Blood and Ash [IC - PMT - INVITE ONLY]

by **Nordwalsh** » Fri Jul 29, 2016 3:45 pm

Screams, frantic shouting, blackness.

“Bahreltahn damnit, Jay! Take the lens cap off, get all of this!”

Light, blurred concrete and frantic jerking as a camera is jostled about and adjusts to the sunlight. A smoking building with tendrils of flames flaring from its windows and a hole viciously torn in its roof.

Sirens, more shouting, gunfire.

The camera focuses in on an attractive young woman who is in the process of brushing falling ash off of her shirt. She looks directly into the camera, instantly donning a mask of concern and sternness.
“Trisari Kerah with Channel 3 News in Ki’wana, here at Veechtahv Hall in Downtown. It’s…” she hastily checks a wristwatch. “1:39 PM. Approximately ten minutes ago, an explosion went off inside Veechtahv Hall behind me, where a historic meeting between the heads of state of several nations and our very own Lord Mayor was taking place. The origin of the explosion is as of yet unknown, and as you can hear, there is what sounds like gunfire coming from inside the building.”

“Platz da, platz da! Inneratroopen durchkommen!” a group of men rushed past the reporter, violently shoving her and the cameraman to the side. They caught glimpses of the red dragon-shaped patches on the men’s shoulders, the rifles in their arms.

“That was, uh, Waltch – I think. Military forces are responding to the situation, including foreign security forces tasked with protecting the VIPs inside!” She looked back over her shoulder. “Hell of job they’re doing. Damn toriní fah—“

Another explosion from within the building caused both individuals to duck instinctively, backing up. A new chorus of screams echoed around the quickly emptying plaza.
“Another explosion has rocked Veechtahv Hall! We still have no information about what’s going on inside, or about that status of the Lord Mayor or any of the officials inside. Stay—“

“Sir, ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to vacate the plaza!” A man shouted; a police officer soon entered frame. “You need to leave, it’s not safe here!”

“No, no, we’re covering the situation, we-“

“I said, scram! Give me that thing!” The officer made a grab for the camera.

“I’m turning it off, we’re scramming! Come on Tris!”

The feed went dark.

-----

“All evidence points to a government entity, sir.”

A long conference table with a monitor at the far end, fully occupied by dozens of important officials from across the vast Waltch bureaucracy; those who couldn’t get chairs stood against the walls. Prime Minister Xavier Laberenz reclined in a hospital chair on the monitor, one arm in a sling, bandages wrapped carefully around his head. His short blonde hair, usually immaculate and precisely groomed, was a mess and caked in what could only be blood. He sat forward at this information. “Oh?”

“Etzonocua. A large continent to the southeast of the Antonian mainland. The AID has a sizeable dossier on it; it’s just never been relevant.”

Laberenz reached for an object leaning against the chair; a sturdy wooden cane, which he used to push himself to his feet. A poor leg, a result of his injuries, but not during this latest attack. These ghosts came from the Siege of Heaven a short few years ago. The man moved towards the camera slowly and deliberately, leaning in close so that his piercing grey eyes took up a majority of the frame.

“It’s relevant now.” He hissed, stern despite the lack of apparent true anger in his voice. “And this incompetency will be harshly remembered. Who here is part of the Second Directorate?” A handful of men and women reluctantly raised their hands, not daring to look away from the monitor. “You’ll be lucky if this doesn’t land you in the Resettlement Program. The Party does not accept anything but the best.”

“I’m not sure that’s entirely necessary, Mr. Laberenz.” An older man entered the frame as the prime minister sat down. “I don’t think anybody could’ve truly anticipated this.”

Laberenz scoffed, but said nothing else on the matter. “I’m surprised you’re walking, Escher. You were covered in so much blood I might’ve mistaken you for Leinkojusk himself.”

“I’m afraid I’m not much of a dragon, though I’d wager it’d take one to kill me.”

“That can be arranged, if you ever tire of politics.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Now, I’d like to compare our information with that your agencies have collected, see how much of it matches up. I’d like for the others to be here, but they’re either unconscious or in surgery.”

“Of course. Go right ahead. I think you’ll find the Directorate is very thorough.

“Of course it is.” The man reached inside his coat and readjusted the goggles on his face; goofy things, really. Apparently they protected his eyes from harsh light. Escher produced a slim manila envelope from the jacket and opened it. “Please, stop me if anything I say doesn’t match up.
“We’ve determined that the group behind the attack is in fact the government of Etzonocua, a large hermit kingdom across the ocean to the Confederacy’s southeast. Nearly two billion citizens. Roughly half the size of Waldzenia. It’s something of a caesaropapacy. An emperor and ‘archprophet’ rule the nation, together with a vestigial premier, forming a triumvirate. Communication and travel, into or out of the empire, is exceptionally rare. From what we can gather, it seems to be an utterly communist society ruled by a church.”

“A communist theocracy.” Laberenz observed. “It’s all of Magnus’s worst nightmare rolled into one.”

Escher nodded. “As such, it has a total command economy and all-encompassing government that enforces religious law. They follow a faith called Tlacanatlism, which features a pantheon of very violent gods; it focuses heavily on human sacrifice and the worthlessness of the individual in the grand scheme of things. But the emperor and archprophet, of course, are divine and speak for the gods.”

“That being said, its economy is in shambles, and both its society and military are stuck somewhere back in the 1950s. Despite this, its entire population seems to be completely indoctrinated to believe in the superiority of their regime. Even the leadership; or perhaps, especially the leadership.”

“They made a public statement, broadcasted to all governments involved at the conference.” A man from the Directorate spoke. “Apparently, stability and goodwill in the region is a threat to them and an affront to their gods.”

“They can’t actually expect no response?”

“Perhaps a response is exactly what they’re looking for. “ Laberenz mused. “I have a feeling that this regime is playing a very tricky game…” He placed his chin in his hand, staring off into the distance, becoming lost in thought.

“A response is exactly what they’ll get from Antonia, regardless of what game they’re playing.” Escher said sourly. “An attack like this on Antonian soil is completely unforgiveable. The people will call for blood, and they’ll get it.”

“I didn’t expect such a populist response from you, Mr. Escher.” Laberenz remarked without looking at him. “But I suppose any nation would do exactly the same thing in such a situation….Herr Stark?”

A bald, barrel-chested man seated towards the front of the table leaned forward so that he was in better view of the camera. “Ja, Herr Premierminister?” He rumbled beneath a silver walrus mustache.

“Assemble de Blodigkomisja in Gotherfell.” Laberenz stood again with visible effort. “I will be there shortly. I expect our…” The prime minister paused for just a moment, thoughtfully glancing over at Escher. “…allies to gather as well.

“Are you sure that’s the best idea, Mr. Laberenz? Your wounds were quite grievous, as I understand it...”

“So I’ve been told.” Laberenz scoffed. “So I was told when Rodgren tried to kill me. Honestly, Herra Escher, it’ll take the hammer of the damn gods to put me down at this rate.”

by **Free Islands and Atolls** » Mon Aug 01, 2016 3:22 pm

We’ve determined that the group behind the attack is in fact the government of Etzonocua, a large hermit kingdom across the ocean to the Confederacy’s southeast...

In CFIA, there was no reaction on attack on Antonia: everyone had other things to care about. But there were people in highest circles of power that cared.

Far away from Confederacy, a cruiser was steaming slowly in open seas. It was resembling old battlecruisers in its layout: long hull, four gun towers and long low superstructure, flanked by covered line of secondary turrets. Four rangefinders were residing on superstructure and tower masts, idle as nothing was a threat for now. Radars were not obvious apart from four phased arrays visible on rangefinder positions.

It was the CFS Whirlwind. Not the newest addition to the fleet but something CFIA could be proud of. Towards the bow, on the armoured hatches of missile silos, a temporary tent was placed and four men in naval uniforms were sitting under it and having tea: the highest command of the navy.

One, wearing the badge with battleship, was Reginald Jones Brookwood. A man in his late forties, he was a commander of battleship forces. Next to him were Viliame Kanabata or "Willie", commander of carriers, and Laisenia Leweni, commander of the destroyers. The last one was William Sterling Price, a man in his thirties, now commanding cruisers with Whirlwind being his flagship.

Those men were discussing naval and political matters.

"Yes, our fleet is more than capable of protecting Islands." said Kanabata "But it is still not even remotely the strongest of all fleets. Until we have at least 16 battleships and 16 carriers, we must not take the course of breaking our Isolation. We must continue building new ships and upgrading old ones to be counted as a force."
"And who're you going to scare?" replied Brookwood. "Take any single nation around: they have large amount of landmass, lots of resources and lots of men. And look at us: we have 30 miles of sea for any single mile of land to say the least..."
"Yet even with what we had we were capable of building a capable fleet. What I wanted to say for the last fifteen minutes is that while we are isolated, we are needed to no one; when we break this 'shield', we will have to face fleets tens and hundreds of times more powerful than ours. We must sit or our Islands and continue our own way of advancing in ages."
"Maybe you're right. But who would really like to attack CFIA? We have nothing interesting apart from sapphires and sand. (And hostile population, of course.) Fear of the 'Overseas Empire #2' is foolish, as I see it."
"Yet it could be real. New 'Empire' may also use economic submission to control us and no innovations could save us from any raw industrial power. Isolation is safety. And considering we have almost nothing in comparison, there is no reason to break it from outside."
"And no one breaks." Said Leweni. "It is we who breaks it, for now mostly by keeping cruisers on overseas stations. And our folk supports this policy, so isolationists like you are now in minority."
"I wonder, where this will lead us..."

"Ratu Price!" A young sailor in white uniform approached admirals. "We have intercepted a message that is worth your attention."

"Thanks, stand by." Price replied and took a list with message. It was one known to Waltch officials.

