combat personnel. Their area of operations will be restricted to southern Zarbia, that way I can deploy some of my own men to reinforce other parts of the territories. If I can crush the cells rising up now — and they are rising, and they will merge —, early, I can fully impose Fedala's authority. If we go to war with Stevid, and I am certain we will not, your men will be immediately available to you. Lend me your reserves; the ones that will go into southern Guffingford 48 hours later, regardless of their immediate availability. I just need a significantly strong force to crush the seeds before they flower, and swallow us all."

The conversation fell silent. Kravanch searched one of Martosé's many bookcases, lining the walls surrounding the study. He picked a book out, Holocaust in the Grasslands, by well-known military historian Danel Vandoval. The field marshal's face tightened. Turning to Enrich, Kravanch quietly commented, "What a tragedy." The book dealt with the Havenic invasion of Ruska, the large Imperial region which once sat on the border with Safehaven (the border moved several thousand kilometers south, during the later stages of the war). Roughly 33 million Macabee civilians died during the invasion. The once majestic city of Aurillac was almost completely razed to the ground by a Havenic carpet bombing campaign. It served as a rallying point for the tenacious Imperial resistance to the invasion, soon sucking the energy out of it, and then counter-attacking, collapsing the Havenic army, and ending the war. "I was a brigadier general in early 2016. At Aurillac, I saw the ceiling of our building collapse, and fall on my commanding officer. That is how I earned my promotion. Not very glorious. I can sympathize with the feeling that it is all about to collapse on you. I survived in a city where another 26–27 million people died."

"Your honor cannot be questioned, Artur. I apologize if I offended you. I ask you for assistance, as a friend and comrade."

Artur shook his head, "I am serious, I sympathize with you, and I will help you. You remember Colonel Ruud von der Bock?"

"Yes, yes, he was on my chief of staff early, before his unit was redeployed to 'Apelzee.' Not much experience with war. But, sharp, and well-read."

"Good. He will join your chief of staff again. He will report to me, and I will use him to coordinate the redeployment of my attachment, if we go to war. Along with him, I will grant you your 150,000 personnel. You will have access to our supplies, and you can draw on them as you'd like. These will be Havenic auxiliaries. I can't stand to have them in my army group, it makes me sick that those murderers can fight for us." The memory of Mosnoi Bor was still vivid for Artur. Most of those who experienced the war with Safehaven would always be scarred. "They can die in Zarbia, for all I care."

Martosé smiled. Pressure lifted off his shoulders. "Thank you, Enrich. I will take the Havenic auxiliaries. They are at least more disciplined than the Theohuanacu." Both men chuckled. "Hopefully, if there is a war, it will be in a few weeks. That will be enough time to solidify our hold here. You have truly done me a great help. I will one day repay you."

"I'm going to hold you to that, Enrich."

The two moved on to discuss specifics, including a time schedule for the troop movement. The Havenic units were mostly infantry, although there was a minority of mechanized soldiers. Providing them additional vehicles would require training, and their wasn't any time for that. They would have to scour southern Zarbia on foot, imposing themselves on the local population, raiding weapon stores, and arresting wanted men that the Cottish hasn't gotten to yet. Elsewhere, the Theohuanacu auxiliaries would commit to a similar operation, but on about a third of the scale. 20,000 men would remain in Monzarc, and 5,000 deployed in western Zarbia, which had largely culturally integrated itself to the Empire through centuries of cross-border trade. The final crack-down operation on Zarbia would thus be composed by 200,000 men, meticulously ridding the territory of hostiles and potential powder kegs.

Hours later, Kravanch left Martosé's study, after the two had caught up on other matters. Namely, Kravanch had suggested that Martosé take over the occupation of Stevidian Guffingford, as well. That area would most likely be organized into its own territory. Martosé could focus on building the administration of the territory. The two army groups in Guffingford would, after the resolution of the occupation, be reduced in size and merged. The single army group would be under the command of Kravanch, who wanted to focus entirely on defending the territories there, and being able to deploy units abroad, to enforce Macabee foreign policy. He did not want to deal with the administrative aspect, and Martosé had proven adapt at that aspect of occupation. Upon leving, Kravanch was taken to inside the city in an armored car, to the airport, where he would fly out to Froytberghen, the location of his headquarters in eastern Guffingford. Martosé, in turn, continued to ponder the map before him, planning his coup de grace in Zarbia.

[The Macabees]

Botoșani, Indras

Gregor Antic's flight landed in Botoșani very early in the morning, at 5:15am. The Macabee diplomat had taken a commercial flight, leaving Tlaloc — a port city on the eastern coast of Theohuanacu —, because officials in Botoșani would not accommodate a private aircraft. The city's government was deeply suspicious of the Golden Throne's intentions. Two reasons were clear. First, the Empire had not as much maintained an embassy after the collapse of the Montesçu regime. Second, these days, Fedala's foreign policy was known to consist mainly of invasion and absorption, and nothing good could come out of interaction with them. Thus, Antic was forced into the city the "difficult" way. He was not even greeted by a driver on the tarmac. Rather, the diplomat was forced through customs — a rather meaningless burden in a run-down country like Indras —, then through baggage, and only then could he meet the driver the Imperial government had hired (because the Botoșani government did "not have cars to spare").

Despite the obstacles, Gregor soon arrived at the city government building. It was located near the port, in the commercial center of Botoșani. The architecture was modern, and the building tall, although it did not reach the heights of some of its neighbors. These others were skyscrapers owned by private companies, many of them foreign. This included a handful of Macabee corporations, although not many. The city government building, nonetheless, was quite exquisite. It showed the wealth that Botoșani had access to — revenue that arrived from foreign shores, as hundreds of ships came into and out of the city's port every day.

Botoșani was the largerst port in Indras. It was the first one eastern traders would arrive at. The city served as an intermediary, buying goods from the east, and then selling them to the western extremes of Greater Díenstad. In a large world, with long distances, intermediary trade locations were important, and deep sources of income. It was no wonder that the Golden Throne was interested in occupying it, along with three other major coastal cities. If China had a silk road to the Near East and Europe, the Indran ports would be the Golden Throne's golden trade route to the eastern continents of the region. Under Macabee rule, the ports would no longer thrive ever more, benefiting from direct investment from Macabee firms — firms contributing to the largest economy in Greater Díenstad.

Antic's car stopped at a gate, underneath the building, leading to a parking garage. The driver was not immediately passed through, and he asked the Macabee diplomat to pass some papers, so that the guards could make some final confirmations with security. After some unnecessary red tape, the car was finally allowed in. There were two men waiting for Antic, dressed in black suits, with plastic cable tracing the profiles of their necks, up to their ears. The Macabee ordered his driver to stay where he was, "This won't take long." The Indran security guards escorted Antic to an elevator, where he was taken to one of the floors high up the structure. When the elevator finally stopped, the doors opened to a large conference room. There awaited a high representative of Botoșani's government, who immediately greeted Antic and offered water.

The Macabee diplomat waved the offer away, "I appreciate the hospitality, but after such a long flight from Theohuanacu, I prefer something stronger."

"Pick your poison," the Botoșani official said back.

"Do you have any Viqué?" Gregor was referring to the Macabee "national" alcohol. Originally, it was exported out of Sarcanza. Viqué was a rough, strong alcohol that required an acquired taste. Over the centuries, however, the demand for Viqué grew internationally, and where the Golden Throne could not sell to (due, mainly, to the distance costs to trade), foreign manufacturers of viqué popped up in large numbers.

The Botoșani representative smiled, responding, "Of course." He snapped at one of the guards, who quickly moved to get the guest that drink.

While the guard fetched the Viqué from the liquor counter across the room, the host signaled his guest to a chair in front of an oak conference table. He sat on the other side. A few seconds later, Antic was sitting, with an elegant glass of Viqúe in his right hand. Taking a good sip, he praised the product, "This is fine Viqué, friend."

"Not as fine as the Sarcanzan product, I assume," chuckled the other man. "But, let's get to business. There is too little time to do everything we want to do, so it's best to cut straight to the point, don't you think." He seemed to anticipate Antic's news, because he seemed prepare to receive the worst of it. And, he was right, because the offer Antic could be termed "rude."

"Yes, agreed. I am afraid, however, that my business here is not happy business." Antic did not look as sad as what he said had suggested. The other man continued listening. "Soon, Botoșani will belong to Fedala. We will take the city one way or the other. I am here to offer a diplomatic solution, that will guarantee the safety of everyone in this city. Botoșani is to be peacefully surrendered—"

"You insult us," interrupted the Botoșani man. "Surrender our city, to you?"

"That is right. The alternative is to suffer an invasion, and that will surely end at a disadvantage for you and your leaders. If we have to take the city by force, we will. But, it's in no ones interests to sacrifice their life for the inevitable. We are prepared to make an economic deal, in exchange for the city."

"You must be kidding. The city does not own itself. It is under the command of Ighalo Murfos." Murfos controlled an important slice of territory in Indras, controlling one of the two "factions" the Golden Throne planned to eliminate during their invasion.

Antic quickly finished the Viqué that remained, and stood. "There is not much to discuss. You know the offer; communicate it to your superiors. We expect your acceptance within the next 24 hours, otherwise we can guarantee your safety, or the safety of your people."

The Botoșani representative was furious. A minute or so after Antic had left, he called the building's security. "There is a Macabee diplomat heading downstairs. He is being escorted by two of your men. Order them to arrest him, and take him to Murfos." Murfos, in turn, was headquartered in a mid-sized town deeper into Indras, named Vinesaea. The Golden Throne would not know that one of their diplomats had been arrested — a flagrant aggression against the Empire — for another two hours, when it was reported that he had not made it back to the airport to reach a flight that was leaving back for Theohuanacu. The Indran representative had just given the Golden Throne a cassus belli, soon condemning the city to an assault. The war drums grew louder.

