Watching. Waiting. Seeing.
The day the March Coup decapitated the old Empire.. had signalled the death knell of the Magican nation as a world power. The day the Putschists were massacred to the last signalled the definite beginning of another Magican Revolution -- one that would last. It also signalled the end of the Magican nation's involvement in the world at large; in public, the revolutionary leadership declared a policy of 'Revolution in one country', foreswearing the usage of violence in the pursuit of ultimate enlightenment, isolating itself from the wider world for the past two years.
In private: the Committee of Public Safety, the Republic's highest echelon of decision-making, prepared. To an extent not seen since the 1940s, the Magicans sharpened their daggers: new ships, warplanes, and infantry arms and vehicles rolled off the lines, the cost of expanding production to these wartime levels unthinkable.
But this was necessary work, for the Archipelago was surrounded by sharks eager to take a bite: the Alexiandrans, Harrisopians, and even the bloody Vichnayans had embargoed the 'illegitimate government' of Magica. For a short period of time, military intervention to restore a semblance of Imperial law seemed exceedingly likely, were it not for public demonstrations against such a prospect in the two brother nations; they had overextended in numerous ‘brush wars’, and the last few years had been dominated by chaos in the greater Lycene region. And in the latter case, the prospect of Magican oil flooding the markets gave pause to Yazov's gang of cronies, dependent upon oil funds for their techno-fetishist proclivities - to say nothing of the threat of nuclear war as the Southeastern Crisis unfolded over the detainment of Vichnayan delegate Shiro Goto and her staff, both Vichnayan and Magican communiques openly declaring the other's cities ripe for annihilation.
Cooler heads prevailed even as the Revolutionary Navy harangued, harassed, and even rammed Vichnayan-flagged yachts, freighters, and warships openly in the Eastern Seas: the ambassador, her staff, and - unbeknownst to the Revolutionary government - a totally innocuous Magican translator by the name of Morgyn were sent home at the end of it all, while the Committee of Public Safety capitulated to Vichnayan demands for security guarantees – the genesis of the infamous ‘revolution in one country’ policy. Since then, the Magican Archipelago has gone silent, cutting itself off from worldly affairs - trading when need be with the outside, focusing on reconstruction from its brief civil war, the second in five years: as well as the conquest of outer space, deploying a system called 'Watcher': a seemingly innocuous system of miniature satellites meant to, eventually, facilitate a 'glorious renaissance' of Socialist world-wide culture and communication unfettered by reactionary censorship and jamming - a pipe dream, and to many outside Magica, a gross waste of resources, potentially an espionage threat.
But that - for the most part - is old news. Newer, far more exciting history is about to be written - in blood and tears. History looks to repeat itself once more as the Revolutionary Republic readies itself to throw off its sheepish persona, revealing its true face to the world. With one voice, it prepares to scream - much like the bird of prey on the Magican bicolor - a yell of revolutionary triumph and fervor: workers of the world, unite! - as the ‘hermit republic’ now undertakes the work of generations: the eradication of capitalism from the Continent - perhaps even the wider region of Lyceni.
But, dear reader, you ask: what of mutually assured destruction? Won’t the Magicans plunge the region into a nuclear apocalypse?
...No – that won’t happen. For the Committee of Public Safety has a different plan in mind - one that will decisively establish all the players in Lyceni as losers in a rigged game: the answer to pesky concepts such as the infamous Alexiandran orbital death stations, the equally infamous Vichnayan laser satellites, intercontinental ballistic missiles, and so on.
But that is best left for a non-introductory passage, methinks. For now, Jacobin Magica watches; waits; prepares.
And in the meantime, Lyceni licks its wounds from the chaos of the last two years.