"Looks like this was intended for everyone who received it." Leweni noted. "Have you managed to trace its origins?"
"It is impossible, sir, but.."
"Ah, here. 'Etsonoca'?"
"Etzonocua." Corrected Brookwood. "A nice tone indeed. Message of such tone rarely goes alone."

"Any more news, sailor?" Price asked.
"Yes. Antonia was attacked. It appears that terrorists tired to hit high but failed. Pretty much nothing more, Ratu."
"Thanks, you're dismissed."

"So, who knows what about Etzonocua?"

This question raised a long silence. No one knew anything apart from that this country was present on all maps.

"From what I heard," Kanabata started after a minute or two, "it has a very strange ideology, powerful church and landmass. I don't remember how that ideology is called, but it is associated with red and is about building a state ruled by workers and peasants."
"Communism, but it is not exactly about that..."
"It doesn't matter." Price cut Leweni coldly.

"In any case, gentlemen, something interesting is about to start." Brookwood said with enthusiasm. "This tone and those actions may actually lead to a serious conflict and we can not allow it to go unobserved by us. Price?"
"Yes, High Admiral?"
"You should pay attention to the station near to Etzonocua. Send some ships there. We must know about any further movements ─ at least, those done by sea."
"I'm working on that."

Brookwood nodded and then addressed other admirals. "And we, gentlemen, must return back to Islands, just in case of emergency."

They left the next day on a VTOL that carried them to a nearby destroyer, leaving Price in thoughts about what ships to send.

There were 10 so-called "stations" of cruisers ─ basically, patrol areas where one or two ships stay for a while and observe activity. #1 was CFIA itself, #2 was near Thedosia, #3 ─ near Altaiire, #4 ─ near Nordwalsh, #5 ─ near Antonia, #6 ─ near Etzonocua, #7 was to the south from CFIA and #8, #9 and #10 were reserved. Stations from #2 to #4 and from #8 to #10 were long inactive. As for the #5 and #6, only one cruiser was present on both of them ─ CFS Thunderstorm.

Price could deploy at least 14 more cruisers at both of the stations, but apart from being a very bold move, it would be the worst case of fuel wasting ever. Eventually, he decided to move Whirlwind at the station as well as send one more cruiser ─ CFS Ocean. This force could easily act as "fleet in being" in case of war, but for cruiser commander it was unlikely that CFIA would ever participate.

"I wonder, what Chief and Brookwood think about it, though."

by **Xanixi** » Sat Aug 06, 2016 6:08 pm

Lieutenant Alejandro Gardy
13th Ambassadorial Guard Division
Date: 7th Matrinalis, 13:32; Time: 7:11 a.m. [Ephays Standard Time]
Veechtahv Hall, Confederacy of Antonia and Brookwood

My world was blank. A white sheet covered my eyes profoundly as I attempted to scan my surroundings. A high-pitched buzz hummed at my ears, the noise dancing its way into my brain, eerily tormenting me. I swirled my head around, desperate to relieve myself of the awful sound, but it only strengthened, drawing from my pain and suffering. A searing pain accompanied the deafness and blindness, sneaking through my back until reaching the base of my neck. It felt like an eternity; the idea that it truly lasted only a matter of seconds terrifies me to no end.
The noise began to subside as my eyesight began to clear. An image, first of apparent overexposure, began to dim as objects became distinguishable. I took note of the pain in my back, which lingered, before returning to reality.
With my vision partially recuperated, I began to swiftly swivel my head. In the distance, I could see as a woman, indistinguishable through all the smoke and ash in the air, brushed something from her clothing before turning to a camera and seemingly remaining still, staring at it. I made the obvious connection that the woman was a reporter, and was surprised at the her courage; having been sent to cover a diplomatic meeting, standing there and reporting this seemed more than she was being paid for.
“Sir!” a voice screamed. The word entered bluntly into my left ear, shattering my already damaged eardrum and deafening me on my left side. I raised my head to look over and attempt to hear with my right, but could hear nothing. I understood the message only because the guard motioned to move outside.
“Negative!” I responded firmly, grabbing my helmet from the ground and dropping it atop my head. The visor was dusted and no manner of swiping would clean it, but the HUD worked and that was already a boost.
“I’m a member of the Ambassadorial Guard,” I replied, nodding my head, “I have to find Legatus Emilia.” I stood from my covered spot behind a fallen desk and began to look around.
I received only an intense pressure in my chest plate and a powerful push back as the gunman no more than five meters away from me shot three bullets into my chest.

Grand Chancellor Valerius Numitor
Grand Chancellor of the Grand Thedosian Republic
Date: 7th Matrinalis, 13:32; Time: 7:37 a.m. [Ephays Standard Time]
Grand Palace of the Republic, Ephays

There was silence. Beeps from computers and the sound of cooling fans rotating. Clicks from a keyboard. The occasional echo from someone talking outside. A cough, someone clearing their throat. A deep breath that sounded as loudly as a klaxon horn. This had to be the circumstance of this particular room, for this was the “Command Center,” a very advanced room within the Grand Palace from which the country’s most important individuals could either conduct or observe some of the most important operations being undertaken by the government.
And the silence was broken. The doors opened abruptly as four guards, donning the characteristic white armor of the Republic armed forces, painted at the shoulders and helmet with the deep maroon colors designating affiliation with the Chancellery Guard faction within the National Security Agency. Two soldiers remained at the opened doors, whilst the other two positioned themselves in different corners of the room, maximizing protective reach. That said, through the doors walked the distinctive white robes donned with beautiful accolades and gems, all earned by the leader of the Republic Directorate and the man elected by Grand Congress to rule the nation and bring glory to its people. Grand Chancellor Valerius Numitor. Behind him followed the rest of the directorate, another twelve members.
Normally, he was a pleasant man. Capable of tacking the most demanding of tasks and maintaining a characteristic smile. Careful for the wellbeing of his people and maintaining an important level of respect, both to his subjects as well as those closest to him. He had, in fact, become renowned in Republic history for his interactions with his citizenry, among other things. But today was not one of those days. Today, the most powerful man in the Republic was furious.
“I want a second-by-second explanation of what the fuck happened,” he barked. His brows were furrowed and a potent frown splitting his face in two.
“We don’t know much,” one of the operators replied, barely stripping his sight from the console in front of him, “although all indicators appear to designate the Etzonocui government as the perpetrator of this act.”
The Grand Chancellor was obviously shocked. Taking a minute step back and opening his eyes wide, he repeated, “The Etzonocui government?” After a moment of pause, he continued, “You’re implying the attack was not an act of terrorism but a coordinated attack by a foreign government organism?”
“Yes, Your Excellency,” the operator replied, “we’ve also received word that the Waltch government coincides in this initial observation. Furthermore, the Etzonocui government has released a public statement notifying the general populace that regional stability was, as they stated it, an ‘insult to [their] deities.’ We’re confirming all the information now.”
“What does the Strategic Intelligence Service have on the country?” the Grand Chancellor inquired.
“Not much,” replied Director Grace Wilson, director of the Joint Intelligence Committee and the most important pieces in the Republic intelligence network, “beyond the basic ideals of their fascist regime, the importance of the mixture of church and state, and the general indoctrination of their populace, very little.”
“The nation doesn’t ring much of a bell to me,” noted First Mistress Elsa, spouse to the Chancellor, “how smooth are Republic relations with this country?”
“Not particularly established,” replied John Hampton, the Secretary of State, “due to complications from both parties. Apparently, we’re not an interesting nation to their needs due to our basic beliefs and traditions. And they’re not an important international target because they have very little to provide. In terms of economic partnership, it was agreed we’d rather partner with a rabbit.”
A chuckle emerged from Mistress Elsa, and much of the directorate followed suit. However, Grand Chancellor Valerius remained silent, squinting at the screens before him.
“Hampton,” he began, “what’s the most likely response from the Antonian government?”
John didn’t even need to think it through. “War.”
Valerius nodded. “Establish communication with everyone from that meeting. I want to discuss plans of action now.”
John nodded. “Understood, Your Excellency.”

by **Nordwalsh** » Mon Aug 08, 2016 7:31 am

Gotherfell, Austrasia Commissariat
Waltch Dominion

Gotherfell was a very ancient place. Thousands of years old, by all accounts. High in the Valana Mountains, nestled in a valley sixteen thousand feet above sea level, yet shielded from all but the worst winters - it was a whimsical place. It had been the seat of the Emperor Godric the Great when he first united the West; it was the place where the Four Kings had first come together to form a united Waltch Empire; it had been where Armin Magnus signed Order 72¹ after the July Coup. It was a place of endless history, but nobody knew where it originally came from. It certainly bore resemblance to various ancient Waltch cultures, but there had been no record of it before it was discovered by an Austrasian army marching through the Valanas to launch a sneak attack in the 9th century CE. Gotherfell was utterly mystifying; towering stone walls encircled the valley, within them enormous monuments and temples to different gods containing a wealth of artifacts regaling the history of the Waltch, and some history that, according to experts, had simply never happened. The snowy grounds were dotted with red as the petals of thousands of Polaris roses, resistant against cold, flourished and died. Above it all, on a mountaintop to the north, a massive statue of a seven-headed hydra stood watch; it was unbelievably realistic, made of a brilliant red gemstone - some said that, in the middle of storms, one could see the heads writhing and bellowing along with the thunder. It could only be somebody's interpretation of the World-Eater Leinkojusk.

Beneath the ancient ruins, though, was something perhaps stranger. While the monuments were impressive, there were no subterranean chambers to speak of, and buildings did not sink far back into the mountainside. An incredibly vast system of bunkers wormed its way throughout the valley, a veritable city in and of itself. The only obvious entrance, and certainly the only one known to those outside of the Prime Minister's inner circle, lay within the large central citadel of the above-ground fortress. This made Gotherfell the most secure place for thousands upon thousands of miles in every direction, and the go-to meeting place for the Central Government in times of crisis.