The sun soon began to sink below the horizon. If one looked out in the distance, off of the port, he might see the vague silhouette of a Macabee Ingerier class battlecruiser. The Macabee convoy was sitting off the coast, outside of the range of local coastal batteries, and it was already preparing to launch its attack on Botoșani, before any nearby power could respond to the Golden Throne's Indran plans.


~2am that night, off the coast of Botoșani

[Map of Indras, with location of four major ports on northern coastline. Light grey boundaries correspond to the borders of competing factions.]

The task force came to a position just 75 kilometers off the coast of Botoșani. The city's skyscrapers were vaguely visible, their intense lights standing out in the otherwise blinding dark. In the air, AWACS aircraft patrolled a perimeter, while the cruisers sailed in an outer-ring outside of the larger ships. The nine Ingerier battlecruisers were deployed on the side closest to the city, their turrets menacingly trained southeast. The local government had just arrested a Macabee diplomat, and Admiral Franc Mijorán was given the green light to commence his invasion.

The sea besides the larger ships was soon consumed by the presence of hundreds of landing crafts. These boats were characterized by a catamaran hull, and were fairly comparable to "conventional" LCACs, although slightly less useful — they were, however, much cheaper. They were filled primarily with infantry; three groups of about 1,000 soldiers each. Two were tasked with taking the port, so that the convoy could begin offloading heavy vehicles. The other would land just outside Botoșani, setting up position on the highway to Cruzau, about 300 kilometers north. These carried their heavy vehicles, specifically the BSI-122 light tank and BSI-37 amphibious infantry fighting vehicle (the former outfitted with a 120mm gun and the latter with an armored vehicle variant of the 45mm 'Swift Kill'), with them. They would cut Botoșani off from supplies from the north, also providing some coverage of the southern approaches. They could also shell the city from outside, supplementing gun fire from the ships offshore. These 3,000 soldiers would soon be joined with more personnel, but only after the initial landings earned the task force a means of disembarking in large numbers.

Mijorán stood in the bridge, overseeing the task force around him. He then looked at Botoșani. Parts of it were beautiful, others not so much. Mijorán actually knew the city rather well for a Macabee, because he had been stationed there for three months, immediately after the War of Golden Succession. He was an Imperial attaché to the Motesçu government, but was brought back to the Empire after that state collapsed under the weight of its own weaknesses and corruption. Most of Indras was actually rather poor, and Botoșani was able to mask that reality, because wealth originating from trade allowed for a disproportionately large middle class — a middle class which was largely nonexistent in the inland. The core of Botoșani was modern and representative of great economic status. But, the majority of the city was actually sprawling lower class suburbs, which were usually dense urban jungles of large apartment blocks.

The admiral looked down on his watch. It was 1:59.

Seconds later, the thunderous roar of 81 355.6mm guns shattered the calm skies. In the distance, a sudden flash here, another one there, accompanied by terrible explosions. The once black backdrop lost its prior elegance, now painted with streaks of the colors of fire. The rounds fired were landing mostly near coastal battery installations, known military bases in and around the city, and strategic highways that could be used by the locals to move their defenses around. The coastal defenses occasionally responded, but they could no do much. Many of them were destroyed fairly quickly; others were out of range. The larger guns were inoperable, because they had not been maintained in quite some time — the warlords did not have the technological savvy or the money. The bombardment continued for another hour.

Beneath the fire of the task force's larger guns, the landing craft quickly made their way towards shore. On the boats, some of the soldiers looked nervous. These kind of operations, after the War of Golden Succession, became increasingly rare, as the Empire drew down its armed forces and focused on economic revival. Most of the men had never seen war. Very few of them had experienced the War of Golden Succession. Still, these were naval marines of the Kriermada, some of the most elite soldiers in the world and specialists in amphibious warfare. Some of them covered their ears, because the shells above them would leave behind a deathly noise, sharp enough to severely irritate one's eardrums. It was all quite deafening; a display of firepower, meant to dissuade local resistance.

The Ingeriers were soon joined by the four Grospek battlecruisers, which specialized in heavy rockets. Because there was no local naval presence to speak of, these Grospeks carried mostly surface-to-surface missiles capable of engaging targets on land. These missiles were not as restricted in range as the Ingerier's cannons. The orchestra was met with the hissing sound of dozens of long-range missiles being launched from within the convoy, cutting through the atmosphere, and striking targets deep into Indras. They were hitting Ighalo Murfos' military positions south of Botoșani, to cripple the warlord's ability to reinforce his defense of the city.

All the while, the landing craft crept closer to shore...

[The Macabees]

Beaches, Four Kilometers East of Botoșani Suburbs

The long beach was flanked on the east by large cliffs. Plain sight could see a large concrete bunker, with a steel barrel protruding from its front, menacingly pointed at the sea. The gun radiated its power, which had depreciated over the years. Various grasses and mosses covered and patterned its walls and ceilings, growing out of cracks in the concrete. If one looked closely enough, the barrel was no longer any good, because there were small holes along it, product of rust and a lack of proper maintenance. If one stood on top of the bunker and looked further east, he would see the ambiguous outline of another similar bunker. That one was, in any case, in worse shape than this one, especially since Ighalo Murfos' militia had used them to sink Indran ships that had been commandeered by the other factions — the majority of the Indran fleet had either been sunk over the years, had been scuttled in port, or was largely inoperable (both because of a lack of maintenance and a lack of training). The bulk of what makes a modern military "modern," including the larger coastal batteries, was no longer relevant in Indras.

The bunkers could still be used to watch over the beaches below, however, especially those immediately guarding strips of coast particularly susceptible to amphibious attack. Soldiers could still use them to fire down on disembarking troops, using machine guns and rifles. The dry grassland behind the beaches could be infested with additional lines of defenses, and mortars and artillery that could shell incoming landing craft and men already on the beach.

It was not surprising, then, to see the entire area under intense shelling, coming from the Macabee battlecruisers around 20 kilometers offshore. These had come closer to shore, to come within firing range, and leaving the remainder of the convoy behind. The explosive shells churned the ground, lifting the soil and earth below it into the air. The bunkers might have withstood the fire a bit better, but a lack of maintenance meant that the naval guns were able to often knock them out directly. If the concrete was weak, it could not always absorb the hit. On this particular day, there was no true organized defense, excepting a few hundred men that the local militias had managed to scramble to the area — most of their strength had to be allocated to the city, in any case. But, whatever direct defenses Murfo's faction had, they were decimated by the intense offshore bombardment.

As the shells zipped above them, the landing crafts sailed forth, towards the beach. Many of the boats near the front carried two to four armored vehicles, including six BSI-122 tanks. Their powerful 120mm guns could pummel their way towards the exits, providing the infantry behind them with cover. The light tanks hit the beaches first, coming under moderate fire. A rocket traced the air like a serpent, but did not survive long, because on of the BSI-122s deployed a grenade, which destroyed the inbound projectile in midflight. Another rocket did manage to penetrate the tanks' active protection systems, but hit the glacis and bounced off. It was not long before their guns were trained to the areas above them, and the 120mm cannons let roar. The tanks' machine guns, both on the mantle and on top of the turret, were violently firing on the positions above and in front of them.

Under the cover of the armor, infantry poured in from behind. They ran up the beach, attempting to reach the exits as quickly as possible. It was still very dark — around 3:30am —, and the paramilitaries who where there were largely there on accident. Neither did they have very much advanced equipment, including night vision. Still, the Macabee men below wanted to catch them unprepared, before they could regroup, and secure a beach head. They would then press on, almost immediately, southwest. Intelligence reported a barracks 40 kilometers up the road, away from the city, and the naval infantry who were being landed at this point were tasked with making sure those paramilitaries could not link up with the defending militia forces inside the city. As long as they were not in the city, they were in the open, and as long as they remained in the open they were not a threat.

There was no such thing as Indran air power anymore. The Macabee carriers put their birds to flight at will, guaranteed air supremacy. There were, of course, wary of anti-air defenses, but the kind of equipment that could down a Macabee military aircraft was rare in Indras these days — although, it still existed. Known surface-to-air missile sites were targeted by the missile-carrying cruisers offshore. Those too far inland would either be worried about later, or they would be targeted by Macabee aircraft. But, it was suspected that only around 10 percent of SAM sites were known; the others would have to be found, or Macabee pilots would have to pray that they had ceased working. Of course, the Golden Throne would have to accept a number of losses — but, the spoils were well worth the costs. And, the general paucity of quality air defense in Indras meant that, despite the occasional loss, Macabee fighters could essentially attack targets on land with impunity.

Lieutenant Colonel Hansil Bíer, the handsome, young — 37 — officer commanding the regiment of roughly 1,000 soldiers, spearheaded the rush towards the heights above the beach. A group of 60–70 men rallied around him, as others followed behind, and they ran through the sand, finally reaching good, solid ground about 300 meters later. A small group of paramilitaries still offered some resistance, and Bíer heard the zip of a stray bullet every so often, most of those who had not already been killed had by now melted away. The naval bombardment had ceased, except for the occasional round, hitting a specific target well inland.

Bíer came to a stop, trying to catch his breath. Sprinting 400 meters of sand, with about 54 kilos of weight, was not an easy task. But, there was not much time to rest. Looking at some of the lower officers around him, who led their individual companies, he ordered, "Continue securing the area around the beach. You will receive updated orders once you accomplish your initial objectives. If you come under fire, don't waste time by getting rid of them themselves. Radio for offshore support. They'll either send a bird or two, use the big guns, or do the easy thing, press a button, and fire a missile. Don't risk your life, when someone can get the job done without risking theirs."

The men nodded and said "aye," and then moved out. The colonel stayed behind, to coordinate the disembarking. Soon, some of the landing craft which had turned back would return, this time with materials for a makeshift port, which would allow more traffic on the beach. Bíer wanted to get the entire mechanized battalion deployed behind the beach before dawn, so that he could push out and capture a number of surrounding towns — detached suburbs of Botoșani.

Looking around him, the colonel stopped around 10 men who were linking up with the rest of their company, which was rallying in the grasslands above. "What unit are you with, soldier?"

The young private, a kid really, responded, "D Company, Sir. 145th battalion, Tercio III."

"Okay, good. Hustle up to your unit, and tell your commander that I want him to set me up a tent where he's at right now. Tell him he's to stay put." The colonel needed a headquarters, and he needed a camp to organize reinforcements and allocate them to the front. He also needed a table, to lay out his map and plan his next moves.

In a sense, and arguably, Colonel Bíer had been handed the easier assignment. The resistance was more dispersed, and easier to deal with. In the city, air support was more difficult, and offshore battery fire could cause indiscriminate collateral damage. If the local militias were able to organize a defense in Botoșani, the fighting would be very hard, and it would be an infantryman's battle. The towns Bíer's men would have to take were a bit more tame. But, his battalion would also be responsible for repelling militia movements going into Botoșani, and he would have to do this with about 1,000 men and little prospect for reinforcements. The task would certainly not be easy!

Botoșani Harbor

The thunderous melody of the naval barrage could not hide the noise of the landing crafts' motors. Neither could they hide the machine gun chatter, as the landing craft protected themselves from gunfire coming from the harbor, and the occasional gunboat that the local defense could muster in time — although, the battlecruisers had destroyed most of what floated. Ahead of them, parts of the harbor were in flames. Warehouses were burning down, some already very nearly rubble. Other buildings suffered from gaping holes, caused by a well-placed shell. The intensity of the bombardment was dying down, and soon enough it would end altogether, but its power and efficacy were stunning. Nevertheless, the Macabee landing would not go entirely unopposed. This was not some beach outside the city, this was the harbor. Hundreds of local militiamen crawled up and down, occasionally popping over their cover to fire at the inbound enemy.

Private Martín Delora stood nervous. Four months of infantry school, three more months of additional specialized training, and a career of other training programs had not entirely prepared him for this day. Combat was still new to him; this was his first deployment. He couldn't see outside the hull of the landing craft — it was too larger. Dozens of others of men crowded around him, very few of them speaking a word. A commanding officer near the back was shouting orders, but it was difficult to hear him over the noise of the motor, and the cacophony of explosions all around. Jets flying overhead added their own unique sounds. At one point, they could hear the whistling of an incoming mortar, and the terrible explosion that resulted from it impact on one of the landing craft. While the boat survived, dozens within it did not, and it started veering towards the side to turn around and return to the ships — the wounded needed treatment, and the survivors would simply be sent back on another boat.

The time elapsed between leaving the ship and reaching the harbor seemed a lifetime. While nervous, the young soldier was eager to experience his first battle. Experience it he would, because minutes later he heard a blunt clash, as the catamaran rubbed against one of the loading docks of the harbor. His sergeant started yelling at him and his comrades, ordering them to get off the boat. Rifle rounds zipped by. Delora could hear them as they hit the walls, ships, and obstacles around him. The man in front of him went down, catching a ricocheting bullet in the ankle. Delora paid him no mind, raising his rifle to shoot while running.

Running up the dock, Delora followed his fire team of four men, reaching a warehouse very near to the waterline. About 20 hostiles were trying to pin them down, one of them with a light machine gun. The fire team's commander, Sergeant Derk Baranjov, signaled his men to take cover, and then looked around. Whipping his head around, he pointed at another soldier and then pointed to a building across from their position, "You see that building? We're going to cover you, and I want you to run to it. Then stay put."

Pausing for a second, he took a deep breath, and then stretched out his torso around the building, firing back on enemy positions. The soldier ran out from behind him, across the small "street," before hitting the other building. Baranjov turned around again, pointed to a grenadier, and said, "You, same thing. Except, once you get there, he provides cover, and you fish that nest out."

The process was thus repeated. Reaching the other building, the grenadier informed the other soldier of what was going on. These extended out around the corner, the rifleman standing and providing cover, and the grenadier kneeling. This latter man fired a grenade, which hugged the side of the building — it could had easily veered into the wall, and explode before reaching its target — and landed just in front of a wall of sandbags, protecting the machine gunners. The two soldiers tried again, this time landing a grenade right in the middle of the nest and knocking it out. Baranjov signaled his fire team to continue through the harbor, where they would take the installations one by one.

Most of the illumination had been destroyed, either directly or by shrapnel. Whatever remained was put out by the advancing infantrymen. The locals typically did not have night vision technology, so the Macabee infantry had an advantage over them in the dark. This made the initial attack much easier, and the locals could hardly offer much resistance — they could barely see what they were firing at! Macabee numbers swelled over time. The initial landing was comprised of 200 or so men, but within the hour the full 2,000 infantry earmarked for the initial landing had disembarked, and the fighting had been taken well beyond the harbor and into the commercial center of the city. Macabee soldiers advanced mostly by foot, because it was deemed too difficult to land heavy vehicles in the harbor under fire, and this all made the advance a bit slower. But, the initial attack was tasked with taking key installations in the city, including the city government building, the police headquarters, and other buildings that housed local defense units.

The idea was to avoid a prolonged city siege at all costs. If the local militias were allowed time to organize their defenses, a block-by-block battle could materialize. If, however, communication was severed early, paramilitary units outside the city forced back, and the city's leadership neutralized, Botoșani would fall at a much lower cost. Thus, the 2,000 Macabee soldiers continued moving through the city streets, the sun not yet up, and the people of Botoșani wondering what the new day would bring with it.

[The Macabees]

Botoșani, Indras

To oversee the occupation of the city, the Macabee naval infantry had assaulted, taken, and commandeered the city government building, a few kilometers from the harbor. One man to know in particular is Karl Martil, who holds a rank equivalent to that of rear admiral, and held command of the entire corps of naval infantry at the task force's disposal. He stood in front of a group of other naval officers, with several maps spread out on on large rolling project boards. There was one of the city of Botoșani, up to date with the location of advanced positions, tracking the gradual occupation of the entire metro area — from the center to the suburbs, where they would link up with Macabee positions outside of the city. Another map detailed the northern coast of Indras, inclusive of the four main ports the Golden Throne was looking to occupy.

Martil was lecturing, pointing at the larger map, of the norther coast. "Tonight, I want to push for that link-up with Lieutenant Colonel Hansil Bíer's men outside of the city." The city was safer at night, because of technological advantages over their opponents. The strongest pushes were always at night — indeed, the initial landing had been relatively easy, precisely because it was conducted at night. During the day, local militias and street gangs found it easier to hold up advancing units of Imperial soldiers, often by forcing Macabee infantry into bottlenecks, or ambushing them in relatively narrower streets. Indeed, that morning a Nakíl 1A2 had been temporarily taken out of action, while advancing up a broad street, by a well placed anti-tank rocket, which knocked-off the right sprocket. Opposing infantry swarmed the vehicle, attempting to place explosives on the turret, but an accompanying Nakíl managed to scratch its partner's back, tearing into Indran bodies with its machine guns.

"The advance will be spearheaded by three armored columns, followed by infantry. They cannot be bogged down. Push your men to continue. Dense resistance will be dealt with later, in the mop up. For now, we need to establish a link with Bíer, so we can start offloading our men en masse and start deploying them outside of the city, immediately. I want to start pushing out tomorrow." He took his pointer, and slapped the map, hand stretched out towards Cruzau. "That is our next target. Bíer's men will screen us on our southwestern flank—"

"We should reinforce him," interrupted another officer. "If the locals gather strength, his 1,000 men may not leave the flank porous. Especially if we are advancing as far north as Cruzau, our flanks will be rather long."

The rear admiral pondered the point for a minute, and then said, "Yes, although, unfortunately, we not have much men, in general. The other cities are likely to be reinforced over the days, and the amount of men required to take them will increase. With 90,000 combat soldiers, it will be difficult to take all four missions, and protect the growing southern flank. But, soon reinforcements should arrive."

The other officer quickly responded, "Reinforcements from Theohuanacu?"

"Yes, as I understand, they will arrive in a separate landing, at Targu Iulia. High Command has decided to give us 75,000 of them. The task force will meet the convoy of ships escorting the auxiliaries, and provide them cover for their own operation. We will then link up. Where we link up depends how fast each of us goes, and how much we can stretch our lines with the resources at hand. The more people we have on the flanks, the slower our advance up the coast."

The room was comparatively silent, as they all looked at the map. The thick glass of the city government building was not able to block the constant clik-clak of small-arms fire throughout the city. Besides, the building was tall, and all the men could see the fighting with their very eyes. The sight was truly surreal, because they could even make out their own soldiers in the streets below. The fighting continued to be pushed outward, but every so often a brushfire would start on already covered ground, and it would have to be mopped up. Even the city government building itself had been attacked a few times, although Macabee defenders were able to repel the assaults with relative easy. However, not at no cost; an estimated 113 Macabee soldiers had died before the end of the first day, and as defense stiffened, the casualties would rise. More spectacular than the ground fighting were the occasional missiles that flew by above. Every so often, from the conference room you could see an explosion in the distance, in some suburb of Botoșani. Aircraft frequently flew by, as well, engaging targets outside of the city, making it impossible for enemy militias to move around in the open.