In this case, it was the Blodigkomisja that was meeting.

In a large conference hall towards the very bottom of the bunker, dozens, even hundreds of people gathered. Scholars, analysts, politicians, chief executive officers, generals - individuals from every walk of life and every pertinent field. In the olden days, the Blodigkomisja was made of nobles and priests; like the rest of Waldzenia, this changed with time. These were the men and women would decide whether or not to send the Waltch Dominion to war. The Bloody Commission.

\People sat in rows, situated in ranks with their own tables around a central one. The central table stretched to the front of the room, accommodating the Central Government itself, with a large black chair signifying the Prime Minister's spot. It was an empty throne.

"We should begin without him." a grim, suited man urged his compatriots. His nameplate identified him as the head of an prominent agricultural firm. Nobody responded to him.

They'd wait for several more hours. Forty eight hours - that was the limit before the Minister of the Interior took over the responsibilities of the Prime Minister. Laberenz's wounds had been grievous; although he assured them that he was stable and able to fulfill his duties, there was no knowing if the Prime Minister had worsened on the flight home; he and his escorts had been disturbingly quiet ever since the conference from Ki'wana. If it turned out that the worst had come to pass, then the Imperial Socialist Party would have to select a new Prime Minister quickly. Speculated picks were the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Adelisza Korana, and the Commissar of Neustria, Marzel Maziere. Party officials were chosen based on skill, experience, and vision - they weren't supposed to be selected quickly.

"Dragon has landed!" A soldier of the Blackwatch exclaimed, bursting into the room. "Prime Minister Laberenz has arrived in Erdris and is on his way!"

The room released a collective sigh of relief, that layer of tension instantly vanishing. The rest remained, though. This was a Blodigkomisja, after all. Grim work.

---

Roughly two hours later, the doors of the conference hall swung open yet again.

All chattering ceased and all eyes in the room snapped to the back of the room just in time to see Prime Minister Xavier Laberenz walk in, surrounded by Blackwatch troops. The man looked bad. He walked even worse - a stiff hobble, his previous injury compounded to the point where his cane wasn't of much help. He had bandages wrapped around his head that, although they looked fresh, already seemed to be bloodied again, and his arm was in a sling. The most noticeable thing though, by far, was his expression. The usually quite stoic leader appeared...angry. No, not just angry - infuriated. He looked absolutely infuriated as he made his way to the front of the room. The room was pin-drop silent, save for the prime minister's labored footsteps; the Blackwatch was there to catch him if he fell, as much as they were there to protect him from violence. At least three of the eight special forces operatives appeared to be carrying medical supplies with them. A man in a white coat stood nervously by the door; one of the doctors on staff in the bunker, no doubt, desperate for Laberenz to at least let him look at his wounds more.

"What are you all looking at?" Laberenz scoffed as he sat down carefully, handing his cane off to a trooper. "Am I really that ugly now?" The gained him a few chuckles, but nobody spoke. He scanned the assemblage, glowering at each individual at he passed over them. "'Let justice be done though the heavens may fall', that's supposed to be the motto of the Dominion, isn't it? As it happens, the heavens did fall. A few tons of concrete. Directly on me and that Escher bastard, so I'm told. Doctor Arling," he nodded towards the timid doctor in the back of the room. "tells me that I might even lose movement of my right leg."

He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers, framed spectacularly by the banners hanging on either side behind him; this, combined with the sheer fire raging behind his eyes, made him look like the Waltch dragon incarnate.

"But frankly, I don't give a damn. A wheelchair isn't going to get in the way of my duties, and we have many, many things to discuss." He picked up a binder and started flipping through its contents, then looked up. "I trust you all haven't been sitting in silence like a bunch of damn sweivaans^[2]? You actually got some work done?" Somebody scurried over from the side of the room, a mousy young woman. She said something to the Blackwatch, who relayed it to the prime minister. Laberenz waved his hand. "It appears the Thedosians are putting together a conference - congratulations, by proxy you're all invited. Put Numitor on."

A moment later, the chancellor of Thedosia appaeared on the massive screen behind Laberenz. He spun around in his chair to face the screen. No doubt, the chancellor might be a bit puzzled at the assembly before him.

"Mag je voitat^[3]," Laberenz said before switching to English. "Chancellor. We were just talking about you. Welcome the Blood Commission; you're officially stuck as part of it now."

by **Xanixi** » Fri Aug 12, 2016 2:33 pm

Legate Rey Greene
5th Army, Grand Marine Corps of the Republic
Date: 7th Matrinalis; Time: 8:04 a.m. [Ephays Standard Time]
Gwenham GMC Depot, Taetrus, Grand Thedosian Republic

Rey slipped her badge in front of the small black scanner to the right hand side of the door. She watched as it emitted a green light and a beep emanated from its insides, unlocking the acrylic glass doors in front of her. The magnetic seal undid itself and the doors hissed open, revealing an intricate network of computers, servers, and operators rushing from one end of the circular room.
This room was one of many built across the Republic, within aircraft carriers, within mobile command vehicles, and—in smaller versions—as portable table-sized monitors. For this room was the War Room, from which the highest ranking officers of the Republic armed forces would coordinate assaults, defensive strategies and tactics, and micromanage their entire unit, all from the safety and comfort of a far-away control room. Not to mention the resourcefulness of the enormous influx of information coming from a dozen different sources.
Rey sat down at her seat in front of the main terminal, reserved for the commanding officer. Looking to her left at his XO, Captain Pablo, she spoke, “Any more information?”
“According to preliminary reports,” Pablo responded, “the Strategic Intelligence Service can almost confirm that the perpetrator of the act was Etzonocua. The Directorate is holding talks with the Waltch and the Antonians to get an official response underway, but High Command has already ordered us to being mobilization.”
“The Republic is gearing for war, then,” Rey nodded, understanding the fact. It was not every day a peaceful negotiation was attacked by a foreign nation, but should anyone simply let it slide or leave it unattended, it would encourage more of the Republic’s enemies to act against their dignitaries. This was unacceptable.
“Does High Command have any specific plans for us?” Rey asked.
“Yes, Legate Greene,” Pablo replied, nodding, “You’re to report to Senior Legate Erich Haley for further instructions.”
Nodding her head, she stood from her chair and walked towards her small corner office, saying as she walked, “Link me up with him at my personal terminal. I’ll relay plans after we have a greater picture.”
Pablo simply replied, “Understood, Legate.”

Grand Chancellor Valerius Numitor
Grand Chancellor of the Grand Thedosian Republic
Date: 7th Matrinalis; Time: 8:01 a.m. [Ephays Standard Time]
Grand Palace, Ephays, Aephus, Grand Thedosian Republic

Valerius squinted. The screen hanging ever so delicately from the wall on the far end side of the room was spectacularly lit up, with various different colors and the logo of the television’s producer. How Valerius hated wasting time on such frivolous things as brands when matters of national security were at stake.
But what puzzled Valerius most, in fact, was the company that appeared reflected on the screen. A group, not very much unlike the one with which he attended the conference himself, was present behind the authoritative figure of the Dominion’s prime minster, Laberenz. Valerius himself had never had much of an interaction with the prime minister, but despite the historical rivalry between the Dominion and the Republic, relations between the nations were rather good. Or, at the very least, far better than they had been centuries before, a change for which Valerius himself could vouch.
“Prime Minister,” Valerius responded, bowing slightly forward and pressing his right fist into his left pectoral—the typical formal salute of the Republic military, still incredibly relevant in the higher echelons of the Republic meritocracy. Correcting his posture until he stood straight once more, he continued, “We understand the cooperation between the Waltch intelligence agency and the Strategic Intelligence Service has inconclusively yielded information identifying the perpetrators of this as the governmental organism of the country of Etzonocua.” Valerius took a breath and shot quick glances at the other Waltch members present at the conference.
“The Republic military has already begun mobilization procedures in order to ensure national security for the Republic. However, we believe that merely maximizing our defensive efforts is not enough.” Valerius nodded, “the Republic Directorate believes the only way to demonstrate to other would-be attackers that their attempts are futile and thus deter them from undertaking operations against us is to show a quick, firm, and powerful hand against these kinds of violations to our national security, including that of our foreign dignitaries. Congress is to convene later today to begin the drafting and signing of an official Declaration of State of Conflict against the state of Etzonocua. We believe the Antonian government, being they the most affected from this attack, will follow suit.”
Valerius paused. He inhaled briefly, eyeing the prime minister, then glancing at some of the members closest to him. Inhaling once more, he finished upon a single sentence, “May we count on your support?”

by **Antonia and Brookwood** » Tue Aug 16, 2016 2:52 am

Unity Square, Antonia
Commonwealth of Antonia and Brookwood

Escher stood by the large, panoramic window overlooking the administrative district below. Although only slightly injured, the pain he felt was immense. The first international summit in Antonia, a major milestone for his people on an international scale, became nothing but an embarrassment. Adding more fuel to the fire, shortly after the attack, lynchings and witch trials erupted across the nation. Escher rested his head on the pane of glass, holding back his anger. Etzonocua, a small nation that would seem almost trivial in world affairs, was able to get past most of the security at Veechtahv Hall within a matter of minutes. The entire Department of Security and Defense showed a complete lack of preparedness in this, which would surely garner a lot of negative attention to many of Antonia’s neighbors. Cyrus Addington, the acting director of the department was personally in charge of the meeting’s security.

“Sir Escher,” as if summoned, Escher turned his head toward the voice to see Cyrus standing in the doorway, “I’d like to personally hand in request termination of my position, effective immediately”.

“I’m sorry, Cyrus, but I can’t do that”

“But, but, Sir- “

“I’ll have none of that today, damn it! While it is true, nobody is qualified enough for your position, so not only are you a necessity in this department, but- “

“Even so, Sir, what happened today was unforgivable and an embarrassment to not only you but to our entire nation.”