Breaking the silence, Martil came to a decision, "Very well, this is what we will do. Bíer will be reinforced with two more battalions. He will be given temporary command over all three battalions — we should look into promoting him, depending on how he handles the situation. My idea is for him to probe south, while covering our flank. I want him to keep the local militias on edge, and their defenses weak. That way, when we're ready to make the big push south, after taking the cities, it will be easier."

Worried about the quality of the reinforcements, another officer spoke up, "Theohunacu auxiliaries? What happened to our regulars? All of our soldiers are bloody foreigners these days."

"Better them dead than us," quipped someone in the back.

"Aye," said the man who had made the comment, "but, they're no good to us if they're slow, or worse yet, they lose in the small battles."

Martil waved the topic away, putting it to rest, "They aren't so bad. They are much better trained than they were six years ago. Anyways, what we need is strength to hold the territories we conquer. But, let's focus on today, not what may be tomorrow. I expect to link up with Bíer by tonight. We will meet here against at 0500 hours. I hope by then we can discuss our plans for once we can start our advance on Cruzau."

After a few more closing comments, the meeting broke up, and soon all the officers went to their respective units. Martil stayed at his headquarters, refining his next moves. His ideal plan was to have Cruzau by the end of the week, at the latest, and hoping that within two weeks — against at the latest — all four cities had fallen. After the four ports were held, occupying the rest of the slither of land that the Golden Throne had ambition for would be relatively simple. If the Empire's technological superiority wasn't enough, clandestine diplomacy would do the trick.

[The Macabees]

Beda Fromm Times

Targu Iulia Falls!
The Indran city fell to Theohuanacu forces this morning. Cruzau surrendered to Macabee naval infantry the day before, and Vasozia is under siege. Imperial troops have begun the march south, inland.

In another night operation, the Second Empire of the Golden Throne captured the port city of Targu Iulia, on the northern coast of Indras. A long infantry battle in the city resulted in the ruling oligopoly's uprooting The city government agreed to align itself with Fedala, in return for an agreement that guarantees the preservation of the current ruling oligopoly -- very similar to agreements that are still in force in southern Theohuanacu. With three of the four large metropolises of northern Indras now within the Macabee fold, that leaves Vasozia. Imperial forces have already begun a siege of the city, and it is expected to fall soon. Kriermada infantry have already begun pushing inland.

Botoșani fell eight days ago, succumbing to an amphibious invasion in less than two days. Since then, Kriermada infantry have carved a toehold on the Indran coast, and advanced north towards Cruzau. Targu Iulia fell to a separate landing force, which arrived to Indras some 48 hours ago. Local defenses were overwhelmed by the 75,000 soldiers landed outside of the city, and the local government surrendered after the port had been cut off from supplies. Now, these soldiers are scheduled to link up with naval infantry at Vasozia, securing a sliver of Indran territory running from the end of the norther coast to the midpoint of the eastern beaches.

The conflict thus far has come at little human life for the Golden Throne. 96 Theohuanacu auxiliaries are reported dead, along with an estimated 170 naval infantry. Local casualties are predicted to be much higher, but the Imperial Government has yet to publish official figures. Figures for the ongoing battles around Vasozia have not been estimated yet, but they are expected to be comparably low. The less experienced Theohuanacu troops will be responsible for the siege, rather than the Kriermada infantry, but the defending militias around the coast have melted away and retreated inland. Thus, the battle for Vasozia is expected to be a bit lighter than the fighting in and around the other three cities.

Defending militias south of the coast have also begun to crumble. Aircraft from Imperial carriers have terrorized any militant forces that have tried to move around. Even in the inland jungles, naval fighters have hit militant positions. Indras itself has erupted in conflict, with factions south of the coast pushing up, exploiting the situation to gain ground against rivals. Rumors continue to float that much of the civil conflict arising in Indras has been induced by Macabee diplomats, seeking to strengthen their position on the island -- without having to fight too much.

In the Empire, the decision to reform the legislative branch has drawn attention away from the invasion. Nevertheless, the rapid accumulation of new territories has worried some of an overstretched military and the possibility of disgruntling neighboring powers. The government has not been explicit in regards to its exact intentions in Indras, and occupying the island could require many more soldiers. While Fedor's military endeavors are widely supported, even in the territories -- all of which have directly benefited from incorporation into the Empire --, a prolonged war in Indras could threaten its strategic position, especially during a time in which there is a real possibility of war with Stevid. That is, depending on how the situation in Guffingford continues.

Another rumor worth consideration implicates Lamoni, a large Greater Díenstadi neighbor, sharing a continent with Skibereen. Lamoni has slowly expanded its territories, occupying half of Setif (an island in eastern Greater Díenstad, near Malgrave and Coltarin). The country has expressed some interest in Indras, although neither Lamoni nor the Golden Throne have spoken officially on the matter. However, sources within Fedala assure that Lamoni remains a wild card, and that Macabee plans in Indras have already been designed around the possibility of a Lamonian presence on the island. The southeast Díenstadi power is aligned with Stevid, and Fedala has been forced to tread lightly in issues that are important to them. The politics surrounding Guffingford are delicate, and any mistake could result in war.

While regional politics play out, Kriermada infantry have begun pushing deeper into Indras. The belief is that they will continue south, until reaching the latitudinal line that divides northern Indras from the south. This implies that the Golden Throne is seeking to occupy roughly one third of the island. This would leave the rest to either wither on the vine, or to be occupied by foreign powers -- including, very likely, Lamoni. When Vasozia falls, the Theohuanacu auxiliaries will be redeployed south, to intensify the advance inland. The trouble is that inland Indras turns into a think tropical jungle; a terrain very similar to Holy Panooly's and Adaptes Astrates. It is very difficult to fight in, although the Golden Throne has some experience in these areas. Casualties are expected to accelerate, although the technological differences that separate the combatants almost guarantees that the casualties will be more-or-less acceptable. Regardless, the intense terrain will no longer squeeze all of the energy from the Empire's 165,000 combat personnel currently deployed there.

Targu Iulia, Vasozia, Cruzau, and Botoșani will provide the Second Empire with four large ports in the center of the region, giving it access to the sealanes into the eastern extremes of the region. The move has strengthened the Golden Throne's economic dominance in the region; it is already the largest economy. But, now its navies have home ports that give the Fuermak a permanent presence in an area roughly 11,400 kilometers west to east, and 7,200 kilometes north to sound; an area roughly 82 million square kilometers large. It is the icing on the cake. The final master stroke of an Empire that has re-asserted itself in Greater Díenstadi politics, eight years after being forced to retreat from the limelight due to a crippling economic depression.

[Lamoni]

President Stinson announces intention to absorb Indras, counter-balance The Second Empire of the Golden Throne

By:
Max Banfield
Staff Writer
Lamoni Today

In a move that both was and was not surprising, President Stinson held a press conference today, in which he announced the Free Republic's intention to absorb the strife-torn land of Indras.

In his own words, President Stinson laid out the case for Lamonian governance over the majority of Indras. "While our allies in Stevid have been busy warring against Lyras, Imbrinium, and Wanderjar, the Second Empire of the Golden Throne has been taking advantage of the chaos to expand their reach over territories like Zarbia.

Fortunately for all of us, the government of the Free Republic has been negotiating with various factions in what used to be Indras, and has managed to convince some of them to voluntarily join the Free Republic, having seen the improvements that the Free Republic has made for those in the Lamonian state of South Serif. The people of South Serif have been fully brought into the Lamonian cultural, economic, and social fold, which has greatly increased their standards of living, and saved innumerable lives after the dual drought and famine that had been taking place there before the Lamonian presence. South Serif now abounds with all of the things needed for modern civilization, to include clean water, good food, quality healthcare, and jobs. This is the Lamonian wish for Indras, but even then, we are not blind to the strategic possibilities of Indras' location, which places it near both Stevid, and the aforementioned Second Empire.

Relations between the Free Republic and Second Empire have been strained ever since the Free Republic allied itself with Stevid, who is a fellow Dienstadi democracy. Now that the Second Empire has brought itself back upon the international stage after the War of Golden Sucession, it appears that the first moves that they would make is an aggressive expansion campaign. The most obvious possible Macabeean move is to try to take Stevidian Guffingford away from our allies, and this we cannot allow.

However, we do not wish to start our own war at this time, so we hope that our counter-parts will be amenable to a peaceful joint existence on Indras. To that end, we are presenting the following map of Indras to the Foreign Ministry in the Second Empire."

Map of Lamonian and Macabeean territories on Indras

"As you can see, we are offering to give the Second Empire the northern part of the island, while the rest of the island would become the Lamonian territory of Omega. While the Free Republic would like to peacefully assist the native people to improve their lives and join the Free Republic, we will also defend ourselves if attacked. Thus our diplomatic initiative, which has resulted in several of the native factions joining our cause. I have already ordered two carrier battlegroups to the area, as well as four Lamonian Marine Divisions, totaling 80,000 Marines. This includes Amphibious Assault Groups, in order to transport the Marines. Personnel from the General Staff Reconnaissance Unit will accompany them as advisors, as we think that their unique skills will be valuable there."

The press conference continued, but the implications seemed clear enough. The Free Republic will be expanding, and potentially coming into conflict with the Second Empire of the Golden Throne. Will diplomacy be enough to carry the day, or will two powerful Greater Dienstadi nations come into conflict? Only time will tell.