“And that is my burden to bear right now. I do not blame you for the attack, even if your department was at fault. This was a completely unexpected attack from a nation all of us, even other nations, thought was trivial. That is my mistake, not yours”

“But- “

“I said enough of that! No arguments. The best thing you can do now is to organize all the information we have on them”

“Yes, sir.” Cyrus turned to leave before stopping to speak again, “Shouldn’t we transfer you to somewhere less dangerous?”

“Cyrus,” Escher almost laughed, “You know we give our own citizens enough hassle when they enter the city. I’m sure I’ll be fine here. Besides, the Royal Guard has been deployed to multiple checkpoints across the city, and have orders to kill anyone within 3 districts of the square without proper documentation.”

“That is if the mobs don’t get to them first.” Began a new, more condescending voice “Hell, on the ride to the city, I don’t know how many bodies I saw hanging from the trees”

“Yes, well, sorry to ruin the fun for you, Thomas. But, Cyrus here was about to restore order. Right, Cyrus?”

Taking his cue to leave, Cyrus bowed, said his usual “Yes sir. Thank you, Sir.” and proceeded to leave the room. He’d take any chance he could get to escape a conversation with Thomas.

Escher, on the other hand, wasn’t blessed with that luxury.

“Thomas,” Escher sighed, “Could you at least do something besides encouraging the mob erupting outside? It would be more beneficial for you to go about and attempt to get some of the working class back to where they’re supposed to be. We can’t ready ourselves for a war with people not contributing to the effort.”

“A- A war?” Thomas stumbled backward. The Commonwealth never participated in an offensive war, so Thomas could hardly believe what he was hearing

“Please, Thomas, you know when the people thirst for vengeance, when I thirst for vengeance, there will be vengeance.”
“Y- yes- yessir!” Thomas shouted before turning and leaving the room.

Escher turned back to the window, looking out at the city as the sun set. It’s been fifty years since the last time he’s used his authority directly. Turning to his desk, Escher picked up the phone and dialed for the Department of Foreign Relations.

“Hello. Can you send a message to our embassies in all of the nations present at the summit today? Just have them get in contact with their administration. We’d like to request sharing of any intelligence on Etzonocua. Thank y- “ Escher paused, cut off by an obnoxious buzzing from another line in his ear. Glancing back at the screen on the phone, he was greeted by the extension used by the Department of Foreign Relations for urgent calls. “Yes?”

“Sir, there seems to be an urgent call from the Thedosian Republic for you.”

“I’ll be there shortly. Please send Mr. Addington that way as well.

---

Escher was just sitting down beside Cyrus as the audio began. The two were met by the voice of Valerius’ and his question, “May we count on your support?”

Escher was grinning when the video feed began. “You may indeed, Chancellor,” Escher began, “Our peoples’ calls for blood have been heard, and they will be answered.”

by **Nordwalsh** » Wed Aug 17, 2016 9:08 pm

Laberenz smirked at the nigh perfect timing of Escher's entry into the call.

"Well, that's lovely. You're assembling a true Band of the Bold, Herr Valerius." He said sarcastically. "But as you can see," The Waldzer gestured with his good arm. "the Waltch don't go to war lightly." He spun around in his chair, using his cane to push himself. The prime minister picked up a dossier from the table and turned back to face the screen. "The Blood Commission must conclude weather Waldzenia is ready for war and, if so, how she should go about it. De Zentralregerin will then deliberate on the matter and execute any actions they deem necessary." He opened the folder in his lap and looked down at it. "Luckily, they've been busy. However, I suppose we need to be official about this." He turned around yet again.

"Blodigkomisja, wur razlieren zir var reik?" How judge ye our realm?

Around the room, a man or woman from one of the subgroups would stand and voice the conclusions that their group had come to, then sit back down. Dozens, at least, if not a hundred or more.

"The Committee for Agriculture finds that the Dominion's output as of recent years will be more than sustain an armed conflict."
"The Committee for International Relations finds that a sustained armed conflict against Etzonocua will not result in any noticeable negative geopolitical consequences for the Dominion."
"The Committee for Heterodox Analysis finds that no subversive elements, at this time, have the motive to nor are capable of opposing an armed conflict."

The Waltch loved their committees. They went on like this for quite some time, usually mentioning various statistics and predictions, oftentimes in years or even decades. Waldzers may not live for centuries like the goddamn Thedosians, but they were sure as hell used to playing the long game. The Blood Commission was the culmination of Waltch bureaucratic spirit in action.

At the end of the procession, a final triumvirate stood towards the middle of the room, just beyond the Central Government's table.

"Comrade Prime Minister and distinguished ministers of the Central Government;" A woman spoke very carefully, arms behind her back and being sure to never look away from Laberenz. "the Blood Commission has found that a police action against the Etzonocui government will be the most effective means of dealing with the regime, as the state is too insular for espionage or partisan support to have effect. Given the state of the Etzonocui People's Navy, a conventional retaliation against the Motherland will be impossible for them. As such, the Blood Commission formally suggests that the Central Government enact the Instrument of Conflict to declare Etzonocua a constitutional rechtstaat^[1] and carry out an extensive police action against it." The woman sat, bowing slightly in the process.

Laberenz turned to face Valerius and Escher again. "There you have it, gentlemen." The prime minister declared, interpreting the unnecessarily convoluted speech for them. "The Dominion will only get involved if it gets something considerable out of this...police action. I won't sugarcoat it - we want land. Resource rights. Sovereignty. You can't ask your neighbor to dive headfirst into a jungle infested with almost two billion fanatical guerrillas over some hurt pride without offering a little compensation first, can you?"

by **Xanixi** » Tue Aug 30, 2016 12:36 pm

Grand Chancellor Valerius Numitor
Grand Chancellor of the Grand Thedosian Republic
Date: 7th Matrinalis, 13:32; Time: 7:59 a.m. [Ephays Standard Time]
Grand Palace of the Republic, Ephays

Valerius was startled by the sudden arrival of the Antonian delegation. He had, indeed, been awaiting their arrival, for they were of the most important parties and the most directly affected by the attack. Their support was crucial for the cause, although Valerius himself had doubts as to how helpful, exactly, they could truly be in combat. They would have to prove their usefulness. Or not.
Smiling at the newly arrived members of the conference, Valerius responded, “Greetings, Lord Mayor. I am most pleased to learn of your willingness to participate in our coordinated attack against this treacherous nation.”
Valerius’ mood dipped when the Waltch presented themselves as a more difficult companion. They did not go to war lightly, as their Prime Minister announced, and yet Valerius could hardly understand how an attack on dignitaries of one’s nation, representing one’s people and government, was not the most clear casus belli available. In the eyes of the Republic, a coordinated attack against a summit in which the Republic is a participant is understood as a direct attack against the values and rights the Republic has sworn to defend. “One may go not easily unto war, but one must go with urgency in one’s defense.” Famous words spoken by the king of Apheus, prior to the initial alliance to combat the Elder Crusades almost thirteen hundred years before.
Valerius watched in absolute patience as the Waldzers passed through each of their beloved committees, each providing its own opinion regarding the necessity, feasibility or some such of going to war. It was, in fact, interesting. Valerius himself, though the most active Thedosian leader seeking to promote a healthy relationship with their northern neighbors, frankly knew little of their decision-making customs. So little did he know, in fact, that the mere act of watching his counterparts undergo such a process was enlightening. He was fascinated by their measures, the accuracy of their statements, the stubbornness with which they continued through their endless ministers and categories. It was an extremely well-documented and well-informed committee. One that caught the eye of Valerius, who, though very often in praise of the accuracy of Thedosian reports and committees, was surprised by their meticulousness. If anything, the slow progress of the procedure was the only thing that would make Valerius avoid utilizing a similar system.
When the Waltch finished their rounds, Valerius was pleased. The Blood Committee seemed to agree with the Thedosian plan and wished to head forth into the nation in response. Valerius was significantly less pleased when the situation abruptly changed.
The Waltch wanted land. And not particularly little of it. Valerius sighed. He should have seen this coming, truly. Relations were stiff with the northern neighbors for a reason, beyond their involvement in the Elder Crusades. It was precisely for actions like these; their endless and often fruitful attempts to conquer their enemies and incorporate them into their territories.
Valerius thought quickly. He wasn’t willing to risk the integrity of the Republic by going at this enormous nation by herself, but he wasn’t willing to concede foreign territory of which they themselves were even in possession. At least, not without there being a counterforce to reduce the strength of the Waltch.
But that plan was for later.
Sighing deeply to noticeably portray disappointment, he said, “Very well, Prime Minister. There shall be rewards for the Waltch Dominion at the end of this conflict. However, the rewards themselves shall be discussed at a further date; for now, our nations and military forces should coordinate together and ensure that we can topple our common foe.”
Turning slightly and taking a step back, he continued, “If you’ll excuse me, I have business to attend to. Our military department shall be in contact shortly.” Valerius bowed slightly in farewell and the screen and connection were terminated.
Valerius and Elsa motioned to leave the room, exiting through the same door through which they entered, their personal guard close behind.
“Val,” Elsa said, walking close to her spouse, “Congress won’t approve of feeding our enemies more land and resources. Unless you’re planning on having a strong Republic presence in that area as well, we’re going to have a serious problem on our hands.”
Valerius turned his head to her, smiled, and winked.

by **Altaiire** » Wed Aug 31, 2016 2:12 pm

19:38 ACT
Oneira Square
Altair, Altarian Empire

The setting sun had just finished its descent beneath the tranquil blue waters that stretched to the horizon, leaving behind a violet and amber tinged sky. Already, the decorative lights of the Grand Palace had switched on, the pale yellow of ceaseless office windows bordered by cool cyan streams climbing from the base of the Citadel of Tranquility to the slender, majestic beacon crowning the Citadel of Eternity. A soft breeze drifted out of the verdant greenery of Cardathia Memorial Park and into the bustle of Oneira Square, filling the air with a pleasant chill tinged with the faintest scent of sea salt. Flanking the square was the vast, expansive urban jungle of the Altarian cityscape, the sky pierced by the white facades and blue glass of imposing skyscrapers dyed by twilight.

Even though night would soon be upon the City of the Sun, a great crowd of people had assembled in the Square before a great marble stage. Around the periphery flew flags bearing the insignia of all the Arch Knight military branches, the center pole proudly displaying the Altarian’s Empire national flag with its distinctive Dawning Sun. Before the steps that led further into the Park, metal barriers had been erected. Diligent Arch Knight MILIPOL troopers stood at attention before them, their decorated ballistic tower shields held before them as a second line of defense. In truth they served as little more than glorified bouncers; the true guardians of the night’s guests of honor were the Templar Commandos lining the rooftops and planted in the crowds. Though they could not be seen, the ever watchful eyes of their sniper scopes could easily be felt, scanning the crowds for the slightest out-of-the-ordinary sight that would betray a would-be assassin.

The crowd erupted into cheer despite the grim subject matter of the coming speech, as a lithe yet stalwart armored being ascended the white steps from stage right to the stone podium awaiting him. The SSHANEOG’s defining crimson sash and cape – along with the Dawning Sun painted on his breastplate – marked him as the Chief Military Captain of the Arch Knights of Altair, known simply by his callsign “SymLink”. Behind him followed another SSHANEOG with scarlet racing stripes painted across his helmet – his Vice Commander.

The Captain took to the podium. “Good evening,” he spoke, his voice carried by the microphone in his helmet to an array of speakers, which in turn delivered it to the crowd and the video feeds of news crewmen. After giving an across-the-breast salute to the masses, which was reciprocated by the most fanatical among them with a raised fist, a wave of the Captain’s hand silenced those who stood before him. Addressing not the crowd, but the world, he spoke.

“It has come to Altair’s attention that today, at 4:39 PM, ACT, a deadly terrorist bombing was carried out at Veechtahv Hall in Ki’wana, Antonia. There have been many deaths and many more injuries, with more likely to come as first responders do what they can to restore order to this wrought chaos. Most distressing of all, however, is the fact that this bombing occurred in the middle of a key summit between Antonia and its neighboring nations, with many of their heads of state in attendance.

"It is, and always has been, the ultimate goal of the Arch Knights of Altair to ensure order and protect humanity. When a tragedy such as this occurs, even outside our borders, our hearts cry out, for it is not someone of different nationality being harmed, but a fellow human being. We Arch Knights, speaking for the Altarian people, offer our sincerest condolences to the people of Antonia and the people of all other nations, for those who have suffered, directly or indirectly, as a consequence of this despicable act of violence. And without second thought, we will gladly lend our aid, be it monetary or physical, to the nation of Antonia, that we might do anything we can to salve the wounds they have weathered this day. As a token of respect, I request a brief moment of silence for those who have been lost.”

The Captain bowed his head in respect. The crowd, which had already been nearly devoid of noise, needed no extra commands. After a short while, the Captain looked up, and resumed his statement.

“Thank you. Now that the time for mourning has passed, we must now turn towards the inevitable question: will our region fall into war over this incident? Although many accusations regarding the incident have been propagated by media and word of mouth, the Arch Knights of Altair are not at liberty to confirm or deny any of these accusations on the basis of our own intelligence.

"We will, however, state that in our current opinion, it is likely that the party responsible for the bombing of Veechtahv Hall was a direct element of a foreign power. As this is the case, the bombing itself is likely to be considered an act of war, an act that Antonia and her allies are unlikely to overlook. And should a war come to pass, it would be a war between sovereign nations: a war, by the principles instilled in us in the Great Edicts, that we have no moral impetus, no legal right to partake in.

"As vehemently as we may condemn a nation’s actions and beliefs, until an Edict has been broken, we, the Arch Knights of Altair, must remain neutral and abstain from any conflict where the integrity of humanity is not at stake. Our dedication to our moral principles is what defines us as Arch Knights – to compromise them, even for the sake of our neighbors, would be to betray the legacy the Five sacrificed everything to achieve, and would be utter hypocrisy against the beliefs we champion and espouse to the world. Until that line is crossed, until the Edicts are crossed, we, the Arch Knights of Altair, shall have no part to play in a regional war.

"May the Light of Altair be with you all.”

---

19:38 ACT
Citadel of Tranquility
Altair, Altarian Empire

Even as the Captain was giving his speech before Oneira Square, testifying against any Altarian intervention, gears within Arch Knight High Command had begun to turn contrariwise.

Within a darkened conference room at the pinnacle of the Citadel of Tranquility, an off-the-books gathering of various Arch Knight political figures had assembled. Those of lesser importance gathered around the core group of high-ranking Councilors, who conversed tensely about a large, inactive TacDesk. There was a stone-faced man with bronzed skin and a shaved head, dressed in dark gray Lancer armor marked with a distinctive stylized blood-red eagle. By his side was a rather tired-looking Naval Fleet officer bearing the slick black uniform of a Great Admiral, who possessed a thick, white beard and a ferocious, icy blue stare. Amongst these mere men were two SSHANEOGs. One was cloaked in a lush crimson robe adorned with a white, mazelike sun pattern and bore distinctive black, jagged tattoos across his helmet and concealed armor. In contrast, the other lacked any form of garish decoration, merely bearing the dark gray paint of an SSHANEOG Operative. While the red-cloaked SSHANEOG stood, his imposing presence figuratively and literally towering over those around him, the gray SSHANEOG lazily leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, one boot propped up against the edge of the desk, emitting an aura of amused indifference.

The deep, menacing voice of the red-cloaked SSHANEOG addressed the assembled group, his tone conveying unreserved scorn and hostility.

“This pitiful nation, Etzonocua… these little wretches have festered on our region for far too long. Their culture is obscene, their regard for humanity nonexistent. Were that these vermin not flitting about the edges of the Edict’s reach, I would not hesitate to take my glaive and slaughter their delusional “archprophet” myself.”

“Now, now, Blood Fury,” spoke the dark gray SSHANEOG, his raspy voice carrying a distinctive cocky southern drawl. “Don’t let that unfettered piety get the better of you. You’re starting to sound dangerously like those heretics you can’t get enough of.”

The red cloaked SSHANEOG titled his head, delivering a glare that could be felt even from behind the opaque screen of his helmet’s visor. “Do not mistake me for a radical, Deadwarrior. My judgment may be ruthless, but it is contained within the just boundaries of the Edicts. My dedication to our principles is absolute. More than can be said of you,” he retorted with sneering hostility. The gray SSHANEOG merely shrugged it off with an amused scoff.

“Let’s not let our ideological differences get the better of us,” interjected the stone-faced man, clearly exasperated at having to interdict in the feud between the two Supreme Generals. “If you two want to make out or kill each other, do it when you’re not wasting anyone else’s time, especially mine. Anyways, Mordecai is right. Etzonocua isn’t just a blemish on our region’s reputation, they are a certifiable threat. This bombing is proof enough of that. If they’re willing to so brazenly and sloppily go after so many heads of state at once, there’s clearly not a shred of rationality amongst their leadership. Staying out of their business isn’t enough to stop them going after us next.”

“As if something like this could ever happen in Altair’s borders. How sloppy does the Antonian security detail have to be to permit this disgrace? If we had been in attendance, the scum responsible would have been caught and exposed before our dignitaries had stepped one foot into the building. Never mind preventing a bombing, these Etzonocui saboteurs would not make it into our Empire alive.”

“You know, if they managed to pull it off, we’d be able to partake in this little bloodbath.”

“It almost sounds like you’re suggesting allowing it to happen, Deadwarrior. I don’t think I need to explain the heretical –“

“Heretical nature, yeah yeah, I get it. I’m just making an observation. Don’t put words in my mouth, Blood Fury.”

“Blood Fury” hissed at his fellow SSHANEOG, who seemed to be enjoying himself, but spoke no further.

Sensing an opening in the conversation, the Great Admiral spoke up next. “Look, gentlemen, I think we can all agree that Etzonocua needs to be stopped. We can easily appeal to the rest of the Council to make preparatory motions, in case our involvement in this conflict should come about. I think it’s likely that they’ll cross the line at some point or another once this war is in motion. We’ll need to strike quickly in order to make sizeable enough gains to have a chip on the table when time comes to fix that hellhole. We need to have a chance to reform their culture and bring it in line with the Edicts so these oppressed people can live actual lives.”

“Abrax is right. At least, about the bit about them fucking up quickly, that is,” snarked the gray SSHANEOG.

“And when they do, I shall be the one to ensure these vermin understand the true meaning of justice.”

by **Free Islands and Atolls** » Wed Aug 31, 2016 6:49 pm

14:00 ─ 2:10:42:25
Confederacy of Free Islands and Atolls, Nasinu, South-Western Region.

Royal Palace at Nasinu: a tall stepped pyramid. For Neomaii it was a symbol of national unity. For other rulers it was an object of envy. For Neomai Supreme Chieftains, or Emperors, it was home.

Supreme Chieftain Edward Noutu VIII was sitting in his cabinet. After gaining power from his deceased father, he was mostly working on hard task of understanding Confederate Bureaucratic in countless reports. He disliked bureaucracy, however, he understood its necessity for the life of state and just attempted to minimize necessary amount of paperwork.

Suddenly, as he was thinking about recent positive reports on economic output, one of his aides arrived.

─ Your Supreme Excellency, ─ he said, ─ Ratu Garu wishes to see you.
─ Huh? He is earlier than expected.
─ He looks quite excited from what I heard from him.
─ Let him enter, then you're dismissed. I'll meet him in Throne Room.
─ Yes, Supreme Excellency.