Stay with Lamoni today, for more news.

[Morrdh]

Morrdun, Morrdh

Though the Commonwealth's attention had been focused on the Stevidian conflict for the past few months, it knew to pay attention to events happening elsewhere. The rousing of the Golden Throne most certainly did not go by unnoticed by the Commonwealth as Macabeean forces pushed the frontiers of the Second Empire ever further outwards, first by annexing Zarbia and then Monzarc in quick succession. In the Morridane Cabinet that was a growing concern over Macabeean ambitions, a concern that was fueled by reports from Royal Reconnaissance Service (the intelligence gathering arm of the Commonwealth Intelligence Service) agents in the recently occupied territories. The Golden Throne's move on Indras had pressed home the urgently of the 'Macabeean Crisis' and saw a hastily convened meeting of the Cabinet in the recently repaired COBRA Room.

"Well then gentlemen," Prime Minister Edmund Vermillion began. "It perhaps that the Golden Throne has awoken from it's slumber."

"What effect are we expecting this will have on the Stevidian war effort?" Asked the Minister of Defence, Nathan Hay.

"Hard to say at this time." Answered Sir Gedney Hill, the Foreign Secretary. "Thus the Golden Throne seems to have gone out of it's way to avoid confronting the Holy Empire, though a clash over Guffingford is still a strong possibility...even more so with the Stevidians already locked into a conflict."

"Has the Commonwealth Volunteer Corps helped matters much?" Asked Vermillion.

"Not yet, the first units are only just beginning to arrive in Stevidian South Greal and it'll be a short while before they begin operations." Nathan Hay answered.

"I see, can we offer the Stevidians troops to reinforce their position in Guffingford?"

"It's a possibility." Hay conceded.

"I'll propose it to my opposite number in Stevid, though I think they'll accept all the help they can get." Replied Sir Gedney.

"That settles that, see to it that an Expeditionary Corps is prepared." Said Vermillion.

"Will do Prime Minister." Nodded Hay.

"What about the territories recently occupied by the Golden Throne?" Sir Gedney asked.

"As I understand it we have operatives in those territories, see if they can assess the feasibility of supplying any surviving militants." Said Vermillion.

"Yes Prime Minister, I'll have a report in the next few days." Sir Gedney nodded.

[Lamoni]

Kazatlan, Lamoni

The ships and Marines which had been detailed to Operation: Indras had been assembled, and now the Marines and their equipment were being placed onboard the Amphibious Assault Ships. The day was already as hot and humid as the jungles in this part of Lamoni could make it, but added to it were the sounds made by any such large operation. Already, frigates and SSNs from the escorting carrier battlegroups were scouring the areas outside of the naval base, attempting to ensure that no pesky foreign submarines were in the route of the task force, or in any position to shadow the task force.

Already ninety-five percent of the loading process had been completed, and the remaining five percent would be completed within the next six hours. Satellite photography showed that the interior of Indras consisted of dense tropical jungles, which is why the Free Republic had sent units that were normally posted in the jungles of the Lamonian south. It was not expected that bringing Indras into the Free Republic would be easy, but LIA informants had indicated that much of the heavy equipment of the former Indrasian Armed Forces had either been destroyed, or rusted away to nothing, after the fall of the Indrasian government, though small arms abounded, with lots of Kalashnikov style assault rifles, or so the intelligence reports went. Fortunately, at least some of the factions had already agreed to becoming part of a unified nation again, proclaiming that they were tired of the constant in-fighting, and the litany of people dying from lack of food and medical care.

The Lamonian campaign on what was already being called Omega would be fought with food, water, and medicine. Only as a last result would weapons be discharged. No, the one big possible stumbling block was The Macabees, and what they might do. Their expansion was the one thing which might turn what was intended as a mission of mercy and integration, into an ugly campaign of jungle warfare.

[The Macabees]

[OOC: If I edit a post, it's usually to edit spelling and grammar mistakes. But,this time there is a bigger change. It slipped my mind that Gregor Antic had been arrested in a previous post. So, I had to change the character, and add some background. But, the substance is the same.]

Task Force 'Kastil,' off the coast of Vasozia

There was an air of gravity in the Ingerier's command room. Everyone was there, including Admiral Mijorán -- the task force commander -- and Rear Admiral (equivalent) Karl Martil -- responsible for the war on the ground. Maps were strewn wherever there was room, mostly on the walls. Dozens of men surrounded an oak table, miniscule in comparison to the anxious environment. Lamoni had declared its intentions to join the Second Empire in Indras, and it was still ambiguous as to what this meant for the Macabee forces in the country. That was, in fact, the topic for the day.

Mijorán's eyes showed signs of fatigue. There was little time to sleep, especially when the strongest advances were made in the middle of night. Even if he had an opening to catch an hour or two of rest, his ship's guns did not offer much of an opportunity. His right hand covered half of his face, as he explained the situation to those around him. "Our presence in Indras will be shortly shared with Lamoni. They do not intend to challenge our claims, at least at this point. They have, however, made a claim that does clash with our own. But, we have the advantage of time. We are already here, they are not. We have an opportunity, and we must use it to our advantage."

The admiral lifted his head, and turned his gaze to a non-military member of the meeting at the other end of the table. This was Jakob Líerán, the diplomat who had replaced Gregor Antic in Indras, after the latter had been arrested in Botoșani. His specialization was knowing everything; at least, everything about the world's ongoing events. Mijorán nodded, and asked, "What is Lamoni up to, Jakob?"

Líerán did not seem to pay much attention to what was going on. He looked back, almost lethargically, when we heard his name and the question. He looked down at his hands, pulling at the tips of his glove's fingers. Looking back up, he responded, "Well, to be honest, I have no idea. And, we must tread lightly, because the entry of Lamoni makes this a delicate situation."

"How so," inquired Mijorán.

"Our occupation of northern Indras has strategic consequences, that go beyond trade. With ports here, we are in a position to challenge Stevid in all their territories, whether at home or in South Greal. Lamoni, no doubt, is partly motivated by this fact. They are a strong ally of Stevid, and creating a presence here puts pressure on us. If we were to fight a war, we would have an important asset in the middle of it -- Lamoni would no doubt strike at our territories in Indras."

Martil was more interested in what that meant for his plans in Indras, "What does that mean for our operations?"

The Macabee diplomat smiled, and looked Martil straight in the eyes, "Take as much as you can, as quickly as you can."

"About that," joined in the admiral, "where are we on the ground."

The read admiral stood, approaching a map of Indras on the wall. Taking a pointer, he tapped on the locations of the four major port cities on the northern coast of the country, "These have all fallen. Vasozia surrendered yesterday morning. We are keeping 2,000 men in the cities, to continue mopping up the suburbs -- the fighting there has devolved to sporadic street fighting, and I have no doubt that that nonsense will be put out soon. We now have over 160,000 soldiers pushing south, although the jungle has slowed us down a bit. The front is, in any case, unified, and much of the resistance has begun to collapse--"

The diplomat cut him off, "Not exactly. They are heading south. The factions we have gone to war with are being abandoned, and their men heading south, being offered money by faction leaders elsewhere."

"Good," boomed Mijorán," that way Lamoni can deal with them."

Inconvenienced by the diplomat's imposition, Martil continued, "In the southeast, we have already reached the latitudinal line, allowing me to redeploy forces elsewhere. That flank is screened by three regiments of men, although we are in the process of replacing these with Theohuanacu auxiliaries. Elsewhere, we are continuing the push, but as I mentioned, the jungle is doing us no favor. We had to narrow the front assigned to the Theohuanacu, because of their relatively lack of training. The most profitable advances have been organized by the tercios, which is fine, because the Theohuanacu do a good job of securing what we have already captured. Our holdings In Indras would be better guaranteed, in any case, by additional Theohuanacu reinforcements."

"Not possible," corrected Líerán. "If we escalate our involvement, so will Lamoni. The trouble with that is that escalation brews conflict. Once both sides have invested so much, war is the sanest solution. We must avoid escalation at all costs, because a war with Lamoni will destabilize diplomacy with Stevid, and an invasion of Indras will turn into another regional war."

"A regional war we can win," qualified Mijorán. "Stevid has a great many allies, but so do we. Stevid's naval forces have already diminished by over four fifths."

Jakob nodded, but added his touch of wisdom, "Wage war, for what? For Guffingford? We can gain that through diplomacy. Otherwise, the gains are minimal. We shouldn't blind ourselves into believing we can occupy any of Stevid's home territories; we might be strong enough to fight them in a war, but not strong enough to hold their homelands permanently. The same is true the other way around, of course, which is why I suspect they have not yet truly challenged us in our recent militant endeavours. The same is true here, in eastern Greater Díenstad. Holding territory here will be difficult. We will have to wait many decades before we consolidate our position in this area. Besides, what is most land really worth? Not much. Escalation is war, and war is waste, waste we cannot afford."

The others nodded. Mijorán slammed his palm against the table and exclaimed, "Well, then, we will have to do with what we have. Martil, we must wrap up operations within the week, two at the latest. Lamoni will be here soon, and they will no doubt cover much ground quickly. By the time they arrive and begin to take the rest of the island, our men must already be positioned on the new border. We must show that we are here to stay, we are strong, and we are prepared to defend what is ours."

With that, the meeting ended and all men rose. Mijorán left first, and then the rest. Martil would be flown back to Visozia by helicopter, where he would be driven south, towards the front. He had much work ahead of him, including pushing his men to pick up the pace. There wasn't time to waste. Macabee expansion had finally caught the region's attention, and it was time to finalize it and consolidate what the Empire had taken thus far.

[Stevid]

10 May – 1203 hrs
Del Monte
Stevidian Guffingford


Karl Van Haart sat basking in the glorious sunshine an east Guffingfordii spring brought in a small inner city café with a cup of black coffee and croissant. He’d missed breakfast through work, as usual, and as usual his work continued into these days people called a weekend. He hadn’t had a proper weekend off in years, work would always find some way to encroach upon his life.
He sipped his coffee and pulled towards him the Monte Gazette newspaper that was sat on his table and skimmed over the headlines. The Monte Gazette was a typical Guffingfordii newspaper, it favoured the semi-autonomous government within the Holy Empire but had long partitioned for a unification of the nation with a preference for a Macabee mandate over the territory. This was a common theme throughout Stevidian Guffingford, there was no hostility to the Holy Empire as such but there was little love lost. Graffiti mocking the government or protesting against the Holy Empire’s presence was not uncommon either; anything relatively flat and uncoloured was soon strewn with anarchistic or pro-united Guffingford slogans. The general vibe in Guffingford was one of unification, and it was not one that favoured total Stevidian control over the nation. The headlines said it all:

“Imperial [Stevidian] Troops withdraw from Borderlands”

Considering the newspaper’s allegiance to Western Guffingford the article was bound to be bursting with propaganda or subversive text aimed at humiliating the Stevidian military contingent and the puppet government. True to his intuition, Karl saw plenty of scathing sentences lambasting the ‘weak spine’ of government and it ‘foresaw’ a reunified Guffingford under the auspices of the Golden Throne. The story ran over five whole pages, a testament to how deeply the people felt about the subject.

Karl shook his head with a smile. “Simpletons.” He sipped his coffee some more as he continued to read the drivel, tisking every now and again when he read something laughable or a twisted truth. It wasn’t long before he was joined by another man, completely unannounced – dressed in shorts and summer-wear lapping up the good weather as Karl was.

“Ah, Derek!” Karl said looking up from his newspaper. “Have a seat… right on time I see, I offer an apology - time was slipping away from me there.”

“No need.” Derek said while taking a seat and beckoning the waitress over. “White coffee, please.”

They passed time with idle chitchat until Derek received his coffee, only then did they drop the façade and discuss things actually important to both men.

“It’s like something out of a film.” Derek said. “I mean, I’m not naïve – I know you people exist, but the whole meeting in a coffee shop to talk. Hide in plain sight stuff, it’s kind of exciting, and worrying.”

“You should be worried.” Karl said with a broad smile and proceeded to take a very undignified bite out of his croissant. “This happens more often than you think. Most people who visit here are far too concerned with their own lives or the lives of those they are with to even give the neighbour they are sitting next to a second thought. Besides, this is hardly the most ‘classified’ discussion I’ve ever attended.”

“Why should I be worried?”

“Because Guffingford and Stevid have people like me, so do other countries, and so you should be careful as to what is said in public when people like me are here to eavesdrop.”

“Should I be worried now?” Derek said as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“No, we vetted this place and have had it under surveillance from some time. Only my people use this place.”

“And how is world of Military Intelligence five these days?” Derek joked, a joke that actually drew a smile from Karl.

“It’s swimmingly… Now, I trust you have read the papers today?”

“I read them everyday, however I must admit I haven’t seen this much political discontent among the people with the current puppet government since we first took our part of Guffingford. My people in the Intelligence Corps say that there is a marked rise in potential for dissidents to strike at military and political targets, they also can verify that the Golden Throne as moved several divisions and their headquarters towards our frontiers – as if poised to strike. My orders came through only yesterday to withdraw to the port cities along the coastline effectively abandoning our positions in the west. What do you make of this?”

“Well I can’t say I like it, I fear a lot of people in Stevid will feel the same initially – but they will come round. Sir, please bear in mind, this is not a retreat but it is what you generally think it is. Times are changing in the region, alliances are not what they once were and the situation in Guffingford, while stable, only requires a few wrong moves and then we’re all on the shaky path to war again.”

“Like the moves from the Golden Throne?”

“If there was no underlying political movement from both parties in regards to the Macabees’ posturing out west then yes, I think we’d both believe war is a true inevitability. However, the fears you and the soldiers under your command have are very real. It is why I am here under instruction to tell you what you need to know – or rather clarify the situation enough for you to inform your troops of the current realities.”

“The Empire does not control the Golden Throne’s actions in Guffingford, nor do we have a sizable military presence in Guffingford to exercise our political opinion upon them. That would mean… an agreement?”

“Let’s call it, an exchange of ideals for now.” Karl grinned. “There is no agreement. If there were it would be all over the world news and not just this local piece of trash.” Karl gestured to the Monte Gazette as he unceremoniously tossed it to a vacant nearby table. “No. No formal agreement, but you can be assured that there will be no military action from the Golden Throne unless you keep your troops from doing anything stupid.”

“Karl, I’ve been the Major General in charge of all Stevidian military units in Guffingford since the last regional war. I served in Safehaven as Major, saw action in the Merkar Republic and then Guffingford as a Lt Colonel. I have been in Guffingford ever since heading the SGUFFOR [Stevidian Guffingford Force] divisions to keep the ‘enemy’ from ever crossing the border. This border zone was once the most militarised in the region and perhaps the world until five or so years ago. There have been many close calls, rise in tensions and ‘misinterpretations’ in that time.”

“You’re referring to the Macabee victory at football where they fired celebration shots?” Said Karl referring to the ‘misinterpretation’ Derek mentioned.

“Yes. Even then, we stood to. Every time there as been an incident or rise in tensions my troops have always been prepared to fight a bloody battle to either victory or defeat. But not once have we taken any of these incidents to be an act of war or a direct threat to us. My men have iron discipline, they rise to anger when commanded, they attack when attacked or ordered to do so. They will not do anything stupid, they are far too experienced and disciplined for that. If these men and women were fighting in Stevidian South Greal the issues we have in Vanderburg would not be happening.”

Karl relaxed back into seat and gave his opposite an apologetic smile. “I apologise Derek, far be it from me to question the integrity or resolve of your very professional soldiers. But to dispel any rumours, the rules of engagement have not changed in light of the Golden Throne’s moves in the West. Should these be followed, there will be no combat. The orders to move to the port cities still stands, as does the vacating of airbases throughout the territory; you’ll probably receive further orders once you’re there, more specific ones anyway.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Is that all?” Derek concluded finishing off the rest of his own coffee.

“Yeah, I think so.” Karl replied rising from his chair and offering his hand to Derek who took and shook it. “At least between you and me for the time being. I’m quite a busy man at the moment.”

“I can imagine.”

“Still, thank for your time Sir. It has been most beneficial to see the military stand point of it all – please, just reassure your troops and do as commanded from those on lofty highs! Have a good day, see you in Cartesia.”

“Wha…?” Came a muffled question from Derek but Karl was already gone. Karl immediately drifted away into the crowd of people going about their Saturday afternoon shopping. So quick in fact that Derek hardly had time to make sense of what Karl’s parting words were.

[The Macabees]

Zimborisi, Indras

Jakob Líerán flew into Zimborisi via military transport helicopter. They flew in over the jungle, with thick tropical vegetation from horizon-to-horizon. The flight was not without its various moments of nerves and tension. The threat of paramilitaries with low-tech surface to air capabilities, including rocket propelled grenades, was very real. But, the trip was done under the cover of darkness, and the helicopter took a relatively high altitude route, over areas where the thick jungle made targeting the transport very difficult. It took roughly three hours until the helicopter landed within a large compound, also containing a small villa — the residence of Alexandru Mutu, the local strongman who controlled a large region in eastern Indras. Rain was pouring, and the Macabee diplomat was hurried into a vehicle, which took him to the villa.

Líerán could not say he wasn't nervous. The last diplomat to speak to an Indran oligarch had not made out of the country. He arrived without escort, other than the helicopter's two pilots, and a Theohuanacu auxiliary. He was the only person invited into the villa; the others remained at the pad. The car ride was not very long, although Líerán was tense. He had not been warned of the specific elements of the welcoming, and so far it was anything but welcoming. Nevertheless, they soon arrived at the doors of the residence, where he was escorted inside, to a kind of living room. There were several couches organized around the room, each with its own table, somewhat larger than coffee tables. This was no doubt the site of great lunches and dinners, where guests ate laying doubt, oftentimes fed by slaves and servants. Indeed, servants lined the walls, heads down.

Mutu, with a big smile on his face, extended his arms and hugged his guest, exclaiming, "Welcome! We are quite excited to hose a representative of the Golden Throne. It's not often we receive guests of your...status."

The Indran warlord had gained his stake in the post-Montesçu world through bountiful money and endless bloodshed. He amassed his wealth through ownership of a large timber company, with sites in his own country and in Holy Panooly. When Montesçu was overthrown, Mutu wanted to guarantee that the former dictator could not return to power. Thus, he had him assassinated. Montesçu was arrested, brought to Mutu, who ordered his guard to execute him on the spot. Ruthlessness was his trademark. He used this characteristic to his advantage, contracting a large militia to rule his lands. Mutu was no longer a businessman, of course. He financed his lifestyle by extracting as much wealth from "his people" as possible.

Líerán smiled back and said, "Yes, thank you for your hospitality! We are glad you decided to host us."

"Of course, of course," responded the Indran. "Take a seat." He pointed at one of the coaches. Jakob sat down, and Mutu chose another coach near him. He asked, "Would you like something to drink?"