Josef Garbitsch, "Ratu Garu", was one of the "foreign clique" at the court of Noutu. Noutu VII gathered some foreigners in his court in order to use their expertise in their respective areas or simply because of favouritism: that's, for example, how Brookwood and Price rose to power. Garbitsch was master in educational and propaganda affairs. He lead the main Confederate news agency, but his power in enforcing propaganda was limited until the Will of Excellency.

Now, this short man in his fifties with short hair and small eyes full of smugness was standing kneeled in front of the throne, which stood it's rear to the parade door of the chamber. Then, propagandist heard footsteps from behind the throne and in mere moments, the Chief himself was facing him.

─ Greetings, Garbitsch. And speak with whatever you came.
─ There are some news that may be worth of your attention. Here. About Antonia and Brookwood.
─ What? THAT remote?

There was a short report about attack on Ki'wana and full message from Etzonocua.

─ Garbitsch, this is a great opportunity for us that must not be missed.

Garbitsch was clearly puzzled.

─ What do you mean by that, Your Supreme Excellency?
─ Islands have insufficient amount of resources to feed our economy and almost entire landmass we have is somehow used now. Meanwhile, Etzonocua, from what I've heard, has hundreds of times more land than we have and their vast population may be used as a workforce or converted to our own values and traditions. If we want to break our Isolation, we should, no, we must have at least a quarter of those resources.

─ I doubt they give them easily, Your Excellency... ─ Garbitsch wanted to make a wide explanation of complexity of propaganda within Etzonocua and strength of Etzonocui values, but was abruptly cut.

─ They are pressed from three sides at least: Nordwalsh Dominion, Thedosia and Antonia. They wouldn't want another nation to oppose.
─ But what are Dominion, Thedosia and Antonia? They have ten times more folk and hundreds of times more landmass than we. I doubt Etzonocua would even notice us.
─ When their fleet will be lying at the bottom of the sea and when their coastline will be in utter ruins; when we will control all major water sources and swamp their armies with bullets and shells ─ then they shall notice us, correct?

─ I don't know much about thembut I guess you're right, You Excellency.
─ E-xact-ly. But for the war, I need to finish reading those damned reports and ensure that we're ready in all aspects. I don't want Adova¹. As for you, ensure that our folk is well with ideas of expansionism and colonialism.
─ I guess, some circles already are.
─ I need the majority support. You're dismissed. And you may also publish message from Etzonocua, but make sure that it is presented "properly". But no word about Antonia.
─ Think that Islanders are already deeming Etzonocui their enemy #1, Your Supreme Excellency.

Garbitsch bowed and left. Then Edward pushed one of the buttons on throne's right armrest.

─ Tadessa, find and contact Brookwood. I need him as soon as possible!

It took half an hour to find Brookwood. He wasn't on Whirlwind and querying some other possible locations also granted no results. Asking all ships in sea would be a futile task, so emergency method was used: a broadcast call over secret channels. Finally the reply came from the destroyer CFS Morning Calm.

─ We have him, Your Supreme Excellency. Connection established.
─ Thanks, dismissed.

A screen appeared from the ceiling at some distance in front of the throne. On it, Brookwood appeared, kneeling.

─ Rise, Brookwood, and listen. Have you heard the latest news?
─ Etzonocua and Antonia, Your Excellency?
─ Correct.

─ Yes, we on Whirlwind had intercepted their message six hours ago, so I've decided to go back home with high command.
─ That was a smart decision from your side. What do you think about it?

Brookwood hadn't to think his reply as he had it prepared ever since the talk six hours ago.

─ This won't be tolerated, Your Excellency. Antonia will go war. Maybe it will be joined by Nordwalsh and Thedosia. Anyway, I've ordered Price to send three cruisers to observe situation in the area, so nothing will slip from my sight.
─ Three cruisers are insufficient, we need at least five. Apart from that, don't you think it is a good opportunity for us to expand our Empire a little?
─ I was going to talk to you about that on my arrival...

─ Nice, but I'm the first today. ─ Chieftain cut admiral with a smug smile. ─ And I don't want to be the last tomorrow. What do you think: can we manage a war against them?
─ Navy will do the job, but on land we may simply be swamped with numbers. Apart from that, I see nothing difficult. Apart from casus belli, of course.

─ Casus belli?
─ Case of war. We weren't affected by terrorist attack, so we have no case of war. And we need one to justify our operations.
─ Ah, yes, I remember, you told me about that. So, we don't have a case of war, right?
─ Regrettably, we don't.

Edward thought for a moment, then for another. And for another. And for yet another.

─ I have an idea. Do those fools possess cruise missiles?
─ I don't know exactly...
─ Now, they do. And they will fire one at our cruiser.

Brookwood was surprised. Why should Etzonocui ever fire at Isalnders' Cruiser?

─ Of course, they won't fire. ─ Chieftain said. ─ We will, but in a way that missile will fly seemingly from Etzonocui territory. Then we have an "attack" by them. Isn't that a good case of war?

Admiral sighed. He wasn't amused by this primitive provocation. But maybe it would be the most time-efficient way.

─ This is a rather primitive tactic, Your Excellency. However, they are religious, which implies some sort of primitiveness, so let it be.
─ No one will seek for the truth, Brookwood. And after we're done with case of war, we will declare war immediately.

─ But wait, ─ Brookwood suddenly said with a little bit worried tone, ─ we're not ready ourselves! I need a week² to prepare my main forces and I bet Speight and Rabukawa will also demand two or three weeks. We must not hurry with actions.

─ Don't worry, Brookwood, economy-wise we're more than ready and today I'll tell both Speight and Rabukawa to prepare their respective commands. I also bet that no one would start actions in a week or two. And if we won't act now, we may be late for vultures' feast.
─ That's much worse, yes... I'll issue all necessary orders today.
─ No-no-no, take your time. Our cruisers may do the trick alone. You're dismissed. Let your return be as fast as your thought.
─ Yes, Your Excellency.

The transmission ended and Chieftain left the throne room.

by **Etzonocua** » Sun Sep 11, 2016 2:55 pm

Ilhuicacteptl. The Forbidden City, a monument to the engineering and artistic prowess of the Etzonocui people.

That’s what they said, anyway.

The mountaintop complex was a veritable fortress which just so happened to have a very aesthetically pleasing exterior, serving as the headquarters for the entirety of the Etzonocui government, military, and church. Not that there was much difference.

Archprophetess Ixchel stood at a window, looking down upon the capital from her quarters at the top of the Great Temple; an enormous, pyramidal construction, ornately decorated with intricate carvings of dragons and gods. A perfectly manicured mall provided a direct shot to the Imperial Palace on the other side. He had watched the 47th Emperor, Xiocuih, travel to the temple in his litter, carried by a multitude of servants. Carrying the emperor up the steps was always backbreaking work; every four or five trips, a servant would slip up. This was one such time; the steps would have to be cleaned and the broken body of the pathetic creature ferried away to be burned. Sometimes Ixchel considered meeting the emperor at the foot of the temple, if only to stop it from being defiled again. This was not one of those times.
Xiocuih entered her quarters alone, as always. His robes were deep jade green and accented with gold, much of it real. This contrasted to her relatively simple pure black robes which were decorated with a crimson pattern. The Forbidden City was a place where time seemed to stand still in many ways. She did not turn to face him, but merely continued staring at the blood on the black steps as it was hastily cleaned up.

“Ixchel.” Xiocuih said. “Sister?” She waited several minutes, until the stairs were immaculate again, until she responded.

“What do you want, Xioci?”

“I wanted to brief you on some recent developments.” Her brother replied.

Ixchel took a folded piece of paper from a pocket within her robes (it wasn’t all aesthetic, after all) and handed it to her brother, who unfolded it and studied it closely. “….’our gods could beat yours any day. Lange levetta Vivijana en Valthzenjia!’. This was….an e-mail?”

“From the ‘Foreign Intelligence Directorate of the Waltch Dominion’.” Ixchel spat.

“Those wolf-fuckers…” Xiocuih hissed. “How could they have even gotten the e-mail?”

“You tell me, Xioci. I don’t pay attention to such matters.” Ixchel’s general state was difficult to read; she seemed indifferent, but at the same time oddly upset.

“The cold ones were one of the groups represented at the Ki’wana Conference.” Xiocuih explained. “I’m afraid this likely won’t be their only retaliation.”

“They’re aware that we won’t allow the collaboration of infidel governments, aren’t they?”

“Alas, Ixi, it’s not that simple. It seems that we have…grossly miscalculated.”

Suddenly, Ixchel advanced towards him, flames in her eyes. “Miscalculated?! Xiocuih, we can’t have miscalculations, that’s not how this works!”

Xiocuih recoiled from his sister’s outburst. “Please, Ixi, calm yourself. We still have options. Our goal was to discourage the infidels from cooperating with each other; this, we have failed at. However, we may yet succeed in another area. Our home is vast and our servants loyal and plentiful. I doubt one of those wolf-fucking northmen would want to delve into the jungles while beset from all sides by our legions.”

This seemed to calm Ixchel somewhat. She liked being reassured about the material world, wrapped up as she was in the spiritual one.

She walked over to a low sofa against the wall and carefully sat down. “I…need a moment. Leave. I must pray for our enemies’ destruction.”

Xiocuih didn’t respond for a moment. “Of course. Until this evening.” He offered a deep bow and walked out of the room.

Behind him, Ixchel leered daggers at the back of his head as he left. For the slightest second, she had spotted what could only be described as a glower on her brother’s face. Directed at her. Her!
“Elox.” Ixchel said. From seemingly nowhere, the intimidating form of her bodyguard, Eloxoxual, appeared.
“Yes, your Exalted Holiness?”
““I need you to send a message. Now listen very carefully…”

To Whom It May Concern:

The Holy Exalted Empire of Etzonocua shall not tolerate aggression or terrorism in its region, and humbly requests that all aggressors cease and desist. Etzonocua is prepared to use nuclear force in the event of any violations of its will.