"Water please." Without turning his strong gaze from Líerán, Mutu snapped his fingers. Behind him, two servants scrambled to a nearby bar, filling two tall glasses with crystal clear drinking water, at just the right temperature for optimal consumption. They scurried across the room, bringing the a glass to both their master and the Macabee diplomat. Líerán politely thanked the servants, but Mutu snapped his fingers again, hurrying them out back to the walls again.

"I have a gift for you," said Mutu. His tone was devious, accompanied with a malicious facial expression. He snapped his fingers again, and another servant hustled through a door, into another room. Two or three seconds later, he came back, this time carrying a large cloth bag. The bottom was soaked in some liquid, red dots dripping onto the wood flooring below.

Mutu stood, looking at Líerán and almost ordering him, "Stay seated." He snatched the bag from the servant, and turned around, back towards the Macabee diplomat. "I'm afraid we will have to begin with the bad news." Grabbing the bag from the bottom, his hand soon stained in blood, he turned it over, and out rolled the head of Gregor Antic. Antic, remember, had been the one arrested at Botoșani. That event was what gave the Empire its justification for launching the invasion, landing in and around the city overnight, establishing a beachhead from which it would launch its strikes to acquire all Indran territory down to the latitudinal line that divided the island. The cassus belli rolled around near Líerán's feet. The Macabee's lips curled in disgust.

"What is this?" demanded Líerán.

"Don't worry, I didn't do this." He chuckled, "You're safe. We found him decapitated in a prison in the westlands. My men were conducting a raid on a town that Cosmin Vasilescu would like to believe he controls." Vasilescu was a former military officer under the Montesçu regime, and he used the loyalty of his men to secure him his own fiefdom in Indras. Mutu returned to the subject to the dead diplomat, "They found him decapitated. I heard she smelled like a pig—"

"You will respect a dead Macabee," Líerán snapped.

"Take it easy, don't take it personally. I mean, do you want to turn out like him?" Mutu picked up Antic's head by his hairs, and dangled it in front of his guest. "We are here to do business, so let's not bullshit each other. You want something, and you have something to offer me." He smiled at the diplomat, taking a gulp of water from the glass in his hand.

Líerán's face showed no emotion, his smile fully neutral. This was a poker game. "How would you like Vasilescu's southern lands? And, the territories of Serghei Gabor, to the east. We want you to recognize, whether formally or informally, the Golden Throne's authority over Indras north of your frontiers. Further, you and I know that your authority will be challenged. Lamoni is intent on securing the remainder of the country. That includes you. And, don't believe you will be able to resist for long. Your men will be slaughtered by their well trained soldiers and their technology, just like we slaughtered your comrades in the north. Your confidence is misplaced, because you are a mere mortal in a world of titans."

"Hold your tongue Macabee," whipped the Indran warlord. "Enrage me further, and I will have your head!"

"Take it easy. Don't take it personally. I mean, do you want to turn out like your northern countrymen?" Líerán gave Mutu a cool stare and smile. "I thought this was a business meeting?"

Quite vexed, Mutu sulked on his couch. "Yes, business. So, tell me, what are you going to do to help me?"

"We will arm you. We will fund you. We will allow you to hold supply depots in Imperial territory, protected against Lamoni, allowing you to resist with the comfort of knowing that you will never be out of ammunition, your will never be short of funds. Power is nothing without money. No matter how many of your men Lamoni kills, infinite money can buy an infinite amount of soldiers. Infinite."

The warlord turned his head sideways, pondering the deal. "I require you offer to aid us in our resistance in a more direct fashion. Your men must be involved, as well."

"We will not go to war with Lamoni. But, don't worry, the frontiers will be anything but peaceful."

"Very well," said Mutu. He outstretched his right arm, settling the agreement with a handshake. And, just like that, the Second of the Golden Throne had expanded its empire to yet another continent, occupying just over one third of what was formerly Indras.

Of course, there was still much actual occupying to do. But, the task would be easier, because now the militias were fighting each other. Mutu's men would flood into the territories of Vasilescu and Gabor. They would already be facing intense pressure from columns of Macabee Kriermada infantry, cutting through the jungle, pushing their way through any and all resistance. Kriermada aircraft hunted their prey from above, day and night. This made resistance more difficult, because they couldn't deploy men en masse. Imperial forces would reach the new border, on all parts of the front, within a few days. Resistance would no doubt continue, probably for quite some time, in the rear. But, Theohuanacu auxiliaries were already fortifying themselves throughout the new territory — Transcrișana —, running daily missions to patrol major cities and towns. Fedor's foreign policy would soon switch from aggressive to restrained, beginning the period of consolidation.

[Lamoni]

FRLS Fletcher

It had been two weeks since the naval formation had set sail from their homeport in southern Lamoni, and they were already in contact with the diplomatic delegations that had been busy negotiating with the Indrasian warlords of the south. While a good many of the warlords had agreed to the offer of plenty of money, as well as safe travel to wherever they wanted to go, there were still a few holdouts, and even some who were still mulling their offer over. One important victory for Lamonian diplomacy however, was the southern port city of Cluj-Dolj. That city had come over to the Lamonian side with merely the promise of protection from the nearby food raiders, who were constantly stealing their hard won food supplies. Taking care of *THAT* problem, had been as easy as the diplomats give extra food to the food raiders. Subsequently, a deal had been worked out between both groups; word of which had spread to other warlords in the area, providing that extra little demonstation of Lamoni following through on their word that some of them had needed to agree to Lamonian control of their areas. All of this, without having had to have fired a single shot.

This gave Admiral Jonathan Stone (a descendent of the first Lamonian president, Matthew Stone) hope that this operation might end up better than had been predicted. With this wonderful news in hand, the fleet proceeded onward toward Indras.

City of Cluj-Dolj

The group of Lamonian diplomats were now taking a look at the port facilities that had been built at Cluj-Dolj, back when Indras had had a functioning government. A former member of the Indrasian Navy was accompanying them, giving the diplomats his take on the suitability of the docks for landing the Lamonian ships which had already been dispatched.

"It looks as if the piers themselves are rather hit or miss on suitability for harboring large ships," their Indrasian naval guide said in reasonable English... itself a remarkable thing in this country, "but it looks as if the seawalls are all still intact. If your ships have cranes or other means of off-loading their equipment, then you should be able to land your forces with no trouble."

The lead diplomat, a dark haired and dark skinned man from South Serif, smiled as he learned that the three foremost objectives of his mission here had been completed. First, he and his team had secured the city of Cluj-Dolj for the Free Republic without a single shot being fired, including the vital port facilities where the Lamonian Navy could off-load the coming Marines. Second, the various diplomatic teams (who all reported to him) had been able to establish contact with the various warlords of the Indrasian south. Third, these contacts were already bearing fruit. True, it would take awhile for the Indrasian people to fully understand the benefits of a democratic system of government, but at least steps were being taken in the proper direction.

Looking back at the city, one could see a city that had been ravaged by time, yes, but also a city that looked back to its past in order to try to improve its image. It was rather like an older woman who was still trying to look young, hip, and modern. The very fortunate few who still had working generators used them during the night, and you could see from their electric lighting who they were. Others who had access to the materials made do with candlelight. The worst-off denizens of the city made due with burning trees, coal, garbage, whatever they could find or scavenge. The Quonset huts in which the diplomats were housed had functional generators on the day of their arrival, but they had donated them to the one functioning hospital in town, along with medical supplies and food that had come with them. The worst-off patients had been transported to the merchant ship which had brought the diplomats to Indras. The merchant ship in question had been retro-fitted with a medical bay, adapted from the ones on Lamonian Navy Hospital ships. If anyone were to run-down the registry of the ship, it would go back to a Lamonian corporation, instead of the government, which might suffice to keep their presence here quiet for longer. As long as no one was shooting at them, it was enough, in the opinion of the chief diplomat.

[The Macabees]

[OOC: Since I'm using this thread for several different areas, things might get confusing. I will try to be clear as possible with the section titles, so others don't have to read stuff they are otherwise uninterested in. I can't guarantee absolute accuracy, but if I think that it may impact another RPer directly I will make that explicit, as well.]

Southern Zarbia & Nuevo León
Mop-up operations against regrouping Zarbian militants.

The jungle thinned as it approach the Guffingfordi border. As the Havenic column moved up the road, the quality of the pavement progressively deteriorated, until finally it turned to compacted dirt. It had rained the night before, no less, so the infantry often found themselves marching through mud, their boots' soles laminated by the thick, wet sand. In a limited sense, the auxiliaries were "lucky," because this was the type of terrain that heavier vehicles "loved" to get stuck in. The column did not stretch too far, being composed only of a company of some 140 men. They armed with Hali-42 rifles, and not the newer Hali-53s, which was actually quite annoying since they both used differently sized ammunitions. Although, the auxiliaries did not really have much room for complaint, since the Hali-42 was still a better rifle than most.

Kapitán Roberto Lasoga, born and raised in San Menendez, led his men through the southern Zarbian jungles. It was as if his head was on a pivot, as he walked between the double column of men, looking around for foes in the foliage. Unable to challenge Imperial forces in open battle, the ambush was the tactic of choice — and the Zarbians liked to use it, often. Turning around, and walking backwards, he gave a nod to a sargént, who barked at his fire squad to hurry along, "Tighten it up!"