- The Holy Chancery

by **Nordwalsh** » Sun Sep 11, 2016 3:58 pm

Alek Schreier and his comrades gathered around the rec-room television, gazing up at the mounted screen.

It was tankery^[1] night, and the boys of West Friesland Army Base would sooner shoot themselves in the foot than miss a match in which their beloved Lilistead Lionesses participated.

Timo walked in balancing a few large bowls of popcorn in his arms while Nico followed with the beers.

“What’d we miss?” Timo demanded, a bit too fervently.

“Gatti just did a fucking backflip!” somebody answered.

Timo practically dropped the popcorn, slamming it down on the table and leaning on it for support. “You’ve got to be shitting me! In Valkyrie? How the fuck could I miss that?!”

“They’ve gotta show it on the replays soon.” Somebody reassured him.

Sure enough, a looping video appeared on screen of a sleek, white armored vehicle with a low profile, seemingly defying the laws of physics as it charged an opponent head-on, hit an unexpected bump, and then seemed to drive up the tree behind its enemy, doing a perfect backflip as the tree toppled over and landing with bizarre finesse, delivering a final paintball shot right into one of the enemy’s viewports, officially “killing” it.

The two dozen or so men shouted in excitement and disbelief for a second time.

“I’ve said it once, I’ll say it again,” Schreier exclaimed. “Gatti is a fucking goddess in every meaning of the word!”

“What about Silvi?” Somebody demanded. “The flip was cool, sure, but it would’ve been worthless if Foss didn’t pull off that shot.”

The all-female tankery team had many adoring fans, for very many reasons. The announcers declared that the match was over; the Lilistead Lionesses had come out victorious – and in style – yet again, and were heading to the Iron League championship.

“Say,” Schreier began. “Would you fuck a Lioness?”

“As if you’d have a fucking chance with Erika fucking Gatti!” Nico scoffed, knowing perfectly well where that train of thought was going. “She’s a fucking superstar – you’re a Bluejacket conscript.”

“Hey, you don’t know I wouldn’t have a chance – maybe she’s got a thing for a guy in uniform!”

“You’re fucking full of it, Schrei!”

Somebody playfully punched Schreier in the shoulder, prompting a retaliation punch that quickly turned into a full-blown wrestling match.

Their duel was cut short when the post-game commentary suddenly cut out, replaced with a long droning low note as the screen changed to an image of the national coat of arms with the words “CENTRAL GOVERNMENT PRIORITY BROADCAST” positioned above and below it. The various ancient symbols emblazoned on the four quarters seemed to stare back at the group with an eerie malice as they became totally silent and one single word floated through their minds.

Shit.

The only time in Schreier’s life he had seen this image before was four years ago, in the beginning of the Siege of Heaven^[2]. However, instead of a frazzled and uncertain looking Foreign Minister Korana sitting in an improvised command post in some tent south of Archangel, he was soon faced with the grim and serious face of Zavier Laberenz.

“Shit, its Old Zavi.” Somebody breathed.

Their leader was framed between two long banners bearing the national flag. The wall behind him was completely featureless concrete. He sat with his fingers steepled in front of him on the desk, sitting straight up and looking directly into the camera. As always, his icy blue gaze seemed to transcend the screen and bore directly into each and every viewer. The prime minister seemed to be in rough condition, despite obvious attempts to pretty him up for the camera. Plenty of bandaging was visible, and one of his arms was in a sling. He was worryingly pale.

“Comrades and fellow citizens.” Laberenz spoke. “I come to you with a matter dealing with the very nature and fabric of our civilization.” He turned his nose upwards, as if sneering at some invisible wretch. “A short time ago, a terrorist attack was carried out against many senior international officials at a diplomatic conference in Antonia-Brookwood.”

“How the fuck didn’t we hear about that?!” somebody exclaimed quietly, not daring to speak over the prime minister.

“Z-R^[3] probably put out a gag order until it could give us a clear picture.” Somebody answered. “No need to freak people out with false info.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Somebody snapped, still whispering.

Laberenz continued. “The origin of these attacks has been pinpointed – a foreign government, diametrically opposed to the idea of international cooperation and prosperity.”

“It was the fucking elves^[4], I’m sure!”

“No, it was probably the monkeys^[5]!”

“The government of Etzonocua has made it clear that they will stand in the way of not only Waldzenia, but the entire international community, using lethal force if necessary. Now, we could simply write this off as another psychotic regime rattling its saber, something that seems to come a dime a dozen on this Earth…or, we can see it for what it truly is: a belligerent and highly dangerous rogue state that threatens to destroy everything the Waltch people hold dear.

I am lucky to have escaped with my life. There were others in Ki’wana who were not as lucky, and as long as this rogue regime remains at large, there will be many more who suffer at its hands.
As such, the Blood Commission of the Waltch Dominion has decided to initiate a police action in Etzonocua, declare it a rechtstaat and preparing for a military invasion.
It is times like these that test the mettle of the Children of Winter. Of the soldiers, the engineers, the teachers. Of people like you. Shall you curl up and submit, allowing degenerates and extremists to reign using fear and violence? Or will you stand up? Stand up and tell them that the Waltch Dominion does not accept such atrocities, that the Waltch Dominion fights for justice and equality of all men and women? That the last man who attempted to slay the Waltch dragon was promptly fed to it?

Look deep inside yourselves, comrades, and decide the kind of person that you want to be: a coward, or a citizen.

I know that you won’t disappoint me.”

by **Xanixi** » Wed Sep 14, 2016 4:17 pm

Sherwyn Griffith
Grand Army of the Republic
Date: 8th Matrinalis; Time: 0621 hrs [Ephays Standard Time]
Noviberg Army Base, Taetrus, Grand Thedosian Republic

Sherwyn walked into the quiet room, his head hanging low on his shoulders. The footsteps of countless other individuals echoed through the halls, the “tap” of their heels against the white marble floors indistinguishable. It hadn’t been the first time Sherwyn was in this exact room －so far as to be going to to the exact same seat in which he last sat, nearly ten years before －but it was the first time he was here in a more serious note.
Ten years before, he’d voluntarily submitted to the Reserve Refurbishment Training Program, designed to modernize the average reserve trooper and make them more effective in the modern battlefield, with all the advanced weapons and gadgets. What they had neglected to tell Sherwyn then －although, in retrospect, it makes perfect sense －was that he was to be moved up the preferential ladder when the time came to activate reserve forces.
And that time had come.
Sherwyn sat down in the wooden chair. In front of him was a desk, attached to his chair with a shiny platinum-colored metal, highly reflective in general, and more-so in the room’s intense light. He felt people swooshing by him to their seats, all as quiet as he; the silence hanging over the room was terrifyingly eerie.
About ten minutes after they had all been seated, small whispers began to emerge from the seats. Small talk and irrelevant conversations sprouted in the midst of stress, peril, and war. Sherwyn listened closely to his fellow countrymen. He heard some ask about others’ children, others ask about what they were studying. He heard one fellow explaining to another legal terms of some far-away nation he’d never heard of.
“What’s your name?” a voice rang to his left. Opening his eyes wide and turning left slightly, he saw a girl, roughly his size with blonde hair and bright green eyes, looking right at him, a warm grin on her face. Fixing his posture and leaning towards her, he responded, “Sherwyn Griffith. You?”
“Elsa Durand,” she responded, pressing her fist against her chest and bending forward slightly, “it’s an honor to meet you.”
Reciprocating the greeting, Sherwyn replied, “Likewise.” A moment of silence followed, before Elsa continued, “So, what do you do, Sherwyn?”
Smiling, Sherwyn replied, “I’m a technical engineer employed by Scita Informatics. You heard of it before?” She shook her head in denial.
“Well, we technically provide electrodomestics of a wide variety to many of our customers, but our main market is that of informatics. We have a few laptop models, but most of our work has been centered around the design of new and better CPUs, although we’re currently making important progress into entering the market for the rising ‘All in One’ family of computer systems.”
“Oh wow,” Elsa said, “that sounds really cool. How long have you worked there?”
“Well,” Sherwyn responded, sighing slightly, “I used to work for Electron Scout, a similar company although with less focus on computers and more general electrodomestic focus, but we were purchased by Scita a while back. I’ve been with Scita for 14 years, but I was with Electron for two decades more.”
“Loads of experience in the field, then,” she said, chuckling. Sherwyn simply nodded and smiled.
Just as Sherwyn was going to invert the question, Captain Eleanor stepped in. “Morning people,” she said, her voice carrying a significant amount of weight in the room already, “you all know why you’re here. At approximately 0700 hours on the 7th of Matrinalis, a terrorist group undertook an attack on a summit in Veechtahv Hall, in Antonia. The Republic was attending this summit, and this attack is not only a blatant insult to the integrity of the Antonian nation, but also to the ideals and values that the Republic fights for and defends. For this reason, the Republic is currently officially submitting to the public a declaration of a state of conflict between the Thedosian state and Etzonocua.”
Sherwyn closed his eyes and hung his head. He had, in truth, kept some hope that it would only be a training exercise, meant to get the reserves in shape in case war did break out. He had hoped, against his better judgement, that the Republic would not seek war.
“Etzonocua has already falsely claimed they are not responsible and that they are willing to defend themselves, so we must act upon this information swiftly. The Waltch have already declared a state of conflict exists, and so, we must react in kind. This unit is to report immediately to the barracks to begin proper organization procedures and get you all squared away. Dismissed.”
As everyone began to stand, Sherwyn looked to his left at Elsa. She seemed rather indifferent, but grinning as she was before but not in sorrow, as some of the others seemed to be. Hoping to pick up where he’d left off, he called her name. She turned, and he spoke.
“So, what is it that you do for a living?”
“I want to study Economics,” she responded.
“Ah, I see. Do you need a second degree for a specific job?”
“Oh, no,” she responded, “I don’t work. I’m 31¹. I just finished my UAT². I volunteered.”
Sherwyn stopped abruptly and stared at her, watching as she walked off without another word.