The olive-skinned kapitán had joined the auxiliaries at the young age of 14, exactly eight years ago. At the time, nobody expected him to become an officer. Until 15½, Lasoga's service consisted mostly of mowing lawns, cleaning up after his "betters," and not much in the way of actual "soldiering." Before that age, the Fuermak — high command — prohibited combat. But, he didn't worry, because there would be many combat opportunities ahead. He didn't join for the action, anyways; Lasoga's father died at Mosnoi Bor, two years before the former joined his father's former enemies. His mother was deported. Lasoga "saved" himself by enlisting in the auxiliaries. But, he was offered the opportunity of citizenship, good pay, and the opportunity to re-unite with his family once he earned the Macabee nationality.

In any case, the now-captain soon saw a four-year — 2022–2026 — deployment to Theohuanacu, based outside of Tlaloc. For eight years, his unit was thrown against pirate strongholds in the south, intermittently challenging their authority — sometimes it was a pain for the Imperial Governor to keep them loyal. These pirates are good fighters, the Empire's inability to subdue them evidence enough of that fact. In a hot June 2023 day, he took part in a raid into the suburbs of Palenque, pirate capital of these seas, along with 200 other Havenic auxiliaries. They were decimated. Lasoga, low-ranked soldier at the time, was forced to take command of his squad, when his alacer (lieutenant equivalent) and sargént were killed. His actions earned him a field promotion to alacer, apparently catching the attention of high command. They must have seen potential in him, because dramatic promotions were rare. But, one should remember, in units where "turnover rate" — more accurately, casualties — is high, promotion is easy.

A slightly chubby kabayero — equivalent to a second lieutenant, but technically a non-commissioned officer —, Samuel Mendilllar, half-waddled, half-ran towards Lasoga. The kapitán had a bit of fun with his second-in-command, "One of these days, you're going to be running for your life, and you're going to die of a heart-attack."

"Sir, paladins" — very well-trained scouts attached to companies — "have reported enemy movement to the southwest, about a few kilometers out. They seem to not be aware of our presence, but they are headed towards this road. At our current rate of movement, they will come in behind us. We can probably avoid them."

The company of auxiliaries was moving north, towards Pedroñeras, a town of 2,000, roughly 25 kilometers down the road. A local informant had warned of a sizable force — 700–70 — of Zarbian paramilitaries, with as heavy as ordnance as light mortars and rocket propelled grenades, which was amassing there. A unit of Zarbians of that magnitude could do a lot of damage to an Imperial convoy, or to a platrol. Lasoga was tasked with taking Pedroñeras, and eliminating the threat. A couple dozen clicks away, there was a battery of artillery to offer him help, and his commanders had managed to secure the use of a wing of RoLu-17 attack helicopters. That made Lasoga's numerical disadvantage somewhat less relevant.

"How many," asked Lasoga.

"Their eyeball estimate is 75."

As Mendillar and Lasoga conversed, a young soldier walking by had is head turned, as if tuned into the discussion. But, his stare was empty, and he was probably staring off into the nothing. Non-aware soldiers are dead soldiers. A sargént, about 30 meters in front of the two officers, doubled back. Arching his neck to position his head right next to the soldier's face, he yelled, "What. the. fuck. are you looking at, soldier? You're going to trip over your jaw, guy. Pay the fuck attention."

The Zarbians moving perpendicular to the Havenic company's position was most likely heading to Pedroñeras. Zarbians avoided the roads, where they were exposed to Macabee aircraft. Therefore, they moved through the jungle, even if it made it more difficult for them to prepare for major resistance. If they didn't know about Lasoga's position, they would pass the Macabee force without knowing better. But, that meant only postponing the engagement until they linked up with the others at Pedroñeras.

Lasoga shook his head, "No, we'll ambush them. If that draws them out from Pedroñeras, better. We can use the choppers to to compartmentalize them, and we can destroy them piecemeal. If they don't get drawn out, they'll have at least 75 soldiers less. If we're lucky, they'll think we're a patrol, and they'll send a small force to engage us. Whatever happens, it will weaken them. That's worth giving up the element of surprise. Besides, I'm surprised they haven't found us yet."

Medillar nodded, "Right? The march has been too tame so far."

"All good things come to an end. Head back to the rear, pass down the word. We'll set up off the road, covering a broad area, and ambush the inbound unit. I want to fire teams to have overlapping fields of fire. 30 men should deploy on the east side of the road, and the rest on the west. We'll let the Zarbians walk right through us. When they cross the road, we'll pin them down, surround them, and eliminate them. Tell the men to not take prisoners. Kill them all."

The company backtracked and positioned itself as Lasoga ordered. As the company spread out between the foliage, kabayo Mendillar ran out to give instructions to a radio man. Speaking into a small speaker on his helmet, he shouted various letters and numbers, defining the general area the local paramilitaries would be in about thirty minutes — just enough time to put a handful of Galicias in the air and fly them over. Their co-axial grenade launcher and the mini-rockets on the stub wings could pierce the thick jungle, and saturate the grounds below. Bullets could pierce through the leaves, vines, and bushes, onto their human targets. Zarbians were particularly susceptible to Imperial helicopters, because they were almost useless with those rocket propelled grenades when the foliage restricted their vision. Coupled with the ambush awaiting them, those militants had no chance.In the end, that is what turned out to be true. It turned out to to be almost 130 soldiers, rather than only 75, but they were helpless nevertheless. They actually ended up arriving somewhat later than Lasoga had estimated. Just late enough for the Galicias arrived even before they had begun crossing the river.

The RoLu-17 was a mean beast; a joint-design with Mekugi, a strong ally of the Empire. It was very fast, but in the hands of a well-trained pilot it could glide. She was a beautiful bird, top in her class. Three of them thundered just above the trees, noses angled and pointed at the ground. They hunted their prey; for every one man killed by a rocket, another would die of a grenade — blast or shrapnel, protracted deaths count, as well —, and three more would be ripped apart by 30mm cannon fire. At least, that's how one of Lasoga's men would log it, once they investigated a random selection of bodies, "diagnosed" the cause of death, and stored that data on a server, where it could be used to analyze and improve on attack tactics and strategies. Associated Macabee armaments firms also had access to that data, for a fee — but, it turned into knowledge, which improved their products, like the RoLu-17. Ask the Zarbians.

The militants retreated across the road, routing towards the direction of Pedroñeras. But, as they rushed through the brush they didn't notice the auxiliaries crouched around them. Arranged almost in a semi-circle, extending to the road on each side, the Havenic infantrymen were poised to open with a tremendous volley, catching the retreating fighters unawares. Lasoga was able to time the ambush via uses of linked displays, where the kapitán could signal the attack via a green light. Synchronized as such, the auxiliaries opened fire, cutting down their foes before them. The Hali-42 fires a small round, the .221 Orchomenos, that travels at a relatively high velocity. At long ranges, this does not present much of a problem, but in the short ranges of jungle warfare the rounds could often pass right through the body, so it would take several shots to take down their targets. This shortcoming was compensated by the adversary's particular vulnerability, but typically the rifle presented a few problems for the auxiliaries — they also had a higher probability of death than "regular" units.

The "battle" was not worth describing, really. Well, it wasn't much of a "battle," to be honest. The militants were slaughtered as they ran. Some stood paralyzed, caught between helicopter fire and the auxiliaries. In any case, they dispersed even more widely, making them easy pickings for the well placed Macabee infantry. "Two in the chest, one in the head." That's the "rule of thumb" infantrymen-in-training pass on to each other at boot camp. The data mining following the turkey shoot was not worth describing either. It consisted mostly of picking up severed body parts: arms, legs, torsos without arms and legs, and heads, amongst other things. There were a good number of badly wounded Zarbians. Others were crawling, or trying to crawl, at least. They were all executed. No survivors. Lasoga didn't want the Zarbians at Pedroñeras to have an idea of what they were facing. It was not long before the company moved on, slowly reforming back on the road, and continuing the march to Pedroñeras.

Before stepping back on the road, Lasoga reached into the large pocket on his right pant leg. He searched about for a bit, but finally extracted what looked like a wrapped piece of candy. It was very slightly medicated, with a chemical manufactured just for this purpose. In fact, most of the soldiers did the same thing. The chemical relaxed them enough to make the killing easier. They would need it. Because, soon they would be upon Pedroñeras. This time, a much larger number of RoLo-17's lit up the town, and the surrounding fields that separated the town from the tropics, before Lasoga unleashed his attack. Ultimately, they would set the entire town alight, to teach them a lesson for servicing enemy combatants. When the costs to a choice are increased, the likelihood of that choice being made falls. Punitive damage.

The "mop-up" operation in Zarbia was brutal. The Macabee soldiers there were fighting a war, not conducting an occupation. Their patrols were constantly ambushed. Road-side bombs caused convoys to go into disarray, becoming easy targets for enemy combatants to kill drivers and the soldiers escorting them. Neither side took prisoners. If you fell wounded, and your comrades couldn't get you out, you needed to figure out how to survive. Otherwise, you were pretty much the same thing as being dead. In turn, the militants that flooded the southern lands of the territories of Zarbia and Nuevo León suffered at the hands of RoLo-17s and GLI-76 'Falcon' multi-role fighters, based from carriers offshore. (The Laerihans had yet to finish preparing airfields, to begin deploying a few squadrons in Indra, to assist with the consolidation.) Those that thought they had made it through the jungle "safely" fell prey to Havenic patrols on the ground. While these were mostly unmechanized, most did include a handful of 'Shalmanesers,' tracked armored personnel carriers, with powerful autocannons. Neither side enjoyed the fighting very much.

But, for Kapitán Lasoga, this was the "perfect" kind of combat. It had been the type he had become an expert on, via his experiences both in Theohuanacu and Zarbia. The tropics were just as bad as the streets of the sinful pirate cities of southern Theohuanacu. It was all equally as bloody, and mind-killing.