Grand Chancellor Valerius Numitor
Grand Chancellor of the Grand Thedosian Republic
Date: 8th Matrinalis; Time: 1200 hrs [Ephays Standard Time]
Grand Palace of the Republic, Ephays, Grand Thedosian Republic

Valerius pushed his back against the soft leather rest of his chair. Birds chirped outside his window and he could hear them as they flew by, flapping their wings to remain in their constant gliding state. He remembered how, as a child, he would often wonder what it would be like to slice through the powerful winds of the Earth with two sleek, feather-covered wings.
The thought fled from his mind. The last touches were made, and the camera’s red light blipped on. The man operating it raised a single thumbs-up; he was live.
“People of the great Thedosian nation,” he began, “on the 7th of Matrinalis, at approximately 07:00 a.m., the Grand Republic, and various other international governments, were blatantly attacked by a belligerent group of fighters at the summit hosted by Antonia in Veechtahv Hall. This attack, a blatant act of aggression, not only robbed the lives of dozens of dignitaries and assistants and threatened those of hundreds more; this attack was against our values, against our rights, against our very way of life. It is, for all intents and purposes, an act of war.
“As such, the Grand Republic shall respond in kind. After thorough investigation of both domestic and foreign intelligence agencies, the Republic can say with absolute certainty that the perpetrator of the plot to damage the international relations of the Grand Republic and its allies lies within the government of the state of Etzonocua.
“Intolerant of such acts of aggression and such violations of protocol, the 77th Grand Congress of the Republic hereby grants Authorization for the Use of Military Force to the Grand Military of the Republic, and declares that a State of Conflict now exists between the Grand Republic and the State of Etzonocua.
“Any and all Thedosian citizens currently residing, visiting, or otherwise finding themselves within the territorial bounds of Etzonocua are urged to report to their nearest Republic consulate immediately.
“Long live the Republic.”

by **Free Islands and Atolls** » Thu Sep 29, 2016 4:07 pm

16:00 - 8:10:42:25
Confederacy of Free Islands and Atolls, Brookwood's estate, North-Western Region.

Six days had passed since the conversation between Brookwood and Supreme Chieftain.

Brookwood arrived back home at 4:10, not particulary angry or exhausted, but not very happy either as there were no reasons to be either angry or happy. He swiftly issued an order of the complete mobilization of CFIA Navy before leaving to his estate near Good Hope Anchorage. There, he was idle for a day or two before two guests invited earlier had arrived. Now he along with them was sitting at the yard of his estate.

First of the guests was in full green field military uniform, second was in white uniform with aircraft badge. Those were the commanders of CFIA Marine Corps and CFIA Air Corps: George Speight¹ and Sitiveni Rabukawa, or Steven as Brookwood called him. They received their orders after Brookwood: now all branches of CFIA military structure were preparing themselves for a war.

Commanders were having coffee and conversations.

- What a strange name: Maestrale. And Sirocco too. From where could they come from?
- Winds, just as the Whirlwind. But those aren't blowing at Islands.²
- Price surely was in so many parts of the world, so much unlike we, old fools.
- Not like any of us could be released from Islands considering just how pitiful our security service is.
- Actually, we can go, but after return we will be ass-raped by Intelligence...

- Speaking of which and on related: Brookwood, how many ships did you manage to send?
- Five, I guess: Thunderstorm, Whirlwind, Maestrale, Sirocco and Ocean.
- Their Navy can already sing their burial march then...
- If only it doesn't find us scattered on thousands of miles. If it does, it can attack our ships piecemeal.
- Hah, no way they can win! Intelligence reported the state of which enemy's navy is: sorrowful, to say the least.

- But one or two cruisers can't beat a whole navy.
- Depends on navy and technological advancement...

- Don't forget that destroying their navy is less than a mere quarter of work! Assume we do that: they are land-oriented country. Their army is vast and their industry is assumed to be adequate to supply their army...
- Aren't you called The Rat of Jungles for your skills, George?
- I am, but they may just swamp us with numbers like mosquitoes. The only way to safely attack is along any major rivers with constant support from gunboats and aircraft.
- You mean, we will actually use those disassembled ships on Good Hope³?
- Yes, to our good.

- I also suggest we bomb their capital with napalm bombs or gas. If their heads of state are dead, I doubt they will be able to choose new ones and the destruction of their monuments must have a great blow to their morale.
- And the campaign will be an easy trip...

- Wait until Intelligents say anything, and don't forget logistics, dumbass!

- ... up to the moment we do realize that our frontline is longer than Konrote shores⁴. But we must conquer as much as we can or our heads will roll straight to the Bay of Nasinu!
- That's in a very good case, Brookwood: our heads may fall straight to the Kon⁵...

- Ratu Brookwood! - A young man, an aide, rushed at the yard. - Ratu Brookwood, an emergency message from Good Hope: "Cruiser Thunderstorm was attacked by plane; no fatalities; attack came from Etzonocua; ordered to continue patrol; requesting advice; Ligairi." I think His Excellency will call soon.
- Keep me informed. - The reply was.
- Yes, Ratu.

- That's earlier than planned. - Brookwood said as the aide left. - I thought it wouldn't come on at least six more days.
- Wasn't there a cruise missile attack that was planned? - Rabukawa asked
- I've changed it. Now, a radio-controlled plane dropped a bomb and was taken down. This is still not as good as it could be, but better than nothing.
- Considering declaration of war by Nordwalsh and Thedosia, - noted Speight, - we're short of time, but mobilization in any case must take at least a week to be done. So the timing is perfect, as I see it.
- Assume so...

- Ratu Brookwood! - Aide again rushed into the yard. - A call from Supreme Chieftain.
- Damn... Gentlemen, wouldn't you mind to wait a bit?
- Of course, that's an important stuff. - Rabukawa said.

Aide handled a phone to Brookwood.

- Your Excellency?... Yes... Yes... No, in no possible way!.. I'm at Good Hope, inspecting my... Assume so... Yes, I've heard... What to do? Maybe a protest?.. Straight to the declaration of war? No-no-no... That wouldn't work!.. Maybe we will combine?.. Yes, offering. We won't declare a war if you handle to us a port and 30km area around... Ah, that's bad. Did you manage to sleep well?.. No? Unsurprising... Good, write as follows...

- "We, Supreme Chieftain of the Confederacy of the Free Islands and Atolls Edward Noutu VIII, appaled by your blatant attempt on the life of our cruiser and our sailors, also appaled by your impudent and presumptuous foreign political actions, demand you surrendering a port..."

- Write any name of their port which is close to us here... Yes, this one will be good.

- "... and 30km area around it with disagreement meaning declaring a state of conflict between us. Great and Almighty Kon will judge us, if necessary - on the battlefield. With best regards, Edward Noutu VIII."

- All, and straight in your style... Yes, yes, you have still much and much more to learn. However, your final exam is to come soon... Ah, we shall see... Best regards to You... Over and out.

That message Brookwood told to Supreme Chieftain, was sent to Etzonocua.

by **Antonia and Brookwood** » Tue Oct 04, 2016 12:26 pm

Escher looked out over the Imperial Palace’s courtyard. The massive congregation of citizens and media alike was staggering to say the least. He was delighted to see the raw patriotism in the Antonian people, only second to the satisfaction he got from looking at the crucified bodies of some of the attackers that wouldn’t give up any information. The sight brought him satisfaction, the zealots their criminal sacrifices, and the heathens a great example of what happens when you have the audacity to attack the Commonwealth, let alone her Lord Mayor. Escher took one last deep breath before walking out to the balcony to the microphone.

“People of Antonia, I come here not as your leader, but a fellow citizen. As you’re aware, we have suffered a terrible tragedy in which some of our own lost their lives. Now, I’m sure we can both agree and this is unacceptable and must be met with the harshest of retaliation. We’ve identified the assailant as a backwards nation named Etzonocua, inhabited by savages and brutes.” pausing as he hears a roar from the crowd, Escher smiles and signals to his aid to rally the crowd even more, “I hate to ask for the greatest sacrifice of you, but we need to build a military to mobilise on the heathens and eradicate them from our region. We must not only cut the head off of this beast, but destroy its future as well!” Escher grinned as the crowd turned into a swarm surrounding the live victims of the crucifixion. “Woah now, my fellow Antonians. Let us not decide the fate of these men with our hands, but by the heat of our tar, and the careful tongues of flame!”

The crowd burst into fanatical cheers. Escher examined the vengeful, fanatical nature of his people with a mix of disgust and pride. Amused by those who stopped to pray to the gods, those who offered to help the royal guard make an example of the prisoners, and those who just looked on in satisfaction as the screams of those who were crucified rang out across the courtyard.

Escher grinned at the fanatical nature of the people and continued, “Today, we go on the offensive for the first time in our history! We shall stain the foreign shores with the blood of their hoards! We shall profit from the labor of her savages! We shall treat her nation how we treat her whores and sinners! This is a great day, Antonia, my land of beauty, for today is the day we begin to show Etzonocua… no, all of our enemies in this world, that we are a people not to be trifled with. Our occupation can be a warning to those that dare attack our people, or even our allies, of what they will experience in return. For Order! For Peace! For Unity!”

“Order! Peace! Unity!”, the crowd continues before beginning to chant the national anthem. Escher continued to smile as the crowd grew louder. He hated smiling for these events and knew the potential response from Antonia's allies would most likely not be favorable. But, he knew he needed the people behind the war effort more than anything. "You can't fight a war without an army" he mumbled to himself, walking back into his office as the crowd continued.